Nevertheless, it is well to mention the account given of them by a friend of our heroine, the Countess MacNamara, who seems to have been very well acquainted with the different particulars of her life. She tells us that the young couple, who, if we are to believe her, had not many friends in England, decided to go to the Continent, and live at Versailles.[12] (The explanation does not seem a very plausible one.) There the charm of the young wife, her pretty voice, the receptions which she soon began to give, and to which, thanks to her husband’s wealth, she was able to lend so much brilliancy, opened to her quickly the doors of all the society connected with the Court. In the Queen’s set, the beautiful Duchess de Polignac, in particular, took a great fancy to this graceful foreigner; and was desirous, in her turn, to make her known to her august friend. Thus it came about that Lady Atkyns was introduced into the circle of Marie-Antoinette’s intimates. Even more completely than the others, the new-comer fell under the Queen’s spell. A current of ardent sympathy established itself between the two women. They were united by a deep and intimate mutual comprehension and sympathy. For any one who knew Lady Atkyns, it was certain that these first impressions would not fade, but that they would prove to be, on the contrary, the first-fruits of an unalterable friendship. These are the only materials one has for the details of that sojourn at Versailles. When exactly did the Atkynses resolve upon this move? Their only child, a son, must have been born before it took place. What were their plans in coming to the Court? All these are insoluble problems. They were probably at Versailles when the first revolutionary troubles broke out. They were present, perhaps, at the opening of the States General, that great national function; and they were among those who shuddered at the taking of the Bastille. When the October days brought back the Royal family in a mournful procession to Paris, the young couple were already gone--already too far away to enter into the anxieties and sufferings of those whom they loved. A brief mention, a few words found after patient research, in dusty registers, tell us enough to make us certain of their fate. This is one of the joys of the explorer in this sort--to find buried under the waste of years of accumulated official papers, a feeble light, a tiny, isolated indication, which opens, none the less, an infinite horizon before him. In the autumn of the year 1789, an Englishwoman, named by the officials charged with the collection of a special poll-tax, Milady Charlotte, arrived at Lille with one servant.[13]