A more extraordinary procession was perhaps never seen. Royal carriages, and waggons full of corn,--the king's guards and the ragamuffin crowd; round the king's carriage a mob of dirty, fierce fish-women and market-women, eating as they walked, and sometimes screaming out close at the coach-door, "We shall not want bread any more. We have got the baker, and the baker's wife, and the little baker's boy:"--such was the procession. There was another thing in it which the king and queen saw, but which we must hope the children did not,--the heads of two body-guards who had been killed early in the morning, in the quarrel which led to the attack upon the queen. The queen sat in her coach, seen by the vast multitude, for five long hours,--calm, dignified, and silent. From one till two the royal carriage had to stand, while the great procession was preparing to move; and it did not enter Paris till dusk,--till six o'clock. It was still raining,--a dull, drizzling rain. Louis could not have liked to hear himself talked about as he was, by the loud dirty women that crowded round the coach; nor to hear them speak to his mother. Some pointed to the corn-waggons, and told her they had got what they wanted, in spite of her. Some said, "Come now, don't you be a traitor any more, and we will all love you." There were two hundred thousand people in this procession. When they reached Paris, the royal family did not go straight home to the Tuileries. There was something to be done first. They had to go to the great city hall, to meet the authorities of Paris. The mayor received them, and welcomed them to the city; and the king replied that he always came with pleasure and confidence among his good people of Paris. In repeating what the king had declared to those assembled, the mayor forgot the word "confidence." The queen said aloud, "Say _confidence_;--with pleasure and confidence." Then there were many speeches made, during which poor little Louis, tired as he was, had to wait. Called up before five in the morning, and having sat so many hours in the carriage, with guns and pistols incessantly popping off, and yells and shouts from such a concourse of people, he might well be tired: but before they could go home, the king had to show himself in the balcony of the city hall, by torch-light, with a great tricolor cockade in his hat. It was just eleven o'clock before they got to their palace of the Tuileries. There everything was comfortless,--for there had been no notice of their coming. The apartments had been occupied by the servants of the court, who, turning out in a hurry, left everything in confusion. Probably Louis did not mind this,--glad enough to get to bed at all after such a long and dreary day. This was the 6th of October. VOLUME TWO, CHAPTER SIX. THE DAUPHIN AT PARIS.