I first wrote a few incoherent letters, and when I afterwards wished to give them connection, I frequently found a difficulty in doing it.  What is scarcely credible, although most strictly true, is my having written the first two parts almost wholly in this manner, without having any plan formed, and not foreseeing I should one day be tempted to make it a regular work.  For this reason the two parts afterwards formed of materials not prepared for the place in which they are disposed, are full of unmeaning expressions not found in the others.

In the midst of my reveries I had a visit from Madam d’Houdetot, the first she had ever made me, but which unfortunately was not the last, as will hereafter appear.  The Comtesse d’Houdetot was the daughter of the late M. de Bellegarde, a farmer-general, sister to M. d’Epinay, and Messieurs de Lalive and De la Briche, both of whom have since been introductors to ambassadors.  I have spoken of the acquaintance I made with her before she was married:  since that event I had not seen her, except at the fetes at La Chevrette, with Madam d’Epinay, her sister-in-law.  Having frequently passed several days with her, both at La Chevrette and Epinay, I always thought her amiable, and that she seemed to be my well-wisher.  She was fond of walking with me; we were both good walkers, and the conversation between us was inexhaustible.  However, I never went to see her in Paris, although she had several times requested and solicited me to do it.  Her connections with M. de St. Lambert, with whom I began to be intimate, rendered her more interesting to me, and it was to bring me some account of that friend who was, I believe, then at Mahon, that she came to see me at the Hermitage.

This visit had something of the appearance of the beginning of a romance.  She lost her way.  Her coachman, quitting the road, which turned to the right, attempted to cross straight over from the mill of Clairvaux to the Hermitage:  her carriage stuck in a quagmire in the bottom of the valley, and she got out and walked the rest of the road.  Her delicate shoes were soon worn through; she sunk into the dirt, her servants had the greatest difficulty in extricating her, and she at length arrived at the Hermitage in boots, making the place resound with her laughter, in which I most heartily joined.  She had to change everything.  Theresa provided her with what was necessary, and I prevailed upon her to forget her dignity and partake of a rustic collation, with which she seemed highly satisfied.  It was late, and her stay was short; but the interview was so mirthful that it pleased her, and she seemed disposed to return.  She did not however put this project into execution until the next year:  but, alas! the delay was not favorable to me in anything.