on of Flora. M.
de Gouvion and M. de La Fayette would, of course, be apprised of this
circumstance, and well-informed persons have assured me that on the very
night of the Queen's departure this wretched woman had a spy with her, who
saw the royal family set off.

As soon as I had executed all the Queen's orders, on the 30th of May,
1791, I set out for Auvergne, and was settled in the gloomy narrow valley
of Mont d'Or, when, about four in the afternoon of the 25th of June, I
heard the beat of a drum to call the inhabitants of the hamlet together.
When it had ceased I heard a hairdresser from Bresse proclaim in the
provincial dialect of Auvergne: "The King and Queen were taking flight in
order to ruin France, but I come to tell you that they are stopped, and
are well guarded by a hundred thousand men under arms." I still ventured
to hope that he was repeating only a false report, but he went on: "The
Queen," with her well-known haughtiness, lifted up the veil which covered
her face, and said to the citizens who were upbraiding the King, "Well,
since you recognise your sovereign, respect him." Upon hearing these
expressions, which the Jacobin club of Clermont could not have invented, I
exclaimed, "The news is true!"

I immediately learnt that, a courier being come from Paris to Clermont,
the 'procureur' of the commune had sent off messengers to the chief places
of the canton; these again sent couriers to the districts, and the
districts in like manner informed the villages and hamlets which they
contained. It was through this ramification, arising from the
establishment of clubs, that the afflicting intelligence of the misfortune
of my sovereigns reached me in the wildest part of France, and in the
midst of the snows by which we were environed.

On the 28th I received a note written in a hand which I recognised as that
of M. Diet,--[This officer was slain in the Queen's chamber on the 10th of
August]--usher of the Queen's chamber, but dictated by her Majesty. It
contained these words: "I am this moment arrived; I have just got into my
bath; I and my family exist, that is all. I have suffered much. Do not
return to Paris until I desire you. Take good care of my poor Campan,
soothe his sorrow. Look for happier times." This note was for greater
safety addressed to my father-in-law's valet-de-chambre. What were my
feelings on perceiving that after the most distressing crisis we were
among the first objects of the k