Nicolas at last came up with a message from Madame la Baronne to beg
that we would come down. We found that the Intendante Corquelebois
(erst Gringrimeau) had brought the children in a panic, lest the
houses of the partisans of the Princes should be attacked. She had
put on a cloak and hood, made them look as like children of the
people as she could, and brought them on foot through the streets;
and there stood the poor little things, trembling and crying, and
very glad to find their mother and cling to her. She had never
thought of this danger, and was shocked at herself for deserting
them. And it was a vain alarm; for, as M. Darpent assured her, M.
d'Aubepine was not conspicuous enough to have become a mark for
public hatred.
She was a little affronted by the assurance, but we appeased her, and
as the tumult was beginning to die away, M. Darpent took his leave,
promising my mother to let her know of any measure taken on the
morrow. He offered to protect Madame d'Aubepine and her children
back to their own hotel, but we could not let the poor wife go back
with her grief, nor the children turn out again on the winter's
night. I was glad to see that she seemed now on perfectly good terms
with herdame de compagnie, who showed herself really solicitous for
her and her comfort, and did not seem displeased when I took her to
my room. I found my poor little sister-in-law on the whole less
unhappy than formerly.
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