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They passed some sentinels who knew better than to ask them who they were; then went out through a back-door where there was no sentinel, along a court and a square, and into a street. A glass-coach was stationed before the door of Ronsin, the saddler, as if waiting for some visitors of Ronsin's.
Yes, madame, I will be obeyed; you shall go to the Horticultural fete, and I invite Monsieur Lionel, and Mademoiselle Adele to come with us that they may witness that I am the master. Yes, madame, resistance is useless. You shall go in a remise de ver, or glass-coach, as round as a pumpkin, but you shall not go in glass slippers, like Cinderella, because they are not pleasant to walk in.
She too is admitted; her Courier jumps aloft, as the other, who is also a disguised Bodyguard, has done; and now, O Glass-coachman of a thousand, Count Fersen, for the Reader sees it is thou, drive! Dust shall not stick to the heels of Fersen: crack! crack! The Glass-coach rattles, and every soul breathes lighter. But is Fersen on the right road?
It was quite clear that the eventful morning had at length arrived; the whole row stationed themselves behind their first and second floor blinds, and waited the result in breathless expectation. At last the Miss Willises’ door opened; the door of the first glass-coach did the same.
We were all dressed and the glass-coach was at the door, when Mr Selwyn arrived in his carriage, and Caroline and I stepped in. I introduced Caroline, who was remarkably well-dressed, and very pretty. Mr Selwyn had before told me that he was acquainted with Madame Bathurst, having met her two or three times, and sat by her at a dinner-party.
'To paint, said she, 'the emotions of that morning when all was marble within and Mr F.'s Aunt followed in a glass-coach which it stands to reason must have been in shameful repair or it never could have broken down two streets from the house and Mr F.'s Aunt brought home like the fifth of November in a rush-bottomed chair I will not attempt, suffice it to say that the hollow form of breakfast took place in the dining-room downstairs that papa partaking too freely of pickled salmon was ill for weeks and that Mr F. and myself went upon a continental tour to Calais where the people fought for us on the pier until they separated us though not for ever that was not yet to be.
His coachman went off in another direction, to have his master's chariot ready for him, at some distance on the north road. Who then was there to drive home the glass-coach? Nobody. So they turned the horses' heads towards the city, and set them off by themselves; and the coach was found next day in a ditch. Still there was another meeting to take place.
The Glass-coach itself is turned adrift, its head towards the City, to wander where it lists, and be found next morning tumbled in a ditch. But Fersen is on the new box, with its brave new hammer-cloths; flourishing his whip; he bolts forward towards Bondy. There a third and final Bodyguard Courier of ours ought surely to be, with post-horses ready ordered.
On Monday night, the Twentieth of June 1791, about eleven o'clock, there is many a hackney-coach and glass-coach still rumbling or at rest on the streets of Paris.
Well, master's glass-coach droav up, jest as I got within a few yards of the door; our carridge, I say, droav up, and stopt. Down gits coachmin to open the door, and comes I to give Mr.
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