At last, when May had passed into June, the day came which witnessed the Queen of England's departure from Paris. The King, who was still far from well, determined, nevertheless, to see his sister on her way as far as Compiègne, and apart from his royal presence she had goodly attendance. It included the Queen-Mother and her second son Gaston, both of whom intended to accompany the bride to the coast; the Queen Consort, who, against the advice of her best friends, could not tear herself from the fascinating company of Buckingham; the Duke of Chevreuse, and M. de Ville-aux-Clercs, who were commissioned by the King of France to deliver over his sister to her royal husband. Finally, Madame de Chevreuse, who had asked and obtained permission to accompany the bride to her new home for a reason similar to that which actuated her friend Queen Anne--namely, the love which she bore to the Earl of Holland. It was three o'clock in the afternoon when Henrietta left the Louvre to set out on her journey to England. Her brother, who, perhaps to dazzle the more homely English, had spared no expense on her trousseau and equipment, had provided for her personal use a magnificent litter upholstered within and without in red _cramoisi_ velvet, which was relieved by the gold embroidery of the cushions and curtains. It was drawn by two fine mules, gorgeous in their red velvet cloths, and with white aigrettes nodding merrily on their heads. They were led by a muleteer who was handsomely dressed, and who rode another richly caparisoned mule. The trappings of the rest of the party were also splendid in proportion to their rank. A brave escort saw on her way the daughter of Henry IV. Archers and guards turned out to do her honour, and by her side rode that great civic dignitary, "M. le prevost des Marchands." To the sound of martial music went the gay cavalcade, through the narrow streets of old Paris up to the Porte S. Denys, and so beyond the wall, which still guarded the city, into the suburbs. Working men and women, leaving their toil, lined the road, many of whom looking on the fair child who was leaving them, and having no expectation of seeing her again, could not restrain their weeping. [Illustration: FROM AN ENGRAVING AFTER THE PICTURE BY FRANCIS POURBUS] Half-way to S. Denys the party halted. The provost of the merchants delivered a weary discourse, "full of matter," and then bidding Henrietta farewell he turned back to Paris with his escort. The rest pushed on. There was no time to wait at S. Denys, where the dust of Henrietta's father lay, and whither her own dead body was to be carried nearly half a century later. The summer evening was drawing in, and it was thought wiser to go on to Stains, where a night's rest awaited the bride, who may well have been fatigued by the toils of this exciting day.