We started on our journey one fine morning in March; the
chevalier with his daughter and Mademoiselle Leblanc in one post-chaise;
myself in another with the abbe, who could ill conceal his delight at
the thought of seeing the capital for the first time in him life; and my
valet Saint-Jean, who, lest he should forget his customary politeness,
made profound bows to every individual we passed.
XII
Old Bernard, tired from talking so long, had promised to resume his
story on the morrow. At the appointed hour we called upon him to keep
his word; and he continued thus:
This visit marked a new phase in my life. At Sainte-Severe I had been
absorbed in my love and my work. I had concentrated all my energies upon
these two points. No sooner had I arrived at Paris than a thick curtain
seemed to fall before my eyes, and, for several days, as I could not
understand anything, I felt astonished at nothing. I formed a very
exaggerated estimate of the passing actors who appeared upon the scene;
but I formed no less exaggerated an estimate of the ease with which
I should soon rival these imaginary powers. My enterprising and
presumptuous nature saw challenges everywhere and obstacles nowhere.
Though I was in the same house as my uncle and cousin, my room was on a
separate floor, and henceforth I spent the greater part of my time with
the abbe. I was far from being dazed by the material advantages of my
position; but in proportion as I realized how precarious or painful were
the positions of many others, the more conscious I became of the comfort
of my own.
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