man.

"Two months after this romantic flight, we went to Paris. I confess,
to my shame, that I quitted Burgundy without regret; for childhood
loves and requires change. At Paris we found my aunt, the Countess de
Bellevau, and after a short time we took up our abode with her. At her
house I saw the celebrated author M. Marmontel. He came to read her
his 'Tales.' I was present at the reading of one, called, I think,
'The Self-styled Philosopher,' in which a fat president's wife,
begrimmed with snuff, leads about in triumph this pretended sage, with
a rose-colored ribbon. Though but twelve years old, I thought this
story dull and absurd, and I thought rightly. The author was far from
supposing that the little girl then before him would one day write a
critique on these tales, which should throw him into transports of
rage.

"At the close of the winter, we went to a country-house of my aunt's,
which had a delightful garden close to the forest of Vincennes. My
brother, my two cousins, and myself, performed little pieces, and we
had many little _fetes_ at which my brother and myself sung duets. He
was by no means as remarkable a child as I was: he was shy, awkward,
and of an inconceivable simplicity: he had requested my father in vain
to let him use a gun; he was always told that he must first acquire a
knowledge of fencing, for which he had not the slightest taste: he
therefore adopted the following expedient: he loaded a gun, shut
himself up in his room, and, in order to fire without making a noise,
he bethought him of thrusting the barrel of the gun under the mattress
of the bed. He then fired in this prudent manner, set fire to the bed,
and was himself knocked down by the rebound. The family hastily
assembled, and discovered with surprise this singular invention. The
next summer we spent at Passy, and in October returned to Paris.

"When I was fourteen years old, my father left us for St. Domingo. On
his return, he was taken prisoner by the English, with all he
possessed. He was conducted to Lanceston, a seaport town in England,
where he found many French prisoners of war, and, among others, a
young man, whose handsome face, talents, and accomplishments, inspired
him with the most lively interest: this was the Comte de Genlis, who,
in returning from Pondicherry, where he had commanded a regiment
during five years, had been carried to Canton, in China. Here he
passed five months, and was thence taken to Lanceston.

"T