THE DUO BE NOAILLES.

10T

then shoved his stool almost to the other end of the room, and
went out, bristling like a wild boar, without looking at or salut-
ing anybody—we all laughing. M. le Due and several others
came to me, and with M. le Comte de Toulouse, were much
diverted. M. de Noailles had, in fact, so little command over
• himself, that, in turning to go out, he struck the table, swearing,
and saying he could endure it no longer.

I learnt afterwards, by frequenters of the Hotel de Noailles,
who told it to my friends, that when he reached home, he went
to bed, and would not see a soul; that fever seized him, that
the next day he was of a frightful temper, and that he had
been heard to say he could no longer endure the annoyances I
caused him. It may be imagined whether or not this softened
me. The Due de Noailles had, in fact, behaved towards me
with such infamous treachery, and such unmasked impudence,
that I took pleasure at all times and at all places in making
him feel, and others see, the sovereign disdain I entertained for
Mm. I did not allow my private feelings to sway my judgment
when public interests were at stake, for when I thought the
Due de Noailles right, and this often occurred, I supported him;
but when I knew him to be wrong, or when I caught him neg-
lecting his duties, conniving at injustice, shirking inquiry, or
evading the truth, I in no way spared him. The incident just
related is an illustration of the treatment he often received at
my hands. Fret, fume, stamp, storm, as he might, I cared no-
thing for him. His anger to me was as indifferent as his friend-
ship. I despised both equally. Occasionally he would imagine,
after there had been no storm between us for some time, that I
had become reconciled to him, and would make advances to me.
But the stern and terrible manner in which I met them,—or
rather refused to meet them, taking no more notice of his polite-
ness and his compliments, than as if they made no appeal
whatever to my eyes or ears,—soon convinced him of the per-
manent nature of our quarrel, and drove him to the most violent
rage and despair.*

* It would be too hard a task to discuss with Saint-Simon the exactness
of the violent portraits he paints of some of his contemporaries. With re-