her? Madam de Merveilleux, who knew my story, assisted me
in the search, but for a long time unavailingly; at length, she informed
me that Madam de Warrens had set out from Paris about two months before,
but it was not known whether for Savoy or Turin, and that some
conjectured she was gone to Switzerland. Nothing further was necessary
to fix my determination to follow her, certain that wherever she might
be, I stood more chance of finding her at those places than I could
possibly do at Paris.

Before my departure, I exercised my new poetical talent in an epistle to
Colonel Godard, whom I ridiculed to the utmost of my abilities. I showed
this scribble to Madam de Merveilleux, who, instead of discouraging me,
as she ought to have done, laughed heartily at my sarcasms, as well as
her son, who, I believe, did not like M. Godard; indeed, it must be
confessed, he was a man not calculated to obtain affection. I was
tempted to send him my verses, and they encouraged me in it; accordingly
I made them up in a parcel directed to him, and there being no post then
at Paris by which I could conveniently send this, I put it in my pocket,
and sent it to him from Auxerre, as I passed through that place. I
laugh, even yet, sometimes, at the grimaces I fancy he made on reading
this panegyric, where he was certainly drawn to the life; it began thus:

Tu croyois, vieux Penard, qu' une folle manie
D' elever ton neveu m'inspireroit l'envie.

This little piece, which, it is true, was but indifferently written; did
not want for salt, and announced a turn for satire; it is,
notwithstanding, the only satirical writing that ever came from my pen.
I have too little hatred in my heart to take advantage of such a talent;
but I believe it may be judged from those controversies, in which from
time to time I have been engaged in my own defence, that had I been of a
vindictive disposition, my adversaries would rarely have had the laughter
on their side.

What I most regret, is not having kept a journal of my travels, being
conscious that a number of interesting details have slipped my memory;
for never did I exist so completely, never live so thoroughly, never was
so much myself, if I dare use the expression, as in those journeys made
on foot. Walking animates and enlivens my spirits; I can hardly think
when in a state of inactivity; my body must be exercised to make my
judgmemt active. The view of a fine country, a success