I left the Rue des Moineaux, where this girl lodged, as much ashamed as
Saint Preux left the house in which he had become intoxicated, and when I
wrote his story I well remembered my own. Theresa perceived by some
sign, and especially by my confusion, I had something with which I
reproached myself; I relieved my mind by my free and immediate
confession. I did well, for the next day Grimm came in triumph to relate
to her my crime with aggravation, and since that time he has never failed
maliciously to recall it to her recollection; in this he was the more
culpable, since I had freely and voluntarily given him my confidence, and
had a right to expect he would not make me repent of it. I never had a
more convincing proof than on this occasion, of the goodness of my
Theresa's heart; she was more shocked at the behavior of Grimm than at my
infidelity, and I received nothing from her but tender reproaches, in
which there was not the least appearance of anger.

The simplicity of mind of this excellent girl was equal to her goodness
of heart; and this is saying everything: but one instance of it, which is
present to my recollection, is worthy of being related. I had told her
Klupssel was a minister, and chaplain to the prince of Saxe-Gotha. A
minister was to her so singular a man, that oddly confounding the most
dissimilar ideas, she took it into her head to take Klupssel for the
pope; I thought her mad the first time she told me when I came in, that
the pope had called to see me. I made her explain herself and lost not a
moment in going to relate the story to Grimm and Klupssel, who amongst
ourselves never lost the name of pope. We gave to the girl in the Rue
des Moineaux the name of Pope Joan. Our laughter was incessant; it
almost stifled us. They, who in a letter which it hath pleased them to
attribute to me, have made me say I never laughed but twice in my life,
did not know me at this period, nor in my younger days; for if they had,
the idea could never have entered into their heads.