of view. Their sensibility and agitation during the
uncertainty as to the person thrown, vouched for the liveliness of
their conjugal affection; and their sympathy for Madame la Comtesse de
Bourmont when it was ascertained that her husband was the sufferer,
bore evidence to the kindness of their hearts, as well as to their
facility in performing the little services so acceptable in moments
like those I had just witnessed.

Charles X, the Dauphin and Dauphine, and the Duchesse de Berri, were
present--the two latter in landaus, attended by their ladies. The king
looked well, his grey hair and tall thin figure giving him a very
venerable aspect.

The Dauphine is much changed since I last saw her, and the care and
sorrow of her childhood have left their traces on her countenance. I
never saw so melancholy a face, and the strength of intellect which
characterises it renders it still more so, by indicating that the marks
of sorrow so visible were not indented on that brow without many an
effort from the strong mind to resist the attacks of grief.

I remember reading years ago of the melancholy physiognomy of King
Charles I, which when seen in his portrait by a Florentine sculptor, to
whom it was sent in order that a bust should be made from it, drew
forth the observation that the countenance indicated that its owner
would come to a violent death.

I was reminded of this anecdote by the face of the Duchesse
d'Angouleme; for though I do not pretend to a prescience as to her
future fate, I cannot help arguing from it that, even should a peaceful
reign await her, the fearful trials of her youth have destroyed in her
the power of enjoyment; and that on a throne she can never forget the
father and mother she saw hurried from it, to meet every insult that
malice could invent, or cruelty could devise, before a violent death
freed them from their sufferings.

Who can look on this heroic woman without astonishment at the power of
endurance that has enabled her to live on under such trials? Martyr is
written in legible characters on that brow, and on those lips; and her
attempt to smile made me more sad than the tears of a mourner would
have done, because it revealed "a grief too deep for tears."

Must she not tremble for the future, if not for the present, among a
people so versatile as those among whom she is now thrown? And can she
look from the windows of the palace she has been recalled to inhabit,
without seeing the spot wh