in need. She wept, more for my situation than her own, but I consoled her
by saying that I had plenty of money and powerful patrons.

"I will set out," said she, "the day after to-morrow, at the hour agreed
on." And thereupon, I having promised to come to the house the day after
her departure, as if I knew nothing about it, and to let her know what
passed, we embraced each other tenderly, and I left her.

I was troubled in thinking about her fate. She had wit and courage, but
when experience is wanting wit often leads men to commit acts of great
folly.

The day after the morrow I took a coach, and posted myself in a corner of
the street by which she had to pass. I saw her come, get out of the
coach, pay the coachman, go down a narrow street, and a few minutes after
reappear again, veiled and hooded, carrying a small parcel in her hand.
She then took another conveyance which went off in the direction we had
agreed upon.

The day following being Low Sunday, I felt that I must present myself at
the "Hotel de Bretagne," for as I went there every day before the
daughter's flight I could not stop going there without strengthening any
suspicions which might be entertained about me. But it was a painful
task. I had to appear at my ease and cheerful in a place where I was
quite sure all would be sadness and confusion. I must say that it was an
affair requiring higher powers of impudence than fall to the lot of most
men.

I chose a time when all the family would be together at table, and I
walked straight into the dining-room. I entered with my usual cheerful