The men had heart of grace enough to follow me, more of them, indeed, than I wanted, as of course it was better to go quietly than to have them clattering with me.  I told them to keep a little in the rear, and I rode on, trying to see above the hedges the glancing of the helmets of the dragoons.  Across some vineyards I once caught sight of something like a carriage and a troop of horse, quite in a different direction from what I expected, and presently, when I came to a cross-road, I saw by the marks in the mud and more that they must have turned that way.  I must follow by such guidance as these supplied, and fortunately there had recently been rain, so that the wheel and hoof marks could be tracked.  To my amazement they led through many turns and twists at last towards Paris; but to my dismay, when I came to the paved roads that surround the city, I lost all traces.  I knew I was a remarkable figure when we were on the high roads, and so I kept back, making one of the servants inquire at a little cabaret on the road whether a carriage, attended by dragoons, had passed that way.

‘Yes,’ they brought me word.  ’A close carriage, no doubt containing a state prisoner, had been escorted by dragoons on the way to the Bastille.’

The man brought me back the answer, weeping.  I scolded the fellow well for thinking that these rogues saying Madame was at the Bastille made it so, and yet it echoed my own alarm.  I had at least ascertained one point.  She had not been transported to some solitary castle in the country, but must be near at hand.

I must now go home, and see what help was to be had; but as they would never let me pass the gates of Paris looking as I knew I must look, I was obliged to ride back and meet the carriage, which had bidden to follow us, and return to it in order to re-enter the city.

My mother was at St. Germain with our own Queen; who would be my resource?  I thought I had better first go home and see what Sir Francis Ommaney’s counsel would be, and whether he thought the English ambassador, Sir Richard Browne, could give any help, though, unfortunately, poor Meg was no longer an English subject.  There was consternation enough when I came in with my terrible news, but at least there was common-sense, and not shrieking.  Sir Francis recommended me at once to dress myself to go to St. Germain, while he would repair to the embassy, since Sir Richard was the most likely person to be able to advise him.  We also thought of sending a courier to Solivet, who was with the army on the frontier; and I put on a dress fit to obtain admission at St. Germain.  Lady Ommaney was scolding me into taking some food before starting, and crying, because she had a bad attack of rheumatism, and her husband would not let her go with us, when there was a knock, and one of the women ran in.  ’News, news, Mademoiselle!  News of Madame la Vicomtesse!  But ah! she is in a sad plight.’