ntry into Paris, attended by the
marshals of the Empire, that nearly all the population had come out to
meet him, and that old men and women and little children had climbed
upon the balconies to catch a glimpse of him, and that he had at first
entered the church of Notre Dame to give thanks to God, and immediately
after retired to the Tuileries.

It was announced also that the Senate had pronounced a high-sounding
address, assuring him there need be no alarm on account of all the
disturbances, urging him to take courage and promising the support of
the senators in case of any difficulties.

Everybody approved this address. But we were soon to have a new sight,
we were to witness the return of the _emigres_ from the heart of
Germany and from Russia. Some returned by the government vessels, and
some in simple "salad baskets," a kind of wicker carriage, on two and
four wheels. The ladies wore dresses with immense flower patterns, and
the men wore the old French coats and short breeches, and waistcoats
hanging down to the thighs, as they are represented in the fashions of
the time of the Republic.

All these people were apparently proud and happy to see their country
once more. In spite of the miserable beasts which dragged their
wretched wagons filled with straw, and the peasants who served as
postilions--in spite of all this, I was moved with compassion as I
recalled the joy I felt five months before on seeing France again, and
I said to myself:

"Poor people! they will weep on beholding Paris again, they are going
to be happy!"

They all stopped at the "Red Ox," the hotel of the old ambassadors and
marshals and princes and dukes and rich people, who no longer
patronized it, and we could see them in the rooms brushing their own
hair, dressing and shaving themselves.

About noon they all came down, shouting and calling "John!" "Claude!"
"Germain!" with great impatience, and ordering them about like
important personages, and seating themselves around the great tables,
with their old servants all patched up and standing behind them with
their napkins under their arms. These people with their old-fashioned
clothes, and their fine manners and happy air, made a very good
appearance, and we said to ourselves: "There are the Frenchmen
returning from exile; they did wrong to go, and to excite all Europe
against us, but there is mercy for every sin; may they be well and
happy! That is the worst we wish them."

Some