“Why, madame, I am one of the national guard.  I have only to put on my uniform to be enabled to go to any part of the palace I please.  Tell me his name, and where you think it likely he may be found, and depend upon it I will bring him to you.”

“Perhaps,” continued he, “it is your husband disguised as a servant; but no matter.  Give me a clue, and I’ll warrant you he shall tell you the rest himself by this time to-morrow.”

“Well, then,” replied I, “he is in the Pavilion of Flora.”

“What, with the Princesse de Lamballe?  Oh, I would go through fire and water for that good Princess!  She has done me the honour to stand godmother to one of my children, and allows her a pension.”

I took him at his word.  We changed our quarters to his father’s house, a very neat little cottage, about a quarter of a mile from the town.  He afterwards rendered me many services in going to and fro from Passy to Paris; and, as he promised, brought me my servant.

When the poor fellow arrived, his arm was in a sling.  He had been wounded by a musket shot, received in defence of the Princess.  The history of his disaster was this: 

On the night of the riot, as he was going from the Pont Royal to the apartment of Her Highness, he detected a group of villains under her windows.  Six of them were attempting to enter by a ladder.  He fired, and two fell.  While he was reloading, the others shot at him.  Had he not, in the flurry of the moment, fired both his pistols at the same time, he thinks he should not have been wounded, but might have punished the assailant.  One of the men, he said, could have been easily taken by the national guard, who so glaringly encouraged the escape that he could almost swear the guard was a party concerned.  The loss of blood had so exhausted him that he could not pursue the offender himself, whom otherwise he could have taken without any difficulty.

As the employing of my servant had only been proposed, and the sudden interruption of my conversation with Her Highness by the riot had prevented my ever communicating the project to him, I wondered how he got into the business, or ascertained so soon that the apartment of the Princess was in danger.  He explained that he never had heard of its being so; but my own coachman having left me at the palace that day, and not hearing of me for some time, had driven home, and, fearing that my not returning arose from something which had happened, advised him to go to the Pont Royal and hear what he could learn, as there was a report of many persons having been murdered and thrown over the bridge.

My man took the advice, and armed himself to be ready in case of attack.  It was between one and two o’clock after midnight when he went.  The first objects he perceived were these miscreants attempting to scale the palace.

He told me that the Queen had been most grossly insulted; that the gates of the Tuileries had been shut in consequence; that a small part alone remained open to the public, who were kept at their distance by a national ribbon, which none could pass without being instantly arrested.  This had prevented his apprising the Princess of the attempt which he had accidentally defeated, and which he wished me to communicate to her immediately.  I did so by letter, which my good driver carried to Paris, and delivered safe into the hands of our benefactress.