VI

It is a strange thing to note the excess of this passion; and how it

braves the nature and value of things, by this--that the speaking in a

perpetual hyperbole is comely in nothing but in love.--BACON.

"My interview with Tiberge was of the most friendly description. I saw

that his object was to discover the present temper of my mind. I

opened my heart to him without any reserve, except as to the mere point

of my intention of escaping. 'It is not from such a friend as you,'

said I, 'that I can ever wish to dissemble my real feelings. If you

flattered yourself with a hope that you were at last about to find me

grown prudent and regular in my conduct, a libertine reclaimed by the

chastisements of fortune, released alike from the trammels of love, and

the dominion that Manon wields over me, I must in candour say, that you

deceive yourself. You still behold me, as you left me four months ago,

the slave--if you will, the unhappy slave--of a passion, from which I

now hope, as fervently and as confidently as I ever did, to derive

eventually solid comfort.'

"He answered, that such an acknowledgment rendered me utterly

inexcusable; that it was no uncommon case to meet sinners who allowed

themselves to be so dazzled with the glare of vice as to prefer it

openly to the true splendour of virtue; they were at least deluded by

the false image of happiness, the poor dupes of an empty shadow; but to

know and feel as I did, that the object of my attachment was only

calculated to render me culpable and unhappy, and to continue thus

voluntarily in a career of misery and crime, involved a contradiction

of ideas and of conduct little creditable to my reason.

"'Tiberge,' replied I, 'it is easy to triumph when your arguments are

unopposed. Allow me to reason for a few moments in my turn. Can you

pretend that what you call the happiness of virtue is exempt from

troubles, and crosses, and cares? By what name will you designate the

dungeon, the rack, the inflections and tortures of tyrants? Will you

say with the Mystics[1] that the soul derives pleasure from the

torments of the body? You are not bold enough to hold such a

doctrine--a paradox not to be maintained. This happiness, then, that

you prize so much, has a thousand drawbacks, or is, more properly

speaking, but a tissue of sufferings through which one hopes to attain

felicity. If by the power of imagination one can even derive pleasure

from these sufferings, hoping that they may lead to a happy end, why,

let me ask, do you deem my conduct senseless, when it is directed by

precisely the same principle? I love Manon: I wade through sorrow and

suffering in order to attain happiness with her. My path is one indeed

of difficulties, but the mere hope of reaching the desired goal makes

it easy and delightful; and I shall think myself but too bountifully

repaid by one moment of her society, for all the troubles I encounter

in my course. There appears therefore no difference between us, or, if

there be any, it is assuredly in my favour; for the bliss I hope for is

near and tangible, yours is far distant, and purely speculative. Mine

is of the same kind as my sufferings, that is to say, evident to my

senses; yours is of an incomprehensible nature, and only discernible

through the dim medium of faith.'

"Tiberge appeared shocked by my remarks. He retired two or three paces

from me, while he said, in the most serious tone, that my argument was

not only a violation of good sense, but that it was the miserable

sophistry of irreligion; 'for the comparison,' he added, 'of the

pitiful reward of your sufferings with that held out to us by the

divine revelation, is the essence of impiety and absurdity combined.'

"'I acknowledge,' said I, 'that the comparison is not a just one, but

my argument does not at all depend upon it. I was about to explain

what you consider a contradiction--the persevering in a painful

pursuit; and I think I have satisfactorily proved, that if there be any

contradiction in that, we shall be both equally obnoxious to the

charge. It was in this light, only, that I could observe no difference

in our cases, and I cannot as yet perceive any.

"'You may probably answer, that the proposed end, the promised reward,

of virtue, is infinitely superior to that of love? No one disputes it,

but that is not the question--we are only discussing the relative aid

they both afford in the endurance of affliction. Judge of that by the

practical effect: are there not multitudes who abandon a life of strict

virtue? how few give up the pursuits of love!

"'Again, you will reply that if there be difficulties in the exercise

of virtue, they are by no means universal and sure; that the good man

does not necessarily meet tyrants and tortures, and that, on the

contrary, a life of virtue is perfectly compatible with repose and

enjoyment. I can say with equal truth, that love is often accompanied

by content and happiness; and what makes another distinction of

infinite advantage to my argument, I may add that love, though it often

deludes, never holds out other than hopes of bliss and joy, whilst

religion exacts from her votaries mortification and sorrow.

"'Do not be alarmed,' said I, perceiving that I had almost offended his

zealous feelings of devotion. 'I only wish to say, that there is no

more unsuccessful method of weaning man's heart from love, than by

endeavouring to decry its enjoyments, and by promising him more

pleasure from the exercise of virtue. It is an inherent principle in

our nature, that our felicity consists only in pleasure. I defy you to

conceive any other notion of it; and it requires little time to arrive

at the conviction, that, of all pleasures, those of love are

immeasurably the most enchanting. A man quickly discerns the delusion,

when he hears the promise made of livelier enjoyment, and the effect of

such misrepresentation is only to make him doubt the truth of a more

solid promise.

"'Let the preacher who seeks the reformation of a sinner tell me that

virtue is indispensably necessary, but not disguise its difficulty and

its attendant denials. Say that the enjoyments of love are fleeting,

if you will, that they are rigidly forbidden, that they lead with

certainty to eternal suffering; and, what would assuredly make a deeper

impression upon me than any other argument, say that the more sweet and

delectable they are, the brighter will be the reward of Heaven for

giving them up in sacrifice; but do in the name of justice admit, that,

constituted as the heart of man is, they form here, on earth, our most

perfect happiness.'

"My last sentence restored to Tiberge his good humour. He allowed that

my ideas were not altogether so unreasonable. The only point he made,

was in asking me why I did not carry my own principle into operation,

by sacrificing my passion to the hope of that remuneration of which I

had drawn so brilliant a picture. 'Oh! my dear friend,' replied I;

'that it is which makes me conscious of my own misery and weakness:

true, alas! it is indeed my duty to act according to my argument; but

have I the power of governing my own actions? What aid will enable me

to forget Manon's charms?' 'God forgive me,' said Tiberge, 'I can

almost fancy you a Jansenist[2]. 'I know not of what sect I am,'

replied I, 'nor do I indeed very clearly see to which I ought to

belong; but I cannot help feeling the truth of this at least of their

tenets.'

"One effect of our conversation was to revive my friend's pity for me

in all its force. He perceived that there was in my errors more of

weakness than of vice; and he was the more disposed in the end to give

me assistance; without which I should infallibly have perished from

distress of mind. However, I carefully concealed from him my intention

of escaping from St. Lazare. I merely begged of him to take charge of

my letter; I had it ready before he came, and I soon found an excuse

for the necessity of writing. He faithfully transmitted it, and

Lescaut received before evening the one I had enclosed for him.

"He came to see me next morning, and fortunately was admitted under my

brother's name. I was overjoyed at finding him in my room. I

carefully closed the door. 'Let us lose no time,' I said. 'First tell

me about Manon, and then advise me how I am to shake off these

fetters.' He assured me that he had not seen his sister since the day

before my arrest, and that it was only by repeated enquiries, and after

much trouble, that he had at length been able to discover her fate as

well as mine; and that he had two or three times presented himself at

the Magdalen, and been refused admittance. 'Wretch!' muttered I to

myself, 'dearly shall G---- M---- pay for this!'

"'As to your escape,' continued Lescaut, 'it will not be so easy as you

imagine. Last evening, I and a couple of friends walked round this

establishment to reconnoitre it; and we agreed that, as your windows

looked into a court surrounded by buildings, as you yourself mentioned

in your letter, there would be vast difficulty in getting you out.

Besides, you are on the third story, and it would be impossible to

introduce ropes or ladders through the window. I therefore see no

means from without--in the house itself we must hit upon some scheme.'

"'No,' replied I; 'I have examined everything minutely, particularly

since, through the governor's indulgence, my confinement has been less

rigorous. I am no longer locked into my room; I have liberty to walk

in the gallery; but there is, upon every landing, a strong door kept

closed night and day, so that it is impossible that ingenuity alone,

unaided by some violent efforts, can rescue me.

"'Wait,' said I, after turning in my mind for a moment an idea that

struck me as excellent; 'could you bring me a pistol?' 'Softly,' said

Lescaut to me, 'you don't think of committing murder?' I assured him

that I had so little intention of shooting anyone, that it would not be

even necessary to have the pistol loaded. 'Bring it to me tomorrow,' I

added, 'and do not fail to be exactly opposite the great entrance with

two or three of your friends at eleven tomorrow night; I think I shall

be able to join you there.' He in vain requested me to explain my

plan. I told him that such an attempt as I contemplated could only

appear rational after it had succeeded. I begged of him to shorten his

visit, in order that he might with the less difficulty be admitted next

morning. He was accordingly admitted as readily as on his first visit.

He had put on so serious an air, moreover, that a stranger would have

taken him for a respectable person.

"When I found in my hand the instrument of my liberty, I no longer

doubted my success. It was certainly a strange and a bold project; but

of what was I not capable, with the motives that inspired me? I had,

since I was allowed permission to walk in the galleries, found

opportunities of observing that every night the porter brought the keys

of all the doors to the governor, and subsequently there always reigned

a profound silence in the house, which showed that the inmates had

retired to rest. There was an open communication between my room and

that of the Superior. My resolution was, if he refused quietly to

surrender the keys, to force him, by fear of the pistol, to deliver

them up, and then by their help to gain the street. I impatiently

awaited the moment for executing my purpose. The porter arrived at his

usual time, that is to say, soon after nine o'clock. I allowed an hour

to elapse, in order that the priests as well as the servants might be

all asleep. I at length proceeded with my pistol and a lighted candle.

I first gave a gentle tap at the governor's door to awaken without

alarming him. I knocked a second time before he heard me; and

supposing of course that it was one of the priests who was taken ill

and wanted assistance, he got out of bed, dressed himself, and came to

the door. He had, however, the precaution to ask first who it was, and

what was wanted? I was obliged to mention my name, but I assumed a

plaintive tone, to make him believe that I was indisposed. 'Ah! it is

you, my dear boy,' said he on opening the door; 'what can bring you

here at this hour?' I stepped inside the door, and leading him to the

opposite side of the room, I declared to him that it was absolutely

impossible for me to remain longer at St. Lazare; that the night was

the most favourable time for going out unobserved, and that I

confidently expected, from his tried friendship, that he would consent

to open the gates for me, or entrust me with the keys to let myself out.

"This compliment to his friendship seemed to surprise him. He stood

for a few moments looking at me without making any reply. Finding that

I had no time to lose, I just begged to assure him that I had the most

lively sense of all his kindnesses, but that freedom was dearer to man

than every other consideration, especially so to me, who had been

cruelly and unjustly deprived of it; that I was resolved this night to

recover it, cost what it would, and fearing lest he might raise his

voice and call for assistance, I let him see the powerful incentive to

silence which I had kept concealed in my bosom. 'A pistol!' cried he.

'What! my son? will you take away my life in return for the attentions

I have shown you?' 'God forbid,' replied I; 'you are too reasonable to

drive me to that horrible extremity: but I am determined to be free,

and so firmly determined, that if you defeat my project, I will put an

end to your existence.' 'But, my dear son!' said he, pale and

frightened, 'what have I done to you? What reason have you for taking

my life?' 'No!' replied I, impatiently, 'I have no design upon your

life, if you, yourself, wish to live; open but the doors for me, and

you will find me the most attached of friends.' I perceived the keys

upon the table. I requested he would take them in his hand and walk

before me, making as little noise as he possibly could.

"He saw the necessity of consenting. We proceeded, and as he opened

each door, he repeated, always with a sigh, 'Ah! my son, who could have

believed it?' 'No noise, good Father, no noise,' I as often answered

in my turn. At length we reached a kind of barrier, just inside the

great entrance. I already fancied myself free, and kept close behind

the governor, with my candle in one hand, and my pistol in the other.

"While he was endeavouring to open the heavy gate, one of the servants,

who slept in an adjoining room, hearing the noise of the bolts, jumped

out of bed, and peeped forth to see what was passing. The good Father

apparently thought him strong enough to overpower me. He commanded

him, most imprudently, to come to his assistance. He was a powerful

ruffian, and threw himself upon me without an instant's hesitation.

There was no time for parleying--I levelled my pistol and lodged the

contents in his breast! 'See, Father, of what mischief you have been

the cause,' said I to my guide; 'but that must not prevent us from

finishing our work,' I added, pushing him on towards the last door. He

did not dare refuse to open it. I made my exit in perfect safety, and,

a few paces off, found Lescaut with two friends waiting for me,

according to his promise.

"We removed at once to a distance. Lescaut enquired whether he had not

heard the report of a pistol? 'You are to blame,' said I, 'why did you

bring it charged?' I, however, could not help thanking him for having

taken this precaution, without which I doubtless must have continued

much longer at St. Lazare. We went to pass the night at a tavern,

where I made up, in some degree, for the miserable fare which had been

doled out to me for nearly three months. I was very far, however, from

tasting perfect enjoyment; Manon's sufferings were mine. 'She must be

released,' said I to my companions: 'this was my sole object in

desiring my own liberty. I rely on your aiding me with all your

ingenuity; as for myself, my life shall be devoted to the purpose.'

"Lescaut, who was not deficient in tact, and still less in that better

part of valour called discretion, dwelt upon the necessity of acting

with extreme caution: he said that my escape from St. Lazare, and the

accident that happened on my leaving it, would assuredly create a

sensation; that the lieutenant-general of police would cause a strict

search to be made for me, and it would be difficult to evade him; in

fine, that, unless disposed to encounter something worse, perhaps, than

St. Lazare, it would be requisite for me to remain concealed for a few

days, in order to give the enemy's zeal time to cool. No doubt this

was wise counsel; but, one should have been wise oneself to have

followed it. Such calculating slowness little suited my passion. The

utmost I could bring myself to promise was, that I would sleep through

the whole of the next day. He locked me in my bedroom, where I

remained patiently until night.

"I employed great part of the time in devising schemes for relieving

Manon. I felt persuaded that her prison was even more inaccessible

than mine had been. Force was out of the question. Artifice was the

only resource; but the goddess of invention herself could not have told

me how to begin. I felt the impossibility of working in the dark, and

therefore postponed the further consideration of my schemes until I

could acquire some knowledge of the internal arrangements of the

Hospital, in which she was confined.

"As soon as night restored to me my liberty, I begged of Lescaut to

accompany me. We were not long in drawing one of the porters into

conversation; he appeared a reasonable man. I passed for a stranger

who had often with admiration heard talk of the Hospital, and of the

order that reigned within it. I enquired into the most minute details;

and, proceeding from one subject to another, we at length spoke of the

managers, and of these I begged to know the names and the respective

characters. He gave me such information upon the latter point as at

once suggested an idea which flattered my hopes, and I immediately set

about carrying it into execution.

"I asked him (this being a matter essential to my plan) whether any of

the gentlemen had children. He said he could not answer me with

certainty as to all, but as for M. de T----, one of the principal

directors, he knew that he had a son old enough to be married, and who

had come several times to the Hospital with his father. This was

enough for my purpose.

"I immediately put an end to our interview, and, in returning, I told

Lescaut of the plan I had formed. 'I have taken it,' said I, 'into my

head, that M. de T----, the son, who is rich and of good family, must

have the same taste for pleasure that other young men of his age

generally have. He could hardly be so bad a friend to the fair sex,

nor so absurd as to refuse his services in an affair of love. I have

arranged a plan for interesting him in favour of Manon. If he is a man

of feeling and of right mind, he will give us his assistance from

generosity. If he is not to be touched by a motive of this kind, he

will at least do something for a handsome girl, if it were only with

the hope of hereafter sharing her favours. I will not defer seeing

him,' added I, 'beyond tomorrow. I really feel so elated by this

project, that I derive from it a good omen.'

"Lescaut himself allowed that the idea was not unreasonable, and that

we might fairly entertain a hope of turning it to account. I passed the

night less sorrowfully.

"Next morning I dressed as well as, in my present state of indigence, I

could possibly contrive to do; and went in a hackney coach to the

residence of M. de T----. He was surprised at receiving a visit from a

perfect stranger. I augured favourably from his countenance and the

civility of his manner. I explained my object in the most candid way;

and, to excite his feelings as much as possible, I spoke of my ardent

passion and of Manon's merit, as of two things that were unequalled,

except by each other. He told me, that although he had never seen

Manon, he had heard of her; at least, if the person I was talking of

was the same who had been the mistress of old G---- M----. I

conjectured that he must have heard of the part I had acted in that

transaction, and in order to conciliate him more and more by treating

him with confidence, I told him everything that had occurred to Manon

and myself. 'You see, sir,' said I, 'that all that can interest me in

life, all that can command my affections, is in your hands. I have no

reserve with you, because I have been informed of your generous and

noble character; and, being of the same age, I trust I shall find some

resemblance in our dispositions.'

"He seemed flattered by this mark of candour and confidence. He

replied in a manner that became a man of the world, and a man of

feeling also, for they are not always synonymous terms. He told me

that he appreciated my visit as a piece of good fortune; that he

considered my friendship as a valuable acquisition, and that he would

endeavour to prove himself worthy of it, by the sincerity of his

services. He could not absolutely promise to restore Manon to my arms,

because, as he said, he himself had very little influence; but he

offered to procure me the pleasure of seeing her, and to do everything

in his power to effect her release. I was the more satisfied with this

frank avowal as to his want of influence, than I should have been by an

unqualified promise of fulfilling all my wishes. I found in his

moderation a pledge of his sincerity: in a word, I no longer doubted my

entire success. The promise alone of enabling me to see Manon filled

me with gratitude, and I testified it in so earnest a manner, as to

give him a favourable opinion of my heart and disposition; we shook

hands warmly, and parted sworn friends, merely from mutual regard, and

that natural feeling which prompts a man of kind and generous

sentiments to esteem another of congenial mind.

"He, indeed, exceeded me in the proofs of his esteem; for, inferring

from my adventures, and especially my late escape from St. Lazare, that

I might be in want of money, he offered me his purse, and pressed me to

accept it. I refused, but said to him, 'You are too kind, my dear sir!

If in addition to such proofs of kindness and friendship, you enable me

to see Manon again, rely on my eternal regard and gratitude. If you

succeed in restoring altogether this dear creature to my arms, I should

think myself happy in spilling the last drop of my blood in your

service.'

"Before we parted, we agreed as to the time and place for our meeting.

He was so considerate as to appoint the afternoon of the same day.

"I waited for him at a cafe, where he joined me about four o'clock, and

we went together towards the Magdalen; my knees trembled under me as I

crossed the courts. 'Ye heavenly powers!' said I, 'then I shall once

more behold the idol of my heart--the dear object of so many sighs and

lamentations! All I now ask of Providence is, to vouchsafe me strength

enough to reach her presence, and after that, to dispose as it pleaseth

of my future fate, and of my life itself. Beyond this, I have no

prayer to utter.'

"M. de T---- spoke to some of the porters of the establishment, who

appeared all anxious to please him. The quarter in which Manon's room

lay was pointed out to us, and our guide carried in his hand the key of

her chamber: it was of frightful size. I asked the man who conducted

us, and whose duty it was to attend to Manon, how she passed her time?

He said, that she had a temper of the most angelic sweetness; that even

he, disagreeable as his official duties must render him, had never

heard from her a single syllable in the nature of rebuke or harshness;

that her tears had never ceased to flow during the first six weeks

after her arrival, but that latterly she seemed to bear her misfortunes

with more resignation, and that she employed herself from morning till

night with her needle, excepting some hours that she, each day, devoted

to reading. I asked whether she had been decently provided for. He

assured me that at least she had never felt the want of necessaries.

"We now approached her door. My heart beat almost audibly in my bosom.

I said to M. de T----, 'Go in alone, and prepare her for my visit; I

fear that she may be overcome by seeing me unexpectedly.' The door was

opened. I remained in the passage, and listened to the conversation.

He said that he came to bring her consolation; that he was a friend of

mine, and felt deeply interested for the happiness of us both. She

asked with the tenderest anxiety, whether he could tell her what had

become of me. He promised that she should soon see me at her feet, as

affectionate and as faithful as ever. 'When?' she asked. 'This very

day,' said he; 'the happy moment shall not be long delayed; nay, this

very instant even, if you wish it.' She at once understood that I was

at the door; as she was rushing towards it, I entered. We embraced

each other with that abounding and impassioned tenderness, which an

absence of many months makes so delicious to those who truly love. Our

sighs, our broken exclamations, the thousand endearing appellations of

love, exchanged in languishing rapture, astonished M. de T----, and

affected him even to tears.

"'I cannot help envying you,' said he, as he begged us to be seated;

'there is no lot, however glorious, that I would hold as comparable to

the possession of a mistress at once so tender and impassioned.' 'Nor

would I,' I replied, 'give up her love for universal empire!'

"The remainder of an interview which had been so long and so ardently

desired by me, was of course as tender as the commencement. Poor Manon

related all her adventures, and I told her mine: we bitterly wept over

each other's story. M. de T---- consoled us by his renewed promises to

exert himself in our service. He advised us not to make this, our

first interview, of too long duration, that he might have the less

difficulty in procuring us the same enjoyment again. He at length

induced us to follow his advice. Manon especially could not reconcile

herself to the separation: she made me a hundred times resume my seat.

At one time she held me by my hands, at another by my coat. 'Alas!'

she said, 'in what an abode do you leave me! Who will answer for my

ever seeing you again?' M. de T---- promised her that he would often

come and see her with me. 'As to the abode,' he said, 'it must no

longer be called the Magdalen; it is Versailles! now that it contains a

person who deserves the empire of all hearts.'

"I made the man who attended a present as I went out, in order to

quicken his zeal and attentions. This fellow had a mind less rough and

vulgar than the generality of his class. He had witnessed our

interview, and was affected by it. The interest he felt was doubtless

increased by the louis d'or I gave him. He took me aside as we went

down into the courtyard. 'Sir,' said he, 'if you will only take me

into your service, or indemnify me in any way for the loss of the

situation which I fill here, I think I should not have much difficulty

in liberating the beauteous Manon.'

"I caught readily at the suggestion, and, although at the moment I was

almost in a state of destitution, I gave him promises far beyond his

desires. I considered that it would be at all times easy to recompense

a man of his description. 'Be assured, my friend,' said I to him,

'that there is nothing I will not be ready to do for you, and that your

fortune is just as certain as my own.' I enquired what means he

intended to employ. 'None other,' said he, 'than merely to open the

door of her cell for her at night, and to conduct her to the street

door, where you, of course, will be to receive her.' I asked whether

there was no danger of her being recognised as she traversed the long

galleries and the courts. He admitted that there was danger, but that

nothing could be done without some slight risk.

"Although I was delighted to find him so determined, I called M. de

T----, and informed him of the project, and of the only difficulty in

the way. He thought it not so easy of execution. He allowed the

possibility of escaping thus: 'But if she be recognised,' continued

he, 'if she be stopped in the attempt, all hope will be over with her,

perhaps for ever. Besides, you would be obliged to quit Paris

instantly, for you could never evade the search that would be made for

you: they would redouble their efforts as much on your own account as

hers. A single man may easily escape detection, but in company with a

handsome woman, it would be utterly impossible to remain undiscovered.'

"However sound this reasoning, it could not, in my mind, outweigh the

immediate prospect of restoring Manon to liberty. I said as much to M.

de T----, and trusted that he would excuse my imprudence and rashness,

on the ground of love. I added that it was already my intention to

quit Paris for some neighbouring village, as I had once before done.

We then settled with the servant that he should carry his project into

execution the following day, and to render our success as certain as he

could, we resolved to carry into the prison men's clothes, in order to

facilitate her escape."

"There was a difficulty to be surmounted in carrying them in, but I had

ingenuity enough to meet it. I begged of M. de T---- only to put on

two light waistcoats the next morning, and I undertook to arrange the

rest.

"We returned the following day to the Hospital. I took with me linen,

stockings, etc., for Manon, and over my body-coat a surtout, which

concealed the bulk I carried in my pockets. We remained but a moment

in her room. M. de T---- left her one of his waistcoats; I gave her my

short coat, the surtout being sufficient for me. She found nothing

wanting for her complete equipment but a pair of pantaloons, which in

my hurry I had forgotten.

"The want of so necessary an article might have amused us, if the

embarrassment it caused had been of a less serious kind. I was in

despair at having our whole scheme foiled by a trifling omission of

this nature. However, I soon hit on a remedy, and determined to make

my own exit sans-culotte, leaving that portion of my dress with Manon.

My surtout was long, and I contrived by the help of a few pins to put

myself in a decent condition for passing the gate.

"The remainder of the day appeared to me of endless length. When at

last night came, we went in a coach to within a few yards of the

Hospital. We were not long waiting, when we saw Manon make her

appearance with her guide. The door of the coach being opened, they

both stepped in without delay. I opened my arms to receive my adored

mistress; she trembled like an aspen leaf. The coachman asked where he

was to drive? 'To the end of the world!' I exclaimed; 'to some place

where I can never again be separated from Manon.'

"This burst, which I could not control, was near bringing me into fresh

trouble. The coachman reflected upon what I said, and when I

afterwards told him the name of the street to which I wished him to

drive, he answered that he feared I was about to implicate him in some

bad business; that he saw plainly enough that the good-looking young

man whom I called Manon was a girl eloping from the Hospital, and that

he was little disposed indeed to ruin himself for love of me.

"Extortion was the source of this scoundrel's delicacy. We were still

too near the Hospital to make any noise. 'Silence!' said I to him,

'you shall have a louis d'or for the job': for less than that he would

have helped me to burn the Hospital.

"We arrived at Lescaut's house. As it was late, M. de T---- left us on

the way, promising to visit us the next morning. The servant alone

remained.

"I held Manon in such close embrace in my arms, that we occupied but

one place in the coach. She cried for joy, and I could feel her tears

trickling down my cheeks.

"When we were about getting out at Lescaut's, I had a new difficulty

with the coachman, which was attended with the most unfortunate

results. I repented of having promised the fellow a louis d'or, not

only because it was extravagant folly, but for another stronger reason,

that it was at the moment out of my power to pay him. I called for

Lescaut, and he came down to the door. I whispered to him the cause of

my present embarrassment. Being naturally rough, and not at all in the

habit of treating hackney-coachmen with respect, he answered that I

could not be serious. 'A louis!' said he; 'twenty blows of a cane

would be the right payment for that rascal!' I entreated him not to

destroy us; when he snatched my cane from my hand, and was about to lay

it on the coachman. The fellow had probably before experienced the

weight of a guardsman's arm, and instantly drove off, crying out, that

I had cheated him, and should hear of him again. I in vain endeavoured

to stop him.

"His flight caused me, of course, the greatest alarm. I had no doubt

that he would immediately give information to the police. 'You have

ruined me,' said I to Lescaut; 'I shall be no longer safe at your

house; we must go hence at once.' I gave Manon my arm, and as quickly

as possible got out of the dangerous neighbourhood. Lescaut

accompanied us."

The Chevalier des Grieux having occupied more than an hour with his

story, I begged him to give himself a little rest, and meanwhile to

share our supper. He saw, by the attention we paid him, that we were

amused, and promised that we should hear something of perhaps greater

interest in the sequel. When we had finished supper, he continued in

the following words.

[1] A favourite tenet of the Mystics, advocated by Madame de Guyon, and

adopted by the amiable and eloquent Fenelon, was, that the love of the

Supreme Being must be pure and disinterested; that is, exempt from all

views of interest, and all hope of reward. See the controversy between

Bossuet and Fenelon.

[2] The first proposition of the Jansenists was, that there are divine

precepts which good men, notwithstanding their desire to observe them,

are nevertheless absolutely unable to obey: God not having given them

such a measure of grace as is essentially necessary to render them

capable of obedience.--Mosheim's Eccles. Hist., ii. 397.