iently aired, I took him into my own, and sent into the village for
some refreshment. The Prince sat down to table, and invited me to eat
with him. He then asked me a number of questions respecting
Vincennes--what was going on there, and other particulars. He told me
that he had been brought up in the neighbourhood of the castle, and
spoke to me with great freedom and kindness. 'What do they want with
me?' he said. 'What do they mean to do with me?' But these questions
betrayed no uneasiness or anxiety. My wife, who was ill, was lying in
the same room in an alcove, closed by a railing. She heard, without
being perceived, all our conversation, and she was exceedingly agitated,
for she recognised the Prince, whose foster-sister she was, and whose
family had given her a pension before the Revolution.

"The Prince hastened to bed, but before he could have fallen asleep the
judges sent to request his presence in the Council-chamber. I was not
present at his examination; but when it was concluded he returned to his
chamber, and when they came to read his sentence to him he was in a
profound sleep. In a few moments after he was led out for execution.
He had so little suspicion of the fate that awaited him that on
descending the staircase leading to the moat he asked where they were
taking him. He received no answer. I went before the Prince with a
lantern. Feeling the cold air which came up the staircase he pressed my
arm and said, 'Are they going to put me into a dungeon?'"

The rest is known. I can yet see Harrel shuddering while thinking of
this action of the Prince's.

Much has been said about a lantern which it is pretended was attached to
one of the Due d'Enghien's button-holes. This is a pure invention.
Captain Dautancourt, whose sight was not very good, took the lantern out
of Harrel's hand to read the sentence to the victim, who had been
condemned with as little regard to judicial forms as to justice. This
circumstance probably gave rise to the story about the lantern to which I
have just alluded. The fatal event took place at six o'clock on the
morning of the 21st of March, and it was then daylight.

General Savary did not dare to delay the execution of the sentence,
although the Prince urgently demanded to have an interview with the First
Consul. Had Bonaparte seen the prince there can be little doubt but that
he would have saved his life. Savary, however, thought himself bound to
sacrifice his own opinions to th