his ceremony," she says, "a GRAND HABIT and a GRAND PANIER.
I was so proud of them that I caused much amusement at the Queen's,
whither my mother took me after the baptism. Being connected with the
Duchess of Polignac, she often took me to Versailles; there I saw
Madame Royale, younger than I, and the poor, little, handsome,
delightful Dauphin. The Queen, wishing to give them a little fete,
organized a children's spectacle, in which I was entrusted with a part.
The piece chosen was Iphigenie en Aulide. Mademoiselle de Sabran and
her brother, as well as a young Strogonoff, were, it is said, perfect
actors. Armand de Polignac had a little part. Tragedy was not my forte.
But in the second piece I achieved a little success, which the
Chevalier de Boufflers was kind enough to celebrate in a very bright
couplet, sung at the close. He gave me the name of the Little White
Mouse. After that the Queen called me her little white mouse, and
showed me a thousand kindnesses. After the play there was a children's
supper; the princes waited on, us and were much diverted by our
enjoyment; Louis XVI. stood behind my chair for a moment, and even gave
me a plate. The Queen sent me home in her sedan chair; footmen carried
great torches; the body-guard presented arms to us. So much honor
would, perhaps, have turned my head, but for my prudent mother who knew
how to calm it."

The sorrows of exile followed rapidly on the first enchantments of
life. It was in England, during the Emigration, that the future
Governess of the Children of France married M. de Saint-Blanchard,
Viscount de Gontaut-Biron. She was then residing at Epsom, where she
lived on the proceeds of little pictures which she painted. She gave
birth to twin daughters October 9th, 1796. "I nursed them both," she
says, "our means not permitting us to have two nurses in one little
household, and I felt strong enough for this double task. Brought into
the world at seven and one-half months, their frail existence required
my care night and day." In 1797, Madame de Gontaut visited Paris under
a false name, and after this journey, on which she ran many risks, she
returned to England, where she was the companion in exile of the
princes. Monsieur, the Count d'Artois, the future Charles X., was then
pursued by his creditors. The Castle of Holyrood, privileged by law,
sheltered its occupants from all legal process. That is why the Prince
Regent offered its hospitality to the brother of Loui