ve these standards, and this child" (pointing to the Duke of
Bordeaux) "will one day restore them to you. The names of each of
you, inscribed on your muster-rolls, and preserved by my grandson,
will remain registered in the archives of the royal family, to attest
forever my misfortunes, and the consolation I have received from your
fidelity."

This was one of time's tragedies--the dethronement of a dynasty.
There are but few who will not, in some degree, appreciate the
sublimity of the scene. All present were in tears, and loud sobs were
heard. The king and his family then laid aside all the insignia of
royalty, and assumed the dress more appropriate to exiles. The king
also wrote to the King of England and to the Emperor of Austria,
announcing his dethronement, and soliciting an asylum in each of
their realms.

It would seem, however, that Charles X., who twice before had been
driven into exile, did by no means relinquish the idea of regaining
the crown for his family. In taking leave of Prince Polignac, who
more than any one else was responsible for the obnoxious ordinances,
he said:

"I recollect only your courage. I do not impute to you our
misfortunes. Our cause was that of God, of the throne, and of the
people. Providence often proves its servants by suffering, and
defeats the best designs for reasons superior to what our limited
faculties can discern. But it never deceives upright consciences.
Nothing is yet lost for our house. I go to combat with one hand, and
to negotiate with the other. Retire behind the Loire, where you will
find an asylum from the vengeance of the people in the midst of my
army, which has orders to assemble at Chartres."

"Charles X.," writes Louis Blanc, "was tranquil. The aspect of the
dauphine in tears, of his woe-begone courtiers, and of the two
children of the Duchess de Berri, who, in their ignorance, found
amusement in the novelty of every thing about them--to all this he
was insensible, or at least resigned. But the sight of a bit of
tri-colored ribbon, or a slight neglect of etiquette, was enough to
excite his petulance. It was necessary, in the small town of L'Aigle,
to have a square table made, according to court usage, for the dinner
of a monarch who was losing an empire. Thus he showed, combined in
his person, that excess of grandeur and of littleness which is
acquired from the practice of royalty."

The journey to Cherbourg was sad and solemn. The two princesses, the
Du