She had no fortune, and in this respect exactly resembled myself; our
situations were too similar to permit us to become united; and with the
views I then had, I was far from thinking of marriage. She gave me to
understand that a young merchant, one M. Geneve, seemed to wish to obtain
her hand. I saw him once or twice at her lodgings; he appeared to me to
be an honest man, and this was his general character. Persuaded she
would be happy with him, I was desirous he should marry her, which he
afterwards did; and that I might not disturb their innocent love,
I hastened my departure; offering up, for the happiness of that charming
woman, prayers, which, here below were not long heard. Alas! her time
was very short, for I afterwards heard she died in the second or third
year after her marriage. My mind, during the journey, was wholly
absorbed in tender regret. I felt, and since that time, when these
circumstances have been present to my recollection, have frequently done
the same; that although the sacrifices made to virtue and our duty may
sometimes be painful, we are well rewarded by the agreeable remembrance
they leave deeply engravers in our hearts.
I this time saw Paris in as favorable a point of view as it had appeared to me in an unfavorable one at my first journey; not that my ideas of its brilliancy arose from the splendor of my lodgings; for in consequence of an address given me by M. Bordes, I resided at the Hotel St. Quentin, Rue des Cordier, near the Sorbonne; a vile street, a miserable hotel, and a wretched apartment: but nevertheless a house in which several men of merit, such as Gresset, Bordes, Abbe Malby, Condillac, and several others, of whom unfortunately I found not one, had taken up their quarters; but I there met with M. Bonnefond, a man unacquainted with the world, lame, litigious, and who affected to be a purist. To him I owe the acquaintance of M. Roguin, at present the oldest friend I have and by whose means I became acquainted with Diderot, of whom I shall soon have occasion to say a good deal.
I arrived at Paris in the autumn of 1741, with fifteen louis in my purse, and with my comedy of Narcissus and my musical project in my pocket. These composed my whole stock; consequently I had not much time to lose before I attempted to turn the latter to some advantage. I therefore immediately thought of making use of my recommendations.
A young man who arrives at Paris, with a tolerable figure,
