The excessively mobile Parisian character has changed many times since the day of the Duc de Beaufort; but the people of the present are counterparts of the people of the times[128] of Louis XIII. and the Regency. One of Mademoiselle's contemporaries said: "The true Parisians love to work; they love the novelty of things; they love changes in their habits; they even love changes in their business. They are very pious, and very--credulous. They are not in the least drunkards; they are polite to strangers." Subtract the piety and add absinthe, the mother of Folly, and we have the Parisians of our own day. They too are industrious; they are always changing something; they are changeable in themselves; they are credulous; they call religion "superstition," but they believe in "systems," in "panaceas," in high-sounding words, and in "great men"--men truly great, or spuriously great; they still cherish a belief in revolutions. They are as ready now as they were centuries ago to die for an idea, for a Broussel, and for much less than a Broussel. Just such Parisians as we meet in our daily walks raised the barricades in 1648. Broussel's windows looked out upon the river; the boatmen and the people of the water were the first to hear of his arrest, and they rushed crying into the streets; the people of the _Halles_ joined them; and the "good bourgeoisie" followed the people's lead. The tradesmen closed their shops, the chains were drawn across the streets; and in the twinkling of an eye Paris bristled with antiquated firearms like an historical procession. Mademoiselle, who heard the noise, ordered her carriage, and went out to pass the barricades. She had never seen the mob as she saw it then. The people swayed forward to meet the insolent noble who dared to defy them; but when they recognised their Princess, their hoarse cries turned to shouts of welcome, and eager hands raised the chains. Then, haughtily ignoring their fond smiles, Mademoiselle passed and the chains fell behind her. So, with the canaille hailing her, she reached the Luxembourg, turned and recrossed the river, firm in her power as the Princess of the people. She had seen the barricades, and the sight was to influence her life. * * * * * She returned to the Tuileries in a glow not of triumph,--she had never doubted the people,--but she had passed the barriers raised by the people against her enemies, and the people had confirmed her right to rule, while the Regent trembled! The Granddaughter of France was the real head of the people, and as the faëries had been present at her baptism, obstacles and monsters vanished at her approach. With tender pride the people watched her progress; their favour was never based upon reason; they did not ask why they loved the haughty Princess who called them "Knaves" and considered them fit for the scaffold or the fagots. She was their goddess, and whenever she appeared they fell at her feet and worshipped her.