I had gone to bed, on the evening of the 13th of February, when the Marquis de Vibraye[45] came in to me to tell me of the assassination of the Duc du Berry. In his haste, he did not tell me the place where the event had occurred. I dressed hurriedly and stepped into M. de Vibraye's carriage. I was surprised to see the coachman take the Rue de Richelieu, and still more astonished when he stopped at the Opera: the crowd about the approaches was immense. We went up, between two lines of soldiers, through the side-door on the left, and, as we were in our peers' coats, we were allowed to pass. We came to a sort of little ante-room: the space was obstructed with all the people of the palace. I pushed my way as far as the door of a box and found myself face to face with M. le Duc d'Orléans. I was struck with an ill-disguised expression of jubilation in his eyes, across the contrite countenance which he assumed: he saw the throne nearer at hand. My glance embarrassed him: he left the spot and turned his back to me. Around me, they were telling the details of the crime, the man's name, the conjectures of the different participants in the arrest; they were excited, busy: men love anything theatrical, especially death, when it is the death of one of the great. Each person who came out of the blood-stained laboratory was asked for news. They heard General A. de Girardin[46] relate how, having been left for dead on the battle-field, he had nevertheless recovered from his wounds; this one was hoping and consoling himself, that other was repining. Soon contemplation overcame the crowd, a silence fell; from the inside of the box came a dull sound: I held my ear laid to the door; I distinguished a rattle; the sound ceased: the Royal Family had received the last breath of a grandson of Louis XIV.! I entered at once. Let the reader picture to himself an empty playhouse, after the catastrophe of a tragedy: the curtain raised, the orchestra deserted, the lights extinguished, the machinery motionless, the scenery fixed and smoke-blackened, the actors, the singers, the dancers vanished through the trap-doors and secret passages! I have, in a separate work, given the life and death of M. le Duc de Berry. My reflections made at that time are still true to-day: