forcing myself to exert my body, to lose this feeling of vacuity. But I often lost sight of the chamois, engaged in the thought of my country, and bounded from rock to rock, no longer occupied with what I imagined was before me. My sister would endeavour to sooth me by her caresses. I told her of my visions with regard to my country’s cause, and at moments excited even in her breast the sparks of enthusiasm. But she generally echoed Berchtold’s sentiments with regard to the indecision and incapacity of the government.
Tired one evening of listening to Berchtold, who attempted to repress my ardour, by representing to me that the country was betrayed, and that, in consequence of the tardiness and imbecility of the rulers of Switzerland, in spite of the courage and daring of its peasantry, it was doomed to become an easy prey to France, I left him determined again to seek refuge in the chase. I according-
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