have been from his wounds, but from brain-fever, consequent on fatigue, heat and the exhaustion he had felt during the triumph they had compelled him to submit to, in spite of his remonstrances, by reason of the high courage he had shown. Another student, with a bullet through his chest, was lying on the staircase: they took him up in their arms, carried him to the first storey and laid him upon the throne embroidered with fleurs de lys, where over ten thousand of the populace seated themselves in turn, or several at a time, throughout that day. Through the windows that looked out on the garden, one could see the tail end of a regiment of Lancers, as they disappeared under the great trees. A cab was trying to catch them up; the horse was galloping fast, for, no doubt, the driver wanted to put himself under protection of the regiment. The Tuileries was crowded: people were recognising their friends among the crowd and embracing and questioning one another-- "Where is such and such a person?" "He is over there!" "Where?" "There!" Another was wounded--or dead! And each made a gesture as funeral oration, signifying, "It is a pity! but, bless me, he died on a grand day!" And on they would go, from the throne-room to the king's private study, from there to the king's bedroom. The king's bed, by the way, must have been out of the common, although I never knew what went on in that room; for, to judge by the number of spectators that surrounded it and by their shouts of laughter, something outrageous must have taken place round it. Perhaps a mock wedding of Democracy with Liberty! And again the crowd moved on, each individual mingling his voice and gesticulations with those of the multitude. On they went, following those who walked ahead, pushed forward by the crowds behind. They reached the Marshals' Hall. I had never seen these rooms before, and did not see them again until the fall of King Louis-Philippe, in 1848. During the eighteen years' reign of the Younger Branch I never set foot in the Tuileries, except to visit the Duc d'Orléans. But, be it understood, the Marsan pavilion is not in the least degree part of the Tuileries, and it was very often a reason for not going to the Tuileries if one were sent for to the Marsan pavilion. Forgive the digression, but I am glad to flout those who might say they had seen me with the king.