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 La Barre and Montmorency I met, in a hired carriage, four men in black, who saluted me smiling.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 seated up amongst my papers.The duke pressed me to sleep at Villeroy, but I preferred returning to the great road, which I did, arid traveled 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 I 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, traveling 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.
I had sufficient matter of reflection to prevent me from being weary on the road, employing myself in the recollection of that which had just happened; but this was neither my turn of mind nor the inclination of my heart.The facility with which I forget past evils, however recent they may be, is astonishing.The remembrance of them becomes feeble, and, sooner or later, effaced, in the inverse proportion to the greater degree of fear with which the approach of them inspires me.My cruel imagination, incessantly tormented by the apprehension of evils still at a distance, diverts my attention, and prevents me from recollecting those which are past.
Caution is needless after the evil has happened, and it is time lost to give it a thought.I, in some measure, put a period to my misfortunes before they happen: the more I have suffered at their approach the greater is the facility with which I forget them; whilst, on the contrary, incessantly recollecting my past happiness, I, if Imay so speak, enjoy it a second time at pleasure.It is to this happy disposition I am indebted for an exemption from that ill humor which ferments in a vindictive mind, by the continual remembrance of injuries received, and torments it with all the evil it wishes to do its enemy.Naturally choleric, I have felt all the force of anger, which in the first moments has sometimes been carried to fury, but a desire of vengeance never took root within me.I think too little of the offense to give myself much trouble about the offender.I think of the injury I have received from him on account of that he may do me a second time, but were I certain he would never do me another the first would be instantly forgotten.Pardon of offenses is continually preached to us.I knew not whether or not my heart would be capable of overcoming its hatred, for it never yet felt that passion, and I give myself too little concern about my enemies to have the merit of pardoning them.I will not say to what a degree, in order to torment me, they torment themselves.I am at their mercy, they have unbounded power, and make of it what use they please.There is but one thing in which I set them at defiance: which is in tormenting themselves about me, to force me to give myself the least trouble about them.
