For La Fayette was neither a genius, nor a great man, nor a born leader; the gift of influencing other people was not his; he had no lasting power over the minds of others, and as to the mob, he led them as long as he went where they wanted to go. When he did not agree with all their excesses they followed him no longer.
The huissiers and valets de porte, who lived outside the enclosure, had permitted a poor beggar to take shelter every night under a lofty arch leading into the first court of the abbey. He was an unfortunate man, who had neither arms nor legs, and a poor woman, young and, they said, almost pretty, used to come and fetch him each morning with a sort of wheelbarrow, and establish him on the high road to beg. They had bread, soup, and cider given them at the abbey, but very often did not finish them.
Director
Mme. de Valence, whatever may have been the follies of her youth, was a woman generally beloved for her kind, affectionate, generous disposition, she was devoted to her mother and children, and Mme. de Genlis in her joy at seeing her and France again, to say nothing of the other relations and friends whose affection made so large a part of her happiness, was consoled for the sorrows of her past life.Go, said Louis XVI. in a tone of vexation, and tell the page of the grande curie to bring me back the letter I gave him. But Madame, turning to the Queen, I warn you that if he is gone it is all the better for M. de Machault. I cannot recall my confidence when he holds the proof in his hand. [118]The child died at five oclock one morning. At the same hour, she writes, of the same day, I was alone with my nurse, and, raising my eyes to the canopy of my bed, I distinctly saw my son in the form of an angel ... holding out his arms to me. This vision, without exciting any suspicions, caused me great surprise. I rubbed my eyes several times, but always saw the same figure. My mother and M. de Genlis came at about eleven; they were overcome with grief, but I was not surprised, for I [391] knew I was ill enough to make them very anxious. I could not help looking always at the canopy of my bed with a sort of shudder, and my mother, knowing that I was afraid of spiders, asked if I saw one ... at last I said I would not tell them what I saw lest they should think my brain was deranged, but they pressed me until I told them.