I took a lodging in Turin, and was presently introduced, by the kindness of my hostess, to the service of a countess.  But this lady died shortly afterwards, and I left her house bearing with me lasting remorse for an atrocious action:  I had accused a fellow-servant of a theft which I had myself committed, and thus may very well have caused the poor child’s ruin.

Returning to my old lodging, I spent my days in wandering about town, often offending the public by my depravities.  But I had kept certain acquaintances made during my situation with the countess, and one of these, a M. Gaime, whom I sometimes visited, gave me most valuable instructions in the principles of morals.  He was a priest, and one of the most honest men I have known.  I had cherished false ideas of life; he gave me a true picture of it, and showed me that happiness depends only on wisdom, and that wisdom is to be found in every rank.  He used to say that if everyone could read the hearts of others, most would wish to descend in the social scale.  This M. Gaime is the original, in large part, of my vicar of Savoy.

Then followed a new situation in the house of the Count de Gouvon, where, nominally a footman, I was soon treated more as a pupil or even as a favourite.  His son, a priest, did his best to teach me Latin, and I have since realised that it was the purpose of this noble family, who had considerable political ambition, to train a talented dependent who might serve them in offices of great responsibility.  But my fatal inconstancy frustrated this good fortune, my flagrant disobediences led to my dismissal, and presently I was on the road to Geneva with a gay lad from thence who had found me out in Turin.

I happened to own a mechanical toy, a little fountain, and our mad project was nothing less than to pay our way throughout the world by showing its performances in every village.  We started in the highest spirits, but the fountain was never remunerative, and soon its works went wrong.  This threw no gloom over our merry, fantastic journey, and it was only when Annecy was near that I became a little thoughtful, for my benefactress supposed that my last place had established me for life.

We entered the little town and parted, and I came trembling to her door.  The adorable woman showed little surprise, and no sorrow.  I told her my story, and was forgiven.  Henceforth her home was mine.

Seeking a Career

The house was an old one, but spacious and comfortable, and the window of my room looked out, over garden and stream, to the open country.  The menage was by no means magnificent, but was abundant in a patriarchal way; Madame de Warens had no idea of economy, and with her hospitalities and speculations was ever running more deeply into debt.  The household, besides herself and me, consisted of housemaid, cook, and a footman named Claude Anet.

From the first day, the sweetest familiarity reigned our intercourse.  She called me “Little one,” I called her my little mother, and these names express the relation of our hearts.  She sought always my good, never her own pleasure; she was deeply attached to me, and lavished on me her maternal caresses.  I was now about nineteen years old, but was only occupied about the house in writing for her, or in helping her in her pharmaceutical experiments.