worth while (Elle en valut bien la peine)." Consider, O women, what a
King! His words were of comfort, and that only: there shall be provision
sent to Paris, if provision is in the world; grains shall circulate free
as air; millers shall grind, or do worse, while their millstones endure;
and nothing be left wrong which a Restorer of French Liberty can right.

Good news these; but, to wet Menads, all too incredible! There seems no
proof, then? Words of comfort are words only; which will feed nothing.
O miserable people, betrayed by Aristocrats, who corrupt thy very
messengers! In his royal arms, Mademoiselle Louison? In his arms? Thou
shameless minx, worthy of a name--that shall be nameless! Yes, thy skin
is soft: ours is rough with hardship; and well wetted, waiting here in
the rain. No children hast thou hungry at home; only alabaster dolls,
that weep not! The traitress! To the Lanterne!--And so poor Louison
Chabray, no asseveration or shrieks availing her, fair slim damsel,
late in the arms of Royalty, has a garter round her neck, and furibund
Amazons at each end; is about to perish so,--when two Bodyguards gallop
up, indignantly dissipating; and rescue her. The miscredited Twelve
hasten back to the Chateau, for an 'answer in writing.'

Nay, behold, a new flight of Menads, with 'M. Brunout Bastille
Volunteer,' as impressed-commandant, at the head of it. These also will
advance to the Grate of the Grand Court, and see what is toward. Human
patience, in wet buckskins, has its limits. Bodyguard Lieutenant, M. de
Savonnieres, for one moment, lets his temper, long provoked, long pent,
give way. He not only dissipates these latter Menads; but caracoles
and cuts, or indignantly flourishes, at M. Brunout, the
impressed-commandant; and, finding great relief in it, even chases him;
Brunout flying nimbly, though in a pirouette manner, and now with sword
also drawn. At which sight of wrath and victory two other Bodyguards