“Ah!” said the old dame, with a sigh, “he’s a sad, sad man!—as fierce and cruel as a wild beast when he drinks, and latterly he drinks very hard. He was not always so; before he became a privateer’s man he was very well; but I believe, sir, privateering makes a man very reckless and careless about shedding blood—they become very hardened.” “It is often the case, dame; they know they seldom get quarter from their opponents, and that renders them reckless and savage. Then the love of plunder increases, they become little better than pirates.” “You mentioned,” he continued, a moment after, “that Madame Coulancourt was residing in Paris, and that her estates were restored to her. How did she escape from her enemies?” “By their being guillotined, monsieur; but I will tell you all the particulars. “I was, you must know, nurse to the Count de Coulancourt, who was born in this château. He became duke on his elder brother’s death, and, alas! was beheaded in his forty-eighth year; and I am now seventy-four years of age myself. When Monsieur de Coulancourt became duke, he bestowed upon me and my husband the farm and land we now hold; but we have added to it since. Fourteen years ago I lost my poor man, but the bon Dieu was good to me; I had kind and good children, and our farm prospered. When the duke married our kind and beautiful mistress, at Lyons, he took her to Paris, with her two handsome children, and, after a time, he came here. At this period the revolution had not yet shown itself formidable; nobody looked for the dethronement of their king, much less his cruel murder. Still the land was troubled, and people were unsettled, and at times riotous, and fiercely denouncing the nobility and clergy. “The duke and duchess remained here in tranquillity, greatly beloved by all their dependents; and here was born an heir to the duke—as fine a baby as you ever beheld. Alas! it lived but three months, and was unfortunately, to the deep grief of its parents, carried off by the small-pox, then raging fearfully in this district. A summons from our ill-fated King called the duke to his council.