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and I was obliged to lodge at an alehouse. I went to see them the next
morning, and received an invitation to dine there, which I accepted. We
separated without tears at night; I returned to my paltry lodging, and
departed the second day after my arrival, almost without knowing whither
to go to.
This was a circumstance of my life in which Providence offered me
precisely what was necessary to make my days pass happily. Merceret was
a good girl, neither witty, handsome, nor ugly; not very lively, but
tolerably rational, except while under the influence of some little
humors, which usually evaporated in tears, without any violent outbreak
of temper. She had a real inclination for me; I might have married her
without difficulty, and followed her father's business. My taste for
music would have made me love her; I should have settled at Fribourg, a
small town, not pretty, but inhabited by very worthy people--I should
certainly have missed great pleasures, but should have lived in peace to
my last hour, and I must know best what I should have gained by such a
step.
I did not return to Nion, but to Lausanne, wishing to gratify myself with
a view of that beautiful lake which is seen there in its utmost extent.
The greater part of my secret motives have not been so reasonable.
Distant expectation has rarely strength enough to influence my actions;
the uncertainty of the future ever making me regard projects whose
execution requires a length of time as deceitful lures. I give in to
visionary scenes of hope as well as others, provided they cost nothing,
but if attended with any trouble, I have done with them. The smallest,
the most trifling pleasure that is conveniently within my reach, tempts
me more than all the joys of paradise. I must except, however, those
pleasures which are necessarily followed by pain; I only love those
enjoyments which are unadulterated, which can never be the case where we
are conscious they must be followed by repentance.
It was necessary I should arrive at some place, and the nearest was best;
for having lost my way on the road, I found myself in the evening at
Moudon, where I spent all that remained of my little stock except ten
creuzers, which served to purchase my next day's dinner. Arriving in the
evening at Lausanne, I went into an ale-house, without a penny in my
pocket to pay for my lodging, or knowing what would become of me. I
found myself extremely hungry--setting, therefore, a good face on the
matter, I ordered supper, made my meal, went to bed without thought and
slept with great composure. In the morning, having breakfasted and
reckoned with my host, I offered to leave my waistcoat in pledge for
seven batz, which was the amount of my expenses. The honest man refused
this, saying, thank Heaven, he had never stripped any one, and would not
now begin for seven batz, adding I should keep my waistcoat and pay him
when I could. I was affected with this unexpected kindness, but felt it
less than I ought to have done, or have since experienced on the
remembrance of it. I did not fail sending him his money, with thanks, by
one I could depend on. Fifteen years after, passing Lausanne, on my
return from Italy, I felt a sensible regret at having forgotten the name
of the landlord and house. I wished to see him, and should have felt
real pleasure in recalling to his memory that worthy action.
Services which doubtless have been much more important, but rendered with
ostentation, have not appeared to me so worthy of gratitude as the simple
unaffected humanity of this honest man.
As I approached Lausanne, I thought of my distress, and the means of
extricating myself, without appearing in want to my step-mother.
I compared myself, in this walking pilgrimage, to my friend Venture,
on his arrival at Annecy, and was so warmed with the idea, that without
recollecting that I had neither his gentility nor his talents, I
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