might have called herself The Sunbeam, though she, too, has her
hours when she can only dine tete-a-tete with her friend, because
she is "so gloomy that she cannot support four people together."
Mme. de Coulanges adds her graceful, vivacious, and sparkling
presence. Mme. Scarron, before her days of grandeur, is
frequently of the company, and has lost none of the charm which
made the salon of her poet-husband so attractive during his later
years. "She has an amiable and marvelously just mind," says Mme.
de Sevigne. . . "It is pleasant to hear her talk. These
conversations often lead us very far, from morality to morality,
sometimes Christian, sometimes political." This circle was not
limited however to a few friends, and included from time to time
the learning, the elegance and the aristocracy of Paris.

But Mme. de La Fayette herself is the magnet that quietly draws
together this fascinating world. In her youth she had much life
and vivacity, perhaps a spice of discreet coquetry, but at this
period she was serious, and her fresh beauty had given place to
the assured and captivating grace of maturity. She had a face
that might have been severe in its strength but for the
sensibility expressed in the slight droop of the head to one
side, the tender curve of the full lips, and the variable light
of the dark, thoughtful eyes. In her last years, when her
stately figure had grown attenuated, and her face was pallid with
long suffering, the underlying force of her character was more
distinctly defined in the clear and noble outlines of her
features. Her nature was full of subtle shades. Over her
reserved strength, her calm judgment, her wise penetration played
the delicate light of a lively imagination, the shifting tints of
a tender sensibility. Her sympathy found ready expression in