I cannot express the horrors of our situation after this cruel sentence. Dear, venerable old couple, how much they suffered! This separation seemed only to presage one more terrible still. We wept all night long. I was almost determined to remain, no matter what happened to me. For three whole days my daughter never left the door in her anxiety to hear from the turnkeys what I had concluded to do. She was terribly frightened about me. A prisoner, whom I did not know, influenced me to a decision; he stopped me and said, 'Citizeness, I have learned that you are hesitating about leaving here; I think I ought to tell you that you are doing wrong. This evening you will be entered in the jail-book, and perhaps sent to-morrow to another prison; the greater attachment you manifest for Madame de Mouchy the more you will be suspected. Believe me, you had better submit. A more favourable moment will surely come, and you can then rejoin her; above all conceal your tears, for you are watched.' I thanked him, and informed Monsieur and Madame de Mouchy of his advice. They then urged me to go. We consulted together as to what I was to do in order to be allowed to return. Hoping to certainly do so, I left all my belongings. Messieurs d'Hénin and de Boisgelin assured me that the separation would not be long, and that as soon as I should see the committee I could ask that Madame de Duras might be sent to join her parents; and they would surely grant my request. When the fatal moment arrived I felt that it would be utterly impossible for me to say to Monsieur and Madame de Mouchy, 'I am going to leave you now;' so I said that I was going to see some of the prisoners to ask for messages from them. They all sympathized with my sorrow. Madame la Vicomtesse de Noailles, the younger, threw her arms around me, and burst into tears. I tore myself from her, and hid behind a door, to try and recover myself. As I passed along the galleries all the prisoners congratulated me; for my part I wished they were all in my place. When I reached the door I thought I should faint; I wanted to go in to see the keeper, but the turnkey who had the key prevented me. 'Take care!' said he to me, 'there is a clerk in his office who is vexed with you; go on.' I cannot express all the different feelings which assailed me on getting into the street; my despair at leaving Monsieur and Madame de Mouchy, my reunion with my daughter, the open air which I had not breathed for seven months,--all bewildered me. One thing is certain, I could not tell what streets I passed through on my way to the Hôtel Mouchy. Instead of seeming delighted to see my daughter, I replied to all she said only with tears.