“‘Everything was ready for my departure. The agent, a plain, honest man, had sworn to be as secret as the grave, and when, one evening, I took my leave of the eternal Giordoni, who now passed not a single day without paying me his lengthened visit, I laughed at his form of farewell. “_À demain, à demain!_” called he from the gate; “to-morrow we will talk about the road from your grounds to my chapel—there _must_ be a road, Cerutti—the high wall must come down. What need of walls between such friends as we?”
“‘I laughed as I pressed his hand in feigned warmth, echoing his portentous words of adieu. I knew that on the morrow I should be far enough away. He smiled likewise as he exclaimed, once more looking me earnestly in the face, “Farewell, my friend, my dearest friend, _à demain donc, à demain_!”
“‘He turned, and I watched his retreating form gradually fade in the moonlight, with a heart bounding with gratitude and joy at the prospect of my approaching deliverance. The horses were waiting on the by-road by the side of the château, and I could hear their joyous neigh from the gate where I was leaning to gaze after Giordoni. Everything seemed to breathe of peace and happiness. There was a nightingale perched among the branches of the mulberry tree beneath which I stood, and her joyous melody gushed forth unsubdued, more free and unconstrained methought when the shadow of Giordoni no longer darkened the pathway; multitudes of the bright green glow-worms peculiar to the summer nights of our country, were chasing each other over the smooth turf. I thought I had never beheld a night of such calm, such placid beauty.
“‘I was like the schoolboy about to escape the dominion of his pedagogue; eager to be free, yet scarcely as yet decided on the use that he would make of his long-coveted liberty. I had many plans in view, but none as yet decided.
“‘I will go from hence to Lyons,’ said I to myself, as I returned with light step towards the house; ‘there will I remain for a while, to study the manners of the people of whom I have heard so much; then on—on to Paris; ’tis there and there alone “_qu’on trouve le génie si on n’en a pas_.” I could scarcely contain my feelings at the thought of the change which by my own address and discretion I was about to work in my destiny, and I whistled and sang aloud in glee at the bare thought of so much happiness.