. Whether from thoughtless inattention or studied
affectation I cannot say, but at that moment, when all stood in
respectful silence before the Emperor, Duchesne had approached the
grille of the Palace, next to the Place du Carrousel, and was busily
chatting with a pretty-looking girl, who, with a number of others, sat
in a hired caleche. A hearty burst of laughter at something he said rang
through the court, and turned every eye in that direction. In an instant
the Emperor's eagle glance pierced the distance, and fastened on the
chevalier, who, seated carelessly on one side of his saddle, paid no
attention to what was going forward; when suddenly an aide-de-camp
touched him on the arm, and said,--

"Monsieur le Capitaine Duchesne, his Majesty the Emperor would speak
with you."

Duchesne turned; a faint, a very faint flush, covered his cheek, and
putting spurs to his horse, he galloped up to the front of the terrace,
where the Emperor was standing. From the distance at which I stood,
to hear what passed was impossible; but I watched with a most painful
interest the scene before me.

The Emperor's attitude was unchanged as the chevalier rode up; and when
Duchesne himself seemed to listen with a respectful manner to the words
of his Majesty, I could see by his easy bearing that his self-possession
had never deserted him. The interview lasted not many minutes, when the
Emperor waved his hand haughtily; and the chevalier, saluting with his
sabre, backed his horse some paces, and then, wheeling round, rapidly
galloped towards the gate, through which he passed.

"This evening, then, Mademoiselle," said he, with a smile, "I hope to
have the honor." And, with a courteous bow, rode on towards the archway
opening on the quay.

"What has happened?" said I, eagerly, to the officer at my side.

He shook his head as if doubtful, and half fearing even to whisper at
the moment.

"His privilege of the _elite_ is withdrawn, sir," said an old general
officer. "He must leave Paris to join his regiment in twenty-four
hours."

"Poor fellow!" muttered I, half aloud, when a savage frown from the
veteran officer corrected my words.

"What, sir!" said he, in a low voice, where every word was thickened to
a guttural sound--"what, sir! is the court of the Tuileries no more than
a canteen or a bivouac? _Pardieu!_ if it was not for his laced jacket he
had been degraded to the ranks; ay, and deserved it too!"

The coarse accents and unde