humiliation of their feeble King--was M. le Comte de Cambray with his
daughter Crystal on his arm.

They had come, as so many royalists had done, with a vague hope that in
the attitude of the crowd they would discern indifference rather than
exultation, and that the active agents of their party, as well as those
of England and of Prussia, would succeed presently in stirring up a
counter demonstration, that a few cries of "Vive le roi!" would prove to
the army at least and to the people of Paris that acclamations for the
usurper were at any rate not unanimous.

But the crowd was not indifferent--it was excited: when first the Comte
de Cambray and Crystal arrived on the Place du Carrousel, a number of
white cockades could be picked out in the throng, either worn on a hat
or fixed to a buttonhole, but as the afternoon wore on there were fewer
and fewer of these small white stars to be seen: the temper of the crowd
did not brook this mute reproach upon its enthusiasm. One or two
cockades had been roughly torn and thrown into the mud, and the wearer
unpleasantly ill-used if he persisted in any royalistic demonstration.
Crystal, when she saw these incidents, was not the least frightened. She
wore her white cockade openly pinned to her cloak; she was far too
loyal, far too enthusiastic and fearless, far too much a woman to yield
her convictions to the popular feeling of the moment; and she looked so
young and so pretty, clinging to the arm of her father, who looked a
picturesque and harmless representative of the fallen regime, that with
the exception of a few rough words, a threat here and there, they had so
far escaped active molestation.

And the crowd presently had so much to see that it ceased to look out
for white cockades, or to bait the sad-eyed royalists. A procession of
carriages, sparse at first and simple in appearance, had begun to make
its way from different parts of the town across the Place du Carrousel
toward the Tuileries. They arrived very quietly at first, with as little
clatter as possible, and drew up before the gates of the Pavillon de
Flore with as little show as may be: the carriage doors were opened
unostentatiously, and dark, furtive figures stepped out from them and
almost ran to the door of the palace, so eager were they to escape
observation, their big cloaks wrapped closely round them to hide the
court dress or uniform below.

Ministers, dignitaries of the Court, Councillors of State; majordom