"Was ever anything so ridiculous!" and Mademoiselle de Rosny laughs. "But I shall be terrified at their awkwardness; they will be sure to fire too low and hit us." "Oh, but you must come. I will be your guard; I pledge myself that you shall return uninjured," and D'Aumale gives the lady a tender glance. "Besides, to reassure you, I believe that these monk-warriors are not even to be trusted with matches; the arquebuses and cannon are as empty and as innocent as when in the arsenal; so there is nothing to fear. If you will come, I will conduct you in my new coach—the very model of elegance—I will answer for it there is not such another in all Paris." "That will be delightful!" cries the lady. "I do admire those new coaches so much, if it were not for this abominable war, I suppose they would become universal. Well, Monsieur d'Aumale, I am ready! let us see these monks; it will be a good story with which to entertain Madame la Duchesse de Longueville this evening at her reception. How the Duc de Beaufort will laugh!" In high glee Mademoiselle de Rosny departed, accompanied by her admirer, her pleasure not a little heightened by the idea of appearing in a coach, then by no means common in Paris, and reserved generally for royalty, or for grand occasions, or state processions—heavy lumbering vehicles, such as figure in the old prints of that period, with a sloping roof like a house, and drawn by Flemish horses of huge dimensions. On arriving near the bridge, they stop under the shadow of the Cathedral, and there behold the most extraordinary spectacle. All the young monks in Paris are crowded near Notre-Dame, with the exception of the Benedictines and some other orders, who refused to take any part in this mummery. At least fifteen hundred ecclesiastics, drawn up in excellent order, are executing the various manœuvres of march, halt, right-about face, etc., with tolerable precision. The greater number have fastened up their black robes, and invested their lower limbs with most uncanonical garments. The reverend fathers, with their hoods hanging over their shoulders, are booted and spurred, many wear helmets and cuirasses, and all carry such halberts, lances, swords, and bucklers as they had been able to lay hands on. Others grasp a crucifix in one hand, and in the other a pistol, a scythe, an old dagger or a knife, with which each intends to perform prodigies of valour against the enemies of the Fronde. As they advance and retreat on the dusty soil in lines and columns, they present the appearance of an immense flight of crows hovering over a field of newly cut wheat.