Mademoiselle de Silly, an amiable and cultivated young lady whose actions were ruled by principles rather than by feelings, came to live at Saint-Louis, and I was soon attached to her with all the ardour of a girl’s affection; her tastes became mine, and I used to read all day beside her.  She was then studying the philosophy of Descartes, and I became absorbed in questions of that kind to the neglect of everything else, until, fearing lest they might disturb my faith, I resolutely banished them from my mind.

I was about fourteen years old when the convent of Saint-Louis fell into great poverty owing to a famine which was desolating France, and the disaffection of the nuns was centred on me as a chief cause of unnecessary expense.  Their complaints came to the archbishop of Rouen, and abbess had difficulty in keeping me with her.  My helpless condition began to force itself on my attention; and I realised that if the abbess were to die I was alone and without support in the world.

An unexpected event now drew me closer to Mademoiselle de Silly.  Her mother, having come to Rouen, took her home to Silly, and invited me to accompany her.  I accepted joyfully, and spent several months in the solitary and melancholy old castle.  The Marquis was extremely economical, the Marquise very devout, and we saw few people.  One visitor from the neighborhood, however, attracted me strongly; and as he came often and stayed long, my friend and I agreed that one of us had pleased him.  When he had declared his affection, and it was not for me, I learned what jealousy is—­a kind of horror like that of falling down through a fathomless abyss.

During the next visit to Silly in the following year the son of the house arrived, and at first kept very much to himself and to his books.  But having heard his sister and myself complaining of these unsociable ways, he frankly confessed his fault and amended it, and from that day we spent every hour together.  His mind and his manner was infinitely agreeable; and in my successive visits to Silly we formed a delightful friendship which was never interrupted by more ardent feelings.

Thrown on the World

At length my dear abbess fell so dangerously ill that I saw I was about to lose her; and I became desolately aware that I owed her all, and that her death would not only leave me absolutely helpless, but would also deprive me of my best friend.  I never knew anyone else so abundant in goodness, with so much sweetness, attention for others and forgetfulness of self, nor with such exact regard for every duty.  Her death came soon, and it was evident that neither her sister nor I could remain at the convent.  Several generous helpers came forward with offers of support, but in my uncertain position I judged it better to refuse them all.  I was resolved to suffer any misery and servitude rather than sacrifice my independence, and only accepted a small loan sufficient to take me to Paris.