with regret. I left Merceret at the inn, and ventured to his house.
How wrong was I to fear him! On seeing me, his soul gave way to the
parental tenderness with which it was filled. What tears were mingled
with our embraces! He thought I was returned to him: I related my
history, and informed him of my resolution. He opposed it feebly,
mentioning the dangers to which I exposed myself, and telling me the
shortest follies were best, but did not attempt to keep me by force,
in which particular I think he acted right; but it is certain he did not
do everything in his power to detain me, even by fair means. Whether
after the step I had taken, he thought I ought not to return, or was
puzzled at my age to know what to do with me--I have since found that he
conceived a very unjust opinion of my travelling companion. My step
--mother, a good woman, a little coaxingly put on an appearance of wishing
me to stay to supper; I did not, however, comply, but told them I
proposed remaining longer with them on my return; leaving as a deposit
my little packet, that had come by water, and would have been an
incumbrance, had I taken it with me. I continued my journey the next
morning, well satisfied that I had seen my father, and had taken courage
to do my duty.

We arrived without any accident at Fribourg. Towards the conclusion of
the journey, the politeness of Mademoiselle Merceret rather diminished,
and, after our arrival, she treated me even with coldness. Her father,
who was not in the best circumstances, did not show me much attention,
and I was obliged to lodge at an alehouse. I went to see them the next
morning, and received an invitation to dine there, which I accepted. We
separated without tears at night; I returned to my paltry lodging, and
departed the second day after my arrival, almost without knowing whither
to go to.