young duke,
conscious that his end was approaching, bore all his sufferings with
the most amiable and uncomplaining resignation, until, on the 18th of
May, 1807, he fell asleep.

The grief of the Duke of Orleans and of the Count of Beaujolais, in
the loss of so gentle and tenderly-beloved a brother, was very great.
The funeral ceremonies were attended in London with almost regal
pomp. The Count d'Artois was present as one of the principal
mourners. The gloom of twilight had begun to fall upon the city as
the imposing procession approached Westminster Abbey, to convey the
remains of the long-suffering prince to the darkness of the tomb.
The procession was led by mules bearing plumes of white feathers. A
mourning-carriage, containing the heart of the deceased in an urn,
was drawn by six horses, decorated with the richest funereal
caparisons, and led by postilions in the mourning-livery of the house
of Orleans. The hearse followed, preceded by a herald with a coronet
on a velvet cushion.

The empty private carriage of the deceased was followed by many other
carriages filled with the noblesse of France, each drawn by six
horses. The state equipages of the Prince of Wales and of the Dukes
of Sussex and York, with postilions in state livery, closed the
procession. With such mournful pageants were the mortal remains of
the exile consigned to the ancient mausoleum of the kings of England.

"Sorrows," says the poet, "come in troops." Scarcely were the remains
of the Duke of Montpensier placed in the tomb, ere his brother, Count
Beaujolais, began rapidly to fail. He was urged to seek a milder
climate in Malta or Madeira. To the solicitations of his fond and
anxious brother he replied:

"I feel that my life is soon to terminate as Montpensier's did. What
is the use of going so far to seek a tomb, and thus to lose the
consolation of dying in this retreat where we have at last found
repose. Let us remain in this hospitable land. Here, at least, I
shall be permitted to die in a brother's arms, and share a brother's
tomb."

Still, amiably yielding to the anxiety of his brother, he consented,
against his own judgment, to accompany him to the island of Malta.
The climate not agreeing with him, and his strength rapidly failing,
the Duke of Orleans wrote to Ferdinand IV., king of Naples,
soliciting permission to visit the salubrious clime where he had
established his court. Ferdinand IV., flying from the revolution
beneath which