“Nothing in the world was now left them, save some few trifles of my sister’s, which were sold, and what belonged to M. Grellet (tutor to my sister’s children), who had given them all he possessed. This extreme poverty and all its consequences are hardly worth mentioning in the midst of so many other and greater trials. Each day brought some new misfortune or some fresh disaster. My father not being able to obtain satisfactory certificates of residence, was obliged to leave his family and return to Switzerland, where he had been living for some time for his health. My father’s men of business had all been arrested. It was soon the turn of the members of ‘Parlement,’ and M. de Saron, my mother’s brother-in-law, was executed on Easter Sunday, 1794. “For some time past even women had not been spared. Yet my mother and my sister were far from thinking that their personal safety was threatened; their hearts were, however, prepared, and they had asked M. Carrichon if he would have the courage to accompany them to the foot of the scaffold. “At last, in the month of May, they were ordered to quit the Hôtel de Noailles; and, after having been led through Paris from prison door to prison door, they were at last conducted with the Maréchale de Noailles (my father’s mother) to the Luxembourg. On arriving there my mother’s courage did not fail her, and she was much calmer than she had been for a long time past. “The care my grandmother required occupied them incessantly. Notwithstanding all the misfortunes which were falling on her at once, my mother forgot none of those who were dear to her. It was M. Grellet who broke to her the news of my arrival in the prisons of Paris; she cruelly felt this fresh misfortune, and succeeded in sending me prudent advice. “At last, after having seen falling around her nearly all the victims who had been heaped into the same prison, as well as those who were dearest to her, she was summoned with her mother-in-law and daughter to the Conciergerie, that is to say, to death. They arrived at the Conciergerie worn out with fatigue. M. Grellet had repaired to a café next to the gate, and succeeded in exchanging a few words with my sister. “Deprived of everything, they had barely sufficient money to obtain a glass of currant water. The persons who shared their cell prepared a single miserable bed for the three prisoners. My mother was dejected, and could not yet believe that so great a crime was possible. She stretched herself on the pallet, and entreated my sister to lie down by her side. “Madame de Noailles refused to lie down, saying that she had too short a time to live for it to be worth while to take that trouble. Her mother passed part of the night in trying to persuade her to do so. ‘Think,’ she said, ‘of what we shall have to go through to-morrow.’ “‘Ah, mamma!’ my sister answered, ‘what need have we to rest on the eve of eternity?’