We had both knelt to ask my mother's forgiveness for having
so often crossed her, and she finally wept and fainted, so that Meg
was wholly occupied in attending to her.
Clement stood by the carriage, looking his part so well that my first
impression was 'that stupid Jacques has come back after all.' Our
anxiety now was to be entirely out of reach before the fellow came
back, and hard was it to brook the long delay at the Porte St. Denis
ere the officials deigned to look at us and our passes. However, my
brother had gone through too many gates no to know that silver and an
air of indifference will smooth the way, so we came through at last
without our valet having been especially scanned.
Beyond the gates the sight was sad enough, the houses in the suburbs
with broken windows and doors as though pillaged, the gardens
devastated, the trees cut down, and the fields, which ought to have
been ripening to harvest, trampled or mown for forage, all looking as
if a hostile invader had been there, and yet it was the sons of the
country that had done this, while swarms of starving people pursued
us begging. Alas! had we not seen such a sight at home? We knew
what it must be to Clement, but as he sat by the driver we durst not
say a word of comfort to him.
At our intended resting-place for the night--I forget the name of it--
we found every house full of soldiers of the royal army, and but for
our passes I do not know what we should have done.
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