me
asked whither I wished to go. Upon my inquiring, in my turn, whether they
were at liberty to take me wherever I might wish to go, one of them, a
Marseillais, asked me, giving me at the same time a push with the butt end
of his musket, whether I still doubted the power of the people? I
answered "No," and I mentioned the number of my brother-in-law's house. I
saw my sister ascending the steps of the parapet of the bridge, surrounded
by members of the National Guard. I called to her, and she turned round.
"Would you have her go with you?" said my guardian to me. I told him I did
wish it. They called the people who were leading my sister to prison; she
joined me.

Madame de la Roche-Aymon and her daughter, Mademoiselle Pauline de
Tourzel, Madame de Ginestoux, lady to the Princesse de Lamballe, the other
women of the Queen, and the old Comte d'Affry, were led off together to
the Abbaye.

Our progress from the Tuileries to my sister's house was most distressing.
We saw several Swiss pursued and killed, and musket-shots were crossing
each other in all directions. We passed under the walls of the Louvre;
they were firing from the parapet into the windows of the gallery, to hit
the knights of the dagger; for thus did the populace designate those
faithful subjects who had assembled at the Tuileries to defend the King.

The brigands broke some vessels of water in the Queen's first antechamber;
the mixture of blood and water stained the skirts of our white gowns. The
poissardes screamed after us in the streets that we were attached to the
Austrian. Our protectors then showed some consideration for us, and made
us go up a gateway to pull off our gowns; but our petticoats being too
short, and making us look like persons in disguise, other poissardes began
to bawl out that we were young Swiss dressed up like women. We then saw a
tribe of female cannibals enter the street, carrying the head of poor
Mandat. Our guards made us hastily enter a little public-house, called
for wine, and desired us to drink with them. They assured the landlady
that we were their sisters, and good patriots. Happily the Marseillais
had quitted us to return to the Tuileries. One of the men who remained
with us said to me in a low voice: "I am a gauze-worker in the faubourg.
I was forced to march; I am not for all this; I have not killed anybody,
and have rescued you. You ran a great risk when we met the mad women who
are carrying Mandat's head