Of
my poor little Cecile scarcely anything was known. Annora had only
seen her once or twice, and even the poor English Queen was second in
interest to the illness of M. Darpent, and the fatigues of his wife
in nursing him. It seemed to me as if Lady Ommaney and my sister
discussed, as if he had been their near relation, every symptom of
him, who, in the eyes of all my recent companions, was nothing better
than an old frondeur, a rebel richly deserving to be put to death.
If Lady Ommaney had understood French, I really believe she would
have gone to help Madame Darpent, who had now been sitting up for
several nights; and though her son was most dutiful, and shared her
vigils, taking every imaginable care of his father, he could not
relieve her materially. The old man died the morning after my return
home, and Sir Francis, who had been to inquire, reported that the
funeral was to take place the next night by Madame's desire, as she
was resolved that it should not be made an occasion for the meeting
of inveighing against the Government as the remote cause of his
death.
The city was, in fact, in a very unquiet state; nevertheless, Queen
Henrietta returned to her apartments at the Louvre, and my mother
came back to us, though when she found me at home, she only remained
for one night. The Queen wanted her, and it was not convenient, in
the condition of things, to be carried about in a sedan chair.
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