
understand your feeling,« continued he, perceiving that I wished to interrupt
him; »but you are mistaken, my friend, if thus you will allow me to name you;
nothing can alter my destiny: listen to my history, and you will perceive how
irrevocably it is determined.«
    He then told me, that he would commence his narrative the next day when I
should be at leisure. This promise drew from me the warmest thanks. I have
resolved every night, when I am not imperatively occupied by my duties, to
record, as nearly as possible in his own words, what he has related during the
day. If I should be engaged, I will at least make notes. This manuscript will
doubtless afford you the greatest pleasure: but to me, who know him, and who
hear it from his own lips, with what interest and sympathy shall I read it in
some future day! Even now, as I commence my task, his full-toned voice swells in
my ears; his lustrous eyes dwell on me with all their melancholy sweetness; I
see his thin hand raised in animation, while the lineaments of his face are
irradiated by the soul within. Strange and harrowing must be his story;
frightful the storm which embraced the gallant vessel on its course, and wrecked
it - thus!
 

                                   Chapter I

I am by birth a Genevese; and my family is one of the most distinguished of that
republic. My ancestors had been for many years counsellors and syndics; and my
father had filled several public situations with honour and reputation. He was
respected by all who knew him, for his integrity and indefatigable attention to
public business. He passed his younger days perpetually occupied by the affairs
of his country; a variety of circumstances had prevented his marrying early, nor
was it until the decline of life that he became a husband and the father of a
family.
    As the circumstances of his marriage illustrate his character, I cannot
refrain from relating them. One of his most intimate friends was a merchant,
who, from a flourishing state, fell, through numerous mischances, into poverty.
This man, whose name was Beaufort, was of a proud and unbending disposition, and
could not bear to live in poverty and oblivion in the same country where he had
formerly been distinguished for his rank and magnificence. Having paid his
debts, therefore, in the most honourable manner, he retreated with his daughter
to the town of Lucerne, where he lived unknown and in wretchedness. My father
loved Beaufort with the truest friendship, and was deeply grieved by his retreat
in these
