cene--as distinguished from some of the
properties, to use a theatrical expression--in keeping with the weather.
The crowd itself was a pleasure to look at, as it stood in serried
masses behind the National Guards and the regular infantry lining the
route of the procession from the Arc de Triomphe to the entrance of the
Chateau. All at once an outrider passes, covered with dust, and the
crowd presses forward to get a better view. A woman of the people, in
her nice white cap, comes into somewhat violent contact with an
elegantly dressed elderly lady, accompanied by her daughter. The woman,
instead of apologizing, says aloud that she wishes to see the princess:
"You will have the opportunity of seeing her at court, mesdames," she
adds. The elegant lady vouchsafes no reply, but turns to her daughter:
"The good woman," says the latter, shrugging her shoulders, "is
evidently not aware that she has got a much greater chance of going to
that court than we have. She has only got to marry some grocer or other
tradesman, and she will be considered a grande dame at once." Then the
procession passes--first the National Guards on horseback, then the King
and M. de Montalivet, followed by Princesse Helene, with her young
husband riding by the side of the carriage. So far so good: the first
three or four carriages were more or less handsome, but Heaven save us
from the rest, as well as from their occupants! They positively looked
like some of those wardrobe-dealers so admirably described by Balzac.

When all is over, the woman of the people turns to the elegant lady: "I
ask your pardon, madame; it was really not worth while hurting you. If
these are _grandes dames_, I prefer _les petites_ whom I see in my
neighbourhood, the Rue Notre-Dame de Lorette. Comme elles etaient
attifees!"--_Anglice_, "What a lot of frumps they looked!"

In fact, Louis-Philippe and his queen sinned most grievously by
overlooking the craving of the Parisians for pomp and display. No one
was better aware of this than his children, notably the Duc d'Orleans,
Princess Clementine,[41] and the Duc de Nemours. They called him
familiarly "le pere." "Il est trop pere," said the princess in private;
"il fait concurrence au Pere Eternel." She was a very clever
girl--perhaps a great deal cleverer than any of her brothers, the Solon
of the family, the Duc de Nemours, included--but very fond of mischief
and practical joking. She found her match, though, in her brother, the