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 to Voltaire, filled the excitable mind of the poet with apprehensions—he fancied that a copy of the poem had been sent to Devaux, that other copies were probably abroad, that he was compromised, that he would have to fly. Accordingly, when Madame de Grafigny had retired to rest, she was surprised by the abrupt apparition of her host, who cried out that he was lost, that his life was in her hands. "Quick, Madame, write and get it back!" he entreated hurriedly. The poor woman did riot understand him. "Fie, fie!" he exclaimed; "there ought to be good faith where the life of a poor unfortunate like me is concerned." His appeals, in spite of her attempts to explain, grew more urgent, till at last Madame du Châtelet entered in a fury holding out the opened letter, which she called a proof of infamy. The unlucky Madame de Grafigny was quite overcome by these attacks; and Voltaire, perceiving this, and seized with compassion for their helpless guest, restrained and endeavoured to soothe the Marquise. As soon as she could find voice and obtain a hearing, Madame de Grafigny explained the words which had been so misinterpreted. "I must say, in his praise," she states, "that from the first moment Voltaire believed me, and immediately begged me to pardon him." Next day she was ill, and in despair; she had no money wherewith to leave the place: "at last the good Voltaire came at noon; he was vexed to tears by my condition; he repeatedly asked forgiveness, and I had occasion to see the sensibility of his soul." After this he did all he could to make her forget the scene, of which he was much ashamed.

"The Maid," or "ma Jeanne," as Voltaire generally termed it, was, he says, his diversion between the acts of