was a nearer and less dreadful prison than Pierre-Cise. The Governor of St. Esprit was a relation of Madame De Chambrun, and a brother of the Marquis de Montanègues. He lodged his prisoner in a private house, where he was attended by the companions of his journey, John Convenent, his nephew, and two valets, and latterly by his noble wife, who before the expiry of twenty days had been allowed to join him. At the expiry of that time he was removed to Valence; and with regard to his suite it must be recorded, in case the favour thus showed him might be over-rated by readers, that De Chambrun had to pay all the expenses of this involuntary journey. On arriving at their second halting-place, the violent attempts for his conversion were renewed, the Bishop of Valence being very vain, and ambitious of the fame of making such a proselyte. The practised attendants were withdrawn, and dragoons and archers were substituted to attend to his bandages and other surgical appliances. Under the excruciating agony which such cruel hands occasioned he felt as if he was going mad, and half unconsciously he cried out, Then I will reunite myself (Eh bien! je me reunirai). This phrase which was in those times employed to mean, “I will become a Roman Catholic,” was at once reported to the Bishop. With intense exultation he visited De Chambrun, to whom his own attendants had immediately been restored. The patient, however, protested that nothing but bodily pain had brought the magic words to his lips, and refused to sign a written recantation. Yet an express was sent to Paris announcing the conversion of Monsieur Pineton De Chambrun, and the Bishop received congratulatory letters from the Archbishop of Paris, Father La Chaise, and the Marquis of Louvois. The Bishop could not stultify himself by contradicting his own official report; he had, therefore, to wink at the pertinacity of De Chambrun, whom he removed to Romeyer, near Die, still retaining him within his own diocese. From February to July 1686 the prisoner remained here, till some symptoms giving a colour to his declaration that he required a surgical operation, he petitioned that he might be conveyed to Lyons. The Bishop said, Receive the sacrament in the first place. De Chambrun having replied, Your lordship will not be much longer annoyed by me, as I shall probably die under the surgeon’s knife, the Bishop exclaimed, “What will the king say to me, if I don’t make my reputed convert perform his duties? — Sir, your own ministers at Die have conformed. Would you be the only Huguenot in France.” Such eloquence was thrown away, and the Bishop could not inflict any open severities without robbing himself of the fame of a converter. The journey was therefore allowed, and on the 6th August De Chambrun had a consultation with a surgeon at Lyons. He saw that the inn was not a favourable starting-point for his projected flight into Switzerland; he therefore removed to a trusty friend’s house, and resorted to the artifice of employing the Archbishop of Lyons’ physician. Him and the surgeon he kept at bay till the beginning of September, when all was arranged for his escape. A friend cleverly executed his plans. A carriage was bought; two servants were hired in addition to his own two valets, and the four were put into handsome liveries. He himself was to be attired as an officer of state of the first rank, with a richly trimmed suit, a Venetian cravat, and a large wig. The carriage, containing himself and his nephew, with the two valets outside, started from his own door on Sunday evening, the Sth September 1686. They mixed with the other vehicles and equipages, and crossed the Bridge of the Rhone without being recognised, his friend nodding him a farewell, and thus giving the preconcerted signal that it was “all right.” They overtook the other two servants, who were on horseback as his escort, and the cortege travelled rapidly forward. One acted as an outrider, to secure immediate changes of horses, and to represent that “his lordship” travelled on pressing business. Innkeepers and postillions, being liberally paid, promoted despatch. At Beauvoisin, the outrider and the innkeeper had an altercation, and the former (when the carriage came up) was heard to exclaim, “My Lord pays handsomely, horses must be had at any price.” Hurrying towards the carriage-door, he apologised to “my lord” for the delay, no horses being there. The traveller pretended great indignation against the innkeeper for hindering the service of the king. He was humbly requested to alight and take a little rest in the house, but he roughly refused, alleging that he must proceed without loss of time. In fact, he was tightly strapped to the back of his carriage, that his debility might not be noticed. The villagers were now in groups all around, wondering what great personage he might be. It was early in the morning of Monday. He ordered some refreshment, and partook of it in the carriage. Thereafter he desired the landlord to serve wine to the bystanders, that they might drink the king’s health. After two hours’ delay, horses were obtained. And now the bridge was to be passed,
