n favor of
the Jacobins_. I remonstrated with him in vain. In the evening, I had
a long conversation with M. de Sillery, and entreated him, with tears
in my eyes, to leave France. But all my arguments were unavailing, and
I left the next morning for Tournay, with the most mournful presages.

"At the first post-house we found Lord Edward Fitzgerald, whose love
for Pamela made him follow us to Tournay. We had scarcely reached the
place, when he asked the hand of Pamela in marriage. I showed him the
papers proving her to be the daughter of a man of high birth, of the
name of Seymour. After having obtained the consent of his mother, the
Duchess of Leinster, to the marriage, it was concluded; and in two
days the new-married couple set out for England. I felt great joy in
seeing the fortunes of this beloved child so honorably secured.

"Meanwhile, three weeks had elapsed without hearing from the duke.
At last news came of the horrible catastrophe of the king's death.
The Duke of Chartres, who joined us at Tournay, showed me a letter
from his father, which began thus: 'My heart is oppressed with
sorrow; but, for the interests of France and of liberty, I have
thought it my duty...!' &c. My unfortunate husband wrote at the same
time, and sent me copies of his opinion at the king's trial. This
was thus expressed: 'I do not vote for death, first because the king
does not merit it; secondly, because we have no right to sit as his
judges; and, lastly, because I consider his condemnation as the
greatest political fault that can be committed.' The letter concluded
thus: 'I am perfectly sure, then, in pronouncing this opinion, I have
signed my death-warrant.'

"Seeing that Belgium was about to fall into the hands of the
Austrians, and that it would be impossible for us to fly either to
France or to foreign countries, I had the most anxious desire to be
recalled to my country. Hence I strongly solicited my return; and I
was informed, in March, 1793, that the Duke of Orleans was to obtain
the recall of Mademoiselle, but that mine would be delayed. Whilst one
day sitting in my room, M. Crepin, an army commissary, whom I had
previously known, entered the room, and told me that the Austrians
would be in Tournay the next day. Seeing my distress at this
intelligence, he offered me an asylum at a farm of his near
Valenciennes, so secluded that I might stay there for months in
safety. I joyfully accepted his proposal, and we left Tournay in