The Chamber of Parliament was the chosen arena for the display of his eloquence on this day, and St. Maur had instructions to repair thither, after executing sundry commissions intrusted to his care. The subordinate leaders and scout-masters had received orders, late in the evening, to muster the people early on the morrow, and cause as much excitement as possible in the populace, so that they might be ripe and ready for any movement of the chiefs. The Secretary, therefore, was prepared to find the streets crowded, and the public places occupied by bands of citizens, artisans, and the usual train of the markets and hucksters' stalls. Every one was inquiring the cause of the assemblage of which he himself formed a part, seemingly unconscious that the question would be best resolved in the motive which induced the questioner to stir abroad. About the hour of ten, there appeared a gradual concentration towards the Hôtel-de-Ville; even the space underneath the bronze statue on the Pont-Neuf, the daily resort of orators, ballad-mongers, and venders of ready-made dinners and deserts, was abandoned. The mob, without knowing why, acted by a common impulse, and felt itself impelled towards the former station, and the simple loiterer and active Frondeur were carried along with the stream. The emissaries of the faction were so well disciplined as to be enabled, by unostentatiously heading the various groups, to direct their movements, and lead them to the intended scene of operation. St. Maur, who at the above-named hour was crossing the bridge, found himself in the slowly-moving crowd, and as his progress was consequently much retarded, he amused himself in studying the deportment of the compatriots, and listening to the medley of their discourse. A chanson was struck up, in which his own name occurred. He smiled, as the words brought to mind the event on which it was founded, and which had excited both the attention and ridicule of the Parisians. It related to the conciliatory, but fatal, overture which he carried from Mazarin to the Prince of Condé; the words, which several times caught his ear from the group now singing, were Bufflé à manches de velours noir, These were the initiatory lines of the song, but formed also the chorus to the following verses; and as the Secretary heard his name, ever and anon, echoing over the quiet waters of the Seine, he was in great doubt whether it were intended as complimentary to his presence, or the result of accident. He could not determine whether he were recognised or not, and was only recalled from the dilemma, by a voice shouting from behind, in tones once very familiar, and not yet forgotten, Condé, rentre dans ton devoir, He looked back, and the extended hand of Gourville was already on his shoulder. As they saluted each other, to all appearance very cordially, the master of the horse continued in his loud rough voice, C'est un tigre affamé de sang, "Silence! Gourville," cried the youth angry at the publicity of the rencontre," or by St. -" and the Secretary paused, unwilling to indulge in the oath already on his lips. By St. Maur, you would say," rejoined the master of the horse; "as good a saint to swear by as any in the calendar; that is," he continued, dropping his voice, "if such a saint be found there." After a few words of explanation, as their route was the same, they agreed to accompany each other, and St. Maur was not sorry to walk under convoy of this formidable and enthusiastic officer of the Prince of Condé. He pushed aside the lagging passengers, called to others to make room, and opened a much quicker path for himself and his young friend, than the latter would ever have attempted on his own behalf, had the emergency been ever so pressing. The arms and equipment of the desultory train called forth constant remarks from Gourville. It looked as though the bearers had plucked them at hazard from walls and cupboards, where they had lain rusting for many a year; lances which had graced the tilt-yard, axes of old date, and swords and matchlocks of all eras and fashions--a formidable array to encounter the Marshal Turenne, should he assault the city, as the master of the horse observed. "And look, St. Maur," he continued, "at that boy with the gilt cuirass, and the figure of an angel on his breast.. Depend upon it he is the contingent furnished by your old host, La Motte, of the Golden Angel.” And the Secretary did take the trouble of looking, for he was close to the wearer of the cuirass; but what Gourville had mista ken for an angel, was the beatified relievo of a monk, and underneath, in large letters, were the words, Jaques Clement. This was the name of a Dominican monk, who killed Henry the Third for his supposed apostacy, as St. Maur's knowledge of history enabled him to inform Gourville, and who, having been put to death by Henry's successor, was canonized by the catholic party. "It's a relique of the League," said the master of the horse, laughing; "wait awhile, and we shall see the sword of Charlemagne or the lance of St. Louis." Milliners and tailors had invented articles of dress à la Fronde without number; these were left to the taste and discretion of the wearer; but the Fronde imposed on all its members, the assumption of Condé's favourite colour, the Isabelle-blue, which might be exhibited in either scarf, feather, or mantle. It was the fashion of the day for people of quality—as the phrase went then-to wear a short cloak or mantle, fastened closely round the neck, and hanging in folds around the body, seldom reaching so low as the knee. Over it was worn a collar of rich face, open in front, and fastened with a jewel, whilst from beneath fell the tassels of the cloak. It was a chosen mode with the gallants of the Fronde to have the strings and tassels of Condé's colour; and a blue-tinted feather mingling with the white ostrich-wreath which clung round the hat. The burgesses, and others of similar rank, following the same fashion of garments, likewise adopted the emblematic colour in the tassels and cloak-buttons, but making little or no display of lace and feathers, and the colour of the cloak being generally of black, or some other sober hue-contrasting unfavourably with the white and drab cloth of the noblesse: the imprint of the Fronde was not so legible in their ensemble. All classes, even to the water-carriers and charcoal-burners, with their tattered cloaks, adopted the prevailing colour in some shape. Gourville and St. Maur, habited in light-coloured mantles, were yet further distinguished, as closely allied to Condé, by the broad blue scarfs which they wore across the breast, and which were conspicuous under the opening of the upper garment. This gay plumage aided very much the exertions of the master of the horse in forcing a way through the crowd; the populace very politely shrank from soiling the clothes of the gallants by contact with their own dirty habiliments. There was a self-expressed inferiority in these revolters, such as might be imagined of humble delf in the presence of porcelain, which contrasted singularly with the condi tion of rebels in arms against a dynasty old as the city itself. But the French people had not then lost their respect for gentle birth and ancestral authority; another century and a half of unrewarded toil and hardship was wanting to grind the feeling out of their hearts. After crossing the bridge, the two companions continued along the quays, walking with more freedom, as the crowd was not so dense, till the turning, which opens into the Place of the Hôtel-deVille, burst upon the view. On many occasions, during the Fronde, the auditory had been addressed from the windows of this ancient pile, but now, a stage or rostrum was erected in front of the hotel, and accommodation prepared for the orators. With much exertion, and continual application of his rhetorical powers, Gourville forced a way for himself and St. Maur, to within a short distance of the stage. The Secretary, during their walk, had unfortunately confessed that he had never heard de Beaufort address the people, though he had often been amused by the strange remarks and odd sayings of the princely orator in council. 66 You are but a milk-and-water Frondeur after all!" cried Gourville, when he had succeeded in dragging his companion to the spot. He affected to treat the youth in precisely the same patronizing style adopted when St. Maur was a hanger-on at the Hôtel de Condé ; but this was an error of judgment, as well as want of courtesy and politeness, and the Secretary was indignant, though silent. 66 You have forgotten my lesson on the Quai des Orfèvres with the goldsmith, or it would never have been written, as the song says: Monsieur St. Maur consent à la paix." These words, which formed part of the chanson overheard by the youth on the bridge of the Pont Neuf, were sung by Gourville in the off-hand, careless tone assumed by the lower grade of the Frondeurs, and St. Maur was provoked à l'outrance. "I will wait for Monsieur de Beaufort, as it is your pleasure," said the Secretary, endeavouring to assume a calmness which he did not feel; "but when the comedy is over, we will retire and settle the conditions of our future intercourse." "Are you angry?" asked Gourville, casting a careless glance at the youth. St. Maur was angry; his right glove had been drawn from his hand accidentally, and when Gourville spoke, he was about to draw it on; but the cool insolence of Condé's official was so provoking, that he made a motion as if to dash it across his face. Whether Gourville anticipated the action or not, his ready fingers caught the uplifted arm, and prevented the blow. "It is well done, St. Maur, and I ask your forgiveness," said the Gascon in an altered tone. Till now I never had faith in you; the Prince had, and it seems he has more discernment than I. If your honour be not satisfied with less, Jean Gourville will feel happy in the distinction of measuring swords with Monsieur St. Maur; but now, or hereafter, I am ready to confess the wrong, and shall feel proud of your friendship." St. Maur was well pleased to accept the amende, though he cer tainly could not perceive the wisdom of the proceeding of insulting a man as a prelude to a closer intimacy or friendship. But he re flected, compassionately, that the nature of Gourville was so insolent and overbearing, that he could not easily associate courage, or a sense of honour, with a quiet demeanour. They were, therefore, through the forbearance of the youth, friends again; and the appearance of the Duke of Beaufort on the rostrum or hustings, put an end to farther excuses and apologies. The vast assemblage which thronged around the speaker was composed of fearful materials; men, whose savage, discontented looks, and ragged dress, bespoke poverty and crime. Among this class might be recognised the disbanded soldier, accustomed to ra pine in war, and in peace too indolent to work, lurking after the footsteps of honest industry, and ready to pounce on spoil wherever the chance offered. By his side stood the timid, though more adroit vagabond of the metropolis, accomplished in the whole art and mystery of petty larcenies and pilferings. The gentler sex were not absent when Beaufort showed his face. More honest than the men, their passions were more violent. Mazarin they would have torn in pieces, the Palais Royal they would have burnt to ashes; and the Queen-there is no divining what they would have done with her Majesty; but she was detest ed, as a false, disloyal woman, heaping favours upon a foreigner, whilst the children of the soil were starving. Les dames des halles, or market-women, the poissonnières, or fishvenders, to use the most polite. English term, have been ever a dangerous class, and were as much dreaded at that period by Anne of Austria, as they afterwards were by Marie Antoinette. Yet these female furies were the most delighted of de Beaufort's auditory, the most easily led by his eccentric eloquence, and with whom he would more readily have trusted his life, than with the advisers and coun |