ly as the Count de
Saint-Laurent, Intendent-general of the Finances, was not in her
interest. He had an old house in Chambery, ill-built, and standing in so
disagreeable a situation that it was always untenanted; she hired, and
settled in this house, a plan that succeeded much better than a journey
to Turin would have done, for her pension was not suppressed, and the
Count de Saint-Laurent was ever after one of her best friends.

Her household was much on the old footing; her faithful Claude Anet still
remained with her. He was, as I have before mentioned, a peasant of
Moutru, who in his childhood had gathered herbs in Jura for the purpose
of making Swiss tea; she had taken him into her service for his knowledge
of drugs, finding it convenient to have a herbalist among her domestics.
Passionately fond of the study of plants, he became a real botanist, and
had he not died young, might have acquired as much fame in that science
as he deserved for being an honest man. Serious even to gravity, and
older than myself, he was to me a kind of tutor, commanding respect, and
preserving me from a number of follies, for I dared not forget myself
before him. He commanded it likewise from his mistress, who knew his
understanding, uprightness, and inviolable attachment to herself, and
returned it. Claude Anet was of an uncommon temper. I never encountered
a similar disposition: he was slow, deliberate, and circumspect in his
conduct; cold in his manner; laconic and sententious in his discourse;
yet of an impetuosity in his passions, which (though careful to conceal)
preyed upon him inwardly, and urged him to the only folly he ever
committed; that folly, indeed was terrible, it was poisoning himself.
This tragic scene passed soon after my arrival, and opened my eyes to the
intimacy that subsisted between Claude Anet and his mistress, for had not
the information come from her, I should never have suspected it; yet,
surely, if attachment, fidelity, and zeal, could merit such a recompense,
it was due to him, and what further proves him worthy such a distinction,
he never once abused her confidence. They seldom disputed, and their
disagreements ever ended amicably; one, indeed, was not so fortunate;
his mistress, in a passion, said something affronting, which not being
able to digest, he consulted only with despair, and finding a bottle of
laudanum at hand, drank it off; then went peaceably to bed, expecting to
awake no more. Madam