The little grey thrush of a man sipped it, and in a voice no bigger than a bird's began: "From Lucillien du Champsavoys, Comte de Chanier, by the hand of a faithful friend, who goeth hence from among divers dangers, unto my cousin, the Chevalier du Champsavoys de Beaumanoir, late Gentleman of the Bedchamber to the best of monarchs, Louis XV, this writing: "MY DEAR AND HONOURED Cousin"-- The chevalier paused, frowned a trifle, and tapped his lips with his finger in a little lyrical emotion--"My dear and honoured cousin, all is lost.

The France we loved is no more.

The twentieth of June saw the last vestige of Louis's power pass for ever.

That day ten thousand of the sans-culottes forced their way into the palace to kill him.

A faithful few surrounded him.