I was proof against his paternal embraces; I was deaf to his noble sentiments.

He declared he should die on the road.

When I look back at it now, I am amazed at my own cruelty.

I said, "En route, Papa!"-- and packed him up, and took him to Italy.
He became enamored, at intervals, now of one fair traveler and now of another, all through the journey from Paris to Rome.

(Wonderful old man!) Arrived at Rome--that hotbed of the enemies of mankind--I saw my way to putting a moral extinguisher on the author of my being.