s, I thought, at first,
that I had more skill in them than I really had, as experience proved.
When my mother knew the choice I had made, she was inconsolable; for she
reckoned, that had I been a clergyman I should have been a saint; but now
she was certain that I should either be a devil in the world, or be
killed in the wars. And indeed I burned with impatience to be a soldier;
but being yet too young, I was forced to make a campaign at Bidache
--[A principality belonging to the family of the Grammonts, in the
Province of Gascony.]--before I made one in the army. When I returned to
my mother's house, I had so much the air of a courtier and a man of the
world, that she began to respect me, instead of chiding me for my
infatuation towards the army. I became her favourite, and finding me
inflexible, she only thought of keeping me with her as long as she could,
while my little equipage was preparing. The faithful Brinon, who was to
attend me as valet-de-chambre, was likewise to discharge the office of
governor and equerry, being, perhaps, the only Gascon who was ever
possessed of so much gravity and ill-temper. He passed his word for my
good behaviour and morality, and promised my mother that he would give a
good account of my person in the dangers of the war; but I hope he will
keep his word better as to this last article than he has done as to the
former.

"My equipage was sent away a week before me. This was so much time
gained by my mother to give me good advice. At length, after having
solemnly enjoined me to have the fear of God before my eyes, and to love
my neighbour as myself, she suffered me to depart, under the protection
of the Lord and the sage Brinon. At the second stage we quarrelled. He
had received four hundred louis d'or for the expenses of the campaign: I
wished to have the keeping of them myself, which he strenuously opposed.
'Thou old scoundrel,' said I, 'is the money thine, or was it given thee
for me? You suppose I must have a treasurer, and receive no money
without his order. I know not whether it was from a presentiment of what
afterwards happened that he grew melancholy; however, it was with the
greatest reluctance, and the most poignant anguish, that he found himself
obliged to yield. One would have thought that I had wrested his very
soul from him. I found myself more light and merry after I had eased him
of his trust; he, on the contrary, appeared so overwhelmed with grief,
that it seemed as i