Ah, our departure! It was half past five. I shook hands with a few friends. My family, whom I had kept in the most profound ignorance, was not there. I felt my heart tighten somewhat when after the words “Loose all” I found myself in one instant fifty yards above the earth. I still heard a few cries: “Attention! Come back! Don’t let her be killed!” And then nothing more.... Nothing.... There was the sky above and the earth beneath.... Then, suddenly, I was in the clouds. I had left a misty Paris. I now breathed under a blue sky and saw a radiant sun. Around us were opaque mountains of clouds with irradiated edges. Our balloon plunged into a milky vapor all warm with the sun. It was splendid! It was stupefying! Not a sound, not a breath! But the balloon was scarcely moving at all. It was only toward six o’clock that the currents of air caught us and we took our flight toward the East. We were at an altitude of about 1,700 yards. The spectacle became fairylike. Large fleecy clouds were spread below us. Large orange curtains fringed with violet came down from the sun to lose themselves in our cloudy carpet. [Illustration: SARAH BERNHARDT, PORTRAIT BY PARROTT, 1875, IN THE COMÉDIE FRANÇAISE, PARIS.] At twenty minutes to seven we were about 2,500 yards above the earth, and cold and hunger commenced to make themselves felt. The dinner was copious—we had _foie gras_—fresh bread and oranges. The cork of our champagne bottle flew up into the clouds with a pretty, soft noise. We raised our glasses in honor of M. Giffard. We had talked a great deal. Night began to put on her heavy dark mantle. It became very cold. We were then at 2,600 meters and I had a singing in my ears. My nose began to bleed. I felt very uncomfortable and began to feel drowsy without being able to prevent it. Georges Clairin got anxious and young Godard cried out loudly—to wake me up, no doubt—“Alloa! Alloa! we shall have to go down. Let us throw out the guide rope!” This cry woke me up properly. I wanted to know what was the guide rope. I got up feeling rather stupefied, and in order to rouse me Godard put the guide rope into my hands. It was a strong rope, about 130 meters long, to which were attached at certain distances little iron hooks. Clairin and I let out the rope, laughing, while Godard bending over the side of the car was looking through a field glass. “Stop!” cried he suddenly. “There are a lot of trees!” In fact, we were over the wood of Ferrières. But just in front of us there was a little open ground suitable for our descent. “There is no doubt about it,” cried Godard, “if we miss this plain we shall come down in the black night in the wood of Ferrières, and that would be very dangerous!” Then, turning to me, “Will you,” he said, “open the valve?”