there would be the Goddess of Reason, in her
triumphal car! the apotheosis of the new religion, which was to make
everybody happy, rich and free.

Forgotten were the anxieties of the night, the fears of death, the
great and glorious Revolution, which for this one day would cease her
perpetual demand for the toll of blood.

Nothing was remembered save the pleasures and joys of the moment, and at
times the name of that Englishman--spy, hero or adventurer--the cause of
all this bounty: the Scarlet Pimpernel.

Chapter XXX: The Procession

The grandfathers of the present generation of Boulonnese remembered
the great day of the National Fete, when all Boulogne, for twenty-four
hours, went crazy with joy. So many families had fathers, brothers,
sons, languishing in prison under some charge of treason, real or
imaginary; so many had dear ones for whom already the guillotine loomed
ahead, that the feast on this memorable day of September, 1793, was one
of never-to-be-forgotten relief and thanksgiving.

The weather all day had been exceptionally fine. After that glorious
sunrise, the sky had remained all day clad in its gorgeous mantle of
blue and the sun had continued to smile benignly on the many varied
doings of this gay, little seaport town. When it began to sink slowly
towards the West a few little fluffy clouds appeared on the horizon,
and from a distance, although the sky remained clear and blue, the sea
looked quite dark and slaty against the brilliance of the firmament.

Gradually, as the splendour of the sunset gave place to the delicate
purple and grey tints of evening, the little fluffy clouds merged
themselves into denser masses, and these too soon became absorbed in the
great, billowy banks which the southwesterly wind was blowing seawards.

By the time that the last grey streak of dusk vanished in the West, the
whole sky looked heavy with clouds, and the evening set in, threatening
and dark.

But this by no means mitigated the anticipation of pleasure to come. On
the contrary, the fast-gathering gloom was hailed with delight, since it
would surely help to show off the coloured lights of the lanthorns, and
give additional value to the glow of the torches.

Of a truth 'twas a motley throng which began to assemble on the Place de
la Senechaussee, just as the old bell of the Beffroi tolled the hour of
six. Men, women and children in ragged finery, Pierrots with neck frills
and floured faces, hideou