Should my letter
displease you, throw it into the fire and let it be forgotten. I
salute, love, and embrace you."
* * * * *
Although trembling, and almost blind with rage whilst I read this
epistle, I remarked the address with which Diderot affected a milder
and more polite language than he had done in his former ones,
wherein he never went further than "My dear," without ever deigning to
add the name of friend. I easily discovered the second-hand means by
which the letter was conveyed to me; the superscription, manner and
form awkwardly betrayed the maneuver; for we commonly wrote to each
other by post, or the messenger of Montmorency, and this was the first
and only time he sent me his letter by any other conveyance.
As soon as the first transports of my indignation permitted me to
write, I, with great precipitation, wrote him the following answer,
which I immediately carried from the Hermitage, where I then was, to
the Chevrette, to show it to Madam d'Epinay, to whom, in my blind
rage, I read the contents, as well as the letter from Diderot:
* * * * *
"You cannot, my dear friend, either know the magnitude of the
obligations I am under to Madam d'Epinay, to what a degree I am
bound by them, whether or not she is desirous of my accompanying
her, that this is possible, or the reasons I may have for my
non-compliance. I have no objection to discuss all these points with
you; but you will in the meantime confess that prescribing to me so
positively what I ought to do, without first enabling yourself to
judge of the matter, is, my dear philosopher, acting very
inconsiderately.
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