now take my father to the lock-up to pass the night there until the
_proces verbal_ should be drawn up, and though he regretted it,
his orders in similar cases were always to handcuff his prisoners. The
family, who had gathered together on hearing the loud altercation,
were struck with consternation. The idea of our parent being led in
fetters through a French town, and then flung into a French dungeon,
was so unspeakably painful to us that we were nearly throwing
ourselves at the big policeman's feet to implore him to spare our
progenitor, when the burly gendarme suddenly pulled off his false
beard, revealing the extensive but familiar features of the Duc de
Vallombrosa. The second slight-built gendarme at the door, proved to
be General Sir George Higginson, most admirably made up. My father
insisted on the two gendarmes dining with us. As our servants were not
in the secret, the presence of two French policemen in uniform at the
family dinner-table must have rather surprised them.

I must plead guilty myself to another attempt at impersonation. During
my father's second term of office as Lord Lieutenant of Ireland, my
mother had a severe nervous breakdown, due to the unexpected death of
a very favourite sister of mine. One of the principal duties of a Lord
Lieutenant is (or rather was) to entertain ceaselessly, and private
mourning was not supposed to interfere with this all-important task.
So, after a respite of four months, the endless round of dinners,
dances, and balls recommenced, but my mother could not forget her
loss, and had no heart for any festivities, nor did she wish to meet
strangers. My father took a house for her on the sea-coast near
Dublin, to which she retired, and my only remaining unmarried sister
took, with Queen Victoria's permission, my mother's place as Lady
Lieutenant for two years.