On the day when the return of the royal family was expected, there were no carriages in motion in the streets of Paris.  Five or six of the Queen’s women, after being refused admittance at all the other gates, went with one of my sisters to that of the Feuillans, insisting that the sentinel should admit them.  The poissardes attacked them for their boldness in resisting the order excluding them.  One of them seized my sister by the arm, calling her the slave of the Austrian.  “Hear me,” said my sister to her, “I have been attached to the Queen ever since I was fifteen years of age; she gave me my marriage portion; I served her when she was powerful and happy.  She is now unfortunate.  Ought I to abandon her?”—­“She is right,” cried the poissardes; “she ought not to abandon her mistress; let us make an entry for them.”  They instantly surrounded the sentinel, forced the passage, and introduced the Queen’s women, accompanying them to the terrace of the Feuillans.  One of these furies, whom the slightest impulse would have driven to tear my sister to pieces, taking her under her protection, gave her advice by which she might reach the palace in safety.  “But of all things, my dear friend,” said she to her, “pull off that green ribbon sash; it is the color of that D’Artois, whom we will never forgive.”

The measures adopted for guarding the King were rigorous with respect to the entrance into the palace, and insulting as to his private apartments.  The commandants of battalion, stationed in the salon called the grand cabinet, and which led to the Queen’s bedchamber, were ordered to keep the door of it always open, in order that they might have their eyes upon the royal family.  The King shut this door one day; the officer of the guard opened it, and told him such were his orders, and that he would always open it; so that his Majesty in shutting it gave himself useless trouble.  It remained open even during the night, when the Queen was in bed; and the officer placed himself in an armchair between the two doors, with his head turned towards her Majesty.  They only obtained permission to have the inner door shut when the Queen was rising.  The Queen had the bed of her first femme de chambre placed very near her own; this bed, which ran on casters, and was furnished with curtains, hid her from the officer’s sight.

Madame de Jarjaye, my companion, who continued her functions during the whole period of my absence, told me that one night the commandant of battalion, who slept between the two doors, seeing that she was sleeping soundly, and that the Queen was awake, quitted his post and went close to her Majesty, to advise her as to the line of conduct she should pursue.  Although she had the kindness to desire him to speak lower in order that he might not disturb Madame de Jarjaye’s rest, the latter awoke, and nearly died with fright at seeing a man in the uniform of the Parisian guard so near the Queen’s bed.  Her Majesty comforted her, and told her not to rise; that the person she saw was a good Frenchman, who was deceived respecting the intentions and situation of his sovereign and herself, but whose conversation showed sincere attachment to the King.