It was in Paris: I was walking with M. de Franceul at the Palais
Royal: he pulled out his watch, he looked at it, and said to me,
"Suppose we go to the opera?"- "With all my heart." We go; he takes
two box tickets, gives me one, and enters himself with the other; I
follow, find the door crowded; and, looking in, see every one
standing; judging, therefore, that M. de Franceul might suppose me
concealed by the company, I go out, ask for my ticket, and, getting
the money returned, leave the house, without considering, that by then
I had reached the door every one would be seated, and M. de Franceul
might readily perceive I was not there.
As nothing could be more opposite to my natural inclination than
this abominable meanness, I note it, to show there are moments of
delirium when men ought not to be judged by their actions: this was
not stealing the money, it was only stealing the use of it, and was
the more infamous for wanting the excuse of a temptation.
I should never end these accounts, was I to describe all the
gradations through which I passed, during my apprenticeship, from
the sublimity of a hero to the baseness of a villain. Though I entered
into most of the vices of my situation, I had no relish for its
pleasures: the amusements of my companions were displeasing, and
when too much restraint had made my business wearisome, I had
nothing to amuse me. This renewed my taste for reading which had
long been neglected. I thus committed a fresh offense, books made me
neglect my work, and brought on additional punishment, while
inclination, strengthened by constraint, became an unconquerable
passion.
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