“I can assure you of your error, so far,” replied my companion. “The greatest difficulty we encountered----” There was a slight pause here, as if by use of the word “we” an unwitting betrayal had escaped him. He speedily, however, resumed:--“The greatest difficulty was to persuade his Majesty that the entire affair was any thing but a street brawl. He treated the accounts with an indifference bordering on contempt; and at every fresh narrative of the repulse of the troops, he seemed to feel that the lesson to be inflicted subsequently would be the most efficacious check to popular excess in future. To give an instance,--a very slight one, but not without its moral, of the state of feeling of the court,--at four o’clock of the afternoon of the third day, when the troops had fallen back from the Place du Carrousel, and with great loss been compelled to retreat towards the Champs Elysées, Captain Langlet, of the 4th Lancers, volunteered to carry a verbal message to Versailles, in doing which he should traverse a great part of Paris in the occupation of the insurgents. The attempt was a bold and daring one, but it succeeded. After innumerable hairbreadth dangers and escapes, he reached Versailles at half-past seven. His horse had twice fallen, and his uniform was torn by balls; and he entered the courtyard of the Palace just as his Majesty learned that his dinner was served. Lang-let hastened up the great staircase, and, by the most pressing entreaties to the officer in waiting, obtained permission to wait there till the king should pass. He stood there for nearly a quarter of an hour; it seemed an age to him, for though faint, wounded, and weary, his thoughts were fixed on the scene of struggle he had quitted, and the diminishing chances of success each moment told. At last the door of a salon was flung wide, and the Grand Maréchal, accompanied by the officers in waiting, were seen retiring in measured steps before the King. His Majesty had not advanced half-way along the corridor when he perceived the splashed and travel-stained figure of the officer. ‘Who is that?’ demanded he, in a tone of almost asperity. The officer on guard stepped forward, and told who he was and the object of his coming. The king spoke a few words hastily and passed on. Langlet awaited in breathless eagerness to hear when he should have his audience--he only craved time for a single sentence. What was the reply he received?--an order to present himself, ‘suitably dressed,’ in the morning. Before that morning broke there was no King in France! “Take this--the story is true--as a specimen of the fatuity of the Court. _Quem Deus vult perdere_;--so it is we speak of events, but we forget ourselves.” “But still,” said I, “the army scarcely performed their _devoir_--not, at least, as French troops understand _devoir_--where their hearts are engaged.’’