All this caused me great grief. I felt more keenly than ever how much my parents needed me, and I again sent in applications to be allowed to go to them; they were fruitless. Fortunately they had with them my sister-in-law, the wife of Louis, Vicomte de Noailles, whom they valued as she deserved; but as she was obliged to take care of Madame d'Ayen, her mother, and Madame la Maréchale de Noailles, her grandmother, who were lodging with her, she could not do very much for my parents. Consequently they were left entirely alone, my father then eighty and my mother sixty.[5] Their forlorn situation was constantly before my mind. One day as I was intensely occupied with thoughts of them, I heard a great noise in the courtyard; I looked out, and saw a convoy enter containing a hundred and fourteen persons from Neuilly-sur-Seine. They had been compelled to pass by the camp of Robespierre's disciples, who had shouted terrible threats at them. As they had received no orders to kill the prisoners, they contented themselves with overwhelming them with threats and insults. The convoy was composed of a great many nobles who had established themselves in the village of Neuilly on account of the _lettres de passe_. (A decree had compelled all nobles who were not imprisoned in Paris to go away several leagues from the city.) A most strange thing to happen at such a time was, that some persons who were not of noble blood, but who wished to be considered so, obeyed this decree, which had no reference to them at all. The servants of the nobles had been arrested with them; and with them were also people of all conditions, among them six nuns of the Visitation,--one of whom was Madame de Croï, sister of Madame de Tourzel. All of these unfortunate creatures were left a whole day in the 'mouse-trap.' I learned that Madame de Choiseul, the mother, Madame Hippolyte de Choiseul, and Madame de Sérent were also of the party. The whole company were searched in the strictest manner. At last, at seven o'clock in the evening, they were put into lodgings. The nuns, to their dismay, were put on the sixth floor, with twenty-five persons; and to make them more wretched, they were put with the lowest creatures. All belonging to this convoy suffered extremely from hunger. We gave them what we could. I remember that I made for Mesdames de Choiseul a panado which they thought delicious. Bread and wine were usually all that was allowed to be offered to the new-comers. This is a minute detail, and is intended to show the destitution which existed in our prison. I have seen poor women, brought from the suburbs of Paris, sleeping on the tables in the refectory. The greatest attention we could bestow upon people was to give up our mattresses to them while they were waiting for theirs.