It was there we were to separate definitively. We gave our directions
to her courier, and hurried over the adieux for fear of increasing her
illness by prolonging such painful emotions, as one who with an
unflinching hand hastily bares a wound to spare the sufferer. My friend
left for my father's country house, whither I was to follow the next
day.
Louis was no sooner gone than I felt quite unable to keep my word. I
could not rest under the idea of leaving Julie in tears, to prosecute
her long winter journey with only the care of servants, and the thought
that she might fall ill in some lonely inn, and die while calling for
me in vain, was unbearable. I had no money left; a good old man who had
once lent me twenty-five louis had died during my absence. I took my
watch, a gold chain that one of my mother's friends had given me three
years before, some trinkets, my epaulets, my sword, and the gold lace
off my uniform, wrapped them all in my cloak, and went to my mother's
jeweller, who gave me thirty-five louis for the whole. From thence, I
hurried to the inn where Julie slept, and called her courier; I told
him I should follow the carriage at a distance to the gates of Paris,
but that I did not wish his mistress to know it, for fear she should
object to it, out of consideration to me. I inquired the names of the
towns and the hotels where he intended to stay on the road, in order
that I might stop in the same towns, but stay at other hotels. I
rewarded him by anticipation and liberally for his secrecy, then ran to
the post house, ordered horses, and set off half an hour after the
departure of the carriage I wished to follow.