nne, Marquise de Torignan, aged ninety-one, and
her grand-daughter, a lovely young woman of twenty-two, perished in the
same massacre. The personal beauty of the latter, which was much
celebrated in the neighbourhood, had interested one of the brigands of
Orange in her fate, who promised to exert his influence with the council
of five, to save the life of the grandmother, on condition of receiving
the hand of Mademoiselle d'Ozanne. The poor girl overcame her horror and
reluctance for the sake of her aged relative, and promised to marry this
man on condition of his success in the promised application. The life,
however, of so formidable a conspirator as a superannuated and dying
woman, was too great a favour to be granted even to a friend; and the
only boon which he could obtain was the promise of Mademoiselle
d'Ozanne's life, in consideration of her becoming his wife. "Eh bien! il
faut mourir ensemble;" was her answer without a moment's deliberation,
and next day, accordingly, both the relatives perished on the same
scaffold. Poor Peyrol himself, after expecting the fatal _Allons_ for
many a morning, was at length relieved from his apprehensions by the
fall of Robespierre, and obtained his release, on condition of serving
in the army. After fighting for four years, with a cordial detestation
of the cause in which he was engaged, he was disabled for the time by a
severe wound, and obtained leave to return to Grignan, where he settled
in the little inn; but the most severe blow of all was yet in store for
him; for his wife died not long after, leaving him with five children.
"Ainsi vous voyez, Monsieur, que j'ai connu le malheur. Au reste, Mons.
de Muy m'a donne la clef de ce chateau, et cela me vaut quelque chose;
car il y a du monde qui viennent quelquefois le voir." Then, relapsing
into his habitual strain of complaint, he ended with, "Oh mon pauvre
cher maitre! ce beau, ce grand chateau! ah, j'ai tout perdu!" One bright
moment, however, as he exultingly remarked, occurred during his
compulsory service in the army; for it so chanced that he was one of the
guard on duty during the execution of his former oppressor, Fauvette.
"Moi a mon tour je l'accompagnois a cet echafaud ou il m'auroit envoye;
il avoit la mine triste, un fleur de jasmin a la bouche; ma foi, ca ne
sentoit pas bon pour lui."

Such is an exact transcript of our communicative host's conversation,
which, notwithstanding the suspicion with which I regard the