A few days after this catastrophe; my hostess, who, as I have already observed, was very friendly, with great satisfaction informed me she had heard of a situation, and that a lady of rank desired to see me.  I immediately thought myself in the road to great adventures; that being the point to which all my ideas tended:  this, however, did not prove so brilliant as I had conceived it.  I waited on the lady with the servant; who had mentioned me:  she asked a number of questions, and my answers not displeasing her, I immediately entered into her service not, indeed, in the quality of favorite, but as a footman.  I was clothed like the rest of her people, the only difference being, they wore a shoulder—­knot, which I had not, and, as there was no lace on her livery, it appeared merely a tradesman’s suit.  This was the unforeseen conclusion of all my great expectancies!

The Countess of Vercellis, with whom I now lived, was a widow without children; her husband was a Piedmontese, but I always believed her to be a Savoyard, as I could have no conception that a native of Piedmont could speak such good French, and with so pure an accent.  She was a middle-aged woman, of a noble appearance and cultivated understanding, being fond of French literature, in which she was well versed.  Her letters had the expression, and almost the elegance of Madam de Savigne’s; some of them might have been taken for hers.  My principal employ, which was by no means displeasing to me, was to write from her dictating; a cancer in the breast, from which she suffered extremely, not permitting her to write herself.

Madam de Vercellis not only possessed a good understanding, but a strong and elevated soul.  I was with her during her last illness, and saw her suffer and die, without showing an instant of weakness, or the least effort of constraint; still retaining her feminine manners, without entertaining an idea that such fortitude gave her any claim to philosophy; a word which was not yet in fashion, nor comprehended by her in the sense it is held at present.  This strength of disposition sometimes extended almost to apathy, ever appearing to feel as little for others as herself; and when she relieved the unfortunate, it was rather for the sake of acting right, than from a principle of real commiseration.  I have frequently experienced this insensibility, in some measure, during the three months I remained with her.  It would have been natural to have had an esteem for a young man of some abilities, who was incessantly under her observation, and that she should think, as she felt her dissolution approaching, that after her death he would have occasion for assistance and support:  but whether she judged me unworthy of particular attention, or that those who narrowly watched all her motions, gave her no opportunity to think of any but themselves, she did nothing for me.