Some one shouted 'Vive le Duc d'Orléans!' and the cry was caught up by about a hundred voices. The queen hated the duke, who was the leader of the liberal party and a renegade from the traditions of his order. He was the people's idol, the abhorrence of the court. The queen would not tolerate his presence, and had refused to accept his homage. This was well known. It was known that his was the name of all others to gall her proud spirit, and the popular detestation of Marie Antoinette found vent in that shout, 'Vive le Duc d'Orléans!' Instantly a pang of annoyance, a flash of anger obscured her eyes; she bent, as though suffering from a spasm. Madame de Lamballe, her pretty little friend, started forwards from her place in the rear and lent the queen her arm. Marie Antoinette rested her hand upon it for a moment, and then with a defiant air continued her walk. The royal family was followed by the procession of ecclesiastics belonging to the cathedral, the church of Notre Dame and the King's chapel, vested in their surplices and capes; the choir and acolytes singing and censing around a canopy of crimson and gold, beneath which the Archbishop of Paris bore the Blessed Sacrament, in a monstrance blazing with rubies. On his right walked De Narbonne-Lara, Bishop of Évreux, acting as deacon, in dalmatic of cloth of gold; he was at Versailles as chaplain to the queen. On the left paced the dean of Versailles in tunicle to match. Monseigneur Juigné, the archbishop, was vested in cope of gold brocade, lined with crimson velvet; the deacons and subdeacons held the corners; he was bare headed. On entering the church of S. Louis, the Blessed Sacrament was elevated to its shrine above the altar. The bands united to play a magnificent triumphal march, as the court took its place. A daïs of purple velvet sown with golden lilies had been prepared for the king and queen; the princes, princesses, the grand officers of the crown and the ladies of the palace grouped themselves around the throne. The triumphal march ceased, and softly, unaccompanied by instruments, the great choir sang the 'O salutaris hostia' to a simple melody full of sweetness, whilst the fragrant smoke rose in clouds upon the altar-steps around the elevated pyx, which blazed through it like a red sun on a misty morning, and every knee was bowed in adoration.