* Saepe mihi dubiam traxitisententia mentem,
Curarent Superi terras, an nullus inesset
Rector, et incerto fluerent mortalia casu.
Abstulit hunc tandem Rufini poena tumultum,
Absolvitque Deos. Jam non ad culmina rerum
Injustos crevisse queror; tolluntur in altum
Ut lapsu graviore raent.
The next day, Saturday the 23rd of May,
1812, at two o'clock in the afternoon, I got into my carriage,
saying that I should return to dinner. I took no packet whatever
with me; I had my fan in my hand, and my daughter hers; only my son
and Mr. Rocca carried in their pockets what was necessary for some
days journey. In descending the avenue of Coppet, in thus quitting
that chateau which had become to me like an old and valued friend, I
was ready to faint: my son took my hand, and said, "My dear mother,
think that you are setting out for England*." That word revived my
spirits: I was still, however, at nearly two thousand leagues
distance from that goal, to which the usual road would have so
speedily conducted me: but every step brought me at least something
nearer to it. When I had proceeded a few leagues, I sent back one of
my servants to apprize my establishment that I should not return
until the next day, and I continued travelling night and day as far
as a farmhouse beyond Berne, where I had fixed to meet Mr. Schlegel,
who was so good as to offer to accompany me; there also I had to
leave my eldest son, who had been educated, up to the age of
fourteen, by the example of my father, whose features he reminds one
of.
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