nd who appeared to be borne down
with fatigue, entered Paris through the Barrier d'Italie. Still, he
traversed the Boulevard de l'Hopital with a firm step, being a fine
well-made man, apparently about forty-eight years old. On arriving at
the bridge of Austerlitz, he crossed to the toll-bar at the further
extremity, and was accosted by the keeper, an invalid soldier, who
demanded the toll. Upon this he made a sign that he did not
understand French; but, on the other pulling out a sous piece, to
intimate the nature of his demand, the stranger shook his head,
heaved a deep sigh, and, after some hesitation, drew forth a fine
handkerchief, which he threw towards the toll-keeper, and hastened
away in the direction of the Boulevard Bourbon, to Pere la Chaise. He
got within the gates just before they were closed for the night, and
concealing himself amongst the tombs and bushes, escaped the notice
of the watchmen. It was thus that the stranger passed his first night
in Paris.

The day was far advanced when he was found, too much overcome by
hunger and fatigue to rise. A gentleman accidentally passing,
observed and pitied his condition. After supplying him with some
food, he recommended him to solicit the assistance of a benevolent
lady whom he named, as she was known far and near for her readiness
to help foreigners in distress; besides, she spoke the German
language fluently, the only one the worn-out traveller understood.
Acting upon this advice, he repaired to the generous Comtesse de R.'s
residence, at No. 16 Rue Richer. She was a lady well stricken in
years, and preserved an enthusiastic veneration for the Bourbon
branch of the royal family, having been _femme de chambre_ to the son
of Louis XVI. When the wretched wayfarer presented himself to her,
she naturally inquired who he was. To which he replied in German, 'I
am Charles-Louis, Duke of Normandy, son of Louis XVI. and Marie
Antoinette.' Upon hearing this unexpected reply, the good old
countess fainted. On recovering her senses, she exclaimed, 'Good
Heavens! he is the very image of his unfortunate mother!' On calmer
reflection, however, she was but half convinced, and determined to
put the stranger's identity to another test. She had kept as a relic
a little blue robe with metal buttons, which was worn by the royal
infant when she nursed him. This she brought forth; and the stranger
no sooner saw it, than he exclaimed, 'Ah, my little coat!' After
this, Comtesse de R