“The kind of ingratitude I have been meeting with is not very consoling. They give me plenty of kind words, but nothing more. I have written a long letter to the man of business, begging of him to get the employer to reimburse me a little for the moment, but I have received nothing yet, and this puts me out greatly. Perhaps something will turn up between now and the end of the week. If not I must go and see my poor mother and beg to get my affairs into order.” The state of her affairs, for long precarious, was now giving the poor lady very serious anxiety. By recourse to various expedients she had managed to hold out until the return of the Bourbons, and to stave off her creditors. But she was now at her last gasp. If the King refused to help her, to “reimburse” her, she was ruined. The Comte de la Châtre had assured her that her application was under favourable consideration, that the King regarded it approvingly, that the Comte de Pradel, the head of the King’s household, had it in hand; but, in spite of this, there was a series of delays. At last, worn out with waiting, she writes in her naïve style to the Comte on October 10, 1816-- “I beg of you to be good enough to get the King to decide this matter as soon as ever possible. I must get away to England in three weeks to see my mother, who is ill, and I can’t possibly do this until I know the King’s decision in regard to me. I know his Majesty is too good to injure one who has given so many proofs of boundless devotion to the Royalist cause and to the entire Royal Family. Although I have a splendid estate in England, I am now in great difficulties by reason of this devotion. I tell you all this, Monsieur le Comte, so that, like the good Frenchman you are, you may do me this kindness of getting the King to give you his orders. I have run every conceivable kind of evils during these twenty-four years. I beg of you to excuse all the trouble I am giving you, and I have the honour to be, Monsieur le Comte, “Your very obedient servant, “CHARLOTTE ATKYNS.” This appeal seems to have been no more successful than the preceding ones, for three months later we find Lady Atkyns still awaiting the promised audience. To distract her thoughts from the subject, she goes about Paris--a new city now to her--is present at sittings of the Chamber of Deputies, and hears the speech from the Throne. On All Souls’ Day she joins in the solemn pilgrimage to the Conciergerie. Who could have been more in place on such an occasion? But with the sad thoughts evoked by the sight of the Queen’s prison were mingled regrets that the sanctuary had not been left as it was. The place had been enlarged, and a massive, heavy-looking tomb stood now where the bed had been.