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Updated: June 17, 2025
Just as those revolutionary times broke forth, Count Berlow, with his family, moved from Paris to his mansion in the suburbs. Here he lived quietly, surrounded by orchards of fruitful trees, free from the turmoil of the noisy city. His family rejoiced at having him constantly in their midst and he was glad at the opportunity of being the instructor of his children, particularly in music.
The joy that comes from doing one's best is the only lasting joy, for every other pleasure fades and passes away. Countess Berlow tried in every way to get news of the Count, but she had not been very successful, although some news was printed in the daily papers. The thoughtful old clergyman sent her a copy of the news, once each week, as he did not receive it any oftener.
I trust that through our losses we all have gained in humility and sympathy, which have a lasting worth; and perhaps God will return to us our past fortune, just as he has returned your canary to you." Count Berlow was obliged to spend the winter under the roof of this lowly hut, and Richard was housed in a neighboring one.
He based his fears on the fact that they had both made many enemies on account of their fidelity to the Berlow family. When John recognized the Count, he raised his hands and exclaimed, "Oh, it's you, Count Berlow; how happy I am to be able to help you!" Richard, who had waited and watched there for the last ten nights, rushed into the room and shouted: "Oh, my master!" and both embraced and wept.
The larger one was meagerly furnished, and its only window looked out upon the forest and two high mountain tops. Countess Berlow was thankful for having been guided to this humble retreat. She cared for her own rooms daily and spent the remaining time in knitting, sewing or reading. But her greatest anxiety was to find amusement for her son, Albert.
As he was well trained in all household duties, he took upon himself the care of their temporary home. Marguerite helped, as best she could, and from morning till night performed each task willingly, always wearing a sunny smile. Count Berlow was confined to his bed for many weeks, and it was a long time before he could sit up, even for a little while.
Countess Berlow knelt beside the bedside of her beloved daughter, and said: "If I must bow to this decree, I leave her in your care, my good people, and ask God in His mercy to watch over her and restore her to me in His good time."
It cheered them and seemed to make the time pass all the more quickly. After a journey of twenty miles, they reached the village, at sunset. They repaired at once to the clergyman's house, where they learned that the Countess and Albert Berlow lived in the shepherd's lowly hut, some miles distant.
He read that, on such a day, and at such an hour, Count Berlow, with twenty others, had been hung. "Strange it is," said the Count, "either they forgot to cross my name from the list, or else they did not wish to, in the hope that in that way they would not be answerable for my escape."
Countess Berlow then pointed to a chair which Albert had drawn close to the fire, and said: "My good, true friend, be seated. So we see each, other again. Over the death of my dear husband let us draw a veil. The memory of it is too painful for me. But tell me, how is my daughter! Did she die, as the doctor said she might?"
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