a half before he entirely recovered the use of his broken limb. Thus
three years of almost unmitigated wretchedness passed away. There
were many massacres in the prison; and often it seemed that
miraculous interposition alone had saved them from a bloody death.
Gradually the horrors of the Reign of Terror seemed to subside. The
captive princes were allowed to occupy a room together, and that a
comfortably furnished apartment in the fort, overlooking the sea. It
was under these circumstances that the mother consented to their
banishment to America, as the condition of their liberation. The
Directory, however, would not open their prison doors until it had
received official intelligence of the embarkation of Louis Philippe.

Immediately upon being satisfied that the Duke of Orleans had sailed
from Hamburg, the authorities prepared to release the princes from
their captivity, and to send them also to the New World. When all
things were ready, General Willot, a humane man, who had arrived at
Marseilles with extensive powers, informed them that the hour for
their release had come.

"The prisoners at first could scarcely credit their senses. They
looked steadfastly at each other; then, throwing themselves into each
other's arms, they began to cry, laugh, leap about the room, and for
several minutes continued to manifest a temporary derangement."

It would still be a few days before the vessel would sail.
Jacobinical fury was such in Marseilles that it was not safe for the
princes to appear in public, lest they should be torn in pieces by
the mob. They were therefore removed to the house of the American
consul, Mr. Cathalan, who had manifested almost a brotherly interest
in their welfare.

"It is impossible to describe," writes the Duke Montpensier,
in his autobiography, "the sensations I experienced in
crossing the draw-bridge, and contrasting the present moment
with the frightful occasions on which I had passed it before;
the first time, on my entrance into that dismal fortress,
where I had been immured for nearly three years of my life;
and the second, on my unfortunate attempt to escape from it
and recover my liberty. The gratifying reflection that I now
trod on it for the last time could with difficulty impress
itself upon my mind; and I could not avoid fancying that the
whole was a sleeping vision, the illusion of which I was
every moment apprehensive of seeing dissipa