had dined with my father and mother, in company with one of their friends.
The drawing-room was lighted up with a number of candles, and four
card-tables were already occupied, when a friend of the gentleman of the
house came in, with a pale and terrified countenance, and said, in a voice
scarcely audible, 'I bring you terrible news. The King has been
assassinated!' Two ladies in the company fainted; a brigadier of the Body
Guards threw down his cards and cried out, 'I do not wonder at it; it is
those rascally Jesuits.'--'What are you saying, brother?' cried a lady,
flying to him; 'would you get yourself arrested?'--'Arrested! For what?
For unmasking those wretches who want a bigot for a King?' My father came
in; he recommended circumspection, saying that the blow was not mortal,
and that all meetings ought to be suspended at so critical a moment. He
had brought the chaise for my mother, who placed me on her knees. We
lived in the Avenue de Paris, and throughout our drive I heard incessant
cries and sobs from the footpaths.

"At last I saw a man arrested; he was an usher of the King's chamber, who
had gone mad, and was crying out, 'Yes, I know them; the wretches! the
villains!' Our chaise was stopped by this bustle. My mother recognised
the unfortunate man who had been seized; she gave his name to the trooper
who had stopped him. The poor usher was therefore merely conducted to the
gens d'armes' guardroom, which was then in the avenue.

"I have often heard M. de Landsmath, equerry and master of the hounds, who
used to come frequently to my father's, say that on the news of the
attempt on the King's life he instantly repaired to his Majesty. I cannot
repeat the coarse expressions he made use of to encourage his Majesty; but
his account of the affair, long afterwards, amused the parties in which he
was prevailed on to relate it, when all apprehensions respecting the
consequences of the event had subsided. This M. de Landsmath was an old