The Louis that was, lies forsaken, a mass of abhorred clay; abandoned 'to some poor persons, and priests of the Chapelle Ardente,'-- who make haste to put him 'in two lead coffins, pouring in abundant spirits of wine.' The new Louis with his Court is rolling towards Choisy, through the summer afternoon: the royal tears still flow; but a word mispronounced by Monseigneur d'Artois sets them all laughing, and they weep no more.

Light mortals, how ye walk your light life-minuet, over bottomless abysses, divided from you by a film! For the rest, the proper authorities felt that no Funeral could be too unceremonious.

Besenval himself thinks it was unceremonious enough.

Two carriages containing two noblemen of the usher species, and a Versailles clerical person; some score of mounted pages, some fifty palfreniers; these, with torches, but not so much as in black, start from Versailles on the second evening with their leaden bier.

At a high trot they start; and keep up that pace.