16
I entered a coach at eleven o’clock with my waiting-woman. The moon ſhone bright, and we proceeded along the Boulevards or Suburbs, which were then just beginning to be built upon. We were examining those houses which had been lately erected, when my waiting-maid said, “Is it not here M. de S. died?”—“From the information he gave me, that should be the place,” said I, pointing with my finger to a house which was before us. The explosion of a gun was immediately heard—the coachman urged his horses, conceiving himself attacked by robbers, and arrived at the place of rendezvous scarce sensible. For my part, I was impressed with a degree of terror which it was long before I got
