She had scarce said a word the whole morning and had sat staring with
troubled face at the magnificent pageant as it passed. "I feel sure that
great disasters to France will follow this day's business."
Madame de Stael impatiently shook off the detaining hand. "'Tis the day
of days," she cried, enthusiastically, "the day for which my father has
labored so long, the day on which will be written the brightest page of
French history."
"I verily believe she thinks the States-General are come together to
the sole honor and glorification of Monsieur, Necker," whispered Mr.
Morris, in an amused undertone, to Calvert. "But look yonder, to the
right of the King! There go our friends of the Palais Royal, the young
Duc de Chartres and Monsieur de Beaujolais! Tis strange the Duc
d'Orleans is not near the King. He curries favor with the multitude by
abandoning his sovereign on this crucial day and putting himself forward
as an elected deputy of the States-General! And there to the left of His
Majesty is the Queen with the princesses. Is she not beautiful,
Ned?--though Beaufort tells me she has lost much of the brilliancy of
her beauty in the last year.
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