"There had been in the far past some kindly relation between my Duke’s people and my own, and how it came about I know not, but my grandmother, when the old Duchess died, would have it she must nurse the little Duke, and hence between him, as he grew up, and my father was the resemblance often seen between brothers of one milk. We were all of us, my mother and father and I, living in this house when my story begins, and although in secret we were good servants of the King, we were quietly protected by certain Jacobins who loved good wine. In fact, we did very well and kept our heads from Madame Guillotine, and from suspicion of being enemies of the country, until the sad thing chanced of which I am made to tell the history. "In the spring of 1793 the Duke, my father’s foster-brother, came one day from the country in disguise, and with him this same Duke Henri you see here to-day. I do not now know precisely what had taken place, but I believe the Duke was deep in some vain plots to save the Queen, and wished to be free for a time from the care of his boy. At all events, Duke Henri, a very little fellow, was left with us and became our cousin from Provence. He had a great opinion of his dignity, this dear Duke, in those days, and was like enough to get us all into trouble. "Early in July 1794 my father was much disturbed in mind. I often saw him at night carrying things into the plant-house, where my mother nursed a few pots of flowers. There was cause, indeed, to trouble any one, what with the merciless guillotine and the massacres. As for us, too, we knew pretty well that at last we were becoming "suspects." "One evening—it was the 19th of July—my father was away nearly all day, a thing for him quite out of the common. About dusk he came home, and after a few words in haste to my mother called us to help him. On this we were set to work carrying bottles of milk, cheese, bread, and cold meats in baskets to the plant-house, where my father took them from us. Then we went back and forth with blankets, pillows, and more things than I can now recall. After this, it being night, we were told to wait in the house, but no explanation was given us as to what these unusual preparations meant." "It was this house, this same house," said Duke Henri; "when we had done all that was required of us we sat within doors, wondering what it was for." "The next day, being July 20th about noon, we boys were playing in the garden when I saw my mother come through the window, and heard her cry out: ’It is ruin, it is ruin; my God, it is ruin!’ A moment after came my father with the Duke de St. Maur—Duke Philip, of course. The Duke was speaking vehemently as we boys ran to hear. ’I came to say that I am going to England. I have not a moment. I fear I may have been followed. I grieve to have fetched this trouble upon you.’