To which he replied in German, 'I
am Charles-Louis, Duke of Normandy, son of Louis XVI. and Marie
Antoinette.' Upon hearing this unexpected reply, the good old
countess fainted. On recovering her senses, she exclaimed, 'Good
Heavens! he is the very image of his unfortunate mother!' On calmer
reflection, however, she was but half convinced, and determined to
put the stranger's identity to another test. She had kept as a relic
a little blue robe with metal buttons, which was worn by the royal
infant when she nursed him. This she brought forth; and the stranger
no sooner saw it, than he exclaimed, 'Ah, my little coat!' After
this, Comtesse de R. declared her belief that he was her prince to be
so firm that she would have died on the scaffold rather than recant.
Without hesitation, she gave up the best apartments of her house for
his use and occupation; she even offered for his acceptance the
remains of her fortune. This, however, he at once refused, asking no
more from her than that she would send for a tailor to equip him with
habiliments more in accordance with his pretensions than the tatters
he then wore.
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