and he spoke so softly that it was often impossible to hear what he said.
He was excessively polite and affable, and his manners were those of the
Regency. His whole appearance was supremely ridiculous. I was told that
in his youth he was a lover of the fair sex, but now that he was no
longer good for anything he had modestly made himself into a woman, and
had four pretty pets in his employ, who took turns in the disgusting duty
of warming his old carcase at night.

Villars was governor of Provence, and had his back eaten up with cancer.
In the course of nature he should have been buried ten years ago, but
Tronchin kept him alive with his regimen and by feeding the wounds on
slices of veal. Without this the cancer would have killed him. His life
might well be called an artificial one.

I accompanied M. de Voltaire to his bedroom, where he changed his wig and
put on another cap, for he always wore one on account of the rheumatism
to which he was subject. I saw on the table the Summa of St. Thomas, and
among other Italian poets the 'Secchia Rapita' of Tassoni.

"This," said Voltaire, "is the only tragicomic poem which Italy has.
Tassoni was a monk, a wit and a genius as well as a poet."

"I will grant his poetical ability but not his learning, for he ridiculed
the system of Copernicus, and said that if his theories were followed
astronomers would not be able to calculate lunations or eclipses."

"Where does he make that ridiculous remark?"

"In his academical discourses."