uths, were assembled, crying out "_Vive la charte!_"
"_A bas les ministres!_" A patrol passed close to these persons, but
made no attempt to disperse them, which I think was rather unwise, for,
encouraged by this impunity, their numbers, I am told, increased
rapidly.

I have just heard that the post of _gendarmes_ was tripled this
morning, and that a crowd of persons have assembled around the hotel of
the Prince Polignac, where a cabinet council was held. It is said that
the ministers were insulted as they entered. This looks ill;
nevertheless, I trust that it is nothing more than a demonstration of
the spirit that is rife in the people, and that no more violent ones
will be resorted to. The visitors I have seen to-day seem much alarmed.

The Duc de Guiche set off for St.-Cloud yesterday morning, the moment
he had read the ordonnances. Had his counsel been listened to, they
would never have been promulgated; for he is one of the few who, with a
freedom from prejudice that enables him to judge dispassionately of the
actual state of public opinion, has the moral courage to declare the
truth to his sovereign, however unpalatable that truth might be, or
however prejudicial to his own interests.

I have this moment returned from a drive through the streets, and,
though far from being an alarmist, I begin to think that affairs wear a
more serious aspect than I dreaded. Already has a collision taken place
between the populace and the soldiers, who attempted to disperse them
near the Palais-Royal; and it required the assistance of a charge of
cavalry to secure the dangerous victory to themselves.

Crowds were hurrying through the streets, many of the shops were
closed, and not above three or four carriages were to be seen. Never
did so great a change take place in the aspect of a city in so few
hours! Yesterday the business of life flowed on in its usual current.
The bees and the drones of this vast hive were buzzing about, and the
butterflies of fashion were expanding their gay wings in the sunshine.
To-day the industrious and orderly seem frightened from their usual
occupations, and scarcely a person of those termed fashionable is to be
seen. Where are all the household of Charles the Tenth, that vast and
well-paid crowd who were wont to fill the anterooms of the Tuileries on
gala days, obsequiously watching to catch a nod from the monarch, whose
slightest wish was to them as the laws of the Modes and Persians? Can
it be