M. de Fiesque declared that she should die if she tried to pass the
streets of Paris, where we began to hear loud cries. The maids
seemed to have all run away, and she implored me to go, with all that
was most necessary, to Mademoiselle.
'You are English! You are a very Gildippe. You have been in the
wars--you fear nothing,' said the poor woman. 'I implore you to go!'
And as I had my son with me, and it seemed to be a duty or even a
charity that no one else would undertake, though it was not likely
that any harm could come to us, I sent Gaspard to dress himself, with
my faithful Nicolas, who had come to light. The gentlemen undertook
to find us Mademoiselle's coach, and we hurried back to get together
what we could for our mistress. I laugh now to think of M. de
Fiesque and myself trying with our inexperienced hands to roll up a
mattress and some bedding, and to find the linen and the toilet
requisites, in which we had but small success, for the femmes de
chamber kept everything, and had all either run away or slept too far
off to hear us. We managed at last to fasten up the mattress with
the other things in it, tied by a long scarf at each end, and
dragging it to the top of the stairs we rolled it down each flight.
At the second it upset at unfortunate lackey, who began to yell,
firmly persuaded that it was a corpse, and that the Frondeurs had got
in and were beginning a general slaughter.
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