similar that we are pardonable in
deceiving ourselves.
One advantage resulting from good actions is that they elevate the soul
to a disposition of attempting still better; for such is human weakness,
that we must place among our good deeds an abstinence from those crimes
we are tempted to commit. No sooner was my resolution confirmed than I
became another man, or rather, I became what I was before I had erred,
and saw in its true colors what the intoxication of the moment had either
concealed or disguised. Full of worthy sentiments and wise resolutions,
I continued my journey, intending to regulate my future conduct by the
laws of virtue, and dedicate myself without reserve to that best of
friends, to whom I vowed as much fidelity in future as I felt real
attachment. The sincerity of this return to virtue appeared to promise a
better destiny; but mine, alas! was fixed, and already begun: even at
the very moment when my heart, full of good and virtuous sentiments, was
contemplating only innocence and happiness through life, I touched on the
fatal period that was to draw after it the long chain of my misfortunes!
My impatience to arrive at Chambery had made me use more diligence than I
meant to do. I had sent a letter from Valence, mentioning the day and
hour I should arrive, but I had gained half a day on this calculation,
which time I passed at Chaparillan, that I might arrive exactly at the
time I mentioned. I wished to enjoy to its full extent the pleasure of
seeing her, and preferred deferring this happiness a little, that
expectancy might increase the value of it. This precaution had always
succeeded; hitherto my arrival had caused a little holiday; I expected no
less this time, and these preparations, so dear to me, would have been
well worth the trouble of contriving them.
I arrived then exactly at the hour, and while at a considerable distance,
looked forward with an expectancy of seeing her on the road to meet me.
The beating of my heart increased as I drew near the house; at length I
arrived, quite out of breath; for I had left my chaise in the town. I
see no one in the garden, at the door, or at the windows; I am seized
with terror, fearful that some accident has happened. I enter; all is
quiet; the laborers are eating their luncheon in the kitchen, and far
from observing any preparation, the servants seem surprised to see me,
not knowing I was expected. I go up--stairs, at length see her!--that
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