“So we went to Lyons, and there we stayed till the whole country of France became disturbed, and then—ah! shall I ever forget mamma’s agony!—Monsieur Plessis arrived from Paris with the news of the good Duke’s death. Oh! how we all cried. My brother Julian was frantic, and wished to go to Paris; but Jean Plessis implored him to stay, telling him that his mother required all his care. “Monsieur Plessis’ wife and little daughter Julia were at the château. Dear Julia was only two years older than I; but she was so sensible and so loving, she made me dote upon her, whilst mamma could not bear to be a moment without Madame Plessis. “We were not long destined to remain in peace. The terrible Collet d’Herbois came to the château. I do not know what he said or did, but he made mamma tremble, and Jean Plessis was away in Toulon, where he possessed some property; and before our protector returned, a party of furious Revolutionists, with this wicked D’Herbois at their head, surrounded the château, plundered it, drove all our domestics to flight, and carried us all prisoners into Lyons, and lodged us in a frightful prison. Oh! what we suffered from hunger, and cold, and want of every kind of necessary! Our cell was damp, and with very little light, and, to make things worse, they took Julian from us. Oh! that was a terrible day. “Collet d’Herbois came every day, and once, showing my mamma a paper, said, ‘Sign this, and you and your children shall be released.’ ‘Never, wretch, never!’ exclaimed mamma, passionately; ‘I will die first!’ The cruel wretch stamped with fury, saying, ‘Die! yes, cursed brood of aristocrats, you shall die!’ “‘Oh, my child!’ my poor mamma would say, as I hung round her neck, ‘that monster wants to be my husband, and to be possessed of all the Duke’s lands. I care not for them; I offered him all. But to be his wife—oh, horror! rather welcome death. But when I think of you and Julian, my heart fails.’ From that hour,” concluded Mabel, “we never saw Julian again;” and the tears streamed from her eyes. The midshipman pressed his little companion’s hand; he soothed her, and then a sudden thought arose that perhaps Julian might still be alive, and he inquired— “Who told you, dear Mabel, that your brother was beheaded?” “The horrid gaoler,” returned the little girl, with a shudder. “He came into the cell one morning, and, with a frightful laugh, said, ‘So the young aristocrat’s head is off, with fifty others. It was a fine sight.’ Mamma was in hysterics for hours.” “And did no one else tell you but that brutal wretch?” again interrogated the midshipman. “No, William; but as neither mamma nor Jean Plessis ever heard more of him, it must have been true; for the wicked Democrats cut off all the Royalists’ heads they could find in Lyons.” “And yet, Mabel,” said our hero, “many circumstances might have occurred to save him. How were you and your mamma rescued?”