I did not find her very much changed, though she was thinner; she had something of a sprightly, little girl. I walked in front of her; she gave her arm to M. de Lucchesi; Madame de Podenas[201] followed her. We climbed the stairs and entered the apartments between two rows of grenadiers, amid the clatter of arms, the sound of trumpets, the cheers of the spectators. They took me for the majordomo, they applied to me to be presented to the mother of Henry V. My name was linked to those names in the minds of the crowd. [Illustration: The Duchesse of Berry.] [Sidenote: Arrival of Madame.] You must know that Madame was received with the same tokens of respect from Palermo to Ferrara, notwithstanding the Notes of Louis-Philippe's envoys. M. de Broglie had had the audacity to ask the Pope to send away the outlaw; Cardinal Bernetti replied: "Rome has always been the asylum of fallen grandeurs. If the family of Bonaparte, in its later days, found a refuge beside the Father of the Faithful, with still greater reason must hospitality be shown to the family of the Most Christian Kings." I am no great believer in this dispatch, but I was keenly struck by one contrast: in France, the Government lavishes insults upon a woman of whom it is afraid; in Italy, they remember only the name, the courage and the misfortunes of Madame la Duchesse de Berry. I was obliged to accept my improvised role of First Lord of the Bed-chamber. The Princess was very funny: she wore a gown of greyish cloth, fitting close to her figure; on her head, a sort of little widow's cap or the biggin of a child or naughty school-girl. She ran here, there and everywhere, like a giddy goose; rushed about heedlessly, in the midst of the curious throng, with an air of assurance, just as she had sped through the woods of the Vendée. She looked at no one, recognised no one; I was obliged to catch her disrespectfully by her dress, or to bar her road, saying: "Madame, there is the Austrian Commandant, that officer. in white; Madame, there is the commandant of the pontifical troops, that officer in blue; Madame, there is the Pro-legate, that tall young priest in black." She stopped, spoke a few words in Italian or French, not too appropriate, but roundly, frankly, prettily, so that their very unpleasantness was not displeasing. It was a sort of manner resembling nothing that one had ever known before. It made me feel almost ill at ease, and yet I had no anxiety as to the effect produced by the little woman who had escaped from the flames and gaol.