His intention was to stay a year at Paris, and he was full of the blissful expectations the idea of that city had conjured up.

We remained together all the evening, and took a prodigious fancy to one another.

Long before I went to bed, he had perfectly inoculated me with his own ardour for continental adventures; and, indeed, I had half promised to accompany him.

My mother, when I first told her of my travelling intentions, was in despair, but by degrees she grew reconciled to the idea.
"Your health will improve by a purer air," said she, "and your pronunciation of French is, at present, any thing but correct.

Take care of yourself, therefore, my dear son, and pray lose no time in engaging Coulon as your maitre de danse." My father gave me his blessing, and a check on his banker.