garret, I heard the cries and shrieks of men, women, and children, that the Papists were massacring in the streets: and, having left mine own little daughter in the apartments below, I fell into such perplexity, and almost despair, that, but for the fear of offending God, I would have precipitated myself from the house-top, in order to escape falling alive into the hands of that populace, or seeing mine own daughter massacred, which was what I feared more than death. A woman servant of mine took away the dear child, and carried it in her arms through all those dangers and horrors, and went and found out the late dame Marie Guillard, the lady of Esprunes, my maternal grandmother, who was yet living, and left the child with her, and the child remained with her until her death. And this same Tuesday, in the afternoon, was killed in the same street in which M. de Perreuze dwelt, and which was the old street of the Temple, the late President de la Place, of happy memory; those who butchered him pretending that they were going to carry him to the king, in the view of saving his life. M. de Perreuze, seeing himself menaced and assailed so near at hand, in order to preserve our lives and save his house from being sacked, employed M. de Thou, king's advocate, and now president of his Court of Parliament. This tempest having passed by more hastily than we expected, we devised how we might disguise ourselves and seek some other hiding-place. Go to my dear mother I could not, for they had placed a guard in her house. I betook myself to the house of a farrier, who had married one of my mother's chamberwomen, a seditious man, and one that was captain of his quarter; but, as he had received favors and benefactions from my mother, I promised myself that he would not willingly injure me. My poor mother came to see me at the farrier's in the evening; she was rather dead than living, and much more petrified by fear than I was. I passed that night in the house of the captain-farrier, hearing nothing but abuse of the Huguenots, and seeing nothing but the pillage that was brought in from the houses of those who professed the Protestant faith. The captain-farrier told me in strong terms that I must go to mass.

On the Wednesday morning my mother sent to the President Tambonneau, and to her mother-in-law, Madame Morin, to ask if

they could not conceal me in the house they occupied. And about the hour of noon I went thitherward all alone; but because I knew not the way I followed a little boy, who went before me to show it. They were lodged in the cloisters of Notre Dame, and there was nobody in the house except Madame Morin, mother to the wife of the Chancellor de l'Hôpital, Messires and Madame Tambonneau, Messire de Paroy their brother, and one of their servants named Jacques Minier, who knew that I was hid there within. Having entered quite secretly, I was concealed in the study of the President Tambonneau, and there I remained all that day and night, and all the next day. But on Thursday, towards the evening, we were warned that they were coming to seek therein for M. de Chaumont Barbesieux and Madame de Belesbat; and mine hosts, fearing that if they came they might find me, were of opinion that I ought to seek another asylum; which I did about midnight, being conducted to the house of a corn-factor, who was their servant and a good man. There I lay hid for five days, being assisted and comforted by Messire and Madame Tambonneau, and by all of that house. Besides what I feel for them as my relations, there never can be a day of my life in which I shall not be grateful for the friendship and aid they

afforded me at this crisis.

On the following Tuesday my mother, having recovered a little from her excessive agitation, and having found means to save my brothers from this wreck by persuading them to go to mass, thought to save me by the same means, and spoke to me of it through M. de Paroy our cousin, who, after many conversations which we had together, found me, by the grace of God, very much averse to it. On Wednesday morning, after my mother had made several attempts to change my determination, and after receiving from me not the answer which she wished, but only an entreaty to convey me out of Paris, she sent to tell me that she would be constrained to send me back my daughter. I could only reply, that if it must be so I would take her into my arms, and that then we should be left to be massacred together; but at the same time I resolved to leave Paris, whatever might happen to me in the attempt, and I prayed those who carried this message to engage a place for me on board of a passage-boat, or in

any boat going up the Seine. All the time I remained in the corn-merchant's house I was in great discomfort, for I was lodged in a room above that of Madame de Foissy (a hot Papist), and so durst not walk up and down lest I should be discovered, nor could I venture to light a candle at night lest she or some of the neighbors should see it, and find me out. What they gave me to eat, it was secretly; a few morsels were wrapt up in a napkin, and they came into my room under pretence of getting linen for the said dame de Foissy. At last I departed from that lodging on Wednesday, the eleventh day after the massacre, about eleven o'clock in the morning, and went on board a boat which was going to Sens. In this boat I found two monks and a priest, and two merchants with their wives. When we arrived at the Tournelles, where there was a guard of soldiers, the boat was stopped, and our passports were demanded. My companions all showed theirs, but I had none to show. Then they began to call me a Huguenot, and to threaten to drown me: and they made me get out of the boat. I begged them to carry me to M. de Voysenon, auditor of accounts, who was a friend of mine, and who managed the affairs of Madame d'Esprunes, my grandmother. He was known as a stanch Roman Catholic; and I assured the soldiers that he would answer for me. Two soldiers of the guard took me and carried me to the said house. It pleased God that these two men should stay at the door, and that I should be allowed to go up stairs alone. Poor M. de Voysenon was greatly astonished at seeing me, and although I was disguised he knew me and called me by my name, and told me about some other ladies who had fled to his house for concealment. I told him that I had no time to listen to him, (for I feared that the soldiers were following me up stairs,) that it appeared as though God willed he should be the means of saving my life, and that otherwise I could only look upon myself as one that was dead. He went down stairs, and found the soldiers, to whom he gave assurance that he had seen me in the house of Madame d'Esprunes, whose son was Bishop of Senlis, and who was herself a good Catholic and well known as such. The soldiers replied that they did not want to know about Madame d'Esprunes and the Bishop of Senlis, but about me. M. de Voysenon told them that in former times he

had known me to be a good Catholic, but that he could not answer for my being one now. At this moment an honest woman came up, and asked them what they would do with me. They said "Pardieu! It is a Huguenot, that must be drowned! We can tell what she is by the fear she is in!" And in truth I did think that they were going to throw me into the river. The honest woman said to them: "You know me, I am no Huguenot; I go every day to mass; but I have been so terrified at that which I have seen done in Paris, that for these eight days past I have had a fever upon me." Then one of the soldiers said, "Pardieu! and I and all of us have symptoms of fever upon us!" And so they carried me back to the boat, telling me that if I had been a man I should not have escaped so easily. At the very time that I was stopped in the boat, the lodging in Paris which I had quitted was ransacked; and if I had been found there great would have been my danger. We continued our voyage. All the afternoon, those monks and those merchants did nothing but talk joyfully of what they had seen in Paris; and whenever I ventured to say a word they told me that I spoke like a Huguenot. I could do nothing better than to pretend to fall asleep, thus escaping the necessity of talking with them. When it was night, we landed at a place called Petit la Borde. the afore-named Jacques Minier, who had been sent by Madame Tambonneau to know what would become of me, that lady being much troubled on my account, because she had heard that I had been arrested at the Tournelles. He made me a sign not to recognize him; but as it was he who had taken my place in the boat, he was recognized as my acquaintance by the two women in the boat. I found means to let him know this without their observing it. He soon came into the inn where we all were, and told me that my mistress had sent him into the country to attend the vintage. At supper he sat at table with us, put on an air of ease, and calling me familiarly by my Christian name Charlotte, and bidding me fill his glass for him. This removed all the suspicions that had been entertained of me. They had but one room in this inn, with three beds in it. The two monks and the priest lay down on one bed, the two merchants on another, and the two women and myself on the third. I was not without my fears and troubles.

There I perceived

I had on a chemise of fine Holland cloth, garnished with lace, which Madame Tambonneau had lent me, and I feared very much that, sleeping with these two women, they might guess from my attire that I was not what I pretended to be. On Thursday morning, as we were going into the boat, the said Minier said that he would walk, as the motion of a boat always made him ill; but he told me, in a whisper, to beware of going to Corbeil or Melun, of which places our family were the feudal lords, for it was to bo feared that I should be known there in spite of my disguise, and so run into danger, and that I should remember to disembark at the village of Yuri, at the distance of a short league from Corbeil. When I saw the village, I asked the boatman to land me, which he refused to do; but, as God willed it, the boat grounded just opposite to the village, and this obliged him to land us all. Having paid the fare, the said Jacques Minier and I went into the said village of Yuri. Being there, he took the resolution to conduct me to the Bouchet, a house belonging to M. the President Tambonneau, and place me under the care of the President's vinedresser. In all we walked about fifteen miles on foot; and, having left me with this poor vine-dresser, Minier went to Wallagrand to the house of the Chancellor de l'Hôpital, to learn if there were any possibility of my being harbored with Madame his wife. But he found them all in great dismay, the King having sent down a strong garrison to the Chancellor's house, under the shadow of protecting it. The Chancellor's wife, who professed the reformed religion, had already been compelled to go to mass. The Chancellor sent, through the said Minier, to offer me his house, telling me, however, that I could not stay there without going to mass; a thing which he never could think I would consent to do, seeing the desperate courage with which I had fled out of Paris in the midst of all these dangers. I abode with the vine-dresser fifteen days, and Minier betook himself back to Paris. I had trouble almost as soon as I arrived at this place, called the Bouchet. The Queen's Swiss troops came ransacking all the villages to find some poor Huguenot, but it pleased God that they entered not the house wherein I lay concealed. The presence of these Swiss served me as an excuse for not going out of the house, and prevented the vine-dresser from pressing me to go to mass.

This