eal episodes, and made it the vehicle of so much pleasantry on contemporary events and personages, that he dismissed all idea of publishing it during his lifetime, because of the hostility it would be certain to arouse; and hence the scene with Madame de Grafigny. But as usual, furtive and falsified editions began to appear, till, many years later, he published one himself at Geneva. The work is so little suited to the taste of our time that no specimens can be given; yet it was very generally esteemed as one of his most brilliant performances. "The eighteenth century," says St Beuve, "adored the libertine 'Maid,' and the most correct people could repeat entire cantos. M. de Malesherbes knew his 'Maid' by heart." In cleverness, in its audacious spirit, and in the opposing tides of admiration and reprobation which it set in motion, it is more comparable to "Don Juan" than to any other work.
Much as they appreciated their rural home, Madame du Châtelet and Voltaire did not object to leave it occasionally for a visit to Paris, where the lady plunged into amusements and dissipations with as much ardour as if Newton and geometry were idle words. In the year 1746 they were at Fontainebleau, guests of the Duke of Richelieu, and playing high at the queen's table. A run of luck, or perhaps worse, set in against Madame du Châtelet, who, on the second night, was a loser of between three and four thousand pounds. Voltaire, disturbed at so considerable a loss, whispered to her in English that her absorption in the game prevented her from seeing that she was playing with sharpers. The words were overheard and repeated; and perceiving this, and knowing how serious might be the consequences,
