He took my hand and kissed it, and I know not why, but I was touched by this act of common gallantry coming from him. "During dinner, M. de Voltaire was by no means agreeable; he appeared to be continually angry with his servants, calling to them so loudly that I started. I had been told beforehand of this habit, so singular before strangers; but it was evident that it was merely a habit, for the servants neither appeared surprised nor troubled. After dinner, knowing that I was a musician, Voltaire asked madame Denis to play. She had a method which reminded one of the music of the days of Louis XIV. She had just finished a piece of Rameau, when a little girl of seven years old entered, and threw herself into Voltaire's arms, calling him papa. He received her caresses with sweetness; and, seeing that I looked on the picture with extreme pleasure, he told me that this was the daughter of the descendant of the great Corneille, whom he had adopted. Several visitors from Geneva dropped in, and afterwards he proposed a drive, and he and his niece, madame de Saint Julien, and myself entered the carriage, and he took us to the village to see the houses he is building, and the charitable establishments he has founded. He is greater here than in his books, for so ingenious a goodness appears in all, that one wonders that the same hand which wrote so much blasphemy, could form such noble, wise, and useful works. He shows this village to all strangers, but unpretendingly. He speaks of it with kindness and simplicity; he mentions all that he has done, but with no appearance of boasting. On returning to the chateau, the conversation was very animated: it was night before I took my leave.