It is a sort of despair which is not without some sweetness.

During that journey I never felt either hunger or thirst, or the cold which is so intense in that part of the Alps that the whole of nature seems to turn to ice, or the fatigue inseparable from such a difficult and dangerous journey.
I arrived in Parma in pretty good health, and took up my quarters at a small inn, in the hope that in such a place I should not meet any acquaintance of mine.

But I was much disappointed, for I found in that inn M.de la Haye, who had a room next to mine.

Surprised at seeing me, he paid me a long compliment, trying to make me speak, but I eluded his curiosity by telling him that I was tired, and that we would see each other again.
On the following day I called upon M.d'Antoine, and delivered the letter which Henriette had written to him.

He opened it in my presence, and finding another to my address enclosed in his, he handed it to me without reading it, although it was not sealed.