On this window pane Francis the First had scratched this ungallant distich:

Toute femme varie,
Mal habile qui s’y fie.

One night, Monsieur Voltaire read this aloud, and kept the whole saloon in a roar over his idea of what Francis the First would have said were he to come to life then. His tirade was interrupted by Francezka and Madame Villars seizing him, blindfolding and tying 408 him with their scarfs and putting him for punishment into a sort of improvised stocks. In vain Monsieur Voltaire called upon the gentlemen to assist him; he was left helpless in the hands of the ladies, who maltreated him severely. Monsieur Voltaire’s evident enjoyment of his punishment at the hands of these captivating creatures brought about one of those domestic tempests which frequently disturbed the atmosphere of Cirey and of the “Petit Palais” on the isle of St. Louis.

It was said that in the heat of the discussion next morning about it, Madame du Châtelet threw Newton’s Principia at Monsieur Voltaire’s head, and he made a narrow miss by dodging. Certain it is, they had high words, and Madame du Châtelet in a huff left the castle some days before Monsieur Voltaire; and it was noted that he seemed much gayer and more gallant after the lady’s departure than before.

Meanwhile, the pane of glass mysteriously disappeared. I have no doubt it was accidentally broken by one of those little rogues of pages of honor, who was afraid to acknowledge his fault; but Monsieur Voltaire chose to put it on the ladies in general and on Francezka in particular, and there was great sport and much wit over the matter. Francezka was the gayest, the airiest, the most daring of the ladies; she never more said a single word to me concerning that misery which she had represented to me as eating her heart out; and though as kind, as tender to me as ever, she rather avoided private conversations with me—for which I was glad.

Gaston seemed to me to become more like the Gaston 409 of old than he had been, but my heart did not warm to him, nor could I forget that incident of his killing the wild boar. He made no allusion to this whatever, and continued to use his left arm only. I would have given much to know what he supposed we thought of it.

Of course, the play was high, on the nights when there were cards, and Count Saxe enriched several of his guests by his losses. He lost magnificently, and won with the greatest modesty.

During this fortnight the consumption of victuals, wine and horse feed was something stupendous, but my master never grumbled about the charges. Luckily, he had Beauvais to look after the wine and victual, and myself to look after the horse feed.

At last came the day of departure. The servants and baggage wagons were sent on some hours in advance and at nine o’clock in the morning the company all set out together for Blois, where they were to disperse. Gaston Cheverny rode with the gentlemen, and Francezka traveled alone in her coach. She bade me an affectionate good by and begged me to come with Count Saxe to the château of Capello, in the spring. Apparently she was happy and composed, but I knew she was neither. There was a searching and anxious expression in her eyes which, in spite of her smiles and gaiety, showed me a heart disturbed. That night every soul in the castle was in bed a little after nine o’clock, and I think we all slept a week.