The evening telegraph. [volume] (Philadelphia [Pa.]) 1864-1918, 1867-08-31
A HAPPY QUEEN.

1t was the 18th of August, 1885, The queen,
Marie Antoinette, had at last yielded to the
requests and protestations of her dear subjects.
She had left her fair Versailles and loved
Tranon for one day, and had gone to Paris, in
order to exhibit herself and the young prince
whom she had borne to the king and the
country on the 25th of March, and to receive
in the cathedral of Notre Dame the blessing
of the clergy and the good wishes of the
Parisians.
She had an enthusiastic reception, this beau
tiful and much-loved queen, Marie Antoinette
She had driven into Paris in an open carriage
in company with her three children, and every
one who recognized her had greeted her with
cheerful huzza, and followed her on the long
road to Notre Dame, at whose door the promi-
nent clergy awaited her, the cardinal, Prince
Louis de Rohan, at their head, to introduce
her to the house of the King of all kings.
Marie Antoinette was alone; only the gov
erness of the children, the Duchesse de Polig-
mac, sat opposite to her, upon the back seat
of the carriage, and, by her side, the Norman
nurse, in her charming variegated district
costume, cradling in her arms Louis Charles,
the young Duke of Normandy. By her side,
in the front part of the carriage, sat her other
two children-Therese, the princess royal, the
frst-born daughter, and Dauphin Louis, the
presumptive heir Of the much-loved King
Louis the Sixteenth.
spouse on this journey to Paris, which she un-
dertook in order to show to her DEAR yet
curious Parisians, that she was completely re-
covered, and that her children, the children
of France, were blossoming for the future like
fair buds of hope and peace.
EGO, my dear Antoinette," the king had
said to his queen, in his pleasant way, and
with his good-natured smile-"go to Paris in
order to prepare pleasure for my good people.
Show them our children, and receive from
them their thanks for the happiness which
you have given to me and to them. will
not go with you, for l wish that you should
be the sole recipient of the enthusiasm of the
people and their joyful acclamations. l will
not share your triumph, but l shall expert
ence it in double measure if you enjoy it alone.
Go, therefore, my beloved Antoinette, and re-
joice in this happy hour"
Marie Antoinette did go, and she did rejoice
in the happiness of the hour. While riding
through Paris, hundreds recognized her, hun
dreds hailed her with loud acclamations. AS
she left the cathedral of Notre Dame, in order
to ascend into the carriage again with her
children and governess, one would be tempted
to think that the whole square in front of the
church had been changed into dark, tumul-
tuous sea, which dashed its raging black
waves into all the streets debouching on the
square, and was filling all Paris with its roar,
its swell, its thunder-roll. Yes, all Paris was
there, in order to look upon Marie Antoinette,
who, at this hour, was not the queen, but the
fair woman; the happy mother who, with the
pride of the mother of the Gracchi, desired no
other protection and no other companionship
than that of her two sons; who, her hand
restipg upon the shoulder of her daughter,
needed no other maid of honor to appear be-
fore the people in all the splndor and all the
dignity of the Queen of France and the true
mother.
Yes, all Paris was there in order to greet
the queen, the woman, and the mother, and
out of thousands upon thousands OF throats
there sounded forth the loud-ringing shout,
"Long live the queen! Long live Marie An
toinette Long live the fair mother and the
fair children of France!"
Marie AntOinette felt herself deeply moved
by these shouts. The sight of the faces ami
mated with Joy, of the flashing eyes, and the
intoxicated peals OF laughter, kindled hel
heart, drove the blood to her cheeks, and made
her countenance beam with Joy and her eyes
glisten with delight. She rose from her seat
and with gesture of inimitable grace TOOK
the youngest son from the arms of the nurse,
and lifted him high in the air, in order to dis
play this last token of her happiness and heI
motherly pride to the Parisians, who had no
vet seen the child The little hat, which hac
been placed sideways upon the high toupet o
her powdered head, had dropped upon he
neck; the broad lace cuffs had fallen back iron
the arms which lifted the child into the air
and allowed the whole arm to be seen withou
any covering above the elbow.
The eyes of the Parisians drank in thi
spectacle with perfect rapture, and thei
shoutngs arose every moment like burst
fanaticism. ''How beautiful she is ~ re
sounded everywhere from the mass. "Wha
wonderful arm What a beautiful neck J
deep flush mantled the face of Marie Anto
nette. These words of praise, which were
tribute to the beauty of the woman, awoke tn
queen from the ecstasy into which the enthr
siasm of her subjects had transported hel
She surrendered the child again to the arm
OF his nurse, and sank down quickly, like
frightened dove, into the cushions OF the ca
riage, hastily drawing up, at the same tim'
the lace mantle which had fallen from ht
shoulders, and replacing her hat upon he
head. I" Tell the coachman to drive 0
quickly" she said to the nurse; and, viii
the latter was communicating this Orde
Marie Antolnette turned to her daughte
'Now, Therese," asked she, laughing, sis
not beautiful spectacle-our people takir
so much pleasure in seeing us l' The lit
princess of seven years shook her proud litt
head with doubling, dark look. mamma,
said she, "these people look very dirty an
ugly. / do not like them"
THE NIGHT OF HORROR.
81 must know what is going on, - whisoer,
Campan, and with cool decision she put n
kew into the door, turned it, entered the amt
chamber, and flew TO the window, where the
was view of the whole court; and feari