cature. As each new
actor on the popular scene appeared, he was certain to be the mark of
their insulting comments; and traits of low origin, and vulgarity of
manner, were dwelt on with a significance that showed how contemptuously
they regarded all whose condition was beneath their own. How little
did they suspect, as they mocked Rabaut St. Etienne, Petion, and
Robespierre, that this 'ill-dressed and ill-mannered crew'--these 'noisy
screamers of vapid nonsense'--these 'men of sinister aspect and ignoble
look,' would one day become the scourge of their order, and the masters
of France! So far was this thought from all their speculation, that
their indignation knew no bounds in discussing those who admitted this
_canaille_ to anything like consideration; and thus the Bishop of Autun
and Lafayette were the constant subjects of sarcasm and attack.

'What do they want, Madame la Marquise!' exclaimed the old Marquis de
Ribaupierre, as he stood, one evening, the centre of a group eagerly
discussing the views and objects of these innovators. 'I ask, what do
they want? It cannot be the destruction of the _noblesse_, for they are
noble. It cannot be the extinction of property, for they are rich. It
cannot be--surely it cannot be--that they believe the monarchy would be
more faithfully guarded by a rabble than by the best chivalry of France.
If Monseigneur Maurice Talleyrand were here now, I would simply ask
him----'

The door opened as he uttered these words, and a servant, in a loud
voice, announced, 'Monseigneur the Bishop of Autun.'

Small of stature and lame, there was yet in the massive head, the broad
full brow, and the large orbits of the eyes, a certain command and
dignity that marked him for no ordinary man; and, though the suddenness
of his entrance at this moment had created a sensation, half painful,
half ludicrous, there was a calm self-possession in his manner, as he
advanced to kiss the hand of the Marquise, that quickly changed the
feeling for one of deference and respect.

'I was fortunate enough to be the subject of discussion as I came into
the room--will my esteemed friend the Marquis de Ribaupierre inform me
to what I owe this honour?'

'Rather let me become the interpreter,' broke in the Marquise, who saw
the speechless misery that now covered the old Marquis's countenance.
'Distressed at the length of time that had elapsed since we saw you
among us here--grieved at what we could not but imagine a dese