make him aware of our presence. At last he turned his two keys, and we walked out. Once outside, my daughter did not forget, but took my right arm. There are twelve steps to mount before you get to the court, but the guard of gendarmes is stationed at the foot of them. About twenty soldiers headed by the officer, stood three paces from me to see Madame de Lavalette pass. I at length reached the last step, and entered the chair which stood two or three yards off. But there were no signs of porters or servants. My daughter and the old servant were standing near the chair, the sentinel ten paces off motionless and turned towards me. To my astonishment succeeded a feeling of violent agitation; my eyes were fixed on the sentry’s gun, as those of a serpent on its prey. I felt, so to speak, the gun between my clenched hands. At the slightest movement, the slightest noise, I felt myself springing on this arm.... This terrible situation lasted about ten minutes only, but to me it seemed the length of a night. At last I heard Bonneville’s voice, saying in a low tone: ‘One of the porters was missing, but I have found another.’ I then felt myself lifted. The chair crossed the great court, and turned to the right on going out. We proceeded in that way to the Quai des Orfévres, opposite the little Rue du Harlay. There the chair stopped, the door opened, and my friend Baudus, offering me his arm, said aloud; ‘You know, madame, you have still a visit to pay to the president.’ I stepped out, and he pointed out to me a gig a short distance off in the small, dark street. I sprang into this carriage, and one touch made the horse start at a good trot. Passing the quay I saw Josephine, her hands clasped, and praying to God with all her heart. We crossed the Pont St. Michel, the Rue de la Harpe, and were soon in the Rue Vaugirard behind the Odéon, where I began to breathe. I then looked at the coachman, and what was my astonishment to recognise the Comte de Chassenon! ‘What! you here!’ said I. ‘Yes; and you have behind you four double-barrelled pistols. I hope you will use them.’ ‘No; really I do not wish to endanger you.’ ‘Then I’ll set you the example; and woe to any who tries to stop you!’ We went as far as the boulevard, at the corner of the Rue Plumet, where we stopped. On the way I had thrown off all my feminine attire, and put on a postillion’s coat, with the round gold-braided hat.
“M. Baudus soon came up. I took leave of M. du Chassenon, and modestly followed my new master. It was eight in the evening; the rain fell in torrents, the night was dark, and the solitude complete in this part of the Faubourg St. Germain. I walked with much trouble, and it was with great difficulty I followed M. Baudus, whose pace was very rapid. I soon lost one of my shoes, but still had to go on. We met some gendarmes, running fast, and little thinking I was there, for they were probably in search of me. At last after an hour’s march, tired out, one foot in my shoe, the other naked, I saw M. Baudus stop for an instant at the Rue de Grenelle near the Rue du Bac. ‘I am going,’ he said, ‘into an hotel; while I am talking to the porter, enter the court. On the left you will find a staircase; go up to the last story, and follow the dark passage on the right; at the end of that is a pile of wood,—stay there and wait.’ We proceeded a few steps farther along the Rue du Bac, and a sort of giddiness came over me when I saw him knock at the door of the minister of foreign affairs. He entered first, and while he stood talking with the porter, whose head was out of his lodge, I passed quickly by. ‘Where’s that man going?’ cried the porter. ‘He is my servant.’ I went up stairs to the third story, and came to the place mentioned. I had scarcely reached it, when I heard the rustling of a stuff dress, and felt myself gently taken by the arm, and pushed into a room, the door of which was closed after me.”
A fire was burning, and on a small table Lavalette saw a candlestick and some matches, from which he concluded that the room could be lighted without danger. On the bureau was a paper, containing these words: “No noise, open the window at night, only wear soft shoes, and wait patiently.” Near this paper was a bottle of excellent Bordeaux wine, with several volumes of Molière and Rabelais, and a small basket containing some elegant toilet fittings.
M. Baudus shortly came in, threw himself in his friend’s arms, and told him he was in the apartment of M. Bresson, cashier at the office of foreign affairs. Proscribed under the Reign of Terror, M. Bresson and his wife had found shelter with some kind people who had concealed them at the peril of their lives. Lavalette shared this shelter with them for eighteen days, during all which time he heard the criers in the streets, threatening severe punishment to any person harbouring him.
Madame de Lavalette was soon discovered by the jailor behind the screen. The alarm once given, this heroic woman found herself a butt for the insults of those wretches who were not capable of appreciating her courage. The procureur général Bellart, ordered them to cease their noisy rudeness, but assaulted Madame de Lavalette with ribaldry and abuse, and put her in a room overlooking the court of the women, whose shouts and coarse talk were a martyrdom for her. After studying with great care the best means of getting Lavalette out of the kingdom, his friends took counsel of a young Englishman, Mr. Bruce, who accepted the proposal with joy, and entrusted it to General Wilson. This latter, whose efforts to save Marshal Ney had proved so vain, wished to take his revenge. Everything was settled, every event well provided for, and in spite of gendarmes, custom-house officers, and all the difficulties of such a journey, Lavalette, in the uniform of an English officer, was conducted by General Wilson on to Belgian ground. “On shaking hands with the general, I expressed with deep emotion all my gratitude; but he, still preserving his imperturbable calm, only smiled without answering. Half an hour after, he turned to me, and said very seriously: ‘Now, my dear fellow, give me your reasons for not wishing to be guillotined?’ I was surprised, and looked at him without answering. ‘Yes,’ he went on; ‘I was told that you had requested as a particular favour that you might be shot.’ ‘Because,’ I said; ‘the prisoner is dragged in a cart with his hands tied behind his back; he is attached to a plank’—— ‘Oh, I understand; you did not wish to die like a calf.’ A few hours afterwards, the two friends separated: one proceeding to Germany, the other returning to Paris, where he underwent several months’ imprisonment for his generous conduct.”