e too, then, vanishes from the tissue of our Story.
Story and tissue, faint ineffectual Emblem of that grand Miraculous
Tissue, and Living Tapestry named French Revolution, which did weave
itself then in very fact, 'on the loud-sounding 'LOOM OF TIME!' The old
Brave drop out from it, with their strivings; and new acrid Drouets, of
new strivings and colour, come in:--as is the manner of that weaving.

Chapter 2.4.VIII.

The Return.

So then our grand Royalist Plot, of Flight to Metz, has executed itself.
Long hovering in the background, as a dread royal ultimatum, it has
rushed forward in its terrors: verily to some purpose. How many Royalist
Plots and Projects, one after another, cunningly-devised, that were to
explode like powder-mines and thunderclaps; not one solitary Plot
of which has issued otherwise! Powder-mine of a Seance Royale on the
Twenty-third of June 1789, which exploded as we then said, 'through the
touchhole;' which next, your wargod Broglie having reloaded it, brought
a Bastille about your ears. Then came fervent Opera-Repast, with
flourishing of sabres, and O Richard, O my King; which, aided by Hunger,
produces Insurrection of Women, and Pallas Athene in the shape of
Demoiselle Theroigne. Valour profits not; neither has fortune smiled on
Fanfaronade. The Bouille Armament ends as the Broglie one had done. Man
after man spends himself in this cause, only to work it quicker ruin; it
seems a cause doomed, forsaken of Earth and Heaven.

On the Sixth of October gone a year, King Louis, escorted by Demoiselle
Theroigne and some two hundred thousand, made a Royal Progress and
Entrance into Paris, such as man had never witnessed: we prophesied him
Two more such; and accordingly another of them, after this Flight to
Metz, is now coming to pass. Theroigne will not escort here, neither
does Mirabeau now 'sit in one of the accompanying carriages.' Mirabeau
lies dead, in the Pantheon of Great Men. Theroigne lies living, in dark
Austrian Prison; having gone to Liege, professionally, and been seized
there. Bemurmured now by the hoarse-flowing Danube; the light of her
Patriot Supper-Parties gone quite out; so lies Theroigne: she shall
speak with the Kaiser face to face, and return. And France lies how!
Fleeting Time shears down the great and the little; and in two years
alters many things.

But at all events, here, we say, is a second Ignominious Royal
Procession, though much altered; to be witnessed also by i