After considering a suitable reward, I requested that the young footman who extinguished the fire yesterday be present at my morning Lever. I was mistaken in thinking his name was Gilbert (why did I think that?), it is in fact Pierre-Antoine Boucher, and he is the eldest son of our Head Cook, Marie, and the coachman who is accompanying us to Paris, Bastien. I had considered giving him money, but we are very low on that at the moment with the expenses of the journey, and the harvest not yet in. I also considered granting him time off with pay, but of course he will in essence have that while I am away in any case.
In the end I settled on offering him his choice of gift from Paris. He said that he has never been to Paris, and would not know what to ask for. I told him to consider it for a while, and that if he had not decided by the time that we left he could send word of his choice by my Steward, and I would bring the article back with me. I hope that is a just reward for his quick actions.
My rooms are all full of trunks, and I am torn between excitement and trepidation. The weather is cloudy, but it has not rained for several days, and I hope dearly that it will hold off another two or three for the sake of the roads. My cold is almost completely gone, though I cough a good deal still, but the worst of it seems to be over.
It is almost time. I pray that we may be successful.