About half-past twelve on the 22d of March I was informed that some one wished to speak with me.  It was Harrel.

—­[Harrel, who had been unemployed till the plot of Arena and Ceracchi on the 18th Vendemiairean IX (10th October 1800) which he had feigned to join, and had then revealed to the police (see ante), had been made Governor of Vincennes.]—­

I will relate word for word what he communicated to me.  Harrel probably thought that he was bound in gratitude to acquaint me with these details; but he owed me no gratitude, for it was much against my will that he had encouraged the conspiracy of Ceracchi, and received the reward of his treachery in that crime.  The following is Harrel’s statement:—­

“On the evening of the day before yesterday, when the Prince arrived, I was asked whether I had a room to lodge a prisoner in; I replied, No—­ that there were only my apartments and the Council-chamber.  I was told to prepare instantly a room in which a prisoner could sleep who was to arrive that evening.  I was also desired to dig a pit in the courtyard.

—­[This fact must be noted.  Harrel is told to dig a trench before the sentence.  Thus it was known that they had come to kill the Duc d’Enghien.  How can this be answered?  Can it possibly be supposed that anyone, whoever it was, would have dared to give each an order in anticipation if the order had not been the carrying out of a formal command of Bonaparte?  That is incredible.—­Bourrienne.]—­

“I replied that that could not be easily done, as the courtyard was paved.  The moat was then fixed upon, and there the pit was dug.  The Prince arrived at seven o’clock in the evening; he was perishing with cold and hunger.  He did not appear dispirited.  He said he wanted something to eat, and to go to bed afterwards.  His apartment not being yet sufficiently aired, I took him into my own, and sent into the village for some refreshment.  The Prince sat down to table, and invited me to eat with him.  He then asked me a number of questions respecting Vincennes—­ what was going on there, and other particulars.  He told me that he had been brought up in the neighbourhood of the castle, and spoke to me with great freedom and kindness.  ‘What do they want with me?’ he said.  What do they mean to do with me?’ But these questions betrayed no uneasiness or anxiety.  My wife, who was ill, was lying in the same room in an alcove, closed by a railing.  She heard, without being perceived, all our conversation, and she was exceedingly agitated, for she recognised the Prince, whose foster-sister she was, and whose family had given her a pension before the Revolution.