At three o’clock in the afternoon of May 30th, the Emperor and Empress arrived at Rouen.  Ducolombier, walking in front of the three little girls, who were escorted by Mlle. Querey, tried to force a passage for them through the streets leading to the imperial residence, but could not get into the house, and was obliged to content himself with handing the petition, drawn up by Chauveau-Legarde, to the King of Westphalia.  He hoped the next day to be able to place the children on the Emperor’s route as he was on his way to visit some spinning mills; but as soon as he was in the street with the orphans, he learnt that Napoleon had inspected the factories at half past three in the morning, and that his departure was fixed for ten o’clock.  Branzon, a revenue collector and friend of Licquet’s procured the little Acquets a card from the prefect, by showing which they were allowed to wait at the door of the Emperor’s residence.  We quote the very words of the letter written the same day by Ducolombier to Bonnoeil and the old Marquise: 

“Mlle. Querey and the three little girls were permitted to wait at the door of the prefecture where, as you must know, they allow no one.  As soon as their Majesties’ carriage came out, little Caroline cried out to the Empress.  The Emperor lowered the window to take the petition, and handed it to the Empress, as it was meant for her.  The Empress bent forward in order to see them....”

This time their confidence was unbounded.  The old Marquise was already congratulated on her approaching liberation; but days passed and nothing more was heard of it.  They waited patiently for a year, their hopes growing fainter each day, and when it became only too evident that the petition had had no effect, Timoleon ventured to remind the Empress of it, and drew up in his own name a fresh request for his mother’s pardon, with no better result than before.  A supreme and useless effort was made on the 30th of August, 1813, when Marie Louise was Empress-Queen-Regent.  At this time Bonnoeil had at length been let out of prison, where he had been unjustly detained since August, 1807.  He had not appeared before the court, and consequently was not condemned, but was detained as a “precautionary measure.”  As his health was much impaired by his stay at the conciergerie, the prefect took it upon himself to have him removed, and placed him at Rouen under the supervision of the police.

For there he could at least keep himself informed of what was going on.  If the newspapers gave but little news, he could still collect the rumours of the town.  Doubtless he was the first to advise his mother to submit to her fate; and from this very moment the Marquise displayed an astonishing serenity, as if she in fact foresaw the fall of him whom she considered her personal enemy.  She had accustomed herself very quickly to life in the prison to which she had been transferred in 1813.  The rules were not very strict for those inmates who had a little money to spend; she received visitors, sent to Tournebut for her backgammon-board and her book of rules, and calmly awaited the long-hoped-for thunderbolt.