For once, however, it went no further; my simplicity being such, that though Merceret was by no means a disagreeable girl, an idea of gallantry never entered my head, and even if it had, I was too great a novice to have profited by it.I could not imagine how two young persons could bring themselves to sleep together, thinking that such familiarity must require an age of preparation.If poor Merceret paid my expenses in hopes of any return, she was terribly cheated, for we arrived at Fribourg exactly as we had quitted Annecy.
I passed through Geneva without visiting any one.While going over the bridges, I found myself so affected that I could scarcely proceed.
Never could I see the walls of that city, never could I enter it, without feeling my heart sink from excess of tenderness, at the same time that the image of liberty elevated my soul.The ideas of equality, union, and gentleness of manners, touched me even to tears, and inspired me with a lively regret at having forfeited all these advantages.What an error was I in! but yet how natural! Iimagined I saw all this in my native country, because I bore it in my heart.
It was necessary to pass through Nion: could I do this without seeing my good father? Had I resolved on doing so, I must afterwards have died with regret.I left Merceret at the inn, and ventured to his house.How wrong was I to fear him! On seeing me, his soul gave way to the parental tenderness with which it was filled.What tears were mingled with our embraces! He thought I was returned to him: I related my history, and informed him of my resolution.He opposed it feebly, mentioning the dangers to which I exposed myself, and telling me the shortest follies were best, but did not attempt to keep me by force, in which particular I think he acted right; but it is certain he did not do everything in his power to retain me, even by fair means.
Whether after the step I had taken, he thought I ought not to return, or was puzzled at my age to know what to do with me- I have since found that he conceived a very unjust opinion of my traveling companion.My step-mother, a good woman, a little coaxingly put on an appearance of wishing me to stay and sup; I did not, however, comply, but told them I proposed remaining longer with them on my return; leaving as a deposit my little packet, that had come by water, and would have been an incumbrance, had I taken it with me.Icontinued my journey the next morning, well satisfied that I had seen my father, and had taken courage to do my duty.
We arrived without any accident at Fribourg.Towards the conclusion of the journey, the politeness of Mademoiselle Merceret rather diminished, and, after our arrival, she treated me even with coldness.Her father, who was not in the best circumstances, did not show me much attention, and I was obliged to lodge at an ale-house.
I went to see them the next morning, and received an invitation to dine there, which I accepted.We separated without tears at night; Ireturned 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.
