"This was no easy undertaking for me; not only on account of the difficulty I should naturally meet in overcoming his opinion, but for another reason which made me fear even to approach him; I had quitted his lodgings contrary to his express orders, and was resolved, since I had learned the sad fate of my poor Manon, never again to return thither. I was not without apprehensions indeed of his now retaining me against my will, and perhaps taking me at once back with him into the country. My elder brother had formerly had recourse to this violent measure. True, I was now somewhat older; but age is a feeble argument against force. I hit upon a mode, however, of avoiding this danger, which was to get him by contrivance to some public place, and there announce myself to him under an assumed name: I immediately resolved on this method. M. de T---- went to G---- M----'s, and I to the Luxembourg, whence I sent my father word, that a gentleman waited there to speak with him. I hardly thought he would come, as the night was advancing. He, however, soon made his appearance, followed by a servant: I begged of him to choose a walk where we could be alone. We walked at least a hundred paces without speaking. He doubtless imagined that so much precaution could not be taken without some important object. He waited for my opening speech, and I was meditating how to commence it.
At length I began.
"`Sir,' said I, trembling, `you are a good and affectionate parent; you have loaded me with favours, and have forgiven me an infinite number of faults; I also, in my turn, call Heaven to witness the sincere, and tender, and respectful sentiments I entertain towards you. But it does seem to me, that your inexorable severity----'
"`Well, sir, my severity!' interrupted my father, who no doubt found my hesitation little suited to his impatience.
"`Ah, sir,' I replied, `it does seem to me that your severity is excessive in the penalty you inflict upon the unfortunate Manon. You have taken only M. G---- M----'s report of her. His hatred has made him represent her to you in the most odious colours: you have formed a frightful idea of her. She is, on the contrary, the mildest and most amiable of living creatures; would that Heaven had but inspired you at any one moment with the desire of seeing her! I am convinced that you would be not less sensible of her perfections than your unhappy son. You would then have been her advocate; you would have abhorred the foul artifices of G---- M----; you would have had pity on both her and me. Alas! I am persuaded of it; your heart is not insensible; it must ere now have melted with compassion.'
"He interrupted me again, perceiving that I spoke with a warmth which would not allow me to finish very briefly. He begged to know with what request I intended to wind up so fervent an harangue.
"`To ask my life at your hands,' said I, `which I never can retain if Manon once embark for America.'
"`No! no!' replied he, in the severest tone; `I would rather see you lifeless, than infamous and depraved.'
"`We have gone far enough, then,' said I, catching hold of his arm; `take from me, in common mercy, my life! weary and odious and insupportable as it henceforward must be; for in the state of despair into which you now plunge me, death would be the greatest favour you could bestow--a favour worthy of a father's hand.'
"`I should only give you what you deserve,' replied he; `I know fathers who would not have shown as much patience as I have, but would themselves have executed speedy justice; but it is my foolish and excessive forbearance that has been your ruin.'
"I threw myself at his feet: `Ah!' exclaimed I, `if you have still any remains of mercy, do not harden your heart against my distress and sorrow. Remember that I am your child! Alas! think of my poor mother! you loved her tenderly! would you have suffered her to be torn from your arms? You would have defended her to the death! May not the same feeling then be pardoned in others? Can persons become barbarous and cruel, after having themselves experienced the softening influence of tenderness and grief?'
"`Breathe not again the sacred name of your mother,' he exclaimed, in a voice of thunder; `the very allusion to her memory rouses my indignation. Had she lived to witness the unredeemed profligacy of your life, it would have brought her in pain and sorrow to her grave.--Let us put an end to this discussion' he added; `it distresses me, and makes not the slightest change in my determination: I am going back to my lodgings, and I desire you to follow me.'
"The cool and resolute tone in which he uttered this command, convinced me that he was inexorable. I stepped some paces aside, for fear he should think fit to lay hands upon me.
"`Do not increase my misery and despair,' said I to him, `by forcing me to disobey you. It is impossible for me to follow you; and equally so that I should continue to live, after the unkind treatment I have experienced from you. I, therefore, bid you an eternal adieu. When you know that I am dead, as I shall soon be, the paternal affection which you once entertained for me may be perhaps revived.'
"As I was about to turn away from him: `You refuse then to follow me,' cried he, in a tone of excessive anger. `Go! go on to your ruin. Adieu! ungrateful and disobedient boy.'
"`Adieu!' exclaimed I to him, in a burst of grief, `adieu, cruel and unnatural father!'
"I left the Luxembourg, and rushed like a madman through the streets to M. de T----'s house. I raised my hands and eyes as I went along, invoking the Almighty Powers: `O Heaven,' cried I, `will you not prove more merciful than man! The only hope that remains to me is from above!'
