It was nearly five in the morning of the 16th of October when the favorite daughter of the great Empress-queen, herself Queen of France, was led from the court, not even to the wretched room which she had occupied for the last ten weeks, but to the condemned cell, never tenanted before by any but the vilest felons.  Though greatly exhausted by the length of the proceedings, she had heard the sentence without betraying the slightest emotion by any change of countenance or gesture.  On reaching her cell she at once asked for writing materials.  They had been withheld from her for more than a year, but they were now brought to her; and with them she wrote her last letter to that princess whom she had long learned to love as a sister of her own, who had shared her sorrows hitherto, and who, at no distant period, was to share the fate which was now awaiting herself.

“16th October, 4.30 A.M.

“It is to you, my sister, that I write for the last time.  I have just been condemned, not to a shameful death, for such is only for criminals, but to go and rejoin your brother.  Innocent like him, I hope to show the same firmness in my last moments.  I am calm, as one is when one’s conscience reproaches one with nothing.  I feel profound sorrow in leaving my poor children:  you know that I only lived for them and for you, my good and tender sister.  You who out of love have sacrificed everything to be with us, in what a position do I leave you!  I have learned from the proceedings at my trial that my daughter was separated from you.  Alas! poor child; I do not venture to write to her; she would not receive my letter.  I do not even know whether this will reach you.  Do you receive my blessing for both of them.  I hope that one day when they are older they may be able to rejoin you, and to enjoy to the full your tender care.  Let them both think of the lesson which I have never ceased to impress upon them, that the principles and the exact performance of their duties are the chief foundation of life; and then mutual affection and confidence in one another will constitute its happiness.  Let my daughter feel that at her age she ought always to aid her brother by the advice which her greater experience and her affection may inspire her to give him.  And let my son in his turn render to his sister all the care and all the services which affection can inspire.  Let them, in short, both feel that, in whatever positions they may be placed, they will never be truly happy but through their union.  Let them follow our example.  In our own misfortunes how much comfort has our affection for one another afforded us!  And, in times of happiness, we have enjoyed that doubly from being able to share it with a friend; and where can one find friends more tender and more united than in one’s own family?  Let my son never forget the last words of his father, which I repeat emphatically; let him never seek to avenge our deaths.  I have to speak to you of one thing which is very painful