Monsieur Mably saw this as clearly as myself, though I am inclined
to think he would never have dismissed me had I not spared him the
trouble, which was an excess of condescension in this particular, that
I certainly cannot justify.
What rendered my situation yet more insupportable was the comparison
I was continually drawing between the life I now led and that which
I had quitted; the remembrance of my dear Charmettes, my garden,
trees, fountain and orchard, but above all, the company of her who was
born to give life and soul to every other enjoyment. On calling to
mind our pleasures and innocent life, I was seized with such
oppressions and heaviness of heart, as deprived me of the power of
performing anything as it should be. A hundred times was I tempted
instantly to set off on foot to my dear Madam de Warrens, being
persuaded that could I once more see her, I should be content to die
that moment: in fine, I could no longer resist the tender emotions
which recalled me back to her, whatever it might cost me. I accused
myself of not having been sufficiently patient, complaisant and
kind; concluding I might yet live happily with her on the terms of
tender friendship, and by showing more for her than I had hitherto
done. I formed the finest projects in the world, burned to execute
them, left all, renounced everything, departed, fled, and arriving
in all the transports of my early youth, found myself once more at her
feet. Alas! I should have died there with joy, and I found in her
reception, in her embrace, or in her heart, one-quarter of what I
had formerly found there, and which I yet felt the undiminished warmth
of.
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