There I passed fifteen
days, and met one of the most amiable and intelligent men whom
France and Germany combined could produce, M. Charles Villers. I was
delighted with his society, but it renewed my regret for that first
of pleasures, a conversation, in which there reigns the most perfect
harmony in all that is felt, with all that is expressed.
My father was extremely indignant at the treatment I had received at
Paris; he considered that his family were in this manner proscribed,
and driven as criminals out of that country which he had so
faithfully served. He recommended me to pass the winter in Germany,
and not to return to him until the spring. Alas! alas! I calculated
on then carrying back to him the harvest of new ideas which I was
going to collect in this journey. For several years preceding he was
frequently telling me that my letters and conversation were all that
kept up his connection with the world. His mind had so much vivacity
and penetration, that one was excited to think by the pleasure of
talking to him. I made observations to report to him,--I listened,
to repeat to him. Ever since I have lost him, I see and feel only
half what I did, when I had the object in view of giving him
pleasure by the picture of my impressions. At Frankfort, my
daughter, then five years old, fell dangerously ill. I knew nobody
in that city, and was entirely ignorant of the language; even the
physician to whose care I entrusted my child scarcely spoke a word
of French.
Pages:
62
63
64
65
66
67
68
69
70
71
72
73
74
75
76
77
78
79
80
81
82
83
84
85
86