police, the provost of the merchants, and all the other municipal
authorities. The marshal himself was the heir of the Comte de Brissac who,
nearly two centuries before, being also Governor of Paris, had tendered to
the victorious Henry IV. the submission of the city. But Henry was as yet
only the chief of a party, not the accepted sovereign of the whole nation;
and the enthusiasm with which half the citizens rained their shouts of
exultation in his honor had its drawback in the sullen silence of the
other half, who regarded the great Bourbon as their conqueror rather than
their king, and his triumphant entrance as their defeat and humiliation.

To-day all the citizens were but one party. As but one voice was heard, so
but one heart gave utterance to it. The joy was as unanimous as it was
loud. From the city gates the royal party passed on to the great national
cathedral of Notre Dame, and from thence to the church dedicated by
Clovis, the first Christian king, to St. Geneviève, whose recent
restoration was the most creditable work of the present reign, and which
subsequently, under the new name of the Pantheon, was destined to become
the resting-place of many of the worthies whose memory the nation
cherishes with enduring pride. At last they reached the Tuileries, their
progress having been arrested at different points by deputations of all
kinds with loyal and congratulatory addresses; at the Hôtel-Dieu by the
prioress with a company of nuns; on the Quai Conti by the Provost of the
Mint with his officers; before the college bearing the name of its
founder, Louis le Grand, the Rector of the University, at the head of his
students, greeted them in a Latin speech, at the close of which he secured
the re-doubling of the acclamations of the pupils by promising them a
holiday. Not that the cheers required any increase. The citizens in their
ecstasy did not even think their voices sufficient. As the royal couple
moved slowly through the gardens of the Tuileries arm-in-arm, every hand
was employed in clapping, hats were thrown up, and every token of joy