The courier, who was a powerful and resolute fellow, said to the Skeleton, lifting the handle of his whip, "If you do not let go my bridle I'll lay my whip over you. Let me pass; my lord's carriage is coming close behind. Let me go forward, I say."
"Your lord!" said the Skeleton; "what is your lord to me? I'll slit his weasand if I like! I never did for a lord; I should like to try my hand."
"There are no more lords now. Vive la Charte!" shouted Tortillard; and as he said so he whistled a verse of the "Parisienne," and clinging to one of the courier's legs nearly drew him out of his saddle. A blow with the handle of his whip on Tortillard's head punished his insolence; but the populace instantly attacked the courier, who in vain spurred his horse,—he could not advance a step.
Dismounted, amidst the shouts of the mob, he would have been murdered but for the arrival of Rodolph's carriage, which took off the attention of these wretches.
The prince's travelling carriage, drawn by four horses, had for some time past advanced at only a foot pace, and one of the two footmen had got down from the rumble and was walking by the side of the door, which was very low; the postilions kept crying out to the people, and went forward very cautiously.
Rodolph was dressed in deep mourning, as was also his daughter, one of whose hands he held in his own, looking at her with affection. The gentle and lovely face of Fleur-de-Marie was enclosed in a small capot of black crape, which heightened the dazzling brilliancy of her skin and the beautiful hue of her lovely brown hair; and the azure of this bright day was reflected in her large eyes, which had never been of more transparent and softened blue. Although her features wore a gentle smile, and expressed calmness and happiness when she looked at her father, yet a tinge of melancholy, and sometimes of undefinable sadness, threw its shadow over her countenance when her eyes were not fixed on her father.
At this moment the carriage came amongst the crowd and began to slacken its pace. Rodolph lowered the window, and said in German to the lackey who was walking by the window, "Well, Frantz, what is the meaning of this?"
"Monseigneur, there is such a crowd that the horses cannot move."
"What has this assemblage collected for?"
"Monseigneur, there is an execution going on."