and holding each other by the hand, remained silent. Charles X.
opened his arms and they threw themselves into them. Then the
sovereign seated himself in his accustomed chair and held his
grandchildren for some moments pressed to his heart. The Duke of
Bordeaux covered the hands and the face of his grandfather with
kisses. Mademoiselle regarded attentively the altered features of
the King and his mourning dress, novel to her. She asked him why
he wore such a coat. Charles X. did not reply, and sighed. Then he
questioned the governess as to the impression made on the children
by the death of Louis XVIII. Madame de Gontaut hesitated to
answer, recalling the strange phrase of Mademoiselle: "King! Oh!
that indeed is the worst of the story." But the little Princess,
clinging to her notion, began to repeat the unlucky phrase.
Charles X., willing to give it a favorable interpretation, assured
Mademoiselle that he would see her as often as in the past, and
that nothing should separate him from her. The two children, with
the heedlessness of their age, took on their usual gaiety, and ran
to the window to watch the market-men, the coal heavers, and the
fishwomen, who had come to Saint Cloud to congratulate the new
King.

The griefs of sovereigns in the period of their prosperity do not
last so long as those of private persons. Courtiers take too much
pains to lighten them. With Charles X. grief at the loss of his
brother was quickly followed by the enjoyment of reigning.
Chateaubriand, who, when he wished to, had the art of carrying
flattery to lyric height, published his pamphlet: Le roi est mart!
Vive le roi! In it he said: "Frenchmen, he who announced to you
Louis le Desire, who made his voice heard by you in the days of
storm, and makes to you to-day of Charles X. in circumstances very