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“ Couldn't I come alone ?"

dancing children.'

Hooray! And but -- he's fun. He you'd never believe !" fights so with Aunt Paule. How they " Neither do I believe now." liate each other !" the child said.

She turned from the window abruptly “Do they ? " dreamily.

and took a cup of tea from the hands of “How you do dream, Bee! I wish the squire without the least sign of Edgar would come back. The letter thanks. to-morrow will say when he'll be here, Again only two people had seen the won't it?"

6 children." “ Yes."

On the following morning Bee's maid As usual there had been a war of at Scarbourne took her mistress a cup words between “old Hatherley'

" and of tea before getting up, at the same Miss Yearsley, and the alert little lady time carrying her a letter with the had moved off to the window of the Singapore postmark. Bee was sitting morning-room. There she stood watch- up in bed wide-eyed and terrified. ing the glories of the setting sun athwart “Oh, Davis !" she cried, “why did the trellis of wintry tree boughs. The you not come when I called you in the park shone golden in the yellow light, night ? " crimson and scarlet bars as of fire The woman had heard nothing. swept the purpling sky.

" Such a terrific dream! Hold me ! “Well, I never !” the lady cried.

Davis ! Am I really She was a quaint figure of alertness awake ? " with her hands crossed behind her, her 6. Oh ! ma'am — yes. And it is the shoulders well thrown back, and her loveliest morning! What was it, tilted nose well in the air.

ma'am ?" Mr. Hatherley, on the hearthrug Dreadful ! dreadful ! I cannot warming his calves, looked at her. His

say. He is dead, he is dead, I am sure ! grey eyes laughed.

They murdered him." Was Bee wan"Is it anything worth coming to dering ? that draughty window to see ?” he Oh, Davis — say it is only a dream! asked.

And I went to sleep again — yes, I “No — but you Devonians are mad- know I did, and I have dreamt it all der than I thought you.”

over again, and you woke me. Am I “ How so? I always say we are mild in my senses

-am I ?? and sane."

Sure, yes, my dearie. Drink some “ Look there !" and Aunt Paule tea and read the letter. There's a letpointed, and her face was a picture of ter from the young squire, ma'am, and “ A school treat on a February you'll see treuly how he's well an?

'earty." Stuff, Aunt Paule,” May said, but After a bit the good soul — she had like the rest she went towards the win- been the old nurse at the Hares' - left dow.

her young mistress quiet, but strangely 6 Fiddle

so began “old Hath- tired-looking and pale. erley." But he suddenly stopped. 6 Miss Bee to be like that!" the " It looks like it,” he said in a non-woman said to herself. “I'd never ha? plussed sort of way. “They are not believed it if I hadn't seen it. I'll be Scarbourneites, though — I'd have had glad when the master's back. Let her my say there."

lie; the old squire must have his breakWell, they are enjoying themselves. fast alone- he's done it afore." Dancing, actually! Mary," to Mrs. An hour later she went up-stairs llare, 6 where are you giving them again. their feed ? "

No sound. " Aunt Paule !" shouted Yorick, Bee was still and quiet, and the openclapping his hands, “ you've seen the ling door disturbed her not.







Davis listened. What a good sleep | limp hands played with the arms of the - a sleep now with good dreams surely, easy-chair. for her waking thoughts had been glad- “If I only could have you under my dened by the Singapore letter. The control for a week!” letter was in Bee's hand still, though Her words were uttered without a the white fingers were loosened by secondary meaning, but some electric sleep.

force in them tlashed a meaning into White fingers ! Nurse Davis sprang the poor old squire's brain. forward, for Bee's fingers were not He both spoke and acted. white, but brown, and tanned, and rosy.

And Aunt Paule became squiress of The sweetest, smiling sleep! But Scarbourne in a very few weeks. and Bee was no longer in that pretty bride's both the prophecies of the “ Children

She was hand-in-hand with her of Harricombe” – that of joy as well husband in the far-away country, from as that of sorrow were fulfilled for whence there will be no voyaging. the only people to whom they had been

The letter was forwarded by a Singa- revealed. pore friend to whom Graham had trusted the posting in case he should not be back from some small outlying duty. The friend had pencilled on the

From Blackwood's Magazine. envelope :

BOURBON. G. unexpectedly delayed.”

A SINGULARLY interesting little volThat same morning a telegram to ume, truly unique of its kind, has been Mr. Hatherley told him what Bee's lately published in Paris. It is the dream had told to hier.

diary of a child, daughter of the marGraham was dead.

tyred King Louis XVI., who alone of There had been some landing on a

the royal family survived the terrible small island for water; natives had at- events of 1789–94, and who, during her tacked the party, and had killed two captivity in the Tower, had kept a recmen and the officer in command. ord of the harrowing march of events The officer was Lieutenant Edgar

which successively deprived her of Graham.

father, mother, aunt, and brother ;

blighting the May-day of her youth ere There is nothing more to say except it had well unclosed, and leaving her a few words which thicken the mystery

at the threshold of life a saddened and about the - Children of Harricombe."

sobered woman. Mr. Hatherley, the bachelor squire,

We are often told nowadays that peowas utterly broken down by the loss of ple do not care to hear anything further his children. Like a helpless, hunted about the great French Revolution ; creature he fled always to Harricombe that its stock of horrors has been so Manor.

widely illustrated by brush and pen as "I am weary of living, and there's to afford no further material for picture the truth!” one day he ejaculated or romance, — the sufferings of the tremulously, sinking down into an easy- martyr-king and of his family so exchair.

haustively treated as to be no longer · Fiddlesticks !” Aunt Paule cried capable of producing the faintest emoin answer.

tion in the breast of a blasé and satiated

Yet when in the It was another winter, but with the generation. season she was back at the inanor, and

1 Mémoire écrit par Marie-Thérèse Charlotte de as alert and masterful as ever.

France, sur la captivité des Princes et Princesses “Rouse yourself, squire !” she add- ses Parents depuis le 10 Août 1792 jusqu'à la mort ed.

manuscrit autographe appartenant à Madame la "I cannot, simply cannot,” and his Duchesse de Madrid. Paris: Plon, Nourrit et Cie.

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de son frère arrivée le 9 Juin 1795.

Publie sur le

present case - a voice reaches us, so to grown old, can there remain a soul unsay, from the grave, relating with the thrilled by the sound? authority of an eye-witness the story of

Their voices, alas ! do not stray through

What last century's great tragedy, in simple, the playgrounds of imagination. childlike language, and with an abso- they are re-telling here is a true history,

where ignoble buffets and a crown of thorns lute veracity of detail which brings

have left their mark as on Veronica's veil. before us the scenes described with a vividness unachieved by the ablest his- its centenary! When on the threshold of

This passion-story likewise is entitled to torian, is not the tale thus told of far 1893 France turns back to salute once more deeper and more pungent interest than her great ancestors, does not justice demand the most thrilling romance that ever that above their heads she should contemwas penned ?

plate those whom they have crucified ? The original manuscript of these memoirs, which it is our purpose here to Nothing more would remain to be said as discuss, is traced, as we are told in the introduction to the memoir of Madame preface, in a common school copy-book Royale, if it were not necessary to make of extremely coarse paper, containing

known how it came to reach us, and if

some hitherto unedited letters were not thirty-live and a half written pages of

there to complete, by the account of her thirty-one centimetres height and twen

departure from the Temple, that of her terty-two centimetres breaultli. This copy-rible captivity. book is covered with a sheet of the same coarse paper, bearing this inscrip- The chronicler goes on to relate how, tion :

on the 15th of June, 1795, Madame Mémoire

Royale, who, since the departure of her écrit par Marie-Thérèse Charlotte aunt, Madame Elisabeth, bad reached de France,

that extremity of suffering where all sur la captivité

hope of remedy, relief, or consolation des Princes et Princesses ses Parents

has ceased to be, heard her prisou door depuis le 10 Août 1792

open. She was reading at the time, jusqu'à la mort de son frère

and did not even turn round her lieal, arrivée le 9 Juin 1795.

trembling to encounter the face of some In order to introduce this interesting bloodthirsty monster. But no; the journal to the English reader, we can-new-comer was a woman, who fell down not do better than transcribe the open- at her feet, and the young princess saw ing words of the distinguished French two tearful eyes regarding her with an writer (the Marquis Costa de Beaure- unmistakable expression of affection. gard) to whose able pen we already

The stranger told her name - Madeowe many interesting works relating to leine Hilaire la Rochette, wife of one the history of those times.

citizen Bocquet Chanterenne. Having A hundred years have passed since the heard that the committee of general King Louis XVI. entered the Temple, and security had decided to place a woman since his daughter Madame Royale, in trac- as companion to the daughter of Louis ing the first lines of this memoir, opened Capet, she had offered herself, inspired the mournful account where were succes


secret devotion to the king's unsively to be recorded the tortures and out

fortunate daughter, and had succeeded rages of each day.

in obtaining her nomination, in recogThe irregular lines of her manuscript are, so to say, still quivering with the tremulous

nition of certain services rendered to motion of her little hand and the accele- the Republic by her husband as well as rated beatings of her heart. Like that her father. strange instrument which has succeeded in Instantaneously all the pent-up affecimprisoning sound, this writing has become tion of Madame Royale's young heart, the receptacle of infinite sufferings. And which during the last sad years had as moaning these now escape, childlike yet, been famished and starved from want despite the century in which they have of love, was transferred to this new 1 August 13, 1792.

companion. Madame de Chanterenne's


arrival in the Temple was like a ray of My dear, good little Renête, do not grieve sunshine, come just in time to save so much : you increase my grief by your from perishing this poor little prison own. Can you believe that I shall ever

I shall flower, deprived so long of air and light. change towards you ? No, never.

On Madame de Chanterenne likewise always have pleasure in remembering my devolves the painful duty of breaking Nothing is impossible. As to the present

little Renéte. I hope to see you again. to Madame Royale the deaths of her

moment, I beg you to keep calm, and, above mother, aunt, and brother, and there all, to grieve less and not to fall ill. You are few things in history more intensely are a philosopher - well, try to be so just tragic than the following scrap of dialogue recorded by M. de Beauchesne in To-morrow will be a very sad day for his work entitled “ Louis XVII. :" — you. But, my Renête, try to occupy your

self — think of the happiness of seeing your • Madame has no more parents."

family again. It is so sweet to be with " And my brother?!

our relations and friends. Do not think of "No more brother."

me too much, since it alllicts you. I shall And my aunt ?"

have every care for the persons whom you * No more aunt."

recommend to me, and, above all, I shall

remember you and your respectable family. Despite, however, the terrible suffer

I thank you, my Renête, for all your goodings she has undergone, Madame Royale is still a child at heart, and it is inex- the six months we have spent together :

ness and obligingness towards me during pressibly touching to see how, under I shall never forget that time. I end, my the unwonted intluence of sympathetic Renête, for I know not what I am saying. affection, her long-forgotten gaiety re- To-day is a great day for me, and my head asserts itself in unexpected fashion. is troubled. Within a very few days of her new Farewell, lovely, good, sweet, amiable, friend's arrival into the Temple, we gay, obliging, frank, charming Renète. find the princess writing playful little As this manuscript, as well as all the notes to Madame de Chanterenne, letters of Madame Royale, had not left whose more formal appellation is soon the bands of Renête, they might be exchanged for her Christian name of supposed to be absolutely inedited. Renée, caressingly metamorphosed into Such, however, is not quite the case, at Renète ; and it is into this friend's least in so far as the record of the captrusty hands that Madame Royale, on tivity in the Temple is concerneil ; and, leaving the Temple on the evening of as the narrator goes on to explain, the the 18th of December, 1795, deposits public may have caught stray glimpses the precious manuscript which forms of it in the following manner :the subject of this paper.

One day at Mittau, it seems, Madame Madame de Chanterenne did not ac- Royale desired to lave back the manucompany the princess on her journey to script which she had given to Renète. Vienna, for the Austrian emperor, Jo- This was in 1805. Did she wishi, perseph II., had made the cruel stipulation haps, to compare her prison sufferings - for what reason is not very apparent with those which she had to endure — that none of the women attached to after her departure from France ? PerMadame Royale during her captivity in haps. Howsoever this may have been, the Temple were to remain with her Madame reclaimed the manuscript from when she left the country. That poor Madame de Chanterenne by the hands. Madame de Chanterenne was cruelly of the faithful Clery, and herself made wounded by this hard decree is sutti- of it a copy. She added a few phrases, ciently betrayed by the following letter suppressed a few others, and finally, addressed to her by Madame Royale on on her return to France, she sent back the eve of her departure, and which to Renête the original so much prized furnishes the best possible proof of the by her. young princess's tender heart as well The copy made at Mittau was given as of her wholesome common sense. to Madame de Soucy, probably in mem




ory of the journey in which she had, manuscript, but which, for the reader's after the departure from the Temple, elucidation, have been parenthetically accompanied Madame to Vienna. inserted. How and why Madame de Soucy per

EXTRACTS FROM THE JOURNAL OF mitted herself in 1823 to print these pages, is what we are unable to say.

The king, my father, arrived at the TemBut she did so, and great indeed was ple with his family, Monday the 13th of Madame the Duchesse d'Angoulême's August, 1792, at 7 o'clock in the evening. displeasure on learning this indiscretion. The cannoneers wished to conduct my

By her orders all the copies that father alone to the tower and leave us at could be discovered were bought up the castle. Manuel had received on the and destroyed. Of these, two or three, way a decision of the commune to conduct perhaps, had escaped the search. Mon- us all to the tower. sieur Nettement had taken cognizance

Pethion [Petion] calmed the rage of the of them. Monsieur de Pastoret made cannoneers, and we entered the castle. The

municipals kept my father in view. Peuse of this source, from which likewise

thion went away. Manuel remained. Monsieur de Beauchesne made numer

My father supped with us. My brother extracts. Finally, Monsieur le was dying of sleep. Madame de Tourzelle Baron de Saint-Amand has drawn from conducted him at eleven o'clock to the it largely for his book entitled “La tower, which was decisively to be our Jeunesse de Madame la Duchesse d’An- lodging. goulême.”

My father arrived at the tower with us at But these different publications only one o'clock in the morning : there was serve to accentuate the interest of these nothing here prepared. My aunt slept in a reminiscences, which until now have kitchen, and it is said that Manuel was never been published in their authentic ashamed in leading her there. text.

On the second day there was brought to Monsieur de Pastoret, in especial,

us during dinner a decree of the commune, has treated the writing of Madame in ordering the departure of those persons such cavalier fashion as to deprive it of who had come with us. the great character of simplicity, surest My father and mother opposed this, as proof of this relic's authenticity. did likewise the municipals on guard at the

Temple. A relic indeed, whose strange destiny The order was then momentarily rebears some analogy to that of the saint who voked. has bequeathed it to us ; storm-tossed until

We spent the day all together. a last wave has brought it to Frohsdorf. My father instructed my brother in geog.

A few months only before the death of raphy ; my mother taught him history, and Monseigneur the Comte de Chambord, the made him learn verses ; my aunt taught grandson of Madame de Chanteret had sent him to reckon. the MS. to the prince as a sort of supreme My father had luckily found a library, homage.

which kept him occupied. My mother had Madame, the (late) Duchess of Madrid, tapestry to work at. inherited this treasure in her uncle's succession ; and it was at Viareggio that the

My father was no longer treated as king ; august princess permitted that the auto- no respect was shown to him, and he was graph of Madame Royale should be, so to not called “Sire,” and “His Majesty," but say, retraced by a faithful hand.1

“Monsieur,” or “Louis."

The municipals were always seated in In giving the following extracts from his chamber, and had their hats on their the journal of Madame Royale, we have [heads]. They took from my father his carefully preserved the faulty spelling sword, which he still had, and searched his of some of the proper names, as well as pockets. the omission of certain words which Pethion sent Clery to my father to serve have been overlooked in the original him.

Pethion also sent as turnkey or gaoler, 1 M. Gabriel de Saint Victor.

Rocher, that horrible man who forced my

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