Nothing that passed during that charming epocha, nothing that I did,
said, or thought, has escaped my memory. The time that preceded or
followed it, I only recollect by intervals, unequally and confused;
but here I remember all as distinctly as if it existed at this moment.
Imagination, which in my youth was perpetually anticipating the
future, but now takes a retrograde course, makes some amends by
these charming recollections for the deprivation of hope, which I have
lost forever. I no longer see anything in the future that can tempt my
wishes, it is a recollection of the past alone that can flatter me,
and the remembrance of the period I am now describing is so true and
lively, that it sometimes makes me happy, even in spite of my
misfortunes.
Of these recollections I shall relate one example, which may give
some idea of their force and precision. The first day we went to sleep
at Charmettes, the way being up-hill, and Madam de Warrens rather
heavy, she was carried in a chair, while I followed on foot. Fearing
the chairmen would be fatigued, she got out about half-way,
designing to walk the rest of it. As we passed along, she saw
something blue in the hedge, and said, "There's some periwinkle in
flower yet!" I had never seen any before, nor did I stop to examine
this: my sight is too short to distinguish plants on the ground, and I
only cast a look at this as I passed: an interval of near thirty years
had elapsed before I saw any more periwinkle, at least before I
observed it, when being at Cressier, in 1764, with my friend, M.
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