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 attractive woman. She was a tall dark beauty, with very pretty features, and a countenance of much individuality. Unlike learned ladies in general, she had a very strong leaning towards a life of pleasure: society, operas, balls, suppers, the gaming-table, flirtation—all these she enjoyed with uncommon zest. She had been married young to the Marquis du Châtelet, a very uncongenial mate, who, having small taste for the sciences, pursued his own paths in other directions, and left his wife to hers. The Marquise, according to the custom of the time, had had a lover; and that lover, also according to the custom of the time, had been the Duke of Richelieu. The Duke had given her a ring containing his portrait, which she now replaced with the likeness of Voltaire, who evidently considered that he had at length sowed his wild oats, was turning over a new leaf, and was respectably settling himself in life, when he retired with his companion to Cirey. Everybody seemed to be of the same opinion; M. de Voltaire and Madame du Châtelet received and returned the visits of great people, and people of fashion, and learned people; they were frequent guests at the neighbouring Court of King Stanislaus; the lady's brother came to stay with them, and the too indulgent Marquis du Châtelet also gave them occasionally the sanction of his presence as a guest.

Cirey was a dilapidated mansion in Champagne, situated in a poor, barren district. None of Voltaire's extant letters give any description of the surrounding scenery—indeed, he seems to have had but a very commonplace perception of natural beauty. His income, now more than £3000 a-year, supplied the means of furnishing the chateau, and of embellishing it with gardens; with his