Her lips are closely pressed, as if in a vain effort to dissemble her trouble, for not only is her Dauphin, whose birth had been so proudly hailed, at the point of death, but she is this day greeted, not with the old loyal shouts of “_Vive la reine!_” but with new insulting cries of “_Vive d’Orleans!_” Monsieur le Comte de Provence is grave and pensive, and apparently impressed with the importance of the occasion. He walks with difficulty, owing to his extreme corpulency. The Comte d’Artois shows evident signs of _ennui_ and bad temper, and casts disdainful glances to the right and left upon the crowd that lines the streets, and so, although they little think it, those high-born men and women march onward to their fate. “For although no really hostile sentiments can be said to have _then_ animated that vast throng, nevertheless, alike among those who formed the procession and those who were only its spectators, there was a lurking latent feeling that something strange, something hitherto unknown, coming from the past and pressing on to the future, was moving onwards towards France.” It was the revolution to be decreed by the _Étâts Généraux_. On the 23d of June, the king held a _séance royale_ at Versailles. It was attended with all the _appareil_ and state of the “bed of justice” of the old régime. The _noblesse_ had determined, if possible, to crush the Third Estate; but the king hardly knew how to utter the arrogant and defiant words which had been put into his mouth. It was the lamb attempting to imitate the roar of the lion. “_Je veux, j’ordonne, je commande_” was the burden of the king’s speech, which was read by the keeper of the seals, upon his knees. One may imagine how it was received by the _Tiers État_. The address closed with the following words: “I command you, gentlemen, immediately to disperse, and to repair to-morrow morning to the chambers appropriate to your order.” The king and his attendant court left the hall. The _noblesse_ and the clergy followed him. Exultation beamed upon their faces, for they thought that the _Tiers État_ was now effectually crushed. The Commons remained in their seats. The crisis had arrived. There was now no alternative but resistance or submission, rebellion or servitude. The Marquis de Brézé, grand master of ceremonies, perceiving that the assembly did not retire, advanced to the centre of the hall, and in a loud, authoritative voice,—a voice at whose command nearly fifty thousand troops were ready to march,—demanded, “Did you hear the command of the king?” “Yes, sir,” responded Mirabeau, with a glaring eye and a thunder tone; “we have heard the king’s command, and you who have neither seat nor voice in this house are not the one to remind us of his speech. Go, tell those who sent you, that we are here by the power of the people, and that nothing shall drive us hence but the power of the bayonet.”