. In this quiet
of the convent, the health of Mademoiselle was nearly restored. While
here came news of a horrid catastrophe, on November 9th, 1793, and I
became ill.... I concealed from Mademoiselle the death of her
unfortunate father, but dressed her in mourning, as if for the queen
of France.[6]

"About this time, a violent dispute arose between the inhabitants
of Bremgarten: two parties were formed, and an order was obtained,
by people hostile to M. de Montesquiou, that all the French should
leave the place. Hearing that the Princess of Conti, the aunt of
Mademoiselle d'Orleans, was residing in Switzerland, Mademoiselle,
at my urgent request, wrote to her to ask permission to join her.
She received a very kind letter, saying that the princess would
receive her niece. On the day before the carriage was sent to take
her from me, my emotion was excessive. I determined to spare both
of us the pain of this cruel separation. I accordingly shut myself
in my room, at the arrival of the Countess de Pont, who was to take
away my interesting charge, telling the servant to say that I had
gone to some distance.

"As the moment arrived for the departure, Mademoiselle d'Orleans came
along my passage, and stopped before the door. I heard her sighs and
lamentations.... I heard the carriage roll away; and one must feel a
mother's love, to conceive the emotions that overpowered me. I heard
from her the next day, and I also wrote her my last letter of advice.
Her departure rendered the spot she had left completely hateful to me,
and I most anxiously wished to leave the place. I had, besides, been
cruelly persecuted since my residence there. I was often attacked in
the most absurd manner in the newspapers. One of them stated that I,
loaded with favors by the court of France, had been concerned in all
the intrigues of the revolution. Not knowing how to get passports I at
last thought of writing to Dr. Hoze, a skilful physician, who lived at
Bremgarten. He kindly sent me both passports and a servant to
accompany me. I departed, promising the nuns to return and spend the
remainder of my life with them. We travelled night and day, till we
arrived at Utrecht. From this place, I got into a wretched post-wagon,
with a man who was going to Hamburg. We reached that place July 23d,
1794. Hearing of an inn kept by a person of the name of Plock, I went
there, and had the fortune not to meet with any emigrants. Here I
staid nine months, in comple