grace his narration; nor were the affairs of the Barricadoes, nor the
chivalry of the Pertcocheres forgotten. My uncle began to wish himself
a thousand leagues off from the Marquis and his merciless memory, when
suddenly the little man's recollections took a more interesting turn.
He was relating the imprisonment of the Duke de Longueville, with the
Princes Condé and Conti, in the chateau of Vincennes, and the
ineffectual efforts of the Duchess to rouse the sturdy Normans to their
rescue. He had come to that part where she was invested by the royal
forces in the chateau of Dieppe, and in imminent danger of falling into
their hands.

"The spirit of the Duchess," proceeded the Marquis, "rose with her
trials. It was astonishing to see so delicate and beautiful a being
buffet so resolutely with hardships. She determined on a desperate
means of escape. One dark unruly night, she issued secretly out of a
small postern gate of the castle, which the enemy had neglected to
guard. She was followed by her female attendants, a few domestics, and
some gallant cavaliers who still remained faithful to her fortunes. Her
object was to gain a small port about two leagues distant, where she
had privately provided a vessel for her escape in case of emergency.

"The little band of fugitives were obliged to perform the distance on
foot. When they arrived at the port the wind was high and stormy, the
tide contrary, the vessel anchored far off in the road, and no means of
getting on board, but by a fishing shallop that lay tossing like a
cockle shell on the edge of the surf. The Duchess determined to risk
the attempt. The seamen endeavored to dissuade her, but the imminence
of her danger on shore, and the magnanimity of her spirit urged her on.
She had to be borne to the shallop in the arms of a mariner. Such was
the violence of the wind and waves, that he faltered, lost his