Grimm. Father Berthier afterwards cured me a little of
my opinion of his good nature and cordiality with which I had so
unthinkingly charged him.
This same Father Berthier was acquainted with two men, who, for what
reason I know not, were to become so with me; there was but little
similarity between their taste and mine. They were the children of
Melchisedec, of whom neither the country nor the family was known,
no more than, in all probability, the real name. They were Jansenists,
and passed for priests in disguise, perhaps on account of their
ridiculous manner of wearing long swords, to which they appeared to
have been fastened. The prodigious mystery in all their proceedings
gave them the appearance of the heads of a party, and I never had
the lead doubt of their being the authors of the Gazette
Ecclesiastique. The one, tall, smooth-tongued, and sharping, was named
Ferrand; the other, short, squat, a sneerer, and punctilious, was a M.
Minard. They called each other cousin. They lodged at Paris with
D'Alembert, in the house of his nurse named Madam Rousseau, and had
taken at Montmorency a little apartment to pass the summers there.
They did everything for themselves, and had neither a servant nor
runner; each had his turn weekly to purchase provisions, do the
business of the kitchen, and sweep the house. They managed tolerably
well, and we sometimes ate with each other. I know not for what reason
they gave themselves any concern about me: for my part, my only motive
for beginning an acquaintance with them was their playing at chess,
and to make a poor little party I suffered four hours' fatigue.
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