The marechal did not open his mouth; he was as pale as death.  He would absolutely accompany me to the carriage which waited at the watering place.  We crossed the garden without uttering a single word.  I had a key of the park with which I opened the gate, and instead of putting it again into my pocket, I held it out to the marechal without saying a word.  He took it with a vivacity which surprised me, and which has since frequently intruded itself upon my thoughts.

I have not in my whole life had a more bitter moment than that of this separation.  Our embrace was long and silent:  we both felt that this was our last adieu.

Between Barre and Montmorency I met, in a hired carriage, four men in black, who saluted me smilingly.  According to what Theresa has since told me of the officers of justice, the hour of their arrival and their manner of behavior, I have no doubt, that they were the persons I met, especially as the order to arrest me, instead of being made out at seven o’clock, as I had been told it would, had not been given till noon.  I had to go through Paris.  A person in a cabriolet is not much concealed.  I saw several persons in the streets who saluted me with an air of familiarity but I did not know one of them.  The same evening I changed my route to pass Villeroy.  At Lyons the couriers were conducted to the commandant.  This might have been embarrassing to a man unwilling either to lie or change his name.  I went with a letter from Madam de Luxembourg to beg M. de Villeroy would spare me this disagreeable ceremony.  M. de Villeroy gave me a letter of which I made no use, because I did not go through Lyons.  This letter still remains sealed up amongst my papers.  The duke pressed me to sleep at Villeroy, but I preferred returning to the great road, which I did, and travelled two more stages the same evening.

My carriage was inconvenient and uncomfortable, and I was too much indisposed to go far in a day.  My appearance besides was not sufficiently distinguished for me to be well served, and in France post-horses feel the whip in proportion to the favorable opinion the postillion has of his temporary master.  By paying the guides generously thought I should make up for my shabby appearance:  this was still worse.  They took me for a worthless fellow who was carrying orders, and, for the first time in my life, travelling post.  From that moment I had nothing but worn-out hacks, and I became the sport of the postillions.  I ended as I should have begun by being patient, holding my tongue, and suffering myself to be driven as my conductors thought proper.