wish, to depart; from the moment that I could no longer see my friends, that I was only a burden to my children’s existence, was it not time to determine?  The prefect, however, repeated in every possible way, that if I went off, I should be seized; that at Vienna, as well as at Berlin, I should be reclaimed; and that I could not make the least preparation for departure without his being informed of it; for he knew, he said, every thing that passed in my house.  In that respect he was a boaster, and, as the event has proved, exhibited mere fatuity in matters of espionnage.  But who would not have been terrified at the tone of assurance with which he told all my friends that I could not move a step without being seized by the gendarmes!

* Count Elzearn de Sabran.

CHAPTER 5.

Departure from Coppet.

I passed eight months in a state I cannot describe, every day making a trial of my courage, and every day shrinking at the idea of a prison.  All the world certainly fears it; but my imagination has such a dread of solitude, my friends are so necessary to me, to support and animate me, and to turn my attention to a new perspective when I sink under the intensity of painful sensations, that never has death presented itself to me under such terrible features as a prisoner a dungeon, where I might remain for years without ever hearing a friendly voice.  I have been told that one of the Spaniards who defended Saragossa with the most astonishing intrepidity, utters the most dreadful shrieks in the tower at Vincennes, where he is kept confined; so much does this frightful solitude affect even the most energetic minds!  Besides, I could not disguise from myself that I was not courageous; I have a bold imagination, but a timid character, and all kinds of perils appear to me like phantoms.  The species of talent which I possess brings images to me with such living freshness, that if the beauties of nature are improved by it, dangers are made more dreadful.  Sometimes I was afraid of a prison, sometimes of robbers, if I was obliged to go through Turkey, in the event of Russia being shut against me by political combinations:  sometimes also the immense sea which I must cross between Constantinople and London, filled me with terror for my daughter and myself.  Nevertheless I had always the wish to depart; an inward feeling of boldness excited me to it; but I might say, like a well known Frenchman, “I tremble at the dangers to which my courage is about to expose me.”  In truth, what adds to the horrible barbarity of persecuting females, is, that their nature is both irritable and weak; they suffer more acutely from trouble, and are less capable of the strength required to escape from it.