he consequences which must follow your overstepping the bounds so
necessary to be observed by all of us at this horrid period." And then
she called me again her cars 'Inglesina', and graciously condescended to
embrace me, and bathed my face with her tears, in token of her
forgiveness, and bade me sit down and compose myself, and weep no more.

Scarcely was I seated, when we were both startled by deafening shouts for
the head of Madame Veto, the name they gave the poor unfortunate Queen.
An immense crowd of cannibals and hired ruffians were already in the
Tuileries, brandishing all sorts of murderous weapons, and howling for
blood! My recollections from this moment are very indistinct. I know
that in an instant the apartment was filled; that the Queen, the
Princesse Elizabeth, all the attendants, even the King, I believe,
appeared there. I myself received a wound upon my hand in warding a blow
from my face; and in the turmoil of the scene, and of the blow, I
fainted, and was conveyed by some humane person to a place of safety, in
the upper part of the palace.

Thus deprived of my senses for several hours, I was spared the agony of
witnessing the scenes of horror that succeeded. For two or three days I
remained in a state of so much exhaustion and alarm, that when the
Princess came to me I did not know her, nor even where I was.

As soon as I was sufficiently recovered, places were taken for me and
another person in one of the common diligences, by which I was conveyed
to Passy, where the Princess came to me in the greatest confusion.

My companion in the palace was the widow of one of the Swiss guards, who
had been murdered on the 6th of October, in defending the Queen's
apartment at Versailles. The poor woman had been herself protected by
Her Majesty, and accompanied me by the express order of the Princesse de
Lamballe. What the Princess said to her on departing, I know not, for I
only caught the words "general insurrection," on hearing which the
afflicted woman fell into a fit. To me, Her Highness merely exclaimed,
"Do not come to Paris till you hear from me;" and immediately set off to
return to the Tuileries.

However, as usual, my courage soon got the better of my strength, and of
every consideration of personal safety. On the third day, I proposed to
the person who took care of me that we should both walk out together,
and, if there appeared no symptoms of immediate danger, it was agreed
that we might as well g