e and bade each other mutual farewells. I placed
Marcoline in the carriage, gave her a last embrace, and waited for the
crack of the postillion's whip to gallop back to Lyons. I tore along like
a madman, for I felt as if I should like to send the horse to the ground
and kill myself. But death never comes to him that desires it, save in
the fable of the worthy Lafontaine. In six hours I had accomplished the
eighteen leagues between Pont-Boivoisin and Lyons, only stopping to
change horses. I tore off my clothes and threw myself on the bed, where
thirty hours before I had enjoyed all the delights of love. I hoped that
the bliss I had lost would return to me in my dreams. However, I slept
profoundly, and did not wake till eight o'clock. I had been asleep about
nineteen hours.

I rang for Clairmont, and told him to bring up my breakfast, which I
devoured eagerly. When my stomach was restored in this manner I fell
asleep again, and did not get up till the next morning, feeling quite
well, and as if I could support life a little longer.

Three days after Marcoline's departure I bought a comfortable two-wheeled
carriage with patent springs, and sent my trunks to Paris by the
diligence. I kept a portmanteau containing the merest necessaries, for I
meant to travel in a dressing-gown and night-cap, and keep to myself all
the way to Paris. I intended this as a sort of homage to Marcoline, but I
reckoned without my host.

I was putting my jewellery together in a casket when Clairmont announced
a tradesman and his daughter, a pretty girl whom I had remarked at
dinner, for since the departure of my fair Venetian I had dined at the
table-d'hote by way of distraction.

I shut up my jewels and asked them to come in, and the father addressed
me politely, saying,--

"Sir, I have come to ask you to do me a favour which will cost you but
little, while it will be of immense service to my daughter and myself."

"What can I do for you? I am leaving Lyons at day-break to-morrow."

"I know it, for you said so at dinner; but we shall be ready at any hour.
Be kind enough to give my daughter a seat in your carriage. I will, of
course, pay for a third horse, and will ride post."

"You cannot have seen the carriage."

"Excuse me, I have done so. It is, I know, only meant for one, but she
could easily squeeze into it. I know I am troubling you, but if you were
aware of the convenience it would be to me I am sure you would not
refuse. All the