nsome.

* M. de Salaberry.

The opera of Cinderella was making a great noise at Paris; I wished
to go and see it represented at a paltry provincial theatre at
Blois. Coming out of the theatre on foot, the people of the place
followed me in crowds from curiosity, more desirous of knowing me
because I was an exile, than from any other motive. This kind of
celebrity which I derived from misfortune, much more than from
talent, displeased the minister of police, who wrote sometime after
to the prefect of Loir and Cher, that I was surrounded by a court.
"Certainly," said I to the prefect* "it is not power at least which
gives it me."

* M. de Corbigny, an amiable and intelligent man.

I had always the intention of repairing to England by the way of
America; but I was anxious to terminate my work on Germany. The
season was now advancing; we were already at the fifteenth of
September, and I began to foresee that the difficulty of embarking
my daughter with me would detain me another winter, in some town, I
knew not where, at forty leagues from Paris. I was then desirous
that it should be Vendome, where I knew several clever people, and
where the communication with the capital was easy. After having
formerly had one of the most brilliant establishments in Paris, I
was now contented to anticipate considerable pleasure from
establishing myself at Vendome; fate however denied me even this
modest happiness.

On the 23d of September I corrected the last proof of Germany; after
six years' labor, I felt the greatest delight in putting the word
End to my three volumes. I made a list of one hundred persons to
whom I wished to send copies, in different parts of France and
Europe; I attached great importance to this book, which I thought
well adapted to communicate new ideas to France; it appeared to me
that a sentiment elevated without being hostile, had inspired it,
and that people would find in it a language which was no longer
spoken.

Furnished with a letter from my publisher, which assured me that the
censorship had authorised the publication of my work, I believed
that I had nothing to apprehend, and set out with my friends for an
estate of M. Mathieu de Montmorency, at five leagues from Blois. The
house belonging to this estate is situated in the middle of a
forest; there I walked about with the man whom I most respect in the
world, since I have lost my father. The fineness of the weather, the
magnificence of the forest,