When I said good-bye to my friends before leaving Petersburg, I asked what I could bring them from abroad, what gift might delight them. Everyone answered on a momentary feeling or whim: everyone asked for some kind of gift and, in a word,

One friend was silent.— “Why are you not asking for anything?” I inquired. “You are a Frenchman—a Parisian; you know well what one can bring from France; having lived in Petersburg for seven years, you know what you have been missing.”— He interrupted the silence with a deep sigh: “If you truly want to bring me joy, to revive me, visit my poor mother, whom I have not seen for ten years and whom, maybe, I will not meet again in this life. Tell her that you saw me, that I love her, that I am sick at heart for her, that I …. No! don't promise. She might not be in Paris; she is most likely living in the country. No, don't make any promises!”— In fact, I did not promise anything definitive because I did not know if I would be able to keep my word, but in my soul, I decided to do everything possible.

Upon arrival in Paris, I hurried to one of my friend's relatives and found out that Madame Monneron had left for her daughter's estate near Blois on the eve of my arrival and will stay there until next year. What am I to do? I thought. Travel to Blois? Then I would lose several days designated for Paris in my itinerary. True, but, at the same time, what would I do in Paris for such a long time? Moreover, I would be able to see interesting French provinces. I deliberated in this way for some time but could not make a decision. Suddenly, one circumstance dispelled any doubts.