But the _mobilite_ of his mind was one of the most extraordinary parts of his character, and he was not more irascible than he was easily appeased. Madame du Chatelet maintained her power over him for twenty years; during five of which they resided in her chateau at Cirey, under the countenance of her husband; he was a good sort of man, but seems to have been considered by these two geniuses and their guests as a complete nonentity. He was "_Le bon-homme, le vilain petit Trichateau_" whom it was a task to speak to, and a penance to amuse. Every day, after coffee, Monsieur rose from the table with all the docility imaginable, leaving Voltaire and Madame to recite verses, translate Newton, philosophise, dispute, and do the honours of Cirey to the brilliant society who had assembled under his roof. While the boudoir, the laboratory, and the sleeping-room of the lady, and the study and gallery appropriated to Voltaire, were furnished with Oriental luxury and splendour, and shone with gilding, drapery, pictures, and baubles, the lord of the mansion and the guests were destined to starve in half-furnished apartments, from which the wind and the rain were scarcely excluded.[143] In 1748, Voltaire and Madame du Chatelet paid a visit to the Court of Stanislas, the ex-king of Poland, at Luneville, and took M. du Chatelet in their train. There Madame du Chatelet was seized with a passion for Saint-Lambert, the author of the "Saisons," who was at least ten or twelve years younger than herself, and then a _jeune militaire_, only admired for his fine figure and pretty _vers de societe_. Voltaire, it is said, was extremely jealous; but his jealousy did not prevent him from addressing some very elegant verses to his handsome rival, in which he compliments him gaily on the good graces of the lady. Saint-Lambert, ce n'est que pour toi Que ces belles fleurs sont ecloses, C'est ta main qui cueille les roses, Et les epines sont pour moi![144] Some months afterwards, Madame du Chatelet died in child-birth, in her forty-fourth year.