My impatience to arrive at Chambery had made me use more diligence than I meant to do.  I had sent a letter from Valence, mentioning the day and hour I should arrive, but I had gained half a day on this calculation, which time I passed at Chaparillan, that I might arrive exactly at the time I mentioned.  I wished to enjoy to its full extent the pleasure of seeing her, and preferred deferring this happiness a little, that expectancy might increase the value of it.  This precaution had always succeeded; hitherto my arrival had caused a little holiday; I expected no less this time, and these preparations, so dear to me, would have been well worth the trouble of contriving them.

I arrived then exactly at the hour, and while at a considerable distance, looked forward with an expectancy of seeing her on the road to meet me.  The beating of my heart increased as I drew near the house; at length I arrived, quite out of breath; for I had left my chaise in the town.  I see no one in the garden, at the door, or at the windows; I am seized with terror, fearful that some accident has happened.  I enter; all is quiet; the laborers are eating their luncheon in the kitchen, and far from observing any preparation, the servants seem surprised to see me, not knowing I was expected.  I go up—­stairs, at length see her!—­that dear friend! so tenderly, truly, and entirely beloved.  I instantly ran towards her, and threw myself at her feet.  “Ah! child!” said she, “art thou returned then!” embracing me at the same time.  “Have you had a good journey?  How do you do?” This reception amused me for some moments.  I then asked, whether she had received my letter? she answered “Yes.”—­“I should have thought not,” replied I; and the information concluded there.  A young man was with her at this time.  I recollected having seen him in the house before my departure, but at present he seemed established there; in short, he was so; I found my place already supplied!

This young man came from the country of Vaud; his father, named Vintzenried, was keeper of the prison, or, as he expressed himself, Captain of the Castle of Chillon.  This son of the captain was a journeyman peruke-maker, and gained his living in that capacity when he first presented himself to Madam de Warrens, who received him kindly, as she did all comers, particularly those from her own country.  He was a tall, fair, silly youth; well enough made, with an unmeaning face, and a mind of the same description, speaking always like the beau in a comedy, and mingling the manners and customs of his former situation with a long history of his gallantry and success; naming, according to his account, not above half the marchionesses who had favored him and pretending never to have dressed the head of a pretty woman, without having likewise decorated her husband’s; vain, foolish, ignorant and insolent; such was the worthy substitute taken in my absence, and the companion offered me on my return!