esident; and I must observe, notwithstanding the imputation of wildness
that is generally bestowed on students, that I found more virtuous
dispositions among these youths than could easily be found among an equal
number of men: they were rather noisy than fond of wine, and more merry
than libertine.

I accustomed myself so much to this mode of life, and it accorded so
entirely with my humor, that I should have been very well content with a
continuance of it. Several of my fellow-boarders were Irish, from whom I
endeavored to learn some English words, as a precaution for Saint-Andiol.
The time now drew near for my departure; every letter Madam de Larnage
wrote, she entreated me not to delay it, and at length I prepared to obey
her.

I was convinced that the physicians (who understood nothing of my
disorder) looked on my complaint as imaginary, and treated me
accordingly, with their waters and whey. In this respect physicians and
philosophers differ widely from theologians; admitting the truth only of
what they can explain, and making their knowledge the measure of
possibilities. These gentlemen understood nothing of my illness,
therefore concluded I could not be ill; and who would presume to doubt
the profound skill of a physician? I plainly saw they only meant to
amuse, and make me swallow my money; and judging their substitute at
Saint-Andiol would do me quite as much service, and be infinitely more
agreeable, I resolved to give her the preference; full, therefore, of
this wise resolution, I quitted Montpelier.

I set off towards the end of November, after a stay of six weeks or two
months in that city, where I left a dozen louis, without either my health
or understanding being the better for it, except from a short course of
anatomy begun under M. Fitz-Morris, which I was soon obliged to abandon,
from the horrid stench of the bodies he dissected, which I found it
impossible to endure.

Not thoroughly satisfied in my own mind on the rectitude of this
expedition, as I advanced towards the Bridge of St. Esprit (which was
equally the road to Saint-Andiol and to Chambery) I began to reflect on
Madam de Warrens, the remembrance of whose letters, though less frequent
than those from Madam de Larnage, awakened in my heart a remorse that
passion had stifled in the first part of my journey, but which became so
lively on my return, that, setting just estimate on the love of pleasure,
I found myself in such a situation of