retreat in the Chateau of Vaubadon, the young woman tired of her grass-widowhood, which seemed as if it would be eternal, and returned to Bayeux where she had numerous relations.  The Terror was over; life was reawakening, and the gloomy town gave itself up to it gladly.  “Never were balls, suppers, and concerts more numerous, animated and brilliant in Bayeux than at this period.”  Mme. de Vaubadon’s success was marked.  When some of her papers were seized in the year IX the following note from an adorer was found:  “All the men who have had the misfortune to see you have been mortally wounded.  I therefore implore you not to stay long in this town, not to leave your apartment but at dusk, and veiled.  We hope to cure our invalids by cold baths and refreshing drinks; but be gracious enough not to make incurables.”

So that her children should not be deprived of their father’s fortune, which the nation could sequestrate as the property of an emigre, Mme. de Vaubadon, like many other royalists, had sued for a divorce.  All those who had had recourse to this extremity had asked for an annulment of the decree as soon as their husbands could return to France, and had resumed conjugal relations.  But Mme. de Vaubadon did not consider her divorce a mere formality; she intended to remain free, and even brought suit against her husband for the settlement of her property.  This act, which was severely criticised by the aristocracy of Bayeux, alienated many of her friends and placed her somewhat on the outskirts of society.  From that time lovers were attributed to her, and it is certain that her conduct became more light.  She scarcely concealed her liaison with Guerin de Bruslart, the leader of the Norman Chouans, the successor of Frotte, and a true type of the romantic brigand, who managed to live for ten years in Normandy and even in Paris, without falling into one of the thousand traps set for him by Fouche.  Bruslart arrived at his mistress’s house at night, his belt bristling with pistols and poniards, and “always ready for a desperate hand-to-hand fight.”

Together with this swaggerer Mme. de Vaubadon received a certain Ollendon, a Chouan of doubtful reputation, who was said to have gone over to the police through need of money.  Mme. de Vaubadon, since her divorce, had herself been in a precarious position.  She had dissipated her own fortune, which had already been greatly lessened by the Revolution.  She was now reduced to expedients, and seeing closed to her the doors of many of the houses in Bayeux to which her presence had formerly given tone, she went to Caen and settled in the Rue Guilbert nearly opposite the Rue Coupee.

Whether it was that Ollendon had decided to profit by her relations with the Chouans, or that Fouche had learned that she was in need and would not refuse good pay for her services, Mme. de Vaubadon was induced to enter into communication with the police.  The man whom in 1793 Charlotte Corday had immortally branded with a word, Senator Doulcet de Pontecoulant, undertook to gain this recruit for the imperial government.