Vienna. What chance of reigning had the
Duke of Reichstadt, that child of thirteen, condemned by all the Powers
of Europe? By what means could he mount the throne? Who would be regent
in his name? A Bonaparte? The forgetful Marie Louise? Such hypotheses
were relegated to the domain of pure fantasy. Apart from a few
fanatical old soldiers who persisted in saying that Napoleon was not
dead, no one, in 1824, believed in the resurrection of the Empire. As
for Orleanism, it was as yet a myth. The Duke of Orleans himself was
not an Orleanist. Of all the courtiers of Charles X., he was the most
eager, the most zealous, the most enthusiastic. In whatever direction
she turned her glance, the Duchess of Berry saw about her only reasons
for satisfaction and security.

II

THE ENTRY INTO PARIS

The Duchess of Berry took part in the solemn entry into Paris made by
Charles X., Monday, 27th September, 1824. She was in the same carriage
as the Dauphiness and the Duchess and Mademoiselle of Orleans. The King
left the Chateau of Saint Cloud at half-past eleven in the morning,
passed through the Bois de Boulogne, and mounted his horse at the
Barriere de l'Etoile. There he was saluted by a salvo of one hundred
and one guns, and the Count de Chambral, Prefect of the Seine,
surrounded by the members of the Municipal Council, presented to him
the keys of the city. Charles X. replied to the address of the Prefect:
"I deposit these keys with you, because I cannot place them in more
faithful hands. Guard them, gentlemen. It is with a profound feeling of
pain and joy that I enter within these walls, in the midst of my good
people,--of joy because I well know that I shall employ and consecrate
all my days to the very last, to assure and consolidate their
happiness." Accompanied by the princes and princesses of his family and
by a magnificent staff, the sovereign descended the Champs-Elysees to
the Avenue of Marigny, followed that avenue, and entered the Rue du
Faubourg Saint-Honore, before the Palace of the Elysee. At this moment,
the weather, which had been cold and sombre, brightened, and the rain,
which had been falling for a long time, ceased. The King heard two
child-voices crying joyously, "Bon-papa." It was the little Duke of
Bordeaux and his sister at a window of an entresol of the Elysee which
looked out upon the street. On perceiving his two grandchildren,
Charles X. could not resist the impulse to approach them. He left the