among all the knights assembled to contest the
palm of chivalry. He was dressed in robes of brilliant scarlet. A
white scarf encircled his waist, and snow-white plumes waved
gracefully from his hat.

The scene was as gorgeous as the wealth and decorative art of the
court could create. There were retainers surrounding the high lords,
and heralds, and pages, and trumpeters, all arrayed in the most
picturesque costume. No one could be so discourteous or impolitic as
to vanquish the king. He consequently bore away all the laurels. This
magnificent tournament gave the name of "The Carousal" to the space
where it was held, between the Louvre and the Tuileries.

Early in the summer the court removed to Compiegne, to spend the
season in rural amusements there. Christina, the young queen of
Sweden, who had just abdicated the throne, and whose eccentricities
had attracted the attention of Europe, came to the frontiers of France
with an imposing retinue, and, announcing her arrival, awaited the
invitation of the king to visit his court. She was one of the most
extraordinary personages of that or any age. Good looking, "strong
minded" to the highest degree, masculine in dress and address, always
self-possessed, absolutely fearing nothing, proud, haughty, speaking
fluently eight languages, familiar with art, and a consummate
_intriguante_, she excited astonishment and a certain degree of
admiration wherever she appeared.

The curiosity of Louis was so greatly excited and so freely expressed
to see this extraordinary personage as to arouse the jealousy of
Olympia. The king perceived this. It is one of the most detestable
traits in our fallen nature that one can take pleasure in making
another unhappy. The unamiable king amused himself in torturing the
feelings of Olympia.

[Illustration: PALACE OF CHANTILLY.]

Christina proceeded at first to Paris. Here she was received with the
greatest honor. For a distance of nearly six miles from the Louvre the
streets were lined with armed citizens, who greeted her with almost
unintermitted applause. The crowd was so great that, though she
reached the suburbs of Paris at two o'clock in the afternoon, she did
not alight at the Louvre until nine o'clock in the evening. This
eccentric princess was then thirty years of age, and, though youthful
in appearance, in dress and manners she affected the Amazon. She
had great powers of pleasing, and her wit, her entire self-reliance,
and extensive i