I unfortunately recollected the
dinner of the Chateau de Toune, and my meeting with the two charming
girls in the same season, in places much resembling that in which I
then was. The remembrance of these circumstances, which the
innocence that accompanied them rendered to me still more dear,
brought several others of the nature to my recollection. I presently
saw myself surrounded by all the objects which, in my youth, had given
me emotion. Mademoiselle Galley, Mademoiselle de Graffenried,
Mademoiselle de Breil, Madam Basile, Madam de Larnage, my pretty
scholars, and even the bewitching Zulietta, whom my heart could not
forget. I found myself in the midst of a seraglio of houris of my
old acquaintance, for whom the most lively inclination was not new
to me. My blood became inflamed, my head turned, notwithstanding my
hair was almost gray, and the grave citizen of Geneva, the austere
Jean-Jacques, at forty-five years of age, again became the fond
shepherd. The intoxication, with which my mind was seized, although
sudden and extravagant, was so strong and lasting, that, to enable
me to recover from it, nothing less than the unforeseen and terrible
crisis it brought on was necessary.
This intoxication, to whatever degree it was carried, went not so
far as to make me forget my age and situation, to flatter me that I
could still inspire love, nor to make me attempt to communicate the
devouring flame by which ever since my youth I had felt my heart in
vain consumed.
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