the pictures and engravings of Watteau, Fragonard and the Saint-Aubins, and then in the novels and dramas of Voltaire and Marivaux, and even in Collé and Crébillon fils;[52] then do we see the breathing figures and hear their voices, What bright, winning, intelligent faces beaming with pleasure and with the desire to please!  What ease in bearing and in gesture!  What piquant grace in the toilet, in the smile, in vivaciousness of expression, in the control of the fluted voice, in the coquetry of hidden meanings!  How involuntarily we stop to look and listen!  Attractiveness is everywhere, in the small spirituelle heads, in the slender hands, in the rumpled attire, in the pretty features, in the demeanor.  The slightest gesture, a pouting or mutinous turn of the head, a plump little wrist peering from its nest of lace, a yielding waist bent over an embroidery frame, the rapid rustling of an opening fan, is a feast for the eyes and the intellect.  It is indeed all daintiness, a delicate caress for delicate senses, extending to the external decoration of life, to the sinuous outlines, the showy drapery, and the refinements of comfort in the furniture and architecture.  Fill your imagination with these accessories and with these figures and you will take as much interest in their amusements as they did.  In such a place and in such company it suffices to be together to be content.  Their indolence is no burden to them for they sport with existence. — At Chanteloup, the Duc de Choiseul, in disgrace, finds the fashionable world flocking to see him; nothing is done and yet no hours of the day are unoccupied.[53] “The Duchess has only two hours’ time to herself and these two hours are devoted to her toilet and her letters; the calculation is a simple one:  she gets up at eleven; breakfasts at noon, and this is followed by conversation, which lasts three or four hours; dinner comes at six, after which there is play and the reading of the memoirs of Mme. de Maintenon.”  Ordinarily “the company remains together until two o’clock in the morning.”  Intellectual freedom is complete.  There is no confusion, no anxiety.  They play whist and tric-trac in the afternoon and faro in the evening.  “They do to day what they did yesterday and what they will do to-morrow; the dinner-supper is to them the most important affair in life, and their only complaint in the world is of their digestion.  Time goes so fast I always fancy that I arrived only the evening before.”  Sometimes they get up a little race and the ladies are disposed to take part in it, “for they are all very agile and able to run around the drawing room five or six times every day.”  But they prefer indoors to the open air; in these days true sunshine consists of candle-light and the finest sky is a painted ceiling; is there any other less subject to inclemencies or better adapted to conversation and merriment? — They accordingly chat and jest, in words with present friends, and by letters