This was a circumstance of my life in which Providence offered me
precisely what was necessary to make my days pass happily. Merceret was
a good girl, neither witty, handsome, nor ugly; not very lively, but
tolerably rational, except while under the influence of some little
humors, which usually evaporated in tears, without any violent outbreak
of temper. She had a real inclination for me; I might have married her
without difficulty, and followed her father's business. My taste for
music would have made me love her; I should have settled at Fribourg, a
small town, not pretty, but inhabited by very worthy people--I should
certainly have missed great pleasures, but should have lived in peace to
my last hour, and I must know best what I should have gained by such a
step.

I did not return to Nion, but to Lausanne, wishing to gratify myself with
a view of that beautiful lake which is seen there in its utmost extent.
The greater part of my secret motives have not been so reasonable.
Distant expectation has rarely strength enough to influence my actions;
the uncertainty of the future ever making me regard projects whose
execution requires a length of time as deceitful lures. I give in to
visionary scenes of hope as well as others, provided they cost nothing,
but if attended with any trouble, I have done with them. The smallest,
the most trifling pleasure that is conveniently within my reach, tempts
me more than all the joys of paradise. I must except, however, those
pleasures which are necessarily followed by pain; I only love those
enjoyments which are unadulterated, which can never be the case where we
are conscious they must be followed by repentance.

It was necessary I should arrive at some place, and the nearest was best;
for having lost my way on the road, I found myself in the evening at
Moudon, where I spent all that remained of my little stock except ten