My good Mercer came to see me, but she was not admitted, nor did I know of her visit till long afterward. There was no need, however, of all these precautions. I was possessed of only one idea—to separate myself as far as possible from Andrew, and to get out of the country before he came into it. I felt as if I could have gone to the ends of the earth to avoid him.
Besides I was delighted with the prospect of seeing Paris and Versailles, and that court my aunt described to me in such glowing colors. I conceived that I should be a person of a good deal of importance, and even began to have dreams of a grand alliance. As to love, I said to myself it was all sentimental nonsense, just fit for boys and girls. I had got over all that. In short, my heart was given to the world. That was the god of my idolatry, and it paid me the wages it usually bestows upon its votaries.
We were favored with a passage in a king's ship, and therefore fared better than most people do in crossing the channel, but we had a rough time. Every member of our party was sick but myself, and I had my hands full with waiting upon my aunt, who fell into all sorts of terrors and fits of the nerves, and was sure we were going to be drowned. However, we reached Calais in safety, and after waiting a day or two to refresh ourselves, we took the way to Paris.
Whether it was that I had been so long away from France that I had forgotten how it looked, or that Normandy had been in a more flourishing condition than the other provinces, or finally, that I contrasted what I now saw with what I had seen in England, I cannot tell; but certainly the country looked terribly forlorn to me. There was little tillage, and what there was seemed by no means flourishing; the people had a crushed, oppressed, half-fed look which was very sad to see. Even when the vintage was going on there seemed very little rejoicing.
Once, taking a by-road to avoid a hill, we came upon what must have been a flourishing vineyard a day or two before, but the vines were crushed and torn from their supports, and lay withering upon the ground, the beautiful grapes were scattered and spoiled, while two or three women with faces of blank despair were trying to rescue some of the fruit from the general destruction.
"Oh, the poor people!" I exclaimed. "What has happened to them?"
"A boar hunt probably," said my uncle indifferently.
"But why should that have wrought such ruin?" I asked.
"Because, little simpleton, the boar would as soon go through a vineyard as anywhere else, and when he does it is needful that the hunt should follow him, which is not very good for the vineyards."
"And so for the sake of some great man's pleasure of an hour or two the poor man's heritage is destroyed," said I indignantly. "What a shame! What wickedness!"