This presented itself sooner than I expected.  On the 10th of December I received from Madam d’Epinay the following answer to my preceding letter: 

Geneva, 1st December, 1757.

“After having for several years given you every possible mark of friendship all I can now do is to pity you.  You are very unhappy.  I wish your conscience may be as calm as mine.  This may be necessary to the repose of your whole life.

“Since you are determined to quit the Hermitage, and are persuaded that you ought to do it, I am astonished your friends have prevailed upon you to stay there.  For my part I never consult mine upon my duty, and I have nothing further to say to you upon your own.”

Such an unforeseen dismission, and so fully pronounced, left me not a moment to hesitate.  It was necessary to quit immediately, let the weather and my health be in what state they might, although I were to sleep in the woods and upon the snow, with which the ground was then covered, and in defiance of everything Madam d’Houdetot might say; for I was willing to do everything to please her except render myself infamous.

I never had been so embarrassed in my whole life as I then was; but my resolution was taken.  I swore, let what would happen, not to sleep at the Hermitage on the night of that day week.  I began to prepare for sending away my effects, resolving to leave them in the open field rather than not give up the key in the course of the week:  for I was determined everything should be done before a letter could be written to Geneva, and an answer to it received.  I never felt myself so inspired with courage:  I had recovered all my strength.  Honor and indignation, upon which Madam d’Epinay had not calculated, contributed to restore me to vigor.  Fortune aided my audacity.  M. Mathas, fiscal procurer, heard of my embarrasament.  He sent to offer me a little house he had in his garden of Mont Louis, at Montmorency.  I accepted it with eagerness and gratitude.  The bargain was soon concluded:  I immediately sent to purchase a little furniture to add to that we already had.  My effects I had carted away with a deal of trouble, and a great expense:  notwithstanding the ice and snow my removal was completed in a couple of days, and on the fifteenth of December I gave up the keys of the Hermitage, after having paid the wages of the gardener, not being able to pay my rent.

With respect to Madam le Vasseur, I told her we must part; her daughter attempted to make me renounce my resolution, but I was inflexible.  I sent her off, to Paris in a carriage of the messenger with all the furniture and effects she and her daughter had in common.  I gave her some money, and engaged to pay her lodging with her children, or elsewhere to provide for her subsistence as much as it should be possible for me to do it, and never to let her want bread as long as I should have it myself.

Finally the day after my arrival at Mont Louis, I wrote to Madam d’Epinay the following letter: