At the time, this caused me no end of despondency, as I could not possibly fathom how that task might be accomplished. I feared greatly that with each day that passed, so too diminished my opportunities to make my flight with Mrs Elliott. I was certain she was planning it, and no matter how closely I considered the words in her letter, I could not determine when she proposed it, or indeed how far she had succeeded with her preparations. I knew only that it was imperative that I acquire a passport and go to her, by any means permitting. In the end, desperation overcame me and I resolved to approach the one person from whom I had never before requested anything.

If ever I was moved to feel pity for Orléans it was in the early months of winter. In the short time during which I had been acquainted with him, I had seen him give in to occasional low spirits. The darkness would come and go like storm clouds, rolling across his expression for a day or so before clearing into something lighter. However, with the commencement of the King’s trial in December a thick grey mist had settled upon him and demonstrated no signs of parting. To lift his mood, he took to attending the opera and theatre; indeed, his passion for it became a mania. He wished to go most every evening, for I believe, and La Buffon concurred, that he could not bear the emptiness of the Palais-Royal, for it reminded him that he had now acquired more enemies than he had friends and of those he trusted but a scant handful. More than any one person, it was General Biron who remained foremost among the true. It was on account of his reappearance in Paris before departing to join his regiment in Provence that Orléans insisted I accompany them to the opera for a performance of Iphigénie.