I prayed, conjured, and became angry, all to no purpose; the mother made me pass for an eternal grumbler, and a man who was peevish and ungovernable.

She held perpetual whisperings with my friends; everything in my little family was mysterious and a secret to me; and, that I might not incessantly expose myself to noisy quarrelling, I no longer dared to take notice of what passed in it.

A firmness of which I was not capable, would have been necessary to withdraw me from this domestic strife.

I knew how to complain, but not how to act: they suffered me to say what I pleased, and continued to act as they thought proper.
This constant teasing, and the daily importunities to which I was subject, rendered the house, and my residence at Paris, disagreeable to me.

When my indisposition permitted me to go out, and I did not suffer myself to be led by my acquaintance first to one place and then to another, I took a walk, alone, and reflected on my grand system, something of which I committed to paper, bound up between two covers, which, with a pencil, I always had in my pocket.