Mademoiselle de Breil was about my own age, tolerably handsome and very fair complexioned, with black hair, which, notwithstanding, gave to her features that air of softness so natural to the flaxen, and which my heart could never resist.The court dress, so favorable to youth, showed her fine neck and shape to advantage, and the mourning, which was then worn, seemed to add to her beauty.It will be said, a domestic should not take notice of these things; I was certainly to blame, yet I perceived all this, nor was I the only one; the maitre d'hotel and valet de chambre spoke of her sometimes at table with a vulgarity that pained me extremely.My head, however, was not sufficiently turned to allow of my being entirely in love; I did not forget myself, or my situation.I loved to see Mademoiselle de Breil; to hear her utter anything that marked wit, sense, or good humor; my ambition, confined to a desire of waiting on her, never exceeded its just rights.At table I was ever attentive to make the most of them; if her footman quitted her chair, I instantly supplied his place; in default of this, I stood facing her, seeking in her eyes what she was about to ask for, and watching the moment to change her plate.What would I not have given to hear her command, to have her look at, or speak the smallest word to me! but no, I had the mortification to be beneath her regard; she did not even perceive Iwas there.Her brother, who frequently spoke to me while at table, having one day said something which I did not consider obliging, Imade him so arch and well-turned an answer, that it drew her attention; she cast her eyes upon me, and this glance was sufficient to fill me transport.The next day, a second occasion presented itself, which I fortunately made use of.A great dinner was given; and I saw, with astonishment, for the first time, the maitre d'hotel waiting at table, with a sword by his side, and hat on his head.By chance, the discourse turned on the motto of the house of Solar, which was, with the arms, worked in the tapestry: Tel fiert qui ne tue pas.As the Piedmontese are not in general very perfect in the French language, they found fault with the orthography, saying, that in the word fiert there should be no t.The old Count de Gauvon was going to reply, when happening to cast his eyes on me, he perceived I smiled without daring to say anything; he immediately ordered me to speak my opinion.I then said, I did not think the t superfluous, fiert being an old French word, not derived from the noun ferus, proud, threatening; but from the verb fierit, he strikes, he wounds;the motto, therefore, did not appear to mean, some threat, but, Some strike who do not kill.The whole company fixed their eyes on me, then on each other, without speaking a word; never was a greater degree of astonishment; but what most flattered me, was an air of satisfaction which I perceived on the countenance of Mademoiselle de Breil.This scornful lady deigned to cast on me a second look at least as valuable as the former, and turning to her grandfather, appeared to wait with impatience for the praise that was due to me, and which he fully bestowed, with such apparent satisfaction, that it was eagerly chorused by the whole table.This interval was short, but delightful in many respects; it was one of those moments so rarely met with, which place things in their natural order, and revenge depressed merit for the injuries of fortune.Some minutes after Mademoiselle de Breil again raised her eyes, desiring me with a voice of timid affability to give her some drink.It will easily be supposed I did not let her wait, but advancing towards her, I was seized with such a trembling, that having filled the glass too full, I spilled some of the water on her plate, and even on herself.Her brother asked me, giddily, why I trembled thus? This question increased my confusion, while the face of Mademoiselle de Breil was suffused with a crimson blush.
Here ended the romance; where it may be remarked (as with Madam Basile, and others in the continuation of my life) that I was not fortunate in the conclusion of my amours.In vain I placed myself in the antechamber of Madam de Breil.I could not obtain one mark of attention from her daughter; she went in and out without looking at me, nor had I the confidence to raise my eyes to her; I was even so foolishly stupid, that one day, on dropping her gloves as she passed, instead of seizing and covering it with kisses, as I would gladly have done, I did not dare to quit my place, but suffered it to be taken up by a great booby of a footman, whom I could willingly have knocked down for his officiousness.To complete my timidity, Iperceived I had not the good fortune to please Madam de Breil; she not only never but even rejected, my services; and having twice found me in her antechamber, asked me, dryly, "If I had nothing to do?" I was obliged, therefore, to renounce this dear antechamber; as first it caused me some uneasiness, but other things intervening, I presently thought no more of it.
