ficence; for he made me the same present he
had previously done to the elegant Bernard, by paying for my place in the
diligence. I visited the surgeon Parisot, the best and most benevolent
of men; as also his beloved Godefroi, who had lived with him ten years,
and whose merit chiefly consisted in her gentle manners and goodness of
heart. It was impossible to see this woman without pleasure, or to leave
her without regret. Nothing better shows the inclinations of a man, than
the nature of his attachments.

[Unless he be deceived in his choice, or that she, to whom he
attaches himself, changes her character by an extraordinary
concurrence of causes, which is not absolutely impossible. Were
this consequence to be admitted without modification, Socrates must
be judged of by his wife Xantippe, and Dion by his friend Calippus,
which would be the most false and iniquitous judgment ever made.
However, let no injurious application be here made to my wife. She
is weak and more easily deceived than I at first imagined, but by
her pure and excellent character she is worthy of all my esteem.]

Those who had once seen the gentle Godefroi, immediately knew the good
and amiable Parisot.

I was much obliged to all these good people, but I afterwards neglected
them all; not from ingratitude, but from that invincible indolence which
so often assumes its appearance. The remembrance of their services has
never been effaced from my mind, nor the impression they made from my
heart; but I could more easily have proved my gratitude, than assiduously
have shown them the exterior of that sentiment. Exactitude in
correspondence is what I never could observe; the moment I began to
relax, the shame and embarrassment of repairing my fault made me
aggravate it, and I entirely desist from writing; I have, therefore, been
silent, and appeared to forget them. Parisot and Perrichon took not the
least notice of my negligence, and I ever found them the same. But,
twenty years afterwards it will be seen, in M. Bordes, to what a degree
the self-love of a wit can make him carry his vengeance when he feels
himself neglected.

Before I leave Lyons, I must not forget an amiable person, whom I again
saw with more pleasure than ever, and who left in my heart the most
tender remembrance. This was Mademoiselle Serre, of whom I have spoken
in my first part; I renewed my acquaintance with her whilst I was at M.