At the moment that the day began to dawn, she heard afar the gallop of a horse that drew near, passed the bridge, ascended the avenue, reached the Chateau, and in response to the challenge of the guard, she distinguished the words:  “An urgent message for Madame the Governess.”  It was a letter from the new King.  Madame de Gontaut trembled as she opened it.  Charles X. announced to her, in sad words, that Louis XVIII. was no more, and directed her to made ready for the arrival of the royal family.  “Lodge me where you and the governor shall see fit.  We shall probably pass three or four days at Saint Cloud.  Communicate my letter to the Marshal.  I have not strength to write another word.”

“The day was beginning to break,” we read in the unpublished Memoirs of the Governess of the Children of France.  “I went to the bed of Monseigneur.  He was awakened.  He was not surprised, and said nothing, and allowed himself to be dressed.  Not so with Mademoiselle.  I told her gently of the misfortune that had come upon her family.  I was agitated.  She questioned me, asking where was bon-papa.  I told her that he was still in Paris, but was coming to Saint Cloud; then I added:  ’Your bon-papa, Mademoiselle, is King, since the King is no more.’  She reflected, then, repeating the word:  ’King!  Oh! that indeed is the worst of the story.’  I was astonished, and wished her to explain her idea; she simply repeated it.  I thought then she had conceived the notion of a king always rolled about in his chair.”

The same day the court arrived.  It was no longer the light carriage that used almost daily to bring Monsieur, to the great joy of his grandchildren.  It was the royal coach with eight horses, livery, escort, and body-guard.  The Duke of Bordeaux and his sister were on the porch with their governess.  On perceiving the coach, instead of shouting with pleasure, as was their custom, they remained motionless and abashed.  Charles X. was pale and silent.  In the vestibule he paused:  “What chamber have you prepared for me?” he said sadly to Madame de Gontaut, glancing at the door of his own.  The governess replied:  “The apartment of Monsieur is ready, and the chamber of the King as well.”  The sovereign paused, then clasping his hands in silence:  “It must be!” he cried.  “Let us ascend.”

They followed him.  He passed through the apartments.  On the threshold of the royal chamber Madame de Gontaut brought to Charles X. the Duke of Bordeaux and Mademoiselle and he embraced them.  The poor children were disconcerted by so much sadness.  “As soon as I can,” he said to them, “I promise to come to see you.”  Then turning to the company:  “I would be alone.”  All withdrew in silence.  The Dauphiness was weeping.  The Dauphin had disappeared.  Everything was gloomy.  No one spoke.  Thus passed the first day of the reign of Charles X.