the postilions kept crying out to the people, and went
forward very cautiously.

Rodolph was dressed in deep mourning, as was also his daughter, one of
whose hands he held in his own, looking at her with affection. The
gentle and lovely face of Fleur-de-Marie was enclosed in a small capot
of black crape, which heightened the dazzling brilliancy of her skin and
the beautiful hue of her lovely brown hair; and the azure of this bright
day was reflected in her large eyes, which had never been of more
transparent and softened blue. Although her features wore a gentle
smile, and expressed calmness and happiness when she looked at her
father, yet a tinge of melancholy, and sometimes of undefinable sadness,
threw its shadow over her countenance when her eyes were not fixed on
her father.

At this moment the carriage came amongst the crowd and began to slacken
its pace. Rodolph lowered the window, and said in German to the lackey
who was walking by the window, "Well, Frantz, what is the meaning of
this?"

"Monseigneur, there is such a crowd that the horses cannot move."

"What has this assemblage collected for?"

"Monseigneur, there is an execution going on."

"Ah, frightful!" said Rodolph, throwing himself back in his carriage.

"What is it, my dear father?" asked Fleur-de-Marie with uneasiness.

"Nothing--nothing, dearest."

"Only listen,--these threatening cries approach us! What can it be?"

"Desire them to reach Charenton by another road," said Rodolph.

"Monseigneur, it is too late, the crowd has stopped the horses."

The footman could say no more. The mob, excited by the savage
encouragement of the Skeleton and Nicholas, suddenly surrounded the
carriage, and, in spite of the threats of the postilions, stopped the
horses, and Rodolph saw on all sides threatening, furious countenances,
and above them all the Skeleton, who came to the door of the carriage.

"Take care, my dear father!" exclaimed Fleur-de-Marie, throwing her arms
around Rodolph's neck.

"Oh, you are the 'my lord,' are you?" said the Skeleton, thrusting his
hideous head into the carriage.

Had it not been for his daughter's presence, Rodolph would have given
way to the natural impetuosity of his character at this insolence; but
he controlled himself, and coolly replied:

"What do you want, and why do you stop my carriage?"

"Because we choose," said the Skeleton. "Each in his turn. Yesterday you
trampled on the mob, and to-day the mob will