I should not grow rich by my work; I could not grow much poorer by being idle.  The past year, which I had spent in the service of Monsieur and Madame C——­, had been one of constant annoyance and irritating variety of employment.  I had grown fretful in the constant hurry and drive, and the baneful atmosphere of Madame’s peevishness.  Body and soul cried out for a season of release, which never in all my life of service had I thought of before.

I had my desire now.  I had put away my bondage.  I had ceased my unprofitable labor.  The rest I had so long craved was at hand.  I might take a jubilee, a siesta, if I pleased, of half a year, and nobody be the wiser.  I was responsible to nobody.  Nobody had any demands upon my time or exertion.  Free!  I stood in a vacuum; no rush of air, no tempest or whirlpool stirred its infinite profundity.  At length I was at peace,—­a peace which seemed likely to last as long as my slim purse held out; for employment was not easy to obtain.  Did I enjoy it?  Did I lap myself in the long-desired repose in thankful quiescence of spirit?  Perhaps,—­I cannot tell; restlessness had become a chronic disease with me.  I felt like a ship drifted from its moorings:  the winds and the tides were pleasant; the ocean was at lull; but the ship rocked aimless and unsteady upon the waters.  The heavy weights of life and activity so suddenly withdrawn left painful lightness akin to emptiness.  The broken chains trailed noisily after me.  The time hung heavily which I had so long prayed for.  Long years of monotonous servitude had made a very machine of me.  I could only rust in inaction.  Some other power, to rack and grind and urge me on, was necessary to my very existence.

So it happened, that, at last, my holiday having spun out to the end of my means, I left the city, and engaged work at very low wages in a country-village.  The situation and the remuneration were not in the least calculated to stimulate ambition or avarice; and I remained obscurely housed, incessantly busy, and coarsely clothed and fed, in this place, for two years.  They were not long years either.  I had no hard taskmaster, however hard my task, no uneasy, unexplainable apprehensions, no moody forebodings of evil, no troublesome children to distress me.  At the end of that time I heard of a better situation, and returned to the city.

I had been engaged about a twelvemonth in my new place, a very pleasant little shop, though the pay was less and the work harder than I had had with Monsieur C——­, when, one morning, standing at the shop-window, I saw that gentleman pass:  very brisk, very spruce, very plump he looked.  Glancing in, (I flatter myself that a show-window arranged as I could arrange it would attract any one’s eye,) he espied me.  A speedy recognition and a long conversation were the result.  It was early morning, and we had the store to ourselves.  Monsieur was very friendly.  His business was very good.  Poor Madame! he wished