"My uncle, anticipating that the King was going to come to ask him for shelter, gave orders to have the castle made ready.... We got up to receive the King and, while awaiting his arrival, I went to a window in the turret which comes before the billiard-room, to watch what was happening in the court-yard. The night was calm and clear, the half-veiled moon made every object visible in a pale, sad light, and the silence, as yet, was disturbed only by the hoofs of the horses of two regiments of cavalry defiling across the bridge; after them, over the same bridge, defiled the artillery of the Guard, with matches lighted. The dull sound of the guns, the appearance of the black ammunition-wagons, the sight of the torches amid the shadows of the night oppressed my heart terribly and presented the image--alas, too true!--of the funeral procession of the Monarchy. "Soon, the horses and the first carriages arrived; next, M. le Dauphin and Madame la Dauphine, Madame la Duchesse de Berry, M. le Duc de Bordeaux and Mademoiselle; lastly, the King and all his suite. As the King alighted from his carriage, he seemed extremely dejected: his head had fallen on his chest; his features were drawn and his face distorted with sorrow. This almost sepulchral march of four hours, at a foot's pace[481] and in the midst of the darkness, had also helped to depress his spirits; and, besides, did not the crown weigh heavily enough, at that moment, on his brow? He had some difficulty in ascending the stair-case. My uncle showed him to his apartment, which had been that of Madame de Maintenon; he remained there a few moments alone with his family, after which each of the Princes withdrew to his own room. My uncle and aunt[482] then went in to the King. He spoke to them with his ordinary kindness, told them how wretched he was at not having succeeded in rendering France happy, that that had always been his dearest wish: "'My one despair is,' he added, 'to see the state in which I am leaving her; what is going to happen? The Duc d'Orléans himself is not sure that his head will be on his shoulders a fortnight hence. All Paris is there, on the road, marching against me; the commissaries have assured me so. I did not trust their report entirely; I called Maison, when they had gone out, and said to him, "I ask you on your honour to tell me, on your word as a soldier, is what they have told me true?" He answered, "They have told you only half the truth[483].'"