All which settled, he still lingers.

Widowed, grown old and less adventurous! 'That House in the Rue Traversiere, once his and Another's, now his alone,--for the time being, it is probably more like a Mausoleum than a House to him.

And Versailles, with its sulky Trajans, its Crebillon cabals, what charm is in Versailles?
He thinks of going to Italy for a while; has never seen that fine Country: of going to Berlin for a while: of going to--In fact, Berlin is clearly the place where he will land; but he hesitates greatly about lifting anchor.

Friedrich insists, in a bright, bantering, kindly way; "You were due to me a year ago; you said always, 'So soon as the lying-in is over, I am yours:'-- and now, why don't you come ?" Friedrich, since they met last, has had some experiences of Voltaire, which he does not like.

Their roads, truly--one adulating Trajan in Versailles, and growing great by "Farces of the Fair;" the other battling for his existence against men and devils, Trajan and Company included--have lain far apart.