"You are called by the Almighty," said M.de Pontverre; "go to Annecy, where you will find a good and charitable lady, whom the bounty of the king enables to turn souls from those errors she has haply renounced." He spoke of a Madam de Warrens, a new convert, to whom the priests contrived to send those wretches who were disposed to sell their faith, and with these she was in a manner constrained to share a pension of two thousand francs bestowed on her by the King of Sardinia.I felt myself extremely humiliated at being supposed to want the assistance of a good and charitable lady.I had no objection to be accommodated with everything I stood in need of, but did not wish to receive it on the footing of charity, and to owe this obligation to a devotee was still worse: notwithstanding my scruples the persuasions of M.de Pontverre, the dread of perishing with hunger, the pleasures I promised myself from the journey, and hope of obtaining some desirable situation, determined me; and I set out, though reluctantly, for Annecy.I could easily have reached it in a day, but being in no great haste to arrive there, it took me three.My head was filled with the idea of adventures, and Iapproached every country-seat I saw in my way, in expectation of having them realized.I had too much timidity to knock at the doors, or even enter if I saw them open, but I did what I dared- which was to sing under those windows that I thought had the most favorable appearance; and was very much disconcerted to find I wasted my breath to no purpose, and that neither young nor old ladies were attracted by the melody of my voice, or the wit of my poetry, though some songs my companions had taught me I thought excellent, and that Isung them incomparably.At length I arrived at Annecy, and saw Madam de Warrens.
As this period of my life, in a great measure, determined my character, I could not resolve to pass it lightly over.I was in the middle of my sixteenth year, and though I could not be called handsome, was well made for my height; I had a good foot, a well turned leg, and animated countenance; a well proportioned mouth, black hair and eyebrows, and my eyes, though small and rather too far in my head, sparkling with vivacity, darted that innate fire which inflamed my blood; unfortunately for me, I knew nothing of all this, never having bestowed a single thought on my person till it was too late to be of any service to me.The timidity common to my age was heightened by a natural benevolence, which made me dread the idea of giving pain.Though my mind had received some cultivation, having seen nothing of the world, I was an absolute stranger to polite address, and my mental acquisitions, so far from supplying this defect, only served to increase my embarrassment, by making me sensible of every deficiency.
Depending little, therefore, on external appearances, I had recourse to other expedients: I wrote a most elaborate letter, where, mingling all the flowers of rhetoric which I had borrowed from books with the phrases of an apprentice, I endeavored to strike the attention, and insure the good will of Madam de Warrens.I enclosed M.
de Pontverre's letter in my own, and waited on the lady with a heart palpitating with fear and expectation.It was Palm Sunday, of the year 1728; I was informed she was that moment gone to church: I hasten after her, overtake, and speak to her.- The place is yet fresh in my memory- how can it be otherwise? often have I moistened it with my tears and covered it with kisses.- Why cannot I enclose with gold the happy spot, and render it the object of universal veneration?
Whoever wishes to honor monuments of human salvation would only approach it on their knees.
It was a passage at the back of the house, bordered on the right hand by a little rivulet, which separated it from the garden, and, on the right, by the courtyard wall; at the end was a private door, which opened into the church of the Cordeliers.Madam de Warrens was just passing this door; but, on hearing my voice, instantly turned about.What an effect did the sight of her produce! I expected to see a devout, forbidding old woman; M.de Pontverre's pious and worthy lady could be no other in my conception: instead of which, I see a face beaming with charms, fine blue eyes full of sweetness, a complexion whose whiteness dazzled the sight, the form of an enchanting neck, nothing escaped the eager eye of the young proselyte;for that instant I was hers!- a religion preached by such missionaries must lead to paradise!
My letter was presented with a trembling hand; she took it with a smile- opened it, glanced an eye over M.de Pontverre's and again returned to mine, which she read through, and would have read again, had not her footman that instant informed her that service was beginning- "Child," said she, in a tone of voice which made every nerve vibrate, "you are wandering about at an early age- it is really a pity!"- and, without waiting for an answer, added- "Go to my house, bid them give you something for breakfast, after mass I will speak to you."Louisa-Eleanora de Warrens was of the noble and ancient family of La Tour de Pit, of Vevay, a city in the country of the Vaudois.She was married very young to a M.de Warrens, of the house of Loys, eldest son of M.de Villardin, of Lausanne: there were no children by this marriage, which was far from being a happy one.Some domestic uneasiness made Madam de Warrens take the resolution of crossing the Lake, and throwing herself at the feet of Victor Amadeus, who was then at Evian; thus abandoning her husband, family, and country by a giddiness similar to mine, which precipitation she, too, has found sufficient time and reason to lament.
