I thought that
if the old man's protection were one day to fail, I would devote myself
to her service as a slave, like Rousseau to Madame de Warens; we would
take shelter in some secluded cottage of these mountains, or in the
well-known chalets of our Savoy; I would live for her, as she would
live for me, without looking back with regret to the empty world, and
asking of love no other reward than the happiness of loving.
XCIII.
I was, however, often recalled harshly from my dreamy region by the
cruel penury of my home, which was partly attributable to the
unavailing expense incurred for me. Crops had failed during successive
years, and reverses of fortune had changed the humble mediocrity of my
parents into comparative want. When on Sundays I went to see my mother,
she spoke of her distress, and before me shed tears that she concealed
from my father and my sisters. I, too, was reduced to extreme
destitution. I lived at the little farm on brown bread, milk, and eggs,
and had in secret sold successively in the neighboring town all the
books and clothes I had brought from Paris, to procure wherewithal to
pay the postage of Julie's letters, for which I would have sold my
life's blood.
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