The impression of this look remained with me, and gave me much uneasiness. My trouble increased even to a degree of fainting; and if I had not been relieved by a flood of tears, I must have been suffocated. Presently after this I was seized with the most violent remorse: I even despised myself; till at length, in a transport, which I still remember with delight, I sprang on his neck, and embraced him eagerly; while, almost choked with sobbing, and bathed in tears, I cried out, in broken accents, "No, no, David Hume cannot be treacherous; if he be not the best of men, he must be the basest." David Hume politely returned my embraces, and gently tapping me on the back, repeated several times, in a placid tone, "Why, what, my dear sir! Nay, my dear sir! Oh, my dear sir!" He said nothing more. I felt my heart yearn within me. We went to bed; and I set out the next day for the country. There is another charge against Hume, of once muttering in his sleep the words _Je tiens J. J. Rousseau_; which he did not deny, saying, that he could not feel certain as to what he might or might not have done when asleep, though he doubted if it was his practice to dream in French.[339:1] The proffered hospitalities and kindnesses of Hume are a running charge throughout; wound up with the conclusion, that as he must have seen that Rousseau was estranged from him, "If he supposed that in such circumstances I should have accepted his services, he must have supposed me to have been an infamous scoundrel. It was then in behalf of a man whom he supposed to be a scoundrel that he so warmly solicited a pension from his majesty."[340:1] Hume's answer to this charge was as follows: HUME _to_ ROUSSEAU. _Lisle Street, Leicester Fields, July 22, 1766._