without acrimony, which, far from being embittered by misfortunes, is
susceptible of consolation in the midst of them, and finds within itself
a resource by which they are counterbalanced. Assemble the great
philosophers, so superior in their books to adversity which they do not
suffer, place them in a situation similar to mine, and, in the first
moments of the indignation of their injured honor, give them a like work
to compose, and it will be seen in what manner they will acquit
themselves of the task.

When I set of from Montmorency to go into Switzerland, I had resolved to
stop at Yverdon, at the house of my old friend Roguin, who had several
years before retired to that place, and had invited me to go and see him.
I was told Lyons was not the direct road, for which reason I avoided
going through it. But I was obliged to pass through Besancon, a
fortified town, and consequently subject to the same inconvenience. I
took it into my head to turn about and to go to Salins, under the
pretense of going to see M. de Marian, the nephew of M. Dupin, who had an
employment at the salt-works, and formerly had given me many invitations
to his house. The expedition succeeded: M. de Marian was not in the
way, and, happily, not being obliged to stop, I continued my journey
without being spoken to by anybody.

The moment I was within the territory of Berne, I ordered the postillion
to stop; I got out of my carriage, prostrated myself, kissed the ground,
and exclaimed in a transport of joy: "Heaven, the protector of virtue be
praised, I touch a land of liberty!" Thus blind and unsuspecting in my
hopes, have I ever been passionately attached to that which was to make
me unhappy. The man thought me mad. I got into the carriage, and a few
hours afterwards I had the pure and lively satisfaction of feeling myself
pressed within the arms of the respectable Rougin. Ah! let me breathe