h me to return to the
deputy's request for a private audience?'

"'What answer?' exclaimed the Queen. No answer at all is the best answer
to such a presumptuous proposition! I tremble for the consequences of
the impression their disloyal manoeuvres have made upon the minds of the
people, and I have no faith whatever in their proffered services to the
King. However, on reflection, it may be expedient to temporise. Continue
to see him. Learn, if possible, how far he may be trusted; but do not
fix any time, as yet, for the desired audience. I wish to apprise the
King, first, of his interview with you, Princess. This conversation does
not agree with what he and Mirabeau proposed about the King's recovering
his prerogatives. Are these the prerogatives with which he flattered the
King? Binding him hand and foot, and excluding him from every privilege,
and then casting him a helpless dependant on the caprice of a volatile
plebeian faction! The French nation is very different from the English.
The first rules of the established ancient order of the government broken
through, they will violate twenty others, and the King will be
sacrificed, before this frivolous people again organise themselves with
any sort of regular government.'

"Agreeably to Her Majesty's commands, I continued to see Barnave. I
communicated with him by letter,' at his private lodgings at Passy, and
at Vitry; but it was long before the Queen could be brought to consent to
the audience he solicited.

[Of these letters I was generally the bearer. I recollect that day
perfectly. I was copying some letters for the Princesse de Lamballe,
when the Prince de Conti came in. The Prince lived not only to see, but
to feel the errors of his system. He attained a great age. He outlived
the glory of his country. Like many others, the first gleam of political
regeneration led him into a system, which drove him out of France, to
implore the shelter of a foreign asylum, that he might not fall a victim
to his own credulity. I had an opportunity of witnessing in his latter
days his sincere repentance; and to this it is fit that I should bear
testimony. There were no bounds to the execration with which he expressed
himself towards the murderers of those victims, whose death he lamented
with a bitterness in which some remorse was mingled, from the impression
that his own early errors in favour of the Revolution had unintentionally
accelerated their untimely en