least doubt; she submits once for all. Her provision for ideas
is made; she rejects the best demonstrated truths and resists the
best reasonings, if they are contrary to the first impressions
she has received. All examination is impossible to her
lightness, and doubt is a state which her weakness cannot
support. Her catechism and the philosophy of Descartes are two
systems which she understands equally well . . . . Her mirror
cannot make her doubt the charms of her face; the testimony of
her eyes is more questionable than the judgment of those who have
decided that she is beautiful and well-formed. Her vanity is of
a singular kind, but seems the less offensive because it is not
reflective, though in reality it is the more ridiculous,
Intercourse with her is a slavery; her tyranny is open; she does
not deign to color it with the appearance of friendship. She
says frankly that she has the misfortune of not being able to do
without people for whom she does not care. She proves it
effectually. One sees her learn with indifference the death of
those who would call forth torrents of tears if they were a
quarter of an hour too late for a card party or a promenade."

But this vain and self-willed woman read Virgil and Terence in
the original, was devoted to Greek tragedies, dipped into
philosophy, traversed the surface of many sciences, turned a
madrigal with facility, and talked brilliantly. "The language is
perfect only when you speak it or when one speaks of you," wrote
Mme. de Lambert, in a tone of discreet flattery. "No one has
ever spoken with more correctness, clearness, and rapidity,
neither in a manner more noble or more natural," said Mlle. de
Launay.