M. de Conzie, whose conversation was extremely pleasing to me.  Whether it struck me as heroic to study to my last hour, or that some hopes of life yet lingered in the bottom of my heart, I cannot tell, but the apparent certainty of death, far from relaxing my inclination for improvement, seemed to animate it, and I hastened to acquire knowledge for the other world, as if convinced I should only possess that portion I could carry with me.  I took a liking to the shop of a bookseller, whose name was Bouchard, which was frequented by some men of letters, and as the spring (whose return I had never expected to see again) was approaching, furnished myself with some books for Charmettes, in case I should have the happiness to return there.

I had that happiness, and enjoyed it to the utmost extent.  The rapture with which I saw the trees put out their first bud, is inexpressible!  The return of spring seemed to me like rising from the grave into paradise.  The snow was hardly off the ground when we left our dungeon and returned to Charmettes, to enjoy the first warblings of the nightingale.  I now thought no more of dying, and it is really singular, that from this time I never experienced any dangerous illness in the country.  I have suffered greatly, but never kept my bed, and have often said to those about me, on finding myself worse than ordinary, “Should you see me at the point of death, carry me under the shade of an oak, and I promise you I shall recover.”

Though weak, I resumed my country occupations, as far as my strength would permit, and conceived a real grief at not being able to manage our garden without help; for I could not take five or six strokes with the spade without being out of breath and overcome with perspiration; when I stooped the beating redoubled, and the blood flew with such violence to my head, that I was instantly obliged to stand upright.  Being therefore confined to less fatiguing employments, I busied myself about the dove —­house, and was so pleased with it that I sometimes passed several hours there without feeling a moment’s weariness.  The pigeon is very timid and difficult to tame, yet I inspired mine with so much confidence that they followed me everywhere, letting me catch them at pleasure, nor could I appear in the garden without having two or three on my arms or head in an instant, and notwithstanding the pleasure I took in them, their company became so troublesome that I was obliged to lessen the familiarity.  I have ever taken great pleasure in taming animals, particularly those that are wild and fearful.  It appeared delightful to me, to inspire them with a confidence which I took care never to abuse, wishing them to love me freely.