"It was about ten o'clock P. M., on the 3d of September, as I have
told you, they found an apt opportunity to execute their scheme. They
placed themselves, under cover of the night, in those avenues, of the
city through which they knew his majesty must pass in his way from
Villanow, where he had been dining with me. His carriage was escorted
by four of his own guards, besides myself and some of mine. We had
scarcely lost sight of Villanow, when the conspirators rushed out and
surrounded us, commanding the coachman to stop, and beating down the
serving men with the butt ends of their muskets. Several shots were
fired into the coach. One passed through my hat as I was getting out,
sword in hand, the better to repel an attack the motive of which I
could not then divine. A cut across my right leg with a sabre laid me
under the wheels; and whilst in that situation, I heard the shot
pouring into the coach like hail, and felt the villains stepping over
my body to finish the murder of their sovereign.
"It was then that our friend Butzou (who at that period was a private
soldier in my service) stood between his majesty and the rebels,
parrying many a stroke aimed at the king; but at last, a thrust from
a bayonet into his gallant defender's breast cast him weltering in
his blood upon me. By this time all the persons who had formed the
escort were either wounded or dispersed, and George Butzou, our
friend's only brother, was slain.
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