‘M. le Baron and I understand one another, Madame,’ he said, smiling.

He went on to tell that the carriage had been overturned on the Quai des Orfevres, just opposite the hotel of the First President.  Comminges sprang out, sword in hand, drove back the crowd, who would have helped out Broussel, and shouted for the soldiers, some of whom kept back those who would have succoured the prisoner with their drawn swords.  Clement himself had been slightly touched, but was forced back in the scuffle; while the good old man called out to him not to let any one be hurt on his behalf.

Other soldiers were meantime seizing a passing carriage, and taking out a poor lady who occupied it.  Before it could be brought near, the raging crowd had brought axes and hacked it to pieces.  Comminges and his soldiers, well-armed, still dragged their victim along till a troop of the Queen’s guards came up with another carriage, in which the poor old President was finally carried off.

’And this is what we have to submit to from a Spaniard and an Italian!’ cried Clement Darpent.

He had come back to reassure his mother and his guests, but the tumult was raging higher than ever.  The crowd had surrounded the Tuileries, filling the air with shouts of ‘Broussel!  Broussel!’ and threatening to tear down the doors and break in, overwhelming the guards.  Eustace and his host went out again, and presently reported that the Marshal de Meileraye had been half killed, but had been rescued by the Coadjutor, who was giving the people all manner of promises.  This was verified by shouts of ‘Vive le Roi!’ and by and by the crowd came past once more, surrounding the carriage, on the top of which was seated the Coadjutor, in his violet robes, but with his skull cap away, and his cheek bleeding from the blow of a stone.  He was haranguing, gesticulating, blessing, doing all in his power to pacify the crowd, and with the hope of the release of the councilors all was quieting down; and Clement, after reconnoitering, thought it safe to order the carriage to take home his guests.

‘No one can describe,’ said my sister, ’how good and sweet Madame was, though she looked so like a Puritan dame.  Her face was so wonderfully calm and noble, like some grand old saint in a picture; and it lighted up so whenever her son came near her, I wanted to ask her blessing!  And I think she gave it inwardly.  She curtsied, and would have kissed my hand, as being only bourgeois, while I was noble; but I told her I would have no such folly, and I made her give me a good motherly embrace!’

‘I hope she gave you something to eat,’ I said, laughing.

’Oh, yes; we had an excellent meal.  She made us eat before sending us home, soup, and ragout, and chocolate—­excellent chocolate.  She had it brought as soon as possible, because Eustace looked so pale and tired.  Oh, Meg!  She is the very best creature I have seen in France.  Your Rambouillets are nothing to her!  I hope I may see her often again!’