Madam de Warrens made me taste the most nauseous drugs; in vain I ran, or endeavored to defend myself; spite of resistance or wry faces, spite of my struggles, or even of my teeth, when I saw her charming fingers approach my lips, I was obliged to give up the contest.
When shut up in an apartment with all her medical apparatus, any one who had heard us running and shouting amidst peals of laughter would rather have imagined we had been acting a farce than preparing opiates or elixirs.
My time, however, was not entirely passed in these fooleries; in the apartment which I occupied I found a few books: there was the Spectator, Puffendorf, St.Everemond, and the Henriade.

Though I had not my old passion for books, yet I amused myself with reading a part of them.

The Spectator was particularly pleasing and serviceable to me.

The Abbe de Gauvon had taught me to read less eagerly, and with a greater degree of attention, which rendered my studies more serviceable.

I accustomed myself to reflect on elocution and the elegance of composition; exercising myself in discerning pure French from my provincial idiom.
For example, I corrected an orthographical fault (which I had in common with all Genevese) by these two lines of the Henriade: Soit qu' un ancient respect pour le sang de leurs maitres, Parlat encore pour lui dans le coeur de ces traitres I was struck with the word 'parlat', and found a 't' was necessary to form the third person of the subjunctive, whereas I had always written and pronounced it parla, as in the present of the indicative.
Sometimes my studies were the subject of conversation with Madam de Warrens; sometimes I read to her, in which I found great satisfaction; and as I endeavored to read well, it was extremely serviceable to me.
I have already observed that her mind was cultivated; her understanding was at this time in its meridian.