When the Revolution broke out my grandmother was horror-struck, and she took the lead with so many other pious persons in hiding the priests who had refused to take the oath of fidelity to the Constitution.  Mass was celebrated in her drawing-room, and as the ladies of the nobility had emigrated she thought it her duty to take their place.  Most of my uncles, on the other hand were ardent patriots.  When any public misfortune occurred, such, for instance, as the treason of Dumouriez, my uncles allowed their beards to grow and went about with long faces, flowing cravats, and untidy garments.  My grandmother would at these times indulge in delicate but rather risky satire.  “My dear Tanneguy, what is the matter with you?  Has any trouble befallen us?  Has anything happened to Cousin Amelie?  Is my Aunt Augustine’s asthma worse?”—­“No, cousin, the Republic is in danger.”—­“Oh, is that all, my dear Tanneguy?  I am so glad to hear you say so.  You quite relieve me.”  Thus she sported for two years with the guillotine, and it is a wonder that she escaped it.  A lady named Taupin, pious like herself, was associated with her in these good works.  The priests were sheltered by turns in her house and in that of Madame Taupin.  My uncle Y——­, a very sturdy Revolutionist, but a good-hearted man at bottom, often said to her:  “My cousin, if it came to my knowledge that there were priests or aristocrats concealed in your house, I should be obliged to denounce you.”  She always used to reply that her only acquaintances were true friends of the Republic and no mistake about it.

So it was that Madame Taupin was the one to be guillotined.  My mother never related this incident to me without being very deeply moved.  She showed me when I was a child the spot where the tragedy was enacted.  Upon the day of the execution, my grandmother went, with all her family, out of Lannion, so as not to participate in the crime which was about to be committed.  She went before daybreak to a chapel, situated rather more than a mile from the town in a retired spot and dedicated to St. Roch.  Several pious persons had arranged to meet there, and a signal was to let them know just when the knife was about to drop so that they might all be in prayer when the soul of the martyr was, brought by the angels before the throne of the Most High.

All this bound people together more closely than we can form any idea of.  My grandmother loved the priests and believed in their courage and devotion to duty.  She was destined to meet with a very cool reception from one of them.  When during the Consulate religious worship was re-established, the priest whom she had sheltered at the risk of her life was appointed incumbent of a parish near Lannion.  She took my mother, then quite a child, with her, and they walked the five miles under a scorching sun.  The thought of meeting again one whom she had seen keeping the night watch at her house under such tragical circumstances made her heart beat fast.  The priest,