I never loved her more tenderly than when I felt so little propensity to avail myself of her condescension.The gratification of the senses had no influence over her; I was well convinced that her only motive was to guard me from dangers, which appeared otherwise inevitable, by this extraordinary favor, which she did not consider in the same light that women usually do; as will presently be explained.I pitied her, and I pitied myself.I would like to tell her: No, Mama, it is not necessary; you can rely upon me without this.
But I dared not; in the first place it was a thing I hardly could tell her, and next, because I felt innermost, that it was not the truth, and that in reality there was only one woman who could shield me from other women and strengthen me against temptations.Without desiring to possess her; knew well enough that she deprived me of the desire to possess others; to such a degree I considered anything a misfortune that might separate me from her.
The habit of living a long time innocently together far from weakening the first sentiments I felt for her, had contributed to strengthen them, giving a more lively, a more tender, but at the same time a less sensual, turn to my affection.Having ever accustomed myself to call her Mama and enjoying the familiarity of a son, it became natural to consider myself as such, and I am inclined to think this was the true reason of that insensibility with a person Iso tenderly loved; for I can perfectly recollect that my emotions on first seeing her, though not more lively, were more voluptuous: at Annecy I was intoxicated, at Chambery I possessed my reason.Ialways loved her as passionately as possible, but I now loved her more for herself and less on my own account; or, at least, I rather sought for happiness than pleasure in her company.She was more to me than a sister, a mother, a friend, or even than a mistress, and for this very reason she was not a mistress; in a word, I loved her too much to desire her.
The day, more dreaded than hoped for, at length arrived.I have before observed, that I promised everything that was required of me, and I kept my word: my heart confirmed my engagements without desiring the fruits, though at length I obtained them.For the first time Ifound myself in the arms of a woman, and a woman whom I adored.Was I happy? No: I felt I know not what invincible sadness which empoisoned my happiness: it seemed that I had committed an ******, and two or three times, pressing her eagerly in my arms, I deluged her bosom with my tears.As to her, she was neither sad nor glad, she was caressing and calm.As she was not of a sensual nature and had not sought voluptuousness, she did not feel the delight of it, nor the stings of remorse.
I repeat it, all her failings were the effect of her errors, never of her passions.She was well born, her heart was pure, her manners noble, her desires regular and virtuous, her taste delicate: she seemed formed for that elegant purity of manners which she ever loved, but never practiced, because instead of listening to the dictates of her heart, she followed those of her reason, which led her astray: for when once corrupted by false principles it will ever run counter to its natural sentiments.Unhappily, she piqued herself on philosophy, and the morals she drew thence clouded the purity of her heart.
M.de Tavel, her first lover, was also her instructor in this philosophy, and the principles he instilled into her mind were such as tended to seduce her.Finding her firmly attached to her husband and her duty, he attacked her by sophisms, endeavoring to prove that the list of duties she thought so sacred, was but a sort of catechi**, fit only for children.That the connection of the ***es which she thought so terrible, was, in itself, absolutely indifferent; that all the morality of conjugal faith consisted in opinion, the contentment of husbands being the only reasonable rule of duty in wives; consequently that concealed infidelities, doing no injury, could be no crimes; in a word, he persuaded her that the sin consisted only in the scandal, that woman being really virtuous who took care to appear so.Thus the deceiver obtained his end in subverting the reason of a girl, whose heart he found it impossible to corrupt, and received his punishment in a devouring jealousy, being persuaded she would treat him as she had treated her husband.
I don't know whether he was mistaken in this respect: the Minister Perret passed for his successor; all I know, is, that the coldness of temperament which it might have been supposed would have kept her from embracing this system, in the end prevented her from renouncing it.She could not conceive how so much importance should be given to what seemed to have none for her; nor could she honor with the name of virtue, an abstinence which would have cost her little.
She did not, therefore, give in to this false principle on her own account, but for the sake of others; and that from another maxim almost as false as the former, but more consonant to the generosity of her disposition.