I remember that dining one day at Clichy, at Madam Dupin's, with Crommelin, resident from the republic, and M.de Mairan, the latter openly declared the council owed me a present and public honors for the work, and that it would dishonor itself if it failed in either.

Crommelin, who was a black and mischievous little man, dared not reply in my presence, but he made a frightful grimace, which however forced a smile from Madam Dupin.

The only advantage this work procured me, besides that resulting from the satisfaction of my own heart, was the title of citizen given me by my friends, afterwards by the public after their example, and which I afterwards lost by having too well merited.
This ill success would not, however, have prevented my retiring to Geneva, had not more powerful motives tended to the same effect.
M.D'Epinay, wishing to add a wing which was wanting to the chateau of the Chevrette, was at an immense expense in completing it.

Going one day with Madam D'Epinay to see the building, we continued our walk a quarter of a league further to the reservoir of the waters of the park which joined the forest of Montmorency, and where there was a handsome kitchen garden, with a little lodge, much out of repair, called the Hermitage.
This solitary and very agreeable place had struck me when I saw it for the first time before my journey to Geneva.

I had exclaimed in my transport: "Ah, madam, what a delightful habitation! This asylum was purposely prepared for me." Madam D'Epinay did not pay much attention to what I said; but at this second journey I was quite surprised to find, instead of the old decayed building, a little house almost entirely new, well laid out, and very habitable for a little family of three persons.
Madam D'Epinay had caused this to be done in silence, and at a very small expense, by detaching a few materials and some of the work men from the castle.