He passed for a man influenced by the prejudices with which he was inspired by others, and of all the imputations brought against him it was the most devoid of truth.  My first sentiment on seeing this venerable old man, was that of tender commiseration, on account of his extreme leanness of body, years having already left him little else but skin and bone; but when I raised my eyes to his animated, open, noble countenance, I felt a respect, mingled with confidence, which absorbed every other sentiment.  He answered the very short compliment I made him when I first came into his presence by speaking of something else, as if I had already been a week in his house.  He did not bid us sit down.  The stupid chatelain, the lord of the manor, remained standing.  For my part I at first sight saw in the fine and piercing eye of his lordship something so conciliating that, feeling myself entirely at ease, I without ceremony, took my seat by his side upon the sofa.  By the familiarity of his manner I immediately perceived the liberty I took gave him pleasure, and that he said to himself:  This is not a Neuchatelois.

Singular effect of the similarity of characters!  At an age when the heart loses its natural warmth, that of this good old man grew warm by his attachment to me to a degree which surprised everybody.  He came to see me at Motiers under the pretence of quail shooting, and stayed there two days without touching a gun.  We conceived such a friendship for each other that we knew not how to live separate; the castle of Colombier, where he passed the summer, was six leagues from Motiers; I went there at least once a fortnight, and made a stay of twenty-four hours, and then returned like a pilgrim with my heart full of affection for my host.  The emotion I had formerly experienced in my journeys from the Hermitage to Raubonne was certainly very different, but it was not more pleasing than that with which I approached Columbier.

What tears of tenderness have I shed when on the road to it, while thinking of the paternal goodness, amiable virtues, and charming philosophy of this respectable old man!  I called him father, and he called me son.  These affectionate names give, in some measure, an idea of the attachment by which we were united, but by no means that of the want we felt of each other, nor of our continual desire to be together.  He would absolutely give me an apartment at the castle of Columbier, and for a long time pressed me to take up my residence in that in which I lodged during my visits.  I at length told him I was more free and at my ease in my own house, and that I had rather continue until the end of my life to come and see him.  He approved of my candor, and never afterwards spoke to me on the subject.  Oh, my good lord!  Oh, my worthy father!  How is my heart still moved when I think of your goodness?  Ah, barbarous wretches! how deeply did they wound me when they deprived me of your friendship?  But no, great man, you