ssion on my heart, and I
sometimes escaped from the house of my patron to obtain a repetition of
them. I believe those who saw me going out, apparently by stealth, had
no conception of my business. Nothing could be more prudent than the
advice he gave me respecting my conduct. My beginning was admirable; so
much attention, assiduity, and zeal, had charmed everyone. The Abby
Gaime advised me to moderate this first ardor, lest I should relax, and
that relaxation should be considered as neglect. "Your setting out,"
said he, "is the rule of what will be expected of you; endeavor gradually
to increase your attentions, but be cautious how you diminish them."

As they paid but little attention to my trifling talents, and supposed I
possessed no more than nature had given me, there was no appearance
(notwithstanding the promises of Count de Gauvon) of my meeting with any
particular consideration. Some objects of more consequence had
intervened. The Marquis de Breil, son of the Count de Gauvon, was then
ambassador at Vienna; some circumstances had occurred at that court which
for some weeks kept the family in continual agitation, and left them no
time to think of me. Meantime I had relaxed but little in my attentions,
though one object in the family did me both good and harm, making me more
secure from exterior dissipation, but less attentive to my duty.

Mademoiselle de Breil was about my own age, tolerably handsome, and very
fair complexioned, with black hair, which notwithstanding, gave her
features that air of softness so natural to the flaxen, and which my
heart could never resist. The court dress, so favorable to youth, showed
her fine neck and shape to advantage, and the mourning, which was then
worn, seemed to add to her beauty. It will be said, a domestic should
not take notice of these things; I was certainly to blame, yet I
perceived all this, nor was I the only one; the maitre d' hotel and valet
de chambre spoke of her sometimes at table with a vulgarity that pained
me extremely. My head, however, was not sufficiently turned to allow of
my being entirely in love; I did not forget myself, or my situation.
I loved to see Mademoiselle de Breil; to hear her utter anything that
marked wit, sense, or good humor: my ambition, confined to a desire of
waiting on her, never exceeded its just rights. At table I was ever
attentive to make the most of them; if her footman quitted her chair,
I instantly supplied his pl