men marching through the
Suburb Saint-Antoine,'--who never got it marched through. Of the day's
distraction judge by this of the night: Moreau de Saint-Mery, 'before
rising from his seat, gave upwards of three thousand orders.' (Dusaulx.)
What a head; comparable to Friar Bacon's Brass Head! Within it lies all
Paris. Prompt must the answer be, right or wrong; in Paris is no other
Authority extant. Seriously, a most cool clear head;--for which also
thou O brave Saint-Mery, in many capacities, from august Senator to
Merchant's-Clerk, Book-dealer, Vice-King; in many places, from Virginia
to Sardinia, shalt, ever as a brave man, find employment. (Biographie
Universelle, para Moreau Saint-Mery (by Fournier-Pescay).)

Besenval has decamped, under cloud of dusk, 'amid a great affluence of
people,' who did not harm him; he marches, with faint-growing tread,
down the left bank of the Seine, all night,--towards infinite space.
Resummoned shall Besenval himself be; for trial, for difficult
acquittal. His King's-troops, his Royal Allemand, are gone hence for
ever.

The Versailles Ball and lemonade is done; the Orangery is silent except
for nightbirds. Over in the Salle des Menus, Vice-president Lafayette,
with unsnuffed lights, 'with some hundred of members, stretched on
tables round him,' sits erect; outwatching the Bear. This day, a second
solemn Deputation went to his Majesty; a second, and then a third: with
no effect. What will the end of these things be?

In the Court, all is mystery, not without whisperings of terror; though
ye dream of lemonade and epaulettes, ye foolish women! His Majesty, kept
in happy ignorance, perhaps dreams of double-barrels and the Woods of
Meudon. Late at night, the Duke de Liancourt, having official right of
entrance, gains access to the Royal Apartments; unfolds, with earnest
clearness, in his constitutional way, the Job's-news. "Mais," said poor
Louis, "c'est une revolte, Why, that is a revolt!"--"Sire," answered
Liancourt, "It is not a revolt, it is a revolution."

Chapter 1.5.VIII.

Conquering your King.

On the morrow a fourth Deputation to the Chateau is on foot: of a
more solemn, not to say awful character, for, besides 'orgies in the
Orangery,' it seems, 'the grain convoys are all stopped;' nor has
Mirabeau's thunder been silent. Such Deputation is on the point of
setting out--when lo, his Majesty himself attended only by his two
Brothers, step in; quite in the paternal manner; a