sound. It was a frightful, a terrible time.

"This morning I was seated at my desk. I had just laid aside my pen, and
was meditating whether, after the last kabar, the Queen would not have
come to a decision. All at once I heard an extraordinary noise in the
court. I was about to leave my room, the windows of which looked in an
opposite direction, to see what was the matter, when Mons. Laborde, one
of the conspirators, came to inform me that another great kabar was to
be held in the court, and that we were summoned to be present.

"We went, and found upwards of a hundred persons, judges and nobles and
officers, seated in a large semi-circle upon chairs and benches, and
some upon the ground. Behind them was drawn up a detachment of soldiers.
One of the officers received us, and assigned us places in front of the
judges. The latter were attired in long white _simboos_; their eyes were
fixed upon us with a sombre and ferocious glare, and for awhile the
silence of death prevailed. I confess that at first I felt somewhat
afraid, and I whispered to M. Laborde, 'I think our last hour has
arrived.' He replied, 'I am prepared for everything.'"

Happily, the balance went down in favour of mercy. Madame Pfeiffer, and
the other six Europeans then in Antananarivo, were ordered to quit the
capital immediately. They were only too thankful to obey the order, and
within an hour were on their way to Tamatave, escorted by seventy
Malagasy soldiers. They had good reason to congratulate themselves on
their escape, for on the very morning of their departure, two Christians
had been put to death with the most horrible tortures.

The journey to Tamatave was not unattended by dangers and difficulties;
and Madame Pfeiffer, who had been attacked with fever, underwent much
suffering. No doubt the recent mental strain had enfeebled her nervous
system, and rendered her more liable to disease. The escort purposely
delayed them on their journey; so that, instead of reaching the coast,
as they should have done, in eight days, the time actually occupied was
three-and-fifty. As the road traversed a low-lying and malarious
country, the consequences of such a delay were as serious as they were
probably meant to be. In the unhealthiest spots, moreover, the
travellers were forced to linger for a week or even a fortnight; and
frequently when Madame Pfeiffer was in agony from a violent access of
fever, the brutal soldiers would drag her from her wretched co