At this point there is an open place, and several streets enter into it. The storm was at its height, and the wind had grown more violent. The ladies in the first wagon were much disturbed by it, especially the Maréchale de Noailles; her large cap was thrown back, and showed her gray hair. They tottered upon their rough plank seats, their hands being tied behind their backs. Immediately a crowd of men, who were there in spite of the rain, recognized her, paid attention only to her, and by their insulting cries increased the tortures which she was supporting with patience. 'There she is,' they cried, 'the Maréchale who went in such style, driving in her fine carriage,--there she is in the cart, just like the others!' The cries continued; the heavens grew darker and the rain more violent. We reached the street crossing just in front of the Faubourg St. Antoine. I went forward, looked around, and said to myself, this is the best place to afford them what they so much desire. The cart was going more slowly; I stopped and turned toward them. I made a sign to Madame de Noailles which she entirely understood: 'Mamma, Monsieur Carrichon is about to give us absolution.' Immediately they bent their heads with an air of repentance, contrition, tenderness, hope, and piety. I raised my hand, and, though with covered head, pronounced the entire formula of absolution, and the words which follow it, very distinctly, and with the deepest earnestness. They joined in this more perfectly than ever. I can never forget the holy picture, worthy of the pencil of Raphael, of that moment when, for them, all was balm and consolation. Immediately the storm relaxed and the rain diminished. It was as if they had come only to insure the success of what my friends and I had so ardently desired. I blessed God for it, and they did the same. Their appearance showed contentment, security, and cheerfulness. As we advanced into the Faubourg the eager crowds fell back upon the two sides of the street. They insulted the first ladies, especially the Maréchale; nothing was said to the other two. Sometimes I preceded and sometimes I accompanied the wagons. After passing the Abbey de St. Antoine I met a young man whom I had formerly known; he was a priest whom I had some reason to suspect, and his presence annoyed me. I was afraid of being recognized, but happily I was not; he turned aside, and I did not see him again. Finally, we arrived at the fatal spot; what went on within me cannot be described. What a moment! What a separation, what grief for the husbands, the children, the sisters, the relatives and friends who should survive them in this vale of tears! 'I see them,' I thought, 'still full of health; they would have been so useful to their families, and in a moment I shall see them no more. How heart-rending it is! But what a great comfort to us to see them so resigned!'