in mud, and binding a strong cord round my waist I embraced the Binetti
and Baletti's wife, who lowered me down as gently as possible. Baletti
received me in his arms, I cut the cord, and after taking my great coat I
followed his footsteps. We strode through the mud, and going along a
hedge we reached the high road in a state of exhaustion, although it was
not more than a hundred paces as the crow flies from where we stood to
the house. At a little distance off, beside a small wayside inn, we found
the postchaise in which sat Baletti's servant. He got out, telling us
that the postillion had just gone into the inn to have a glass of beer
and light his pipe. I took the good servant's place, and gave him a
reward, and begged them both to be gone, saying I would manage all the
rest myself.

It was April and, 1760--my birthday--and a remarkable period in my
career, although my whole life has been filled with adventures, good or
bad.

I had been in the carriage for two or three minutes when the postillion
came and asked me if we had much longer to wait. He thought he was
speaking to the same person that he had left in the chaise, and I did not
undeceive him. "Drive on," I answered, "and make one stage of it from
here to Tubingen, without changing horses at Waldenbach." He followed my
instructions, and we went along at a good pace, but I had a strong
inclination to laugh at the face he made when he saw me at Tubingen.
Baletti's servant was a youth, and slightly built; I was tall, and quite
a man. He opened his eyes to their utmost width, and told me I was not
the same gentleman that was in the carriage when he started. "You're
drunk," said I, putting in his hand four times what he was accustomed to
get, and the poor devil did not say a word. Who has not experienced the
persuasive influence of money? I went on my journey, and did not stop