I thought of him afterward when an angry crowd was battering at the doors of one of the salons where the royalties were having refreshments. I don't think they realised, and we certainly didn't, what the noise meant, but some of the marshal's household, who knew that only a slight temporary partition was between us and an irate mob, struggling up the staircase, were green with anxiety. However, the royalties all got away without any difficulty, and we tried to hurry immediately after them, but a dense crowd was then pouring into the room at each end, and for a moment things looked ugly. The gentlemen, my husband and my brother-in-law, Eugene Schuyler, Lord Lyons, British ambassador (a big square-shouldered man), and one or two others, put us, my sister Schuyler and me, in a recess of one of the big windows, with heavy furniture in front of us, but that was not very pleasant--with the crowd moving both ways closing in upon us--and the men were getting nervous, so one of our secretaries squeezed through the crowd and found two or three huissiers, came back with them, and we made a procession--two big huissiers in front, with their silver chains and swords, the mark of official status, which always impresses a French crowd, then Lord Lyons, my sister, and I, then W. and Schuyler, and two more men behind us--and with considerable difficulty and a good many angry expostulations, we made our way out. Happily our carriages and servants with our wraps were waiting in one of the inner courts, and we got away easily enough, but the evening was disastrous to most of the company. There must have been some misunderstanding between the marshal's household and the officials at Versailles, as but one staircase (and there are several) was opened to the public, which was of course absolutely insufficient. Why others were not opened and lighted will always be a mystery. Every one got jammed in the one narrow stairway--people jostled and tumbled over each other--some of the women fainted and were carried out, borne high aloft over the heads of the struggling multitudes, and many people never saw their cloaks again. The vestiaire was taken by storm--satin and lace cloaks lying on the ground, trampled upon by everybody, and at the end, various men not having been able to find their coats were disporting themselves in pink satin cloaks lined with swan's-down--over their shoulders. Quantities of people never got into the palace--not even on the staircase. The landing was directly opposite the room where the princes had their buffet--and if they had succeeded in forcing the door, it would have been a catastrophe. While we were standing in the window, looking into the park, which looked an enchanted garden, with the lights and flowers--we wondered if we could jump or climb down if the crowd pressed too much upon us, but it was too high and there were no projecting balconies to serve as stepping-stones. It was a very unpleasant experience.