BOLIVAR did not go as soon as he could have wished. He had been ill; the doctor who attended him, and to whom he confided his intention of making a long sea voyage, had flatly forbidden it.
Bolivar waited at Naples, and the time seemed interminable. He was expecting money which did not come. Rodriguez had gone to seek his fortune elsewhere. He wrote once from Constantinople, speaking of his pupil's great projects as if they were almost accomplished, and his enthusiasm was not enough to restore Simon's morale.
Moreover, the winter was not a good time for sea voyages; one heard stories of storm and shipwreck, and the sea was riddled with pirates who boarded without ceremony those ships that the elements had spared.
When spring came, Bolivar, recovered from his illness, thought of embarking at Bordeaux, but he could not leave Europe without once more seeing the cousin who wrote him such charming weekly letters. He decided to go by Hamburg and to pass through Paris.
Fanny, in tears, implored him to stay longer, but Simon's will was unbending. He promised to return; he was in earnest, he had regained all his confidence, and he knew that nothing could make him forget his