sive, till fortune shall decide. In utmost
secresy, a brisk Correspondence goes on with Bouille; there is also a
plot, which emerges more than once, for carrying the King to Rouen: (See
Hist. Parl. vii. 316; Bertrand-Moleville, &c.) plot after plot, emerging
and submerging, like 'ignes fatui in foul weather, which lead no
whither. About 'ten o'clock at night,' the Hereditary Representative, in
partie quarree, with the Queen, with Brother Monsieur, and Madame,
sits playing 'wisk,' or whist. Usher Campan enters mysteriously, with a
message he only half comprehends: How a certain Compte d'Inisdal waits
anxious in the outer antechamber; National Colonel, Captain of the watch
for this night, is gained over; post-horses ready all the way; party of
Noblesse sitting armed, determined; will His Majesty, before midnight,
consent to go? Profound silence; Campan waiting with upturned ear. "Did
your Majesty hear what Campan said?" asks the Queen. "Yes, I heard,"
answers Majesty, and plays on. "'Twas a pretty couplet, that of
Campan's," hints Monsieur, who at times showed a pleasant wit: Majesty,
still unresponsive, plays wisk. "After all, one must say something to
Campan," remarks the Queen. "Tell M. d'Inisdal," said the King, and the
Queen puts an emphasis on it, "that the King cannot consent to be forced
away."--"I see!" said d'Inisdal, whisking round, peaking himself into
flame of irritancy: "we have the risk; we are to have all the blame
if it fail," (Campan, ii. 105.)--and vanishes, he and his plot, as
will-o'-wisps do. The Queen sat till far in the night, packing
jewels: but it came to nothing; in that peaked frame of irritancy the
Will-o'-wisp had gone out.

Little hope there is in all this. Alas, with whom to fly? Our loyal
Gardes-du-Corps, ever since the Insurrection of Women, are disbanded;
gone to their homes; gone, many of them, across the Rhine towards
Coblentz and Exiled Princes: brave Miomandre and brave Tardivet, these
faithful Two, have received, in nocturnal interview with both Majesties,
their viaticum of gold louis, of heartfelt thanks from a Queen's lips,
though unluckily 'his Majesty stood, back to fire, not speaking;'
(Campan, ii. 109-11.) and do now dine through the Provinces; recounting
hairsbreadth escapes, insurrectionary horrors. Great horrors; to be
swallowed yet of greater. But on the whole what a falling off from the
old splendour of Versailles! Here in this poor Tuileries, a National
Brewer-Colonel, s