I had a proof of this at M. Malby’s, when,
though surrounded by a number of little things that
I could easily have pilfered, and which appeared no
temptation, I took it into my head to covert some
white Arbois wine, some glasses of which I had drank
at table, and thought delicious. It happened
to be rather thick, and as I fancied myself an excellent
finer of wine, I mentioned my skill, and this was
accordingly trusted to my care, but in attempting to
mend, I spoiled it, though to the sight only, for
it remained equally agreeable to the taste.
Profiting by this opportunity, I furnished myself from
time to time with a few bottles to drink in my own
apartment; but unluckily, I could never drink without
eating; the difficulty lay therefore, in procuring
bread. It was impossible to make a reserve of
this article, and to have it brought by the footman
was discovering myself, and insulting the master of
the house; I could not bear to purchase it myself;
how could a fine gentleman, with a sword at his side,
enter a baker’s shop to buy a small loaf of
bread? it was utterly impossible. At length
I recollected the thoughtless saying of a great princess,
who, on being informed that the country people had
no bread, replied, “Then let them eat pastry!”
Yet even this resource was attended with a difficulty.
I sometimes went out alone for this very purpose,
running over the whole city, and passing thirty pastry
cook’s shops, without daring to enter any one
of them. In the first place, it was necessary
there should be only one person in the shop, and that
person’s physiognomy must be so encouraging
as to give me confidence to pass the threshold; but
when once the dear little cake was procured, and I
shut up in my chamber with that and a bottle of wine,
taken cautiously from the bottom of a cupboard, how
much did I enjoy drinking my wine, and reading a few
pages of a novel; for when I have no company I always
wish to read while eating; it seems a substitute for
society, and I dispatch alternately a page and a morsel;
’tis indeed, as if my book dined with me.
I was neither dissolute nor sottish, never in my whole
life having been intoxicated with liquor; my little
thefts were not very indiscreet, yet they were discovered;
the bottles betrayed me, and though no notice was
taken of it, I had no longer the management of the
cellar. In all this Monsieur Malby conducted
himself with prudence and politeness, being really
a very deserving man, who, under a manner as harsh
as his employment, concealed a real gentleness of
disposition and uncommon goodness of heart: he
was judicious, equitable, and (what would not be expected
from an officer of the Marechausse) very humane.
Sensible of his indulgence, I became greatly attached
to him, which made my stay at Lyons longer than it
would otherwise have been; but at length, disgusted
with an employment which I was not calculated for,
and a situation of great confinement, consequently
disagreeable to me, after a year’s trial, during
which time I spared no pains to fulfill my engagement,
I determined to quit my pupils; being convinced I should
never succeed in educating them properly. Monsieur
Malby saw this as clearly as myself, though I am inclined
to think he would never have dismissed me had I not
spared him the trouble, which was an excess of condescension
in this particular, that I certainly cannot justify.