4.
If, on his second stay, he did not have the occasion of coming into contact with the people, he none the less enjoyed the satisfaction of being admirably received.
The episodes of the first day of this memorable visit, from the moment when, on the deck of the Standart, lying off Dunkerque, the sovereigns, as is customary whenever they leave their yacht, received the salute of the sailors and the blessing of the old priest in his violet cassock: these episodes have been too faithfully chronicled in the press for me to linger over them here. It was a magnificent landing, amid the thunder of the guns and the hurrahs of the enthusiastic populace. Then came the journey from Dunkerque to Compiègne, a real triumphal progress, in which the cheers along the line seemed to travel almost as fast as the train, for they were linked from town to town, from village to village, from farm to farm. At last came the arrival, at nightfall, in the little illuminated town, followed by the torch-light procession, in which the fantastic figure of the red cossack stood out, as he clung to the back of the Empress's carriage; the entrance into the courtyard of the château all ablaze with light; the slow ascent of the staircases lined with cuirassiers, standing immovable, with drawn swords, and powdered footmen, in blue liveries à la française,[2] and, lastly, the presentations, enlivened, at a certain moment by the artless question which a minister's wife, in a great state of excitement and anxious to please addressed to the Empress:
"How are your little ones?"