Mme. Amfrye also assisted him. This woman who never went out except to church, and was seen every morning with eyes downcast, walking to Saint-Patrice with her servant carrying her prayer book, was one of the fiercest royalists of the region. She looked after the emigrants' funds and took charge of their correspondence. Once a week a priest rang her door-bell; it was the Abbé Nicholas, curé of Vierville, a little fishing village. The Abbé, whose charity was proverbial, and accounted for his visits to Mme. Amfrye, was in reality a second David l'Intrépide; mass said and his beads told, he got into a boat and went alone to the islands of Saint-Marcouf, where an exchange of letters was made with the English emissaries, the good priest bringing his packet back to Bayeux under his soutane.

D'Aché could also hide with Mademoiselle Dumesnil, or Mlle. Duquesnay de Montfiquet, to both of whom he had been presented by Mme. de Vaubadon, an ardent royalist who had rendered signal service to the party during the worst days of the Terror. She was mentioned among the Normans who had shown most intelligent and devoted zeal for the cause.

Born de Mesnildot, niece of Tourville, she had married shortly before the Revolution M. le Tellier de Vaubadon, son of a member of the Rouen Parliament, a handsome man, amiable, loyal, elegant, and most charmingly sociable. She was medium-sized, not very pretty, but attractive, with a very white skin, tawny hair, and graceful carriage. Two sons were born of this union, and on the outbreak of the Revolution M. de Vaubadon emigrated. After several months of retreat in the Château of Vaubadon, the young woman tired of her grass-widowhood, which seemed as if it would be eternal, and returned to Bayeux where she had numerous relations. The Terror was over; life was reawakening, and the gloomy town gave itself up to it gladly. "Never were balls, suppers, and concerts more numerous, animated and brilliant in Bayeux than at this period." Mme. de Vaubadon's success was marked. When some of her papers were seized in the year IX the following note from an adorer was found: "All the men who have had the misfortune to see you have been mortally wounded. I therefore implore you not to stay long in this town, not to leave your apartment but at dusk, and veiled. We hope to cure our invalids by cold baths and refreshing drinks; but be gracious enough not to make incurables."

So that her children should not be deprived of their father's fortune, which the nation could sequestrate as the property of an émigré, Mme. de Vaubadon, like many other royalists, had sued for a divorce. All those who had had recourse to this extremity had asked for an annulment of the decree as soon as their husbands could return to France, and had resumed conjugal relations. But Mme. de Vaubadon did not consider her divorce a mere formality; she intended to remain free, and even brought suit against her husband for the settlement of her property. This act, which was severely criticised by the aristocracy of Bayeux, alienated many of her friends and placed her somewhat on the outskirts of society. From that time lovers were attributed to her, and it is certain that her conduct became more light. She scarcely concealed her liaison with Guérin de Bruslart, the leader of the Norman Chouans, the successor of Frotté, and a true type of the romantic brigand, who managed to live for ten years in Normandy and even in Paris, without falling into one of the thousand traps set for him by Fouché. Bruslart arrived at his mistress's house at night, his belt bristling with pistols and poniards, and "always ready for a desperate hand-to-hand fight."

Together with this swaggerer Mme. de Vaubadon received a certain Ollendon, a Chouan of doubtful reputation, who was said to have gone over to the police through need of money. Mme. de Vaubadon, since her divorce, had herself been in a precarious position. She had dissipated her own fortune, which had already been greatly lessened by the Revolution. She was now reduced to expedients, and seeing closed to her the doors of many of the houses in Bayeux to which her presence had formerly given tone, she went to Caen and settled in the Rue Guilbert nearly opposite the Rue Coupée.

Whether it was that Ollendon had decided to profit by her relations with the Chouans, or that Fouché had learned that she was in need and would not refuse good pay for her services, Mme. de Vaubadon was induced to enter into communication with the police. The man whom in 1793 Charlotte Corday had immortally branded with a word, Senator Doulcet de Pontécoulant, undertook to gain this recruit for the imperial government.

If certain traditions are to be trusted, Pontécoulant, who was supposed to be one of Acquet de Férolles' protectors, had insinuated to Mme. de Vaubadon that "her intrigues with the royalists had long been known in high places, and an order for her arrest and that of d'Aché, who was said to be her lover, was about to be issued." "You understand," he added, "that the Emperor is as merciful as he is powerful, that he has a horror of punishment and only wants to conciliate, but that he must crush, at all costs, the aid given to England by the agitation on the coasts. Redeem your past. You know d'Aché's retreat: get him to leave France; his return will be prevented, but the certainty of his embarkation is wanted, and you will be furnished with agents who will be able to testify to it."

In this way Mme. de Vaubadon would be led to the idea of revealing d'Aché's retreat, believing that it was only a question of getting him over to England; but facts give slight support to this sugared version of the affair. After the particularly odious drama that we are about to relate, all who had taken part in it tried to prove for themselves a moral alibi, and to throw on subordinates the horror of a crime that had been long and carefully prepared. Fouché, whom few memories disturbed, was haunted by this one, and attributed to himself a rôle as chivalrous as unexpected. According to him, d'Aché, in extremity, had tried a bold stroke. This man, who, since Georges' death, had so fortunately escaped all the spies of France, had of his own will suddenly presented himself before the Minister of Police, to convert him to royalist doctrines! Fouché had shown a loyalty that equalled his visitor's boldness. "I do not wish," he said, "to take advantage of your boldness and have you arrested hic et nunc; I give you three days to get out of France; during this time I will ignore you completely; on the fourth day I will set my men on you, and if you are taken you must bear the consequences."

This is honourable, but without doubt false. Besides the improbability of this conspirator offering himself without reason to the man who had hunted him so long, it is difficult to imagine that such a meeting could have taken place without any mention of it being made in the correspondence in the case. None of the letters exchanged between the Minister of Police and the prefects makes any allusion to this visit; it seems to accord so little with the character of either that it must be relegated to the ranks of the legends with which Fouché sought to hide his perfidies. It is certain that a snare was laid for d'Aché, that Mme. de Vaubadon was the direct instrument, that Pontécoulant acted as intermediary between the minister and the woman; but the inventor of the stratagem is unknown. A simple recital of the facts will show that all three of those named are worthy to have combined in it.

Public rumour asserts that Mme. de Vaubadon had been d'Aché's mistress, but she did not now know where he was hidden. In the latter part of August, 1809, she went to Bayeux to find out from her friend Mlle. Duquesnay de Montfiquet if d'Aché was in the neighbourhood, and if so, with whom. Mlle. de Montfiquet, knowing Mme. de Vaubadon to be one of the outlaw's most intimate friends, told her that he had been living in the town for a long time, and that she went to see him every week. The matter ended there, and after paying some visits, Mme. de Vaubadon returned by coach the same evening to Caen.