“Oh, yes,” interrupted Mabel, with a smile “if he is anxious to learn French, dear Agatha is quite as anxious to learn English, and the Captain is so quick. But what were you going to ask me, William, when I so thoughtlessly interrupted you?”
“Why, to tell me all you remember about your little self, and how you came to lose your poor brother, who was not a native of France, and was too young to be mixed up in the political parties which distracted, and still distract that unhappy country, France.”
“Ah!” replied Mabel, with a sigh, “I was younger than dear Julian, and yet they would have killed me but for good Monsieur Jean Plessis. When I was very young—too young to remember things well, only mamma has often spoken of that time—we were with mamma’s husband, at his château far away in France, near the sea coast, in Normandy, I think. That château was called Coulancourt, for mamma’s husband possessed other estates besides those near Lyons. Ah! I have heard mamma say we were very happy then. The Duke so loved mamma, and loved us; our own father could not have loved us more. I remember numbers of servants, and attendants, and chasseurs, and the great château of Coulancourt, with its great trees and lawn before it; but mamma said the troubles were coming over France, and the Duke was called to Paris, and we all went with him. Then, after a time, mamma was persuaded to go with us to Lyons, for Paris became dangerous for Royalists, and Lyons was then a great royal city.
“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?”