ave
forgotten, but who merits a place in my list of preferences. She had
adopted the slow drawling tone of the nuns, in which voice she would
utter some very keen things, which did not in the least appear to
correspond with her manner; but she was indolent, and could not generally
take pains to show her wit, that being a favor she did not grant to every
one. After a month or two of negligent attendance, this was an expedient
she devised to make me more assiduous, for I could not easily persuade
myself to be so. When with my scholars, I was fond enough of teaching,
but could not bear the idea of being obliged to attend at a particular
hour; constraint and subjection in every shape are to me insupportable,
and alone sufficient to make me hate even pleasure itself.

I had some scholars likewise among the tradespeople, and, among others,
one who was the indirect cause of a change of relationship, which (as I
have promised to declare all) I must relate in its place. She was the
daughter of a grocer, and was called Mademoiselle de Larnage, a perfect
model for a Grecian statue, and whom I should quote for the handsomest
girl I have ever seen, if true beauty could exist without life or soul.
Her indolence, reserve, and insensibility were inconceivable; it was
equally impossible to please or make her angry, and I am convinced that
had any one formed a design upon her virtue, he might have succeeded, not
through her inclination, but from her stupidity. Her mother, who would
run no risk of this, did not leave her a single moment. In having her
taught to sing and providing a young master, she had hoped to enliven
her, but it all proved ineffectual. While the master was admiring the
daughter, the mother was admiring the master, but this was equally lost
labor. Madam de Larnage added to her natural vivacity that portion of
sprightliness which should have belonged to the daughter. She was a
little, ugly, lively trollop, with small twinkling ferret eyes, and
marked with smallpox. On my arrival in the morning, I always found my
coffee and cream ready, and the mother never failed to welcome me with a
kiss on the lips, which I would willingly have returned the daughter, to
see how she would have received it. All this was done with such an air
of carelessness and simplicity, that even when M. de Larnage was present;
her kisses and caresses were not omitted. He was a good quiet fellow,
the true original of his daughter; nor did h