As the poor youth knew scarcely anything of the French language, he was quite unaware of what passed. They asked him no questions, merely sentenced him to die. When he returned to prison he was as unconcerned and gay as ever, for he had not the most distant idea he had ever been tried. The next morning he was led down into the courtyard, where the fatal cart, attended by gens-d’armes awaited him. At the same instant Dr. Suedaeur entered the prison to take a last adieu of him and Colonel Newton. Colonel Newton was seated in the cart already, bound and looking very dejected. The spectacle of Newton bound and in that situation surprised and startled the young man, who inquired where they were going to take him. He could not make himself understood, as he did not speak French. At that instant Suedaeur overwhelmed with grief, came up to him. He asked hastily, “Dr. Suedaeur! what are they going to do with me?” “My poor lost boy,” said Suedaeur, quite overcome and bursting into tears, “you are going to instant death!” “To death!” he cried, “I have not been tried!” Then wringing his hands, he exclaimed, “Oh God! Oh God!” and swooned away in the arms of the doctor. While in this condition he was flung into the cart. He recovered before he reached the scaffold, and cried more bitterly. Colonel Newton (who had long served under Suwarroff, and received twelve wounds at the storming of Ishmael, and was colonel of the Regiment of Dragoons which guarded the King to the scaffold), pitying the distress of the youth, employed the last moments of his existence in administering comfort to him. But Nature was uppermost, the misery of his afflicted mother rushed into his mind, and he did not cease to exclaim: “My poor mother! my poor mother!” until the fatal axe closed his eyes upon this world. His person was extremely prepossessing, and the sight of his unaltered countenance was enough to wring a tear from a heart of stone. He was but eighteen years of age, and the only child of his widowed mother. XLII HELEN MARIA WILLIAMS. MADAME TALLIEN. KOSCIUSKO Miss Helen Maria Williams[1] lives at the hotel of Alexander Berthier, Minister of War. Helen is a personage, and at the Ministry of War she holds her court. The notorious Mr. Stone,[1] who has driven away from his side and cruelly ill-used his wife, lives with Helen, in a virtuous philosophical platonic friendship. It is singular so spiritual a damsel should harbour and entertain a man of whom no one, not even in Paris, speaks a good word. It is difficult to describe his services; his functions being so variously compounded of the German squire, the Italian cicisbeo, the English master of the ceremonies, and the French peroquet (as those fellows are termed whom the French Republican ladies keep to puff them, their beauty, toilets and talents in the Journals). He also acts as her “garde des archives” and her chamberlain. He is in short a man of all work!