al terror of my master's
savagery, I here reached my sixteenth year. But one day, finding the
city gates closed on my return from a country excursion, I determined,
rather than face the inevitable thrashing, to seek my fortune in the
unknown world.

_Madame de Warens_

How fair were the illusions of freedom and of the future! I asked
little--only a manor where I should be the favourite of the lord of the
land, his daughter's lover, her brother's friend, and protector of the
neighbourhood. I roamed the countryside, sleeping at nights in
hospitable cottages, and on arriving at Confignon I called, out of
curiosity, on M. de Ponteverre, the parish priest. He gave me a dinner
which convinced me, even more than his arguments, of the advantages of
the catholic faith; and I was willing enough to set off, with his
introduction, to Annecy. Here I was to seek Mme. de Warens, a recent
convert, who was in receipt of a pension from the King of Sardinia. I
was assured that her benevolence would support me for the present. Three
days later I was at Annecy.

This introduction fixed my character and destiny. I was now in my
sixteenth year, doubtless of engaging though not striking appearance; I
had the timidity of a loving nature, always afraid of giving offence;
and I was quite without knowledge of the world or of manners. I arrived
on Palm Sunday, 1728. Mme. de Warens had left the house for church; I
ran after her, saw her, spoke to her--how well do I remember the place,
so often in later days wet with my tears and covered with kisses!

I saw an enchanting form, a countenance full of graciousness, a dazzling
colour, blue eyes beaming kindness; you may imagine that my conversion
was from that moment decided. Smiling, she read the good priest's
letter, and sent me back to the house for breakfast.

Louise Eleonore de Warens, daughter of a noble family of Vevai, in the
Vaud country, had early married M. de Warens, of Lausanne. The marriage
was childless and otherwise unfortunate; and the young wife, exasperated
by some domestic difficulty, had abandoned her husband and her country,
and crossing the lake, had thrown herself at the feet of the king. He
took her under his protection, gave her a moderate pension, and for fear
of scandal sent her to Annecy, where she renounced her errors at the
Convent of the Visitation.

She had been six years at Annecy when I met her, and was now
twenty-eight years of age. Her beauty was still in i