I read to him, after dinner, the letter I had written the
preceding year to Voltaire, and of which Saint Lambert had heard
speak. Whilst I was reading he fell asleep, and I, lately so
haughty, at present so foolish, dared not stop, and continued to
read whilst he continued to snore. Such were my indignities and such
his revenge; but his generosity never permitted him to exercise
them, except between ourselves.
After his return to the army, I found Madam d'Houdetot greatly
changed in her manner with me. At first I was as much surprised as
if it had not been what I ought to have expected; it affected me
more than it ought to have done, and did me considerable harm. It
seemed that everything from which I expected a cure, still plunged
deeper into my heart the dart, which I at length broke in rather
than drew out.
I was quite determined to conquer myself, and leave no means untried
to change my foolish passion into a pure and lasting friendship. For
this purpose I had formed the finest projects in the world; for the
execution of which the concurrence of Madam d'Houdetot was
necessary. When I wished to speak to her I found her absent and
embarrassed; I perceived I was no longer agreeable to her, and that
something had passed which she would not communicate to me, and
which I have never yet known. This change, and the impossibility of
knowing the reason of it, grieved me to the heart. She asked me for
her letters; these I returned her with a fidelity of which she did
me the insult to doubt for a moment.
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