ht, and as if outworks for
offense and defense surrounded it for some distance. It was only at
rare intervals, and in indistinct utterances, that a stray echo of
popular feeling penetrated so far. There were hundreds of human beings,
from the lowest kitchen servant up to the major-domo, who served in
place of wall or fosse, and prevented all except the favored few from
entering the royal presence.

The king was in a happy mood and yet his cheerfulness seemed forced. He
was a prey to a restless disposition which would not permit him to
dwell long on any one subject. From morning till night, he required
constant change and gay excitement.

If he had been asked to answer on his conscience, he would frankly have
said: "I respect the constitution and am faithful to it"--and yet, at
heart, he was unconquerably opposed to it, for it cramped his
individuality. It was in the same way that he loved his wife, while his
heart paid homage to her friend; but that he should be subjected to the
law, or even to his own desires, was equally distasteful to him--for
that, too, would retard the full development of his new individuality.
He regarded all that savored of opposition, whether it was the
constitution of the state or the opinion of a kind friend, as an
attempt to subjugate him. He desired to be perfectly free and yet not
without law and affection. He could not forego the approbation of those
to whom he was, at the same time, unwilling to accord the right to
dissent. He would have liked his own people to regard him with as loyal
an affection as that which the English bestow upon their rulers, but
did not care to have it interfere with his following the dictates of
his own judgment. He studied the laws of the state, but favored such
interpretations thereof as rendered them nugatory. He loved the
constitution, much as he did his wife; that is, he prized her virtues,
and aimed to be faithful to her without sacrificing his inclinations.

The journals of the day reached the king in the form of an abstract,
which was prepared in the literary court-kitchen. By his orders,
stenographic reports of the proceedings of the Chamber of Deputies were
brought to his cabinet, but for the greater part they remained unread.
There was too much to be done, too much of ceremonious receptions,
parading and exercises. The new arsenal was now under roof, and they
were engaged in supplying the decorations, devices for some of which
were prepared by the k