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[46] She did so on the following day, and Tallien advised him to wait.

By this time, however, she had made up her mind to marry an homme de qualit, who belonged to the court. What she then wished was to marry a certain M. de la Popelinire, whom she thought combined the advantages she desired, though he was nothing more illustrious than a fermier gnral, besides being an old man. However, her admiration [360] was not sufficiently returned for him to be of the same opinion. M. de Montagu was now with the troops of the Duc de Bourbon, and hearing he was to pass through Lige, Pauline went there to see him, and waited at an inn to which she knew he would go. Though he was overjoyed at this unexpected meeting, he had to leave the same day, as an engagement was imminent, and he remarked that those who were accused of being the last to join the army must not be last on the battlefield.

The Meuse was frozen and must be crossed on foot. Pauline, who was again enceinte, managed, leaning upon her husbands arm, slipping and stumbling, to get as far as the island in the middle. M. de Montagu insisted on her being carried the rest of the way by a sailor. M. de Beaune was helped by his only servant, Garden, a tiresome German boy of fifteen. They got to Helvoetsluys after dark, crossed next day, and after about a week found a cottage at Margate with a garden going down to the sea, which they took, and with which they were delighted. It stood between the sea and the country, and near them lived the family of M. Le Rebours, President of the Parliament of Paris, faithful Royalists who were happy enough all to have escaped, father, mother, grand-parents, six [235] children, and three old servants. He himself had just then gone to Paris to try to save some of his fortune. They had turned a room into a private chapel where mass was said by an old Abb; all attended daily, and, needless to say, the prayer for the King was made with special fervour.

As the window of her room looked upon the terrace, and was only five feet from the ground, she let herself down by a cord, taking care to choose the days when there was a post, Mlle. de Mars was busy writing to her friends, and her mother out of the way. Leaning upon the low wall of the terrace she instructed the little boys who stood below in what she happened to know herself, i.e., the catechism, the beginning of the principles of music, and certain tragedies which she and they declaimed, and as these instructions were mingled with cakes, fruit, and toys which she threw over the wall to them, they were very well attended, until Mlle. de Mars one day surprised them, and laughed so heartily at the verses recited in patois by the little boys that the class came to an end.

No.

What a deliverance!

All that country, Frascati, LAriccia, Castel Gandolfo, Albano, Gensano, is a dream of beauty and romance. Lakes, mountains, and forests, picturesque towns and villages perched high upon the steep sides of precipices, rocks crowned with ruined towers or convents, ancient villas like huge palaces, with colonnades, fountains, and loggie, buried among deep woods of ilex and chestnut, in whose cool shade they could spend the bright, hot, glowing days.