morals an era of universal brotherhood brought with it. The hero of this
general and infectious kissing match was Lafayette. Everybody wanted to
kiss him. A great rattle of drums having announced his arrival at the
Palais-Royal one day, he had to take his stand in one of the drawing-
rooms, in front of me, and be kissed by thousands of persons of all
ages. I did it, like all the others, but I saw people I knew come up
again many times over to be kissed by the illustrious veteran, and each
time their agitation seemed to increase.

Every one went in and out of the Palais-Royal as they chose. It was a
strange march past, of people of all sorts, who came to take notes, see
how the wind blew, and give in an adhesion which might be more or less
disinterested. Some of them, inspired by real devotion, came to try if
they might even yet serve a cause that was so dear to them. Thus I saw
M. de Chateaubriand led into my mother's drawing-room by Anatole de
Montesquiou. And, on the other hand, I saw Savary, Duc de Rovigo,
notorious in connection with the Duc d'Enghien, in full uniform, booted
and spurred, leave the study, whither he had gone to offer my father his
services.

One evening, as we were all gathered together, we heard a great noise
coming from the staircase. We hurried towards it. A crowd of armed men,
with lighted torches, were coming up, shouting loudly and waving flags.
At their head came five or six pupils of the Ecole Polytechnique, with
their three-cornered hats cocked and swords drawn. Behind them a woman
in man's attire, red belt and close-fitting pantaloons, was being borne
in triumph. She was a heroine of the barricades, whom the yelling crowd
desired to introduce to my father, and he had to receive her. This scene
filled me with disgust, and it was soon followed by another, no less
painful. The leaders of the Revolution had sent an army of volunteers to