d whatever change she
might experience, while she remained herself, my sentiments could not
change. I was sensible how much gratitude I owed to her, but in truth, I
never thought of it, and whether she served me or not, it would ever have
been the same thing. I loved her neither from duty, interest, nor
convenience; I loved her because I was born to love her. During my
attachment to another, I own this affection was in some measure deranged;
I did not think so frequently of her, but still with the same pleasure,
and never, in love or otherwise, did I think of her without feeling that
I could expect no true happiness in life while in a state of separation.

Though in so long a time I had received no news from Madam de Warrens, I
never imagined I had entirely lost her, or that she could have forgotten
me. I said to myself, she will know sooner or later that I am wandering
about, and will find some means to inform me of her situation: I am
certain I shall find her. In the meantime, it was a pleasure to live in
her native country, to walk in the streets where she had walked, and
before the houses that she had lived in; yet all this was the work of
conjecture, for one of my foolish peculiarities was, not daring to
inquire after her, or even pronounce her name without the most absolute
necessity. It seemed in speaking of her that I declared all I felt, that
my lips revealed the secrets of my heart, and in some degree injured the
object of my affection. I believe fear was likewise mingled with this
idea; I dreaded to hear ill of her. Her management had been much spoken
of, and some little of her conduct in other respects; fearing, therefore,
that something might be said which I did not wish to hear, I preferred
being silent on the subject.

As my scholars did not take up much of my time, and the town where she
was born was not above four leagues from Lausanne, I made it a walk of
three or four days; during which time a most pleasant emotion never left
me. A view of the lake of Geneva and its admirable banks, had ever, in
my idea, a particular attraction which I cannot describe; not arising
merely from the beauty of the prospect, but something else, I know not
why, more interesting, which affects and softens me. Every time I have
approached the Vaudois country I have experienced an impression composed
of the remembrance of Madam de Warrens, who was born there; of my father,
who lived there; of Miss Vulson, who had bee