She came several times, at the desire of Saint Lambert, to visit Rousseau at the Hermitage. He had desired her to go, believing that the ties of friendship established between the three would be of mutual benefit; and Rousseau being aware of their attachment, the openness of heart that reigned in the intercourse was another attraction. She spoke of her lover with enthusiasm: Rousseau listened, and before he was aware, felt for her all that she expressed for another. When, after her departure, he turned his thoughts to Julie, hitherto the idol of his imagination, he found her image displaced by that of madame d'Houdetot, and with a pang recognised the new power that possessed him. Sophist, as on many occasions Rousseau undoubtedly was, he reasoned on his feelings till the very causes that ought to have made him resolve to crush the nascent passion, were changed by him into motives for fostering it. He had enounced a severe code of morality, and called the permitted liaisons of Parisian society by the harsh name of adultery; and it would have been base indeed to have been tempted into forming such himself. There was no danger of this. Madame d'Houdetot loved another, superior to himself in all qualities that attract, with warmth and truth. He duped himself, therefore, by the vain sophism, that he only injured himself by nourishing an unreturned passion. Could he have confined it to his own heart, the injury would have been great enough; disturbing his peace, wrecking the little of proud consolatory thoughts which he preserved. But from the first he avowed his love to its object, and continued to pour the fervent expressions it inspired into her ear; secure in the mistaken notion, that as he did not seek to win her, but only to unburden his heart, the indulgence was innocent. He says that he should blame madame d'Houdetot for listening, had he been young and good-looking: still he was not so very old; perhaps suffering added years to his appearance; but at all events the lady acted with great imprudence. Her artless noble character lifts her far above unworthy suspicion; but she was thoughtless and inexperienced; the dupe of mistaken compassion. She allowed Rousseau to visit her frequently; to write to her; to pour out the declarations of his love; never feeling inclined to participate in his sentiments, she yet wished to preserve his friendship and to enjoy his society. For four months they were continually together. He walked over to her house at Eaubonne--they met half-way--they rambled together in the neighbouring country. Such unguarded conduct excited remark. Madame d'Epinay, to say the least, was exceedingly annoyed that her sister-in-law should thus expose herself to calumny. We have two accounts of these unfortunate events, one by Rousseau, the other from her pen. She passes rather slightly over them, but expresses even disgust; she was aware, she says, of her sister's innocence, but pained by her imprudent conduct. Theresa