amiable and worthy artist, whom I had known from my infancy.  She lived in the galleries of the Louvre.  The choice seemed a good one.  The Queen remembered that she had made her marriage possible by giving her a place in the financial offices, and added that gratitude ought sometimes to be reckoned on.  She then pointed out to me the valet belonging to her toilet, whom I was to take with me, to show him the residence of Madame Coster, so that he might not mistake it when he should take the portfolio to her.  The day before her departure the Queen particularly recommended me to proceed to Lyons and the frontiers as soon as she should have started.  She advised me to take with me a confidential person, fit to remain with M. Campan when I should leave him, and assured me that she would give orders to M. ------ to set off as soon as she should be known to be at the frontiers in order to protect me in going out.  She condescended to add that, having a long journey to make in foreign countries, she determined to give me three hundred louis.

I bathed the Queen’s hands with tears at the moment of this sorrowful separation; and, having money at my disposal, I declined accepting her gold.  I did not dread the road I had to travel in order to rejoin her; all my apprehension was that by treachery or miscalculation a scheme, the safety of which was not sufficiently clear to me, should fail.  I could answer for all those who belonged to the service immediately about the Queen’s person, and I was right; but her wardrobe woman gave me well-founded reason for alarm.  I mentioned to the Queen many revolutionary remarks which this woman had made to me a few days before.  Her office was directly under the control of the first femme de chambre, yet she had refused to obey the directions I gave her, talking insolently to me about “hierarchy overturned, equality among men,” of course more especially among persons holding offices at Court; and this jargon, at that time in the mouths of all the partisans of the Revolution, was terminated by an observation which frightened me.  “You know many important secrets, madame,” said this woman to me, “and I have guessed quite as many.  I am not a fool; I see all that is going forward here in consequence of the bad advice given to the King and Queen; I could frustrate it all if I chose.”  This argument, in which I had been promptly silenced, left me pale and trembling.  Unfortunately, as I began my narrative to the Queen with particulars of this woman’s refusal to obey me,—­and sovereigns are all their lives importuned with complaints upon the rights of places,—­she believed that my own dissatisfaction had much to do with the step I was taking; and she did not sufficiently fear the woman.  Her office, although a very inferior one, brought her in nearly fifteen thousand francs a year.  Still young, tolerably handsome, with comfortable apartments in the entresols of the Tuileries, she saw a great deal of company, and in the evening had assemblies,