"There are no more lords—Hooraw for the Revolution!" cried Tortillard, and humming the lines of the Parisienne:
"Onward! on! upon their cannon!"
he caught hold of one of the courier's boots, and bearing with all his weight, made him shake in his seat. A blow with the butt of his whip on the head of Tortillard paid him for his audacity. But immediately the enraged mob threw themselves upon the courier; he dashed the spurs into the sides of his horse, and endeavored to disengage himself, but could not succeed; neither was he able to draw his hunting-knife. Dismounted, thrown backward, amid their cries and enraged shouts, he would have been killed, had it not been for the arrival of Rudolph's carriage, which diverted the attention of these wretches.
For some time the prince's coupé, drawn by four post-horses, went only at a walk, and one of the two footmen, in mourning (on account of the Countess M'Gregor's death) seated behind, had prudently descended, and stood near one of the doors, the carriage being a very low one. The postilions cried, "Look out!" and advanced with caution. Rudolph, as well as his daughter, was dressed in deep mourning; holding one of her hands, he looked at her with unspeakable happiness; the sweet, charming face of Fleur-de-Marie appeared to advantage in her little black crape bonnet, which set off her fair complexion and the brilliant tints of her beautiful flaxen hair; one would have said that the azure of this fine day was reflected in her large eyes, which never had been of a softer and more transparent blue. Although her sweet smiling face expressed calmness and happiness, yet, when she looked at her father, a shade of melancholy, sometimes even of indefinable sadness, cast this shadow on the features of Fleur-de-Marie, when the eyes of her father were turned away.
"You are displeased at my calling you so early this morning, and for having advanced the moment of departure?" said Rudolph, smiling.
"Oh, no! father dear—the morning is so beautiful!"
"That was my thought; and our day's journey will be better divided by leaving early, and you will be less fatigued. Murphy, my aids-de-camp, and the carriage with your women, will join us at our first stopping-place, where you will repose."
"Dear father, it is I only of whom you are always thinking."
"Yes, darling, it is impossible for me to have any other thought," said the prince, smiling; then he added, with a burst of tenderness, "Oh! I love you so much—I love you so much—your forehead—quick."
Fleur-de-Marie leaned toward her father, and Rudolph kissed her beautiful forehead.