I recall to mind these afflictions, of the actual events of my
last hours at Reichenau I can relate but the very slightest traits. I do
remember poor Raper storing my little portmanteau with some of the last
few volumes that remained to him of his little store of books; of my
mother showing me a secret pocket of the trunk, not to be opened
save when some emergency or difficulty had presented itself; of my
astonishment at the number of things provided for my use, and the
appliances of comfort and convenience which were placed at my disposal;
and then, more forcibly than all else, of the contemptuous scorn with
which the Count surveyed the preparation, and asked "if my ward robe
contained nothing better than these rags?"

Of the last sad moment of parting,--the agony of my mother's grief as
she clasped me in her arms, till I was torn away by force, and with
my swimming faculties I thought to have seen her fall fainting to the
ground,--of these I will not speak, for I dare not, even now!

CHAPTER XXVI. PARIS IN '95

Our journey was a dreary and wearisome one. The diligence travelled
slowly, and as the weather was dull and rainy, the road presented
nothing of interest, at least of interest sufficient to combat the grief
that still oppressed me. We were upwards of a week travelling before we
reached Paris, which I own presented a very different aspect from what
my ardent imagination had depicted. The narrow streets were scarcely
lighted,--it was night,--the houses seemed poor and mean and
dilapidated, the inhabitants rude-looking and ill-dressed. The women
especially were ill-favored, and with an air of savage daring and
effrontery I had never seen before. Gangs of both sexes patrolled the
streets, shouting in wild chorus some popular chant of the time; and as
the diligence did not venture to pierce these crowds, we were frequently
delayed in our progress to the "bureau," which was held in the Rue
Didier of the Battignolles; for it was in that unfashionable quarter in
which my first impressions of the capital were conceived.

"Remember, boy, I am no longer a Count here," said my companion, as we
got out of the conveyance, "I am the citizen Gabriac; and be careful
that you never forget it. Take that portmanteau on your shoulder, and
follow me!"

We treaded a vast number of streets and alleys, all alike wretched and
gloomy, till we entered a little "Place" which formed a "cul de sac" at
the end of a narrow lane, and