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It was completely dark when I arrived in the environs of Geneva;

the gates of the town were already shut; and I was obliged to

pass the night at Secheron, a village at the distance of half a

league from the city. The sky was serene; and, as I was unable to

rest, I resolved to visit the spot where my poor William had been

murdered. As I could not pass through the town, I was obliged to

cross the lake in a boat to arrive at Plainpalais. During this

short voyage I saw the lightning playing on the summit of Mont

Blanc in the most beautiful figures. The storm appeared to

approach rapidly, and, on landing, I ascended a low hill, that I

might observe its progress. It advanced; the heavens were

clouded, and I soon felt the rain coming slowly in large drops,

but its violence quickly increased.