"Ah, Madame, I should be glad indeed if your reply could convince me."
"Go on."
"You left Paris on the 28th of July, Madame; you did not witness the fury with which the populace tore down the white flag and trampled on the fleurs-de-lis."
"The flag of Denain and of Taillebourg! the fleurs-de-lis of Saint-Louis and of Louis XIV.!"
"Unhappily, Madame, the populace remember only Waterloo; they know only Louis XVI.,--a defeat and an execution. Well, the great difficulty I foresee for your son, the descendant of Saint-Louis and of Louis XIV., is that very flag of Taillebourg and of Denain. If his Majesty Henri V., or Henry IV. the Second, as you so intelligently call him, returns to Paris bearing the white banner, he will not pass the faubourg Saint-Antoine; before he reaches the Bastille he is dead."
"And if he enters with the tricolor,--what then?"
"Worse still, Madame; he is dishonored."
The duchess bounded in her bed. But at first she was silent; then, after a pause, she said:--
"Perhaps it is the truth; but it is hard."