iosks for the sale of foolish trifles, all
paying tribute to the ground landlord.

Gaming at the Palais Royal was not wholly confined to the public
gambling houses. During the carnival season of 1777 the gambling which
went on in the royal apartments became notorious for even that
profligate time: in one night the Duc de Chartres lost eight thousand
_livres_. Louis XVI, honest man, took all due precautions to reduce this
extravagance, but was impotent.

Between the courtyard fountain and the northern arcade of the inner
palace was placed the famous Cannon du Palais Royal, which, by an
ingenious disposition, was fired each day at midday by the action of the
sun's rays. All the world stood around awaiting the moment when watches
might be regulated for another twenty-four hours.

The celebrated Abbe Delille, to whom the beauties of the gardens were
being shown, deplored the lack of good manners on the part of the
habitues and delivered himself of the following appropriate quatrain:

"Dans ce jardin tout se rencontree
Excepte l'ombrage et les fleurs;
Si l'on y deregle ses moeurs
Du moins on y regle sa montre."

The Galerie de Bois was perhaps the most disreputable of all the palace
confines. It was a long, double row of booths which only disappeared
when Louis-Philippe built the glass-covered Galerie d'Orleans.

Up to the eve of the Revolution the Palais Royal enjoyed the same
privileges as the Temple and the Luxembourg, and became a sort of refuge
whereby those who sought to escape from the police might lose themselves
in the throng. The monarch himself was obliged to ask permission of the
Duc d'Orleans that his officials might pursue their police methods
within the outer walls.

It was July 12, 1789. The evening before, Louis XVI had dismissed his
minister, Neckar, but only on Sunday, the 12th, did the news get abroad.
At the same time it was learned that the regiment known as the Royal
Allemand, under the orders of the Prince de Lambesc, had charged the
multitude gathered before the gates of the Tuileries. Cries of "A Mort!"
"Aux Armes!" "Vengeance!" were hurled in air from all sides.

At high noon in the gardens of the Palais Royal, on the 13th, as the
midday sun was scorching the flagstones to a grilling temperature, the
sound of a tiny cannon shot smote the still summer air with an echo
which did not cease reverberating for months. The careless, unthinking
promenaders suddenly grew grave, then vi