eur de
Lamotte's power of attorney. I thought over all the difficulties which
this flight, which would have to be kept secret, was likely to produce,
and I started for Lyons without writing or giving any notice of my
intention. I had no information, I did not even know whether Madame
de Lamotte was passing by another name, as at Versailles, but chance
decreed that I met her the very day of my arrival. She was alone, and
complained bitterly of her fate, saying she had been compelled to follow
this individual to Lyons, but that very soon she would be free and would
return to Paris. But I was struck by the uncertainty of her manner, and
said I should not leave her without obtaining a deed in proof of our
recent arrangements. She refused at first, saying it was unnecessary,
as she would so soon return; but I insisted strongly. I told her I had
already com promised myself by telling Monsieur de Lamotte that she was
at Versailles, endeavouring to procure an appointment for her son; that
since she had been compelled to come to Lyons, the same person might
take her elsewhere, so that she might disappear any day, might leave
France without leaving any trace, without any written acknowledgment of
her own dishonour; and that when all these falsehoods were discovered,
I should appear in the light of an accomplice. I said also that, as she
had unfortunately lodged in my house in Paris, and had requested me to
remove her son from his school, explanations would be required from me,
and perhaps I should be accused of this double disappearance. Finally,
I declared that if she did not give me some proofs of her existence,
willingly or unwillingly, I would go at once to a magistrate. My
firmness made her reflect. 'My good Monsieur Derues,' she said, 'I ask
your forgiveness for all the trouble I have caused you. I will give you
this deed to-morrow, to-day it is too late; but come to this same place
to-morrow, and you shall see me again.' I hesitated, I confess, to
let her go. 'Ah,' she said, grasping my hands, 'do not suspect me of
intending to deceive you! I swear that I will meet you here at four
o'clock. It is enough that I have ruined myself, and perhaps my son,
without also entangling you in my unhappy fate. Yes, you are right; this
deed is important, necessary for you, and you shall have it. But do not
show yourself here; if you were seen, I might not be able to do what
I ought to do. To-morrow you shall see me again, I swear it.' She