I saw that they were looking for me. I seemed to hear all that they said. 'Mamma, he is not there.'
'Look again.'
'Nothing escapes me, I assure you, Mamma; he is not there.'
They forgot that I had sent word to them of the impossibility of getting into the courtyard.
The first cart stood near me at least a quarter of an hour. It came forward first. The second was about to pass, and I stood ready. It passed, and the ladies did not see me. I went back into the palace, made a long circuit, and placed myself in a conspicuous position at the entrance of the Pont au Change. Madame de Noailles looked around on every side, but passed by without seeing me. I followed them along the bridge, separated from the crowd, and yet quite near them. Madame de Noailles, though constantly looking for me, did not perceive me.
Distress was painted upon the face of Madame d'Ayen; her daughter redoubled her watchfulness but without success. I was tempted to give up. I had done what I could, I said to myself, and everywhere else the crowd would be still greater. It was of no use, and I was tired. I was about to go away, when the sky was covered over, thunder was heard in the distance, and I resolved to make another trial.
By roundabout ways I arrived before the carts did in the Rue St. Antoine beyond the Rue de Fourcy, almost opposite the too famous prison of La Force. Then a violent wind arose. The storm burst; flashes of lightning and peals of thunder succeeded each other rapidly. The rain began, and soon fell in torrents. I withdrew to the doorway of a shop which I still vividly remember, and which I never since then see without emotion. In an instant the street was cleared; there were no more people, save at the doors, in the shops, and at the windows. There was more order in the marching. The horsemen and musketeers advanced more quickly, and the carts also. They reached the little St. Antoine, and I was still undecided. The first cart passed before me. A rapid and almost involuntary movement brought me from the shop door and to the second cart; and there I was alone, quite near the ladies. Madame de Noailles, smiling, seemed to say to me, 'Here you are at last; ah, how comforted we are! We have sought for you eagerly. Mamma, here he is.' Madame d'Ayen revived. All my irresolution ceased; I felt myself inspired by the grace of God with extraordinary courage. Though wet through with perspiration and rain I took no thought of it, but continued to walk near them. Upon the steps of the College St. Louis I perceived a friend, full of respect and attachment for them, endeavouring to render them the same service as that which I was offering them.[[14]] His face and attitude showed all that he felt upon seeing them. I struck my hand upon his shoulder with inexpressible emotion, and cried to him as I passed by, 'Good evening, my friend.'
At this point there is an open place, and several streets enter into it. The storm was at its height, and the wind had grown more violent. The ladies in the first wagon were much disturbed by it, especially the Maréchale de Noailles; her large cap was thrown back, and showed her gray hair. They tottered upon their rough plank seats, their hands being tied behind their backs. Immediately a crowd of men, who were there in spite of the rain, recognized her, paid attention only to her, and by their insulting cries increased the tortures which she was supporting with patience. 'There she is,' they cried, 'the Maréchale who went in such style, driving in her fine carriage,—there she is in the cart, just like the others!'
The cries continued; the heavens grew darker and the rain more violent. We reached the street crossing just in front of the Faubourg St. Antoine. I went forward, looked around, and said to myself, this is the best place to afford them what they so much desire. The cart was going more slowly; I stopped and turned toward them. I made a sign to Madame de Noailles which she entirely understood: 'Mamma, Monsieur Carrichon is about to give us absolution.' Immediately they bent their heads with an air of repentance, contrition, tenderness, hope, and piety.
I raised my hand, and, though with covered head, pronounced the entire formula of absolution, and the words which follow it, very distinctly, and with the deepest earnestness. They joined in this more perfectly than ever. I can never forget the holy picture, worthy of the pencil of Raphael, of that moment when, for them, all was balm and consolation.