Attended by the Prince of Vaudemont and Count Pappenheim, and surrounded by his richly-dressed garde du corps, composed of one hundred chosen Switzers, with their trumpets sounding and kettledrums beating, and followed by all the officials of his civil tribunals, the Advocate General and messieurs the Councillors of the Chamber of Accounts for Nanci and Bar-le-Duc, came Charles IV., Duke of Lorraine, a fine-looking old soldier, compact and stately in form, with his head worn bare less by time than by the peak of his helmet; he had keen dark eyes and large grizzled moustaches. He was dressed in a suit of black velvet trimmed with narrow lace and silver cord. He wore a high stiff ruff, a diamond-hilted sword, and the order of the Golden Fleece. He bowed kindly to the people, who greeted him with a storm of acclamation, as he rode slowly past on a powerful black charger, which he had ridden scatheless through many a battlefield. The Duke of Alsace, a son of the house of Suabia, who feudally held his duchy of the house of Lorraine, rode on his left hand, with his coronet borne before him, by an armed Knight of Malta. This Duke was a child about nine years of age, and though I knew it not then, was destined to bear an important position in this my narrative; but of that more in time. A young lady clad in a suit of that rich white satin for the manufacture of which Nanci is so famed, brocaded with gold, rode at his right hand, and managed her horse's reins of red silken fringe, with singular grace. Her hair was of a colour resembling gold, and escaped in brilliant locks from under her broad hat, which had two long and drooping white feathers. Her face was turned from me, as she was conversing with young Pappenheim; but the enthusiasm of the people grew to a frenzy, in their shouts of welcome: for this golden-haired girl was the Duke's only daughter; and as they approached, the dense masses in the square swayed to and fro, with such an impetus, that twice I was nearly thrown down and trod under foot. 'Vive Mademoiselle Marie-Louise!' was the cry. 'Vive le Duc d'Alsace!' 'Vive Louise de Lorraine et M. le Comte de Pappenheim!' Such were the shouts that burst like a storm around me. 'Is that young lady the daughter of the Duke?' I asked of the sergeant, who still held me fast by the arm. 'Yes, monsieur. Pardieu! but she is lovely! Her horse is stopped by the crowd--a moment, and she will look this way.' 'I thought she was in the Bastille, at Paris.' 'So we all thought; but, last night, she returned to Nanci. That is the gallant Count Pappenheim (son of Godfrey _le Balafré_), whom she is to many, that now she is chatting to so gaily. Now, she turns our way--look! Monsieur, look! O vive Mademoiselle de Lorraine!' The fair young lady heard the stentorian shout of Alsfeldt; she turned to us, and bowed.