An hour after dawn a compact crowd peopled the vast interior of St. Denis; persons of all ranks, from the artizan to the petty noble and his family, rushed tumultuously towards the sacred edifice, in order to secure a sight of the august solemnity; and great was the surprise of all to find themselves already preceded by the King, who came and went throughout the early part of the morning, superintending every arrangement in person, and apparently overlooking his bodily ailments in the extraordinary excitement under which he laboured. The Dauphin, Madame the elder Princess, the ex-Queen Marguerite, the Princes of the Blood, and great dignitaries who were summoned to assist at the ceremony, accompanied by the Cardinals de Gondy and de Sourdis, proceeded at an early hour to the Louvre to conduct the Queen to the cathedral; and it was no sooner announced that her Majesty was prepared to set forth than the procession formed. The ceremonial had not, however, been definitively arranged without considerable difficulty. Marguerite, who, whatever might be her errors, could not contemplate her presence at this solemnity as a mere spectator without considerable heart-burning, considered herself aggrieved by the fact that instead of following immediately behind the Queen, she was to be preceded by Madame Elisabeth, still a mere child; and so great was her indignation at this discovery, that she was very reluctantly induced to abandon her intention of pretexting illness, and absenting herself entirely from the pageant. The earnest remonstrances of her friends, who represented to her the certainty of the King's serious displeasure, alone determined her to sacrifice her dignity; and although she ultimately consented to submit to an arrangement which she considered as an encroachment upon her rights as the daughter of a long line of sovereigns, rather than draw down upon herself the resentment of the monarch, she wept bitterly while she prepared to swell the retinue of her successor.[3] The Comte de Soissons was less compliant; for it was no sooner announced to him that the Duchesse de Vendôme, the wife of the King's natural son, was to appear in a mantle embroidered with _fleurs-de-lis_ similar to those worn by the Princesses of the Blood, than he loudly declared that he would not countenance so disgraceful an innovation; and having ordered his household to prepare for an instant departure from Paris, he left the capital with the Princess his wife, and retired to one of his country seats.[4]