Round after round of cheering announced the approach of the procession, which was on the most magnificent scale. After a body of trumpeters came fifty guides clothed in the Royal livery, and then eight hundred gorgeously dressed nobles on horseback. I felt a passing pang of envy at sight of the nobleman who led the Light Horse. His robe was of gold embroidery, and he carried his sword in a baldrick of pearls. In his hat waved a splendid plume of feathers, and the trappings of his white horse were of scarlet adorned with pearls. The spectators could not contain themselves, but clapped their hands and cried "Bravo!" vigorously. After the Light Horse came the Hundred Swiss in their romantic costume, and then a crowd of gentlemen, followed by the marshals of France--one carrying the King's sword, with the scabbard resting on his arm. Then a thundering roar broke out, and the people appeared beside themselves with delight. "Live the King!" they cried. "God bless him!" "God save his Majesty!" I craned my neck as eagerly as any other sightseer, as our youthful monarch approached. He was truly a handsome boy, and managed his fiery horse with the grace and skill of an accomplished rider. "What a King he will be!" exclaimed one bystander. "He will bring back the glory to our country. _Vive le Roi! Vive le Roi!_" and again there was an outburst of cheering. No one paid any attention to the princes and nobles following him; all the cheers were for the King and the King alone. I observed Raoul ride by, and presently John Humphreys appeared with the guards who surrounded the Queen's carriage. Raoul was smiling, for, like a true Parisian, he enjoyed a pretty show, but the Englishman strode along as if he had a mind to be done with the business. Just as he was on a level with me I received a great surprise. On the other side of the road a little man had pushed himself right into the front line of spectators, and was gazing anxiously up and down as if expecting to recognise some one. "Why, surely," I said, half aloud, "that is my old acquaintance, Pillot!" and, looking a second time I became sure of it. The dwarf seemed ill at ease, and altogether unlike his usual self. His face, too, was white and pinched, as if he had been suffering from a severe illness. "_Parbleu!_" I muttered, "one would not think he had but just returned from the country! Perhaps he missed the air of Paris! Anyhow, I am glad he is back, as now I shall learn the truth as to my cousin's death. When the procession is gone by I will beckon to him to come over."