d lost as well as for the master
that had succeeded. Farther on began the crowd of courtiers of all
kinds. The greater number--that is to say the fools--pumped up sighs as
well as they could, and with wandering but dry eyes, sung the praises of
Monseigneur--insisting especially on his goodness. They pitied the King
for the loss of so good a son. The keener began already to be uneasy
about the health of the King; and admired themselves for preserving so
much judgment amidst so much trouble, which could be perceived by the
frequency of their repetitions. Others, really afflicted--the
discomfited cabal--wept bitterly, and kept themselves under with an
effort as easy to notice as sobs. The most strong-minded or the wisest,
with eyes fixed on the ground, in corners, meditated on the consequences
of such an event--and especially on their own interests. Few words
passed in conversation--here and there an exclamation wrung from grief
was answered by some neighbouring grief--a word every quarter of an hour
--sombre and haggard eyes--movements quite involuntary of the hands--
immobility of all other parts of the body. Those who already looked upon
the event as favourable in vain exaggerated their gravity so as to make
it resemble chagrin and severity; the veil over their faces was
transparent and hid not a single feature. They remained as motionless as
those who grieved most, fearing opinion, curiosity, their own
satisfaction, their every movement; but their eyes made up for their
immobility. Indeed they could not refrain from repeatedly changing their
attitude like people ill at ease, sitting or standing, from avoiding each
other too carefully, even from allowing their eyes to meet--nor repress a
manifest air of liberty--nor conceal their increased liveliness--nor put
out a sort of brilliancy which distinguished them in spite of themselves.

The two Princes, and the two Princesses who sat by their sides, were more
exposed to view than any other. The Duc de Bourgogne wept with
tenderness, sincerity, and gentleness, the tears of nature, of religion,
and patience. M. le Duc de Berry also sincerely shed abundance of tears,
but bloody tears, so to speak, so great appeared their bitterness; and he
uttered not only sobs, but cries, nay, even yells. He was silent
sometimes, but from suffocation, and then would burst out again with such
a noise, such a trumpet sound of despair, that the majority present burst
out also at thes