This lent excitement to the days. I had not felt so alive for a long time, and Axel was possessed with a furious de termination to make the plan succeed. shall carry you off to safety,” he told me.

He would talk of the berline, which was to be a very luxurious affair.

“Nothing but the best will do,” he had declared; he had mortgaged some estates in Sweden to provide the money. It was wonderful to be so loved. His plan was that we should leave with as few people as possible. Madame de Tourael must come with us because the children would need her to look after them, so Axel’s plan was that Madame de Tourael would be a Russian lady, Madame de Korff, travelling with her children, their governess and one lackey; and three women servants, one of whom should be Madame Elisabeth. I was to be the governess, Madame Rochet. He had acquired a passport in the name of Madame de Korff and we knew we could trust Madame de Tourzel to play her part.

The days were flying past; we were so excited; even Louis was caught up in it and eager to begin our flight. But, said Axel, there must be no hitches; everything must be planned down to the last detail and we must not slip up. The most difficult part would be to get out of Paris. That was the danger spot. Axel himself was going to take the part of coachman and would drive the berline. Everything de pended, he said, on our putting as great a distance as possible between ourselves and Paris before our escape was noticed.

Provence, who was to escape with us, pointed out that the berline was so magnificent that it might attract attention, but Axel reminded him that we had to travel many miles in it. It would be an uncomfortable journey, and the Queen could not endure hours in a badly-sprung vehicle.

Provence shrugged his shoulders and said that he would provide his own conveyance for himself and his wife, and decided on one of the shabbiest carriages that he could find.

Meanwhile Louis made a stipulation. Axel naturally wished to drive us to the frontier, but the King said he should do so only to the first halt, which would be Bendy.

Axel was dismayed. This was his plan. He was in charge; and how could he be, if he were to leave us at Bondy! But Louis for once was stubborn. I wondered whether he was comparing himself with Axel and realising why I could love this man as I never could himself.

I could not believe Louis was jealous; I knew that he loved me in his way, but it was an affection without passion. Yet he was adamant and would not allow Axel to come beyond Bondy; so there was nothing we could do but accept his decision. The ninth of June was the day which we settled on to begin our escape.

I was absorbed in my preparations. Madame Campan was with me; she knew of the plan, for I could trust her absolutely. I said when I arrived at Montmedy I should not want to appear as a governess but as a Queen, and how could I take all I would need with me. Madame Campan must make the preparations for me. She must order chemises and gowns. She must also buy for my son and daughter. She had a son of her own who could act as model for the Dauphin, I told her.

I knew Madame Campan would carry out these commands, although from her expression she was against my ordering clothes.

She was always frank, and said: “Madame, the Queen of France will find gowns and linen wherever she goes. This buying may well attract attention, which is what we wish to avoid.”

I was light-headed and growing as careless as I used to be, so I smiled at her. But she was disturbed.

I told her about the berline, which I couldn’t help boasting of because Axel had designed it.

“It is painted green and yellow,” I said, ‘and upholstered in white Utrecht velvet. “

“Madame,” she answered, ‘such a vehicle will never pass unnoticed. “

She added with that touch of asperity which she did not hide even from me that the berline would be very different from the carriage in which Monsieur and Madame travelled.

“Oh, very different,” I agreed. Theirs had not been designed by Axel.

I was to realise later how firmly planted in our minds were these rules of etiquette at which I had laughed so much when I had first come to France. We could not even attempt to escape except in the royal manner, even though what we must disguise was our royalty. There were to be six of us in the be rime—myself, the King, the children, Elisabeth and Madame de Tourzel. This was a large number and would slow down the speed, but we must all be together, and naturally Madame de Tourzel as Madame de Korff must be with us. I had never dressed myself so I must have two ladies in waiting, who were to follow the berline in a cabriolet. Then of course we must have outriders and lackeys, so the party was brought up to more than a dozen; and of course Axel and his coachman would be with us. Our clothes, packed in new cases, had to be carried too, which would make the berline very cumbersome and cut down speed even more.

But it was such a wonderful vehicle. It filled me with pleasure merely to look at it. Axel had thought of everything, there was even a silver dinner service, a canteen to contain bottles of wine, a cupboard and even two pots de chambre in tanned leather.

It was too much to hope that our plan would go through without hitches, and there were hitches in plenty.

The first came through the wardrobe woman, Madame Rochereuil. I had become suspicious of her soon after we were turned back to the Tuileries when we had planned to go to Saint-Cloud, for I had learned that she had a lover, Gouvion, who was a fierce revolutionary and had in fact arranged that she should have the post in my household that she might spy on me. She had warned Gouvion of our intention to go to Saint-Cloud at Easter, and in consequence the Orleanists had had time to inflame the mob and prevent our going.

How I longed to rid myself of that woman, but of course we were in truth prisoners and unable to choose those whom we wished to serve us.

I told Axel that we could not go on the ninth for the woman had seen me packing and might even have overheard the date mentioned. If we attempted to leave then, we should most certainly find ourselves stopped. What we must do was go on with our preparations, let the woman think we were leaving on the ninth, and then stay at the Tuileries as though it were all a mistake. When we had lulled her suspicions we could leave swiftly, without her having an inkling we were going.

Axel saw the reason in this but was dismayed, for he said the longer we delayed the more dangerous it was becoming; but we fixed a secret date for the nineteenth, which was long enough to allow Madame Rochereuil to become convinced that she had been mistaken.

This was the first setback, but, we all agreed, inevitable. As the nineteenth came nearer the tension was almost unbearable. How grateful I was for Louis’s calm; he at least had no difficulty in showing a placid face to all. I tried to too, but I dared not look at Elisabeth for fear I should betray by a look that there was a secret between us.

We had not, of course, told the children. The nineteenth was almost upon us. All was ready. It became very clear that something had leaked, because an article by Marat appeared in L'Ami du Peuple, in which he expressed his suspicions that there was a plot afoot.

“The idea is to remove the King forcibly to the Low Countries on the pretext that his cause is that of the Kings of Europe. Are you imbeciles that you take no steps to prevent the flight of the Royal Family? Parisians, fools that you are, I am weary of saying to you over and over again that you should have the King and the Dauphin in safe keeping; that you should lock up the Austrian Woman, her brother-in-law and the rest of the family. The loss of one day might be disastrous to the nation, might dig the graves of three million Frenchmen.” Axel was frantic with anxiety.

“It is too coincidental,” he said.

“Something has leaked.”

I know it is that Rochereuil woman I’ I cried.

“She is aware of something, though I do not believe she is sure what.”

“Yet we must leave on the nineteenth,” insisted Axel.

“We dare not wait longer.”

It was the eighteenth and we were prepared to begin the escape next day. Then Madame de Tourzel came to me in some excitement, and lowering her voice told me that Madame de Rochereuil had asked leave of absence for the twentieth.

“I have ascertained,” added Madame de Tourzel, ‘that she wishes to visit a sick friend. Gouvion is unwell, so it seems obvious whom she will visit. “

We must postpone our departure until the twentieth,” I said, and I sent a messenger at once to Axel. He was disturbed at the postponement, for everyone involved throughout the journey had had their instructions; but we arranged that Leonard, the hairdresser, whom I knew I could trust, should take my jewels to Brussels and at the same time he could meet the cavalry on the road with a note explaining that we should be a day late.

This was settled; Leonard left with the jewels. And now we were breathlessly awaiting the twentieth.

The important day had arrived. The sun was shining brilliantly and this seemed a good omen. There would be few people in the city, I whispered to Elisabeth; they would be out in the country on such a day. Madame Rochereuil had gone off to visit her sick friend; and the day passed very slowly so that I thought it would never end. But outwardly it appeared to be an ordinary day, which was as we wanted it.

At last it was supper time; we lingered as usual, but naturally there was not the same ceremony as we had had to endure at Versailles. At least we could be thankful for this. I went to my bedroom and from there hurried to my daughter’s on the first floor. The waiting woman, Madame Brunier, opened the door. I told her that she must dress Madame Royale as quickly as possible and be prepared to slip out of the chateau with Madame de Neuville, the Dauphin’s waiting woman. A cabriolet was waiting for them at the Pont-Royal; they were to leave Paris at once and wait for us at Claye.

My daughter was old enough to guess what this meant. She did not ask questions. Poor child, she was being brought up in an odd world. She looked a little surprised at the simple dress we had made for her; it was cotton with little blue flowers on a gosling-green background pretty enough for the daughter of a Russian lady; scarcely a Princesse’s gown.

I kissed her and held her against me for a few seconds.

“My darling Mousseline,” I whispered.

“You will obey quickly?”

And she nodded and said, “Yes, Maman,” almost reproach fully as though she was surprised I should ask.

Then to my son’s room. He was already awake and gave a cry of delight when he saw me.

“Maman,” he cried.

“Where are we going?”

“We’re going where there are a lot of soldiers.”

“May I take my sword? Quick, bring me my sword, Madame. And my boots.

I’m going to be a soldier. “

He was dismayed when he saw what he was to wear:

a girl’s dress!

“Oh … is it a play, then?” he asked.

“So we are going to be disguised.” He began to laugh. He loved playacting.

“And at night too,” he added.

“That is the best time for plays.”

‘now, my little Chou d’Amour, you must be quiet and quick and do what you’re told. Everything depends on that. “

He nodded conspiratorially.

“Trust Chou d’Amour, Maman.”

“I do, my darling,” I said kissing him.

It was a quarter to eleven. Axel had worked out times very carefully and we should be on our way. The plan was that the children with Madame de Tourzel should leave first. I had been against this, for I could not bear to think of the children’s beginning the perilous journey without me, but Axel would be with them until I joined them and that had to be my consolation.

Madame de Tourzel picked up the Dauphin, and, taking my daughter’s hand, I led the way to the apartments of one of the gentlemen of the bedchamber who had left Paris only the day before, consequently his apartments were empty. I had the key to these apartments and we went in. From there we stepped into the Cour des Princes through a door which was unguarded. Waiting there was Axel. I scarcely recognised him in his coachman’s uniform.

In the middle of the courtyard was the citadine which was to take them to the rendezvous in the Rue de l”Echelle at the corner of the Place du Petit-Carrousel.

Axel lifted the Dauphin into the carriage; Madame Royale followed with Madame de Tourzel, and Axel shut the door. He looked at me for a brief second, and although he dared not speak he was telling me that he would defend them with his life if need be. Then he leaped into the coachman’s seat, cracked his whip and the dtadine moved, off.