Meanwhile, I was present at a fresh attempt on my father's life. A man
of the name of Meunier fired a pistol at him the day the Chamber of
Deputies was opened. Some movement in the crowd shook the would-be
assassin's arm, but the bullet came into the carriage, smashing the
front window, and my brothers and I were all cut with the broken glass.
I remember a very characteristic remark by one of the Deputies on this
occasion. After the King had departed, as the Members of the Chamber
were talking over the attempt, one of them said, "Ought we to
congratulate the King?"

"Certainly," was the reply; "we always do it."

Shortly afterwards an emulator of Fieschi invented a perfected machine
which should have mowed us all down at the earliest opportunity, but he
was discovered, and destroyed himself, just as he was going to be
arrested, carrying the secret of his accomplices with him.

Amidst political agitation and ministerial ambitions, with which I
troubled myself but very little, the marriage of my eldest brother, the
Duc d'Orleans, and its attendant festivities, took place. The wedding
was at Fontainebleau; there was a great fete at the Hotel de Ville in
Paris, and the formal inauguration of the Museum at Versailles.

The marriage was settled without my brother and Princess Helene ever
having seen each other. Impatient to know her, and anxious to be the
first to greet her on French soil, my brother went to meet her at Nancy,
where she was to arrive with her mother and a lady in waiting. He rushed
forward, saw three ladies, caught his fiancees hand and carried it to
his lips. Not at all! It was the lady-in-waiting's. This momentary hitch