se now,"
and he stood up and looked over the balcony rail to better see the cause
of the shout which had suddenly gone up. "'Tis for Monsieur de
Lafayette, I think. See, he is walking yonder, with d'Azay on one side
of him and Noailles on the other."

Adrienne leaned over the balustrade, and looked down at her brother and
Monsieur de Lafayette, who saw her at the same instant. Smiling and
bowing, she flung a handful of roses, which she had carried all morning,
at the gentlemen, who uncovered and waved her their thanks. As they did
so, a sudden blare of trumpets and strains of martial music burst forth,
and the black-robed deputies of the clergy appeared, separated into two
files by the band of royal musicians.

"'Tis like a play, n'est ce pas?" said Adrienne, gayly, to Mr. Morris,
who had again come up, having been dismissed by Madame de Flahaut on the
arrival of Monsieur de Curt.

"No, 'tis but the prologue," corrected Mr. Morris, "and the play itself
is like enough to be a tragedy, I think," he added, in a low voice, to
Calvert.

"And here are the King and Queen at last," cried Madame de St. Andre,
as a great cheering went up. Every eye in that vast throng was riveted
upon the King, who now appeared, preceded by the Archbishop of Paris
carrying the Holy Sacrament under a great canopy, the four corners of
which were held by the Dukes of Angouleme and Berry and the King's two
brothers, Monsieur and the Comte d'Artois. Near the Holy Sacrament
marched the cardinals, bishops, and archbishops elected to the
States-General, and in the throng Calvert quickly and easily detected by
his halting step his acquaintance, the Bishop of Autun. About His
Majesty walked the high officers of the crown, and the enthusiasm of
Madame de Stael, which had been on the increase every instant, reached a
climax when she recognized Monsieur Necker, conspicuous by his size and
bearing, among the entourage of Louis, and, when she courtesied, the
obeisance seemed intended more for her father than her King.

"You are wrong to rejoice so greatly," said Madame de Montmorin, laying
a timid hand on Madame de Stael's arm, which trembled with excitement.
She had scarce said a word the whole morning and had sat staring with
troubled face at the magnificent pageant as it passed. "I feel sure that
great disasters to France will follow this day's business."

Madame de Stael impatiently shook off the detaining hand. "'Tis the day
of days," she cried, ent