I gave my signature. I asked him why he asked me all these questions. 'You are not going to send me away?'
'Oh, no! Benoît's papers are not properly drawn up, and I am taking a census of all who are in the house.'
Madame de Mouchy was very much agitated during this examination. She was reassured when she learned that it was only a census; but I was not. I endeavoured not to show to her the anxiety I felt and which was only too well founded.
One morning, about a month after this, the same jailer came into Madame la Maréchale's room and said to her: 'I have come to inform you that you must send away your confidential attendant within twenty-four hours; I have just received the order.' She replied, 'Citizen, I cannot do without her; I am very infirm, and so is my husband.' I asked him if I could stay if I became a prisoner. 'I do not know.' I begged him to send us the first prison-director who came to the place. He agreed to do so. I sent for Vernet, that he might speak for me. Madame de Mouchy was so good as to implore him so earnestly to do me this service that I could not help shedding tears; she offered to give him all the jewels and assignats she had left. He would not accept anything; but promised to do all we asked, and did nothing. I gave him a petition I had written to the Committee of Police, in which I requested most earnestly to be enrolled as a prisoner. I represented to them the infirm condition of Monsieur and Madame de Mouchy, how impossible it was for them to be left alone, how long I had been with them, and added that I thought it a Republican virtue to assist suffering humanity. At the same time I asked the jailer to allow me to wait for an answer; and I begged Vernet to bring the administrator to us, which he did on the following day.
It was Vitrich, who has since died, with his friend Robespierre. He said to me, 'We have read your petition. You are very good to wait upon these old people; but I have nothing to do with that. The order is from the Committee of General Security, and you must go. You have only to make a similar petition to them, and surely you will receive their permission to return.' I begged him with tears, for I was desperate, for permission to remain till the next day; and he granted it.
I cannot express the horrors of our situation after this cruel sentence. Dear, venerable old couple, how much they suffered! This separation seemed only to presage one more terrible still. We wept all night long. I was almost determined to remain, no matter what happened to me. For three whole days my daughter never left the door in her anxiety to hear from the turnkeys what I had concluded to do. She was terribly frightened about me. A prisoner, whom I did not know, influenced me to a decision; he stopped me and said, 'Citizeness, I have learned that you are hesitating about leaving here; I think I ought to tell you that you are doing wrong. This evening you will be entered in the jail-book, and perhaps sent to-morrow to another prison; the greater attachment you manifest for Madame de Mouchy the more you will be suspected. Believe me, you had better submit. A more favourable moment will surely come, and you can then rejoin her; above all conceal your tears, for you are watched.' I thanked him, and informed Monsieur and Madame de Mouchy of his advice. They then urged me to go. We consulted together as to what I was to do in order to be allowed to return. Hoping to certainly do so, I left all my belongings. Messieurs d'Hénin and de Boisgelin assured me that the separation would not be long, and that as soon as I should see the committee I could ask that Madame de Duras might be sent to join her parents; and they would surely grant my request.
When the fatal moment arrived I felt that it would be utterly impossible for me to say to Monsieur and Madame de Mouchy, 'I am going to leave you now;' so I said that I was going to see some of the prisoners to ask for messages from them. They all sympathized with my sorrow. Madame la Vicomtesse de Noailles, the younger, threw her arms around me, and burst into tears. I tore myself from her, and hid behind a door, to try and recover myself. As I passed along the galleries all the prisoners congratulated me; for my part I wished they were all in my place. When I reached the door I thought I should faint; I wanted to go in to see the keeper, but the turnkey who had the key prevented me. 'Take care!' said he to me, 'there is a clerk in his office who is vexed with you; go on.' I cannot express all the different feelings which assailed me on getting into the street; my despair at leaving Monsieur and Madame de Mouchy, my reunion with my daughter, the open air which I had not breathed for seven months,—all bewildered me. One thing is certain, I could not tell what streets I passed through on my way to the Hôtel Mouchy. Instead of seeming delighted to see my daughter, I replied to all she said only with tears.
The first thing I did was to beg Monsieur Noël to send my petition to the committee as soon as possible, which he did. He received no reply. It was impossible to gain an interview. I did not know to whom to apply. Madame de Poix, was at the Hôtel Mouchy, under guard. She had been imprisoned only twenty-four hours on account of her weakness. She asked me many questions concerning her distinguished parents, wept much with me, and still hoped that I might be able to return to them. I had an opportunity to see the deputies from my district, who had just saved my brother from the guillotine. I thought they would be willing to render me a service also. I implored them in vain, however, and received from them only mockery of my attachment, and the most positive refusal. At last, repulsed in every direction, nothing was left but to have myself arrested. This was my plan; I thought of it unceasingly. The only thing that prevented me was the almost complete certainty of being sent to some other prison than the Luxembourg. The tidings I received from day to day were more and more distressing. Monsieur de Mouchy wrote me: 'Come back to us; Madame de Mouchy, has been so grieved at your absence that her abscess has dried up,—a thing which never happened before.' Another time he said, 'We cannot get accustomed to your absence, nor to doing without you. The two or three persons who wait upon us, no matter how willing they may be, cannot accomplish in the whole day what our dear Latour used to do in two hours, and without difficulty.'
All this went to my heart. I wrote to them every day, and gave them more hope of my returning to them than I entertained myself. I went frequently to carry them provisions, as well as to learn how they were from the turnkeys, who were on good terms with me. I also went into the garden, where I had the sad consolation of seeing them at the window. The prisoners knew me so well that as soon as they saw me they would hasten to tell my friends. Their sad and downcast faces broke my heart. I dared not make the least sign to them as I was constantly watched. The last day that I went there with my daughter a man followed us persistently, and drove us away. My daughter was sure then that we were going to be arrested. It was the last time that I ever saw Madame de Mouchy. Two days after, Monsieur de Mouchy, sent me word that 'she had had a severe attack of indigestion, accompanied by violent vomiting, all through the night; that they needed me more than ever.' He told me to send him a bottle of mineral water for her to take as a purgative. The day she took it, Monsieur le Maréchal wrote me at four o'clock in the afternoon that the purgative had not agreed with her at all, that Madame la Maréchale could not retain any nourishment, and requested me to send her an injection immediately. I was extremely anxious. It was too late for me to be able to speak to any one, as all the doors were closed at five o'clock. I determined to go to see the turnkey early the next morning, and find out whether I might be allowed to wait upon her; but it was then too late. Everything was useless; the end of all their troubles was approaching.
Just as I was getting into my bed there was a loud knocking at my door. I trembled as I opened it. I was surprised to see Monsieur Noël, who looked frightened, and said, 'A messenger was sent to the Luxembourg this evening to inquire whether Monsieur and Madame de Mouchy were there, and I cannot imagine what it means.' I cried, 'It is well known that they are in that house, and such inquiries are superfluous,—unless,' I added, seeing that his agitation was increasing, 'Madame la Maréchale, being ill, has asked for me again, and some prison-director has been to inquire into her condition.' 'I hope it may be so, I will learn to-morrow morning early what it is all about, and will come and tell you.' We spent the night in the greatest excitement, and I rose very early. I went to Monsieur Noël's house at seven o'clock, but he had already gone out. He came to my house crying, or rather screaming, 'It is true,' said he; 'all is over! They are at the Conciergerie.' Nothing else that I have ever suffered in my life can be compared to what I felt at that moment. However, I did not altogether lose my self-control; enough was left me to see that poor Monsieur Noël was entirely beside himself. He beat his head so violently against the wall that I really feared he would crush it. After the first moments of his despair had passed, he said, 'I will go out again; I will go to the Conciergerie; I must see them!' 'And I will go too,' I cried. 'No, no,' he answered. 'Is Madame de Duras there?' 'I have not been able to learn.'