court. As soon as it was known in the city that the Parliament begged the liberty of the presidents, Blancmenil and Breussel, the "bourgeoisie" put themselves in an attitude of defence in case of refusal from the court. The historians of the period relate that in "Moins de trois heures cent mille hommes furent sous les armes, et deux mille barricades dressées avec tant d'intelligence que de l'aveu des gens de guerre tout le reste du royaume assemblé n'est pas été capable de la forcer."

not so great as it was pretended to be. During the last reign, the people had heard calmly of the arrest of a prince of the blood royal, and she supposed that they would not now make greater commotion for a simple counsellor of the Parliament. "However," she continued, "the Parliament has in a great measure been the cause of the tumult, and therefore it is now its duty to calm it as its members think best."

To this Mathieu Molé replied that her Ma

Paris, for that the united forces of the King and Parliament would be incapable of calming the sedition. They implored her majesty to relent, and to restore the prisoners; justice would allow of her so doing, and a hundred thousand armed men demanded this restitution.

the room, and vented in some degree her fury, by violently shutting the door after her.

The entreaties of the Duke of Orleans and Cardinal Mazarin were at first unavailing, but at length the Queen gave a reluctant promise to release the prisoners.

This singular fortification was formed of bar-jesty was no doubt ill-informed of the state of rels filled with sand, piled one upon another to an extraordinary height, and joined together with massive chains. These barrels were placed at the entrance of each street, and a body of armed "bourgeoisie" was stationed behind them. An opening, so narrow as to admit only one person at a time, was left in the middle, and The strongly-marked eyebrows of the Queen could easily, when required, be closed with were now knitted with ill-repressed anger; howstrong chains. In the windows of the neigh-ever, she made no answer, but immediately left bouring houses were heaped piles of stones to cast upon the assailants. But before these barricades were begun, the Chancellor Seguier was dispatched by the Queen to the Parliament: he proceeded in his carriage along the Rue St. Honoré till he arrived on the Pont Neuf, where he was obliged to descend, and get into " a chaise à porteurs," on account of the crowd: the further he advanced, the more violent were the signs of irritation and disaffection. At the Place Dauphine, a passage could not be opened for him; he, however, still persevered; when the populace, enraged at his obstinacy, forced him out of the chair, and would have torn him to pieces, had not some citizens, more humane At the first barricade the people inquired of than the rest, helped him to escape to the Hôtel the magistrates whether Broussel was set at de Soignes, where he hid himself in a cup-liberty. Upon receiving a negative answer they board. The mob forced their entrance into the murmured, and made some difficulty at letting hotel, and tracked the unfortunate Chancellor them pass. At the second barricade the murfrom room to room; but not being able to find murs were louder; but at the third, placed him, would have destroyed the Hôtel de Soignes the Croix du Terroir, at the corner of the Rue by fire, had not the Maréchal de la Meilleraye St. Honoré, and the Rue de la Monnoire, the just then arrived with four detachments of tumult was at its height. guards, and placed Seguier, fainting, in a carriage, which happily was driven in safety to the other side of the Seine.

Not being able to obtain anything further, Molé proposed to his colleagues to deliberate on the Queen's answer. An apartment had been prepared before-hand at the Palais Royal for the deliberation of the Parliament; but Molé thought it beneath their dignity to consult elsewhere than in the Palace of Justice, to which they now determined to return.

The "bourgeoisie" could not contain the populace, and some rebels losing all respect, dared to lay violent hands on the first President, The Parliament was now seen to issue from and obliged him to go back, declaring that no the Palace of Justice, in which they had de-person should pass until Broussel had been set liberated. A hundred and sixty magistrates, dressed in their official robes, walked two and two towards the Palais Royal, amidst an immense concourse of people. The barricades opened at their approach, and cries of "Vive le Roi!" "Vive le Parlement !" resounded as they passed along. The people vehemently assured the Parliament of their entire devotion and obe

dience to its decrees.

When the Queen received the Parliament at the Palais Royal, she was surrounded by the Prince's Ministers and officers of the royal household. The deportment of Anne of Austria was calm and dignified, but a severe and harsh expression contracted her features as she impatiently interrupted the harangue of the first President. She well knew, she said, that there was a disturbance in Paris; but she hoped it was

at liberty; and they further demanded the Cardinal Mazarin or the Chancellor as hostages. Upon this five presidents and fifty counsellors took alarm, and separated from their fellows: however, Mathieu Molé returned with those that remained, to the Palais Royal. This time they boldly entered the Queen's apartments, and said to her that it was no longer possible to dissemble, for the safety of the state and the lives of her Majesty and the young King were in danger.

These last words excited more of anger than of fear in the Queen. To Anne of Austria, the idea that royalty could be in danger from a mob, was so new and strange, that she could not give it place in her haughty breast. But the unfortunate wife of Charles the First, the beautiful Henrietta Maria, was in the cabinet of the

Queen, and, taught by adversity, she gently persuaded her sister-in-law to listen to the sage remonstrance of her Parliament; "for," she added, "in the commencement of the troubles in England, affairs did not wear so threatening an aspect."

Anne of Austria listened in silence to the exiled Queen, but her words sunk deep into her heart, for she returned to the Parliament, and solemnly promised the immediate release of Blancmenil and Broussel. The Parliament was so delighted with this answer, that waving all ceremony, they proceeded to the long gallery of the Palais Royal to deliberate, and soon despatched two "lettres de cachet;" one to the Governor of Vincennes, where Blancmenil was detained, and the other to the Governor of St. Germains, where Broussel was confined.

Blancmenil returned from Vincennes the same day: the people seemed pleased at his release; but impatient discontent was still evinced at the absence of Broussel. During the whole of that night the city of Paris continued in fer

ment.

CHAP. VIII.

It was midnight, and Coralie de Flarigny lay in a deep, death-like sleep. Mariette, exhausted with weeping and watching, had sunk down by the side of the bed in a lethargic stupor; whilst Father Vincent knelt at the further end of the room, and prayed for the recovery of the sufferer. A single lamp dimly lighted the apartment. The clamour of the people outside, and the cries of "Broussel! Broussel!" still continued, but did not disturb the devotions of the priest, so intently was he occupied in his supplications to heaven.

Called to Paris on ecclesiastical affairs, Father Vincent had arrived in the capital that very morning, and had hastened to the house of Madame de Rochemart, little anticipating the painful shock of seeing Coralie stretched on a bed of suffering. A celebrated physician was in attendance, and being a kind-hearted man, tried to console Father Vincent by saying that the fever and delirium would soon subside. But the priest heard him not; he saw only that Coralie was hovering on the brink of the grave. When last he parted from her she seemed too bright and joyous a creature for evil to approach. What, then, had so direfully blighted that gay and innocent existence? was a question he vainly asked himself. Poor Mariette did not leave him long in doubt, for with bitter and, alas! unavailing tears, she divulged the whole history of a love which had been matured to such dreadful force on the banks of the Rhone.

acting, by the dreadful fright which the public commotion had occasioned her. In cases of difficulty, Madame de Rochemart's judgment had ever been defective; but in the present instance she was perfectly overcome; she continued, however, firm in the opinion that Coralie's illness had arisen from terror at the public disturbance, in the midst of which she had been so suddenly thrown by Comninges.

Father Vincent wrote to the Marquis de Flarigny, palliating Coralie's state, and giving strong hopes-more than he himself felt--of her speedy recovery. Father Vincent obliged to write with the utmost caution, for the Marquis himself was in very precarious health.

was

The grey tints of morning had overspread the sky, when Father Vincent rose from his knees, and approached the bed on which Coralie lay, still in slumber from the effects of the powerful opiate which had been administered to her. Tears coursed down his cheeks as he gazed on her sleeping-so young, so fair, so unhappy! Early had she drunk of the cup of sorrow; it seemed as if fate, jealous of her former happy and unmolested existence, had now struck a I blow so cruel, that it threatened to annihilate that existence. Life, to Coralie, had arrayed itself in its gayest and most brilliant colours. Endowed with a passionate depth of feeling, she had given up her whole being to the love of one whom she thought unequalled on earth. She had fondly believed this much-loved one to be an honourable suitor for her hand, though in disguise. She had forgiven the artifice which she supposed he had made use of to steal away her heart ere he declared himself. Visions of bliss had dazzled her imagination when she pictured to herself her "Paul" demanding her of her father; and she had almost framed her bashful confession to that indulgent parent, of her secret interviews on the banks of the Rhone, with only Mariette as a witness. From this bright dream she had been cruelly and rudely awakened, and her dearest hopes were blighted with fearful suddenness. Coralie tried to stem the tide of misery which rushed upon her breaking heart; but it was beyond her strength; her judgment wavered, and reason, oppressed by suffering, was hurled from her throne of light!

"All that breathe must suffer," said Father Vincent, as he bent over her: "but oh! what had she done, poor child, to have merited such sorrow?-so sweet! so pure! A rebellious thought against heaven's mysterious decrees passed for an instant across his heart; but the moment after, all was humble resignation.

Coralie's very beauteous feature was contracted by suffering; a dark blue circle surrounded the sunken eyes; her long fair hair lay matted on each side of her pale cheeks. As thus she lay motionless and inanimate, Father Vincent started at noting the striking resemen-blance which she bore to her mother on her death-bed. Though eighteen years had passed since the night in which he had seen that mother expire, the remembrance of its anguish even now made his tears flow faster.

Father Vincent did not reproach Mariette, for he felt that nothing that he could say would equal the anguish of her remorse at having couraged the clandestine meetings.

The arrival of Father Vincent was a most fortunate circumstance, for Madame de Rochemart was rendered quite helpless, and incapable of

Eighteen years ago Father Vincent was called | quant." Coralie formed, indeed, a striking suddenly from his convent to administer the contrast to the "mainerée" women of fashion to extreme unction to a dying lady at the Château whom he had been accustomed: but surprise de Busagny. Having latterly entered the con- and curiosity quickly gave way to ardent and vent, he did not know the names of the pro- passionate love, utterly heedless of the future. prietors of Busagny, and therefore was totally unprepared to find, in the dying Marchioness de Flarigny, Marie, the object of his earliest love; and once his affianced bride. The ambition of her family had torn her from him, and forced her to wed the Marquis de Flarigny. Vincent fled to a cloister.

"I knew you were here," said in feeble accents the sufferer to the trembling priest. "I sent for you to receive my last bequest! Vincent, by the memory of our innocent love, by the memory of the anguish by which that love was torn asunder, oh, watch over and protect my child!" She pointed to a new-born infant that lay sleeping in Mariette's arms.

Father Vincent forgot not the trust which had been so solemnly confided to him, but had ever hovered near Coralie like a guardian spirit. As the morning advanced, cries of "Broussel! Broussel!" were again heard: they awakened Mariette, who sprung to her feet, and looked eagerly at Coralie. "She is better!" cried Father Vincent, whilst a ray of hope illumined his countenance. "Yes, yes, there is a change for the better!"

Whether it was that her youth was in her favour, or whether death had not yet marked her for his own, true it was that Coralie was better; but the change was so slight, that it was perceptible only to the anxious eye of affection.

The cries of "Broussel!" were now again heard, but now their intonation was of joyous triumph. Broussel had now indeed arrived, and shown himself to the people by passing the most frequented streets on his way to Notre Dame, where he entered to offer up a thanksgiving for his liberty. The people escorted him to his own house, where he was again obliged to present himself to them from the balcony.

Thus ended the memorable barricades of 1648, which recalled those of 1588. The barricades of the Fronde had perhaps threatened still more danger to France.

СНАР. ІХ.

Many and distracting thoughts agitated the mind of De Retz; but strange to say, the state of public affairs was what now the least occupied him. The image of Coralie de Flarigny continually flitted before his mind's eye;" and the witchery of that image precluded the thoughts of glory and even the love of country.

66

De Retz had never yet formed the slightest wish inimical to the high purity of Coralie de Flarigny; still he could not forego the exquisite pleasure of her society. His conscience smote him sometimes bitterly, as the unconscious girl talked of their marriage; and at times he was on the point of avowing all to her, and urging her to fly with him to a more distant part of the globe. But again he wavered: he could not bear the thought of meeting the first burst of indignation which he knew would break forth from that guileless heart when he should declare himself-a priest! He who proudly defied the potentates of the earth-he who shrunk not even before the frowns of royalty, now was timid and abashed before innocence! But now that the veil had been rudely rent asunder, in what manner would Coralie act? was a question which often harassed his mind. The expression of horror with which she had regarded his priestly garb still haunted his imagination; yet he knew, alas! too well, that that young innocent heart beat for him alone.

Though suffering from his wound, De Retz still waited on the Queen, who received him with the utmost graciousness, and complimented him upon his judgment and bravery. De Retz received these demonstrations of the royal good will with profound respect, but without putting the slightest faith in them. Anne of Austria then begged him to go to the Palais Mazarin: De Retz willingly complied, and met with a most flattering reception from the minister. The fawning Italian repeatedly told De Retz that he was the only man of integrity in France who had sufficient courage to proclaim his opinions.

The entrance of Broussel did not even put a stop to these fulsome protestations. De Retz soon after took his leave, disgusted with the insincerity and hollow professions of the Queen and her minister.

It was now that De Retz determined to espouse the cause of the Parliament. Though so gracious in manner, Anne of Austria's revengeful spirit brooded over the defeat she had sustained in her struggle with the Parliament, and she determined yet to curtail its power. But the Parliament little dreamt that the brilliant and eloquent De Retz would proclaim himself on its side. With justice it must be said that, though no doubt excited greatly by personal ambition, De Retz nevertheless was of opinion that he rendered an essential service to his country in thus upholding the power of the Parliament. Despotism, he said, could never exist in France; but there was required an intermediate power, to check the influence of the nobility and the licentiousness of the mob. Still this power be knew would be difficult to sustain against the attacks of ministers and princes: he knew, also, that a faction could not subsist without the safepi- guard of an illustrious name to head it; besides,

By accident De Retz had seen Coralie on the banks of the Rhone: he had been fascinated by her exquisite beauty, but had been even more charmed by the w inning simplicity of her man

ners.

To find a beautiful young creature, polished and refined by education, but utterly unlearned in the ways of the court and of the world, was to him something strange and 66

did De Condé and De Retz deliberate on the Geneviève de Longueville was alone in her measures which ought to be pursued in the pre-apartments when De Retz entered. Though