having come one evening, the carter handed me one from my
friend M. de Riviere, my sister-in-law's brother, who apprised me of
the dreadful events of the 10th of August and supplied me with some
horrible details. I was quite overcome, and made up my mind to go back
to Turin immediately.

On entering the town, great heavens! what did I behold! Streets,
squares, were all filled with men and women of all ages who had fled
from French towns and come to Turin in search of a home. They were
coming in by thousands, and the sight broke my heart. Most of them
brought neither baggage, nor money, nor even food, for they had had no
time to do anything but think of saving their lives. Since then the
case has been cited to me of the aged Duchess de Villeroi, whose
lady's maid, possessing a small sum of money, kept her alive on the
way by a daily expenditure of ten sous. The children were crying with
hunger in lamentable fashion. In fact, I never saw anything more
pitiful. The King of Sardinia ordered these unfortunates to be housed
and fed, but there was not room for all. Madame also did much to
succour them; we went all over the town, accompanied by her equerry,
seeking lodgings and victuals for the poor wretches, without being
able to find as many of either as were wanted.

[Illustration: MARIE ANTOINETTE, QUEEN OF FRANCE.]

Never shall I forget the impression made upon me by an old soldier,
decorated with the cross of St. Louis, who might have been about
sixty-five years old. He was a fine man with a noble mien, supporting
himself against the curbstone at the corner of a lonely street; he
accosted nobody and asked for nothing; I believe he would rather have
died of hunger than beg, but the profound unhappiness imprinted on his
face compelled interest at first sight. We went straight to him,
giving him a little money that remained to us, and he thanked us with
sobs in his throat. The next day he was lodged in the King's palace,
as several other refugees were, for there was no more room in the
town.

It may well be imagined that I abandoned the plan of going to Paris. I
decided to leave for Vienna instead.

Vienna is of considerable extent, if you count its thirty-two suburbs.
It is full of very fine palaces. The Imperial Museum boasts pictures
by the greatest masters, and I often went to admire them, as well as
those belonging to Prince Lichtenstein. His gallery comprises seven
rooms, of which one contains only pictures by V