玂囊秤匡獀ぃ叉稼年Ю砾

A young lieutenant of the Garde-Nationale hurried up, harangued them, and with difficulty persuaded [419] the savage crowd to allow him to take them into his own house, around which a drunken, furious crowd kept guard while cries of A la lanterne! were every now and then heard. They would not believe anything they said; they threatened to hang any one who should go to Paris to make inquiries; they forced their way into the house and garden, but suddenly a friendly voice said in the ear of Mme. de Genlis: I was a gamekeeper at Sillery; dont be afraid. I will go to Paris. At last the crowd of ruffians dispersed, leaving a dozen to guard their prisoners; the mayor of the village gravely demanded that all her papers should be delivered to him, upon which Mme. de Genlis gave him four or five letters, and when she begged him to read them he replied that he could not read, but took them away. No sooner had he gone than his father arrived unexpectedly from the Rhine, where he had commanded the Auvergne contingent in the army of Cond, composed almost entirely of gentlemen of that province.

NICE

Et tranquille je veille, et ma veille aux remords, In the latter part of the summer of 1792 she was in Paris, which, in spite of her revolutionary professions, was no safe abode even for her, certainly not for her husband. The slightest sympathy shown to an emigr, a priest, a royalist, or any one marked as a prey by the bloodthirsty monsters who were rapidly showing themselves in their true colours, might be the death-warrant of whoever dared to show it. So would any word or gesture of disapproval of the crimes these miscreants were ordering and perpetrating. Their spies were everywhere, and the least accusation, very often only caused by a private grudge, was enough to bring a person, and perhaps their whole family, to prison and the scaffold. In the early days of the Terror, the well-known actor Talma, hearing an acquaintance named Alexandre, a member of his own profession, giving vent in a benign voice to the most atrocious language of the Terrorists, indignantly reproached him. The Duc dOrlans, leaving the room when she came to see them, returned, bringing his young wife, who said graciously, Madame, I have always longed to know you, for there are two things I love passionately, your pupils and your books.

After expressing her satisfaction, the Empress said Mme. Le Brun was present, having been expressly invited to the box of some friends who wanted to surprise her, and was deeply gratified and touched when all the audience rose and turned towards her with enthusiastic applause.

After her proceedings at the Bastille and the Cordeliers, and considering her connection with the revolutionary party, Mme. de Genlis (or Sillery, as she was also called) need not have expressed the surprise and indignation she did at the arrival of a body of police to search her house for arms, reported to be stored there. They were sent by La Fayette, who had done even more mischief than she had; but for some reason they did not like each other. The touchy, conceited Republican poet, Marie Joseph Chnier, who ranted against religion, royalty, and everything and everybody superior to himself, began to make love to Mme. de Genlis, and when she objected to his impertinent familiarity, said furiously: You are right; I am [418] neither a grand seigneur nor a duke!which specimen of the manners of her party disgusted her extremely. In her Mmoires she relates of this worthy that he was accused of having participated in the condemnation of his brother Andr, also a poet, executed under the Terror. This was, however, almost certainly untrue, but it was said that he could have saved him if he had made use of the influence he possessed with the Terrorists, but that he either feared or did not care to do so. The celebrated actress, Mlle. Dumesnil, then old and infirm, received one day a visit from him, during which he tormented her to recite something for him. She was ill in bed, but nevertheless he went on begging that she would recite only one line that he might say he had heard her, when, turning towards him with a violent effort she said

But with regard to dates Mme. de Genlis is exceedingly inaccurate; in fact her statements are sometimes impossible. For instance, she says that they left Mons the 13th of April, arriving at Schaffhausen on the 26th of May, and that their journey took seven days! Also that they arrived at Schaffhausen on the 26th of May, and then that they left that place for Zurich on May 6th ... and went to Zug May 14. At any rate they appear to have been there late in May. The Duchess [131] was then in the prison of the Luxembourg, and the Duke and his two younger sons were imprisoned at Marseilles.