These attempts at reaction in the midst of the onward rush of the age found an echo in the religious coteries; and the greater nobility, generally speaking, upbraided those of its members who had allowed themselves to be fascinated by the seductions of the new philosophy. In the conservative salons, the king and queen were overwhelmed with maledictions and sarcasm when they seemed inclined to abandon the theory of the royal _good pleasure._ The aristocrats clung to that theory, they believed that everything was safe when they added a stone to the powerless dam erected to stem the revolutionary spirit, and yet no one suspected the swift motion of the flood nor the imminence of the inundation. Everything was translated into bitter satire, ballads and caricatures. They pretended to despise the danger to the point of laughing pityingly at it. Those persons who were of Julie's immediate circle were of the same mild and timid disposition to which her own mild timidity naturally inclined her; but outside of that little circle, where extravagance in any form was frowned upon, she felt the pressure of a large and more formidable circle, that of the Comte d'Estrelle's family, an arrogant family, irritated by her dumb resistance to absolute opinions; and again, outside of that dreaded circle, which she carefully avoided, there was a still more powerful and threatening one, that of the Marquis d'Estrelle's second wife. That circle, composed exclusively of bigots, opposed to all progress, bitterly contemptuous of philosophers, openly hostile to the omnipotent Voltaire himself, permeated with all the prejudices of birth, fiercely tenacious of its alleged right, was to Julie a subject of terror, puerile perhaps but profound and increasing. The marchioness was well-known to be a covetous, evil-minded, dishonorable woman, and we have seen that the Baronne d'Ancourt, despite her own retrograde ideas, spoke of her, as well as of her environment, with great aversion. Julie was very slightly acquainted with her, and strove to believe that she was sincere in her piety; but she was afraid of her, and, when she questioned herself concerning the state of dread and depression in which she was living, she saw before her the disgusting spectre of that gaunt person, with the greenish eye and pitiless tongue. At such times, from very excess of terror, she tried to apologize for her when she spoke of her, or to impose silence on those of her friends who ventured to call her a harpy or a bird of evil omen.