the historical recollections which the
place recalled, being the scene of the battle of Fretteval, fought
between Philip Augustus and Richard Coeur-de-Lion, all contributed
to fill my mind with the most quiet and delightful impressions. My
worthy friend, who is only occupied in this world with rendering
himself worthy of heaven, in this conversation, as in all those we
have had together, paid no attention to affairs of the day, and only
sought to do good to my soul. We resumed our journey the next day,
and in these plains of the Vendomois, where you meet not with a
single habitation, and which like the sea seem to present every
where the same appearance, we contrived to lose ourselves
completely. It was already midnight, and we knew not what road to
take, in a country every where the same, and where fertility is as
monotonous as sterility is elsewhere, when a young man on horseback,
perceiving our embarrassment, came and requested us to pass the
night in the chateau of his parents.* We accepted his invitation,
which was doing us a real service, and we found ourselves all of a
sudden in the midst of the luxury of Asia, and the elegance of
France. The masters of the house had spent a considerable time in
India, and their chateau was adorned with every thing they had
brought back from their travels. This residence excited my
curiosity, and I found myself extremely comfortable in it. Next day
M. de Montmorency gave me a note from my son which pressed me to
return home, as my work had met with fresh difficulties from the
censorship. My friends who were with me in the chateau conjured me
to go; I had not the least suspicion of what they were concealing
from me, and thinking there was nothing but what Augustus's letter
mentioned,* whiled away the time in examining the Indian curiosities
without any idea of what was in store for me. At last I got into the
carriage, and my brave and intelligent Vendean whom his own dangers
had never moved, squeezed my hand, with tears in his eyes: I guessed
immediately that they were making a mystery to me of some new
persecution, and M. de Montmorency, in reply to my interrogations,
at last acquainted me that the minister of the police had sent his
myrmidons to destroy the ten thousand copies which had been printed
of my book, and that I had received an order to quit France within
three days. My children and friends had wished me not to hear this
news while I was among strangers; but they had t