I wished only to tell you what concerns our young ladies' friendship with the little stranger.

Years went on, as they always do, whether they leave the world happy or miserable, and the shadows I have told you of grew darker and darker.

Then, at last, the terrible days began--the storm burst forth, our happy, peaceful home, with hundreds and thousands of others, was broken up, and its kindly inhabitants forced to flee.
Mademoiselle Jeanne came hurrying up from her husband's home, where things were even worse than with us, with her boys, to seek for shelter and safety, which, alas! could not be given her here.

For all had to flee--my poor old master, frail as he was, his delicate wife, our young ladies, and the boys--all fled together, and after facing perils such as I trust none of their descendants will ever know, they reached a safe refuge.

And then they had to endure a new misery, for months and months went by before they had any tidings of poor Mademoiselle Jeanne's husband, your great-grandfather, my children, who, like all of his name--a name you may well be proud of, my little Mademoiselle Jeanne--stayed at the post of danger till every hope was passed.