Meanwhile my health was far from recovering; on the contrary I was visibly wasting away. I was as deathly pale and as thin as a skeleton; the throbbing in my arteries was terrible, and my heart palpitations more frequent. I was continually short of breath, and finally I became so weak that I found it difficult to move. I could not hurry without a feeling of suffocation; I could not stoop without turning giddy; I could not lift the smallest weight, and was reduced to an inactivity most painful to a man as restless as I am. No doubt there was a great deal of the vapours* mixed up in all this. The vapours, being the malady of happy people, was therefore mine. The tears that I often shed for no reason, my alarm at the fall of a leaf or the fluttering of a bird, my changes of mood amidst the calm of a most pleasing life; all these were signs of a surfeit of happiness which leads to boredom and, so to speak, to an exaggerated sensibility. So little are we formed for happiness here below that of necessity either the soul or the body must suffer – if they do not both do so – and the prosperity of either is nearly always harmful to the other. When I might have been enjoying the delights of life, my decaying physique prevented me, though no one could make out the true seat or cause of the disease. Later, despite my declining years and very real and serious maladies, my body seems to have regained its strength, the better to feel my sufferings; and now as I write this, weak and close upon sixty, and racked by pains of every description, I feel more strength and life in me with which to suffer than 1 had for enjoyment when I was in the flower of my youth and in the midst of genuine happiness.
To complete my undoing, I had varied my reading with a little physiology, and had begun to study anatomy. When I surveyed the number and workings of the various parts that compose the human frame I expected to feel all mine going wrong twenty times a day. Far from being astonished at finding myself to be dying, I was amazed still to be alive, and there was not an illness of which I read the description that I did not imagine to be mine. I am sure that if I had not been ill already this fatal study would have made me so. Since I found in every disease some symptoms of my own, I believed that I had them all; and on top of this I contracted a still more cruel complaint from which I had thought myself free; the wild desire to be cured, which it is very difficult to avoid when one begins to read medical books. By dint of research, reflection, and comparison I came to imagine that the root of my disease was a polypus on the heart, and Salomon himself seemed struck by the idea. This conclusion should reasonably have confirmed me in my previous resolution. But its effect was quite the opposite. I summoned all my mental powers to discover how a polypus on the heart could be cured; for this miraculous cure I was resolved to undertake. Anet had been told, on a journey he had made to Montpellier, to visit the botanical gardens and its curator, M. Sauvages, that M. Fizes had cured a polypus of this kind. Mamma remembered this and mentioned the fact to me. That was sufficient to kindle in me the desire to go and consult M. Fizes. The hope of a cure gave me back sufficient courage and strength to undertake the journey; and the money from Geneva supplied the means. Far from dissuading me, Mamma encouraged me to go; and so I set out for Montpellier.
I did not have to go as far as that to discover the doctor I needed. As riding tired me too much, I had taken a carriage at Grenoble. At Moirans five or six carriages arrived, in procession, after my own. This time, it was indeed the adventure of the sedan-chairs.* Most of these carriages were the escort of a recently wedded bride whose name was Mme du Colombier. With her was another lady, Mme de Larnage,† who was less young and handsome, but no less charming than she. The bride was going no further than Romans, but Mme de Larnage was to go on from there to Bour-Saint-Andéol, near Pont-Saint-Esprit. Considering my well-known bashfulness, no one will expect me to have struck up an immediate acquaintance with these elegant ladies and the suite attending them. But in the end as I was following the same road, lodging in the same inns and, through fear of appearing an absolute boor, was obliged to appear at the same table, it was unavoidable that we should become acquainted; which we did, and rather sooner than I should have wished, for all this bustle was hardly suitable for a sick man, and especially for one of my temperament. But curiosity makes those rogues the ladies so insinuating that when they want to get to know a man they begin by turning his head. Such was the case with me. Mme du Colombier was too closely besieged by her young gallants to have any time to attract me. Besides, it was not worth her while, for we were soon to part company. But Mme de Larnage was less beset by admirers, and had to make provision for her longer journey. So she undertook my conquest, and it was good-bye to poor Jean-Jacques, or rather to his fever, his vapours, and his polypus. It was good-bye to everything when in her company, except certain palpitations which remained and of which she did not wish to cure me. My poor state of health was the first subject of our conversation. They saw that I was ill, they knew that I was going to Montpellier; and neither my appearance nor my manners suggested that I was a debauchee – for it was clear from what followed that they did not suspect me of going there to be cured of the effects of over-indulgence. Although a state of illness is no great recommendation for a man in a woman’s eyes, it made me interesting to those ladies. In the morning they would send to inquire after my health and to invite me to take chocolate with them; they would ask me how 1 had slept. Once, following my praiseworthy custom of speaking without reflection, I replied that I did not know. My answer made them think I was mad. They examined me more closely and this examination was not to my disadvantage. On one occasion I heard Mme du Colombier say to her friend: ‘He is inexperienced, but he has charm.’ This verdict greatly reassured me, and I became charming indeed.
As our intimacy grew it was necessary to speak of oneself, to say where one came from and where one was going. This embarrassed me, for I knew that in polite society and with fashionable ladies the very word convert would ruin me. I do not know what freak decided me to pass myself off as an Englishman. I announced myself to be a Jacobite, and they believed me. I gave myself the name of Dudding, and they called me M. Dudding. A confounded Marquis de Torignan,* who was with them, a sick man like myself and old and somewhat crotchety into the bargain, took it into his head to start a conversation with M. Dudding. He talked to me about King James and the Pretender, and the old Court of St Germain. I was on thorns; all I knew about them was the little I had read in Count Hamilton and in the newspapers. But this little I used so well that I got out of my difficulty. Luckily no one thought of questioning me about the English language, of which I did not know a single word.
We got on well together and the whole company regretted the prospect of our parting. So we travelled at a snail’s pace. One Sunday, when we were at Saint-Marcellin, Mme de Larnage decided to go to Mass, and I went with her, which almost spoilt my game. I behaved no differently from usual, but from my modest and attentive expression she concluded that I was a pious fellow, and conceived the worst possible opinion of me, as she confessed to me two days later. I had to exercise considerable gallantry to wipe out this bad impression; or rather Mme de Larnage, being a woman of experience not easily put off, decided to risk some advances to see how I would extricate myself. She made several and in such a way that, far from attributing them to my good looks, I believed that she was making fun of me. With this silly idea in my head there was no sort of stupidity that I did not commit; I was worse than the Marquis de Legs.* Mme de Larnage stood her ground, tempting me so often and using such tender language that a man far wiser than I would have found it difficult to take it all seriously. The more she persisted the more she confirmed me in my idea; and what tortured me still more was that I was falling seriously in love with her. ‘Ah, if all this were true!’ I said to myself, and repeated to her with a sigh. ‘Then I should be the happiest of men.’ I think that my raw simplicity merely piqued her fancy; she was determined not to accept defeat.
We had left Mme du Colombier and her escort at Romans; and Mme de Larnage, the Marquis de Torignan, and I pursued our journey in the sl
owest and pleasantest way in the world. The Marquis, though a sick man and grumbler, was a decent enough fellow, but he did not like dry bread when others were enjoying a roast. Mme de Larnage took so little pains to hide her partiality for me that he was aware of it before I was; and his biting sarcasm would certainly have given me the assurance I did not venture to draw from the lady’s kindnesses if, by a perversity of which no one but I was capable, I had not imagined them to be leagued together to make a fool of me. This absurd idea finally turned my head, and I behaved like an utter simpleton in a situation where my heart, being really roused, might have taught me to play not too dull a part. I cannot conceive why Mme de Larnage was not repelled by my long face, and did not dismiss me in utter disdain. But she was an intelligent woman, who knew her way about the world, and saw clearly that there was more stupidity than lukewarmness in my behaviour.
She finally succeeded in making herself understood, and it was not without difficulty. We had arrived at Valence in time for dinner and, according to our excellent custom, we spent the rest of the day there. We had put up outside the town, at Saint-Jacques. I shall always remember that inn, and the room in it which Mme de Larnage occupied. After dinner she wanted to take a walk. She knew that the Marquis was no walker, and this was her way of contriving a tête-à-tête, which she had decided to make good use of, for there was no time to lose if any was to be left for enjoyment. We walked around the town by the side of the moat. There I resumed the long story of my illnesses, and she replied to me in so tender a tone, clasping my arm and sometimes pressing it to her heart, that only stupidity like mine could have prevented me from realizing that she meant what she said. The preposterous thing was that I was extremely moved myself. I have said that she was pleasing; love made her attractive, giving her back all the sparkle of her early youth; and she made her advances so cunningly that she would have seduced even a man on his guard. I was very ill at ease therefore, and always on the point of taking some liberty; but I was restrained by the fear of offending or displeasing, and by the still greater fear of being hissed and booed and ridiculed, of providing an after-dinner anecdote and of being congratulated on my enterprise by the pitiless Marquis. I was angry with myself for my stupid bashfulncss, and for being unable to overcome it; but at the same time I reproached myself for it. I was in tortures. I had already abandoned my shy lover’s language, of which I realized the full absurdity now that I was well on the road. But, not knowing what manner to adopt or what to say, I remained silent, and looked sulky. In fact I did everything in my power to court the treatment I had feared. Fortunately Mme de Larnage took a more humane line. She abruptly cut this silence short by putting her arm round my neck; and in a second her lips, pressed upon my own, spoke too clearly to leave me in doubt. The crisis could not have come at a happier moment. I became charming. It was time. She had given me that confidence, the lack of which almost always prevents me from being master of myself. For once I was myself. Never have my eyes and my senses, my heart and my mouth, spoken so eloquently; never have I so completely atoned for my errors; and though her little conquest had cost Mme de Larnage some trouble, I had reason to believe that she did not regret it.
Were I to live for a hundred years I should never remember that charming woman without pleasure. I say charming, though she was neither young nor beautiful; but since she was neither old nor plain there was nothing in her appearance to prevent her intelligence and her graces from producing their full effect. She differed from other women in this respect. Her least fresh feature was her complexion; I think she had spoiled it with rouge. She had her reasons for being so easy; it allowed her to display all her charms. One could see her without loving her, but to possess her was to adore her. And that proves, I think, that she was not always as liberal with her favours as she was to me. She had been seized with too quick and lively a passion to be excusable, but her heart was involved as well as her senses; and during the short and delightful time that I spent with her I had reason to believe, from the restraint she imposed on me, that although sensual and self-indulgent, she preferred my health to her own pleasures.
Our understanding did not escape the Marquis. He did not stop chaffing me; on the contrary, he treated me more than ever as the poor enraptured lover, a martyr to the cruelty of his lady. Not a word, not a smile, not a look escaped him to make me suspect that he had guessed our secret; and I should have thought him in the dark if Mme de Larnage, who had keener eyes than I, had not told me that he was not, but that he was a man of honour. And indeed no one could have been so politely attentive or have behaved more courteously than he invariably did, even towards me, except for his chaffing, and especially after my conquest. Perhaps he attributed the credit of it to me, and supposed that I was less stupid than I had looked. He was wrong, as we know. But no matter, I took advantage of his mistake. For the laugh was truly on my side then, and I endured his sallies willingly and with a fair grace. I retorted at times, even with tolerable success, being proud to display in Mme de Larnage’s presence the wit which I owed to her. I was no longer the same man.
We were in a country of plenty at a season of good cheer and, thanks to the Marquis’ good offices, we enjoyed it to the full. I could have dispensed with his extending his attentions to our bedrooms, however. But he always sent his lackey ahead to engage them, and the rascal, either on his own responsibility or upon his master’s instructions, always placed him in the next room to Mme de Larnage and me at the other end of the house. But this caused me very little embarrassment, and added a spice to our meetings. This delicious existence lasted three or four days during which I grew drunk upon the sweetest of pleasures. They were pure and sharp and without any alloy of pain; and they were the first and the last I have ever savoured in that way. I may say, indeed, that I owe it to Mme de Larnage that I shall not die without having known sensual delight.
If what I felt for her was not precisely love, it was at least so tender a return for the love she showed me, there was so hot a sensuality in our pleasures and so sweet an intimacy in our talk, that it had all the charm of passion without that delirium which turns the head and makes enjoyment impossible. I have only felt true love once in my life, and that was not for her. I did not love her either as I had loved Mme de Warens; and it was for that reason that I was a hundred times more successful in our intercourse. With Mamma my pleasure was always troubled by a feeling of sadness, by a secret oppression at the heart that I had difficulty in overcoming; instead of congratulating myself upon possessing her, I would reproach myself for degrading her. With Mme de Larnage, on the other hand, I was proud of my manhood and good fortune, and abandoned myself joyfully and confidently to my senses; I shared the sensuality I roused in her, and was sufficiently master of myself to look on my triumph with as much pride as pleasure, and thereby to derive the wherewithal to repeat it.
I do not remember the town at which the Marquis left us, for he belonged to that district. But we were alone before we reached Montélimar, and at this point Mme de Larnage moved her lady’s maid into my carriage, and I rode with her in hers. I can assure you that travelling was not at all tedious under these conditions, and I should find it very difficult to describe the nature of the country we passed through. She had some business at Montélimar, which kept her there three days, during which time, however, she only left me for a quarter of an hour to pay a visit, which brought her some tiresome and pressing invitations that she had no wish to accept. She pleaded an indisposition which did not prevent us, however, from taking walks alone together every day in the loveliest country and under the most beautiful sky in the world. Oh, those three days! How sadly I have looked back on them sometimes, and with reason; for I have known none like them since.
Travellers’ love affairs are not made to last. We had to part; and I confess that it was time. Not that I was satiated or even nearly so; I grew more attached to her every day. But despite all the lady’s moderation I had little left except the will, and before we separated I wanted
to avail myself of that little, which she allowed me to do as a precaution against the girls of Montpellier. We beguiled our sorrow with plans for a new meeting. It was decided that since this treatment did me good I should continue with it, and that I should spend the winter at Bourg-Saint-Andéol, under her direction. But I must stay at Montpellier for five or six weeks in order to leave her time to prepare things in such a way as to avoid scandal. She gave me ample instructions as to what I was to know, what I was to say, and how I was to behave. In the meantime we must write to one another. She spoke to me long and seriously about the care of my health, begged me to consult skilled physicians and to follow all their instructions most carefully, and promised, however strict their régime, to make me follow it while I was with her. I think that she meant what she said, for she loved me, and of this she gave me countless proofs more convincing than her favours. From my general appearance she concluded that I was not rolling in riches; and though not wealthy herself, she tried to force me on parting to share the contents of her purse, which had been pretty well filled when she left Grenoble. I had a great deal of difficulty in refusing. I left her in the end with my whole heart full of her, and there was, I thought, a genuine affection for me in hers.