'shesaid,'here!'andsheapproachedthethrone,fromwhichhungtherichvelvetfringedwithgoldlace.'there,'sheexclaimed,'there!'andshekneltandkissedthepurplecarpet.ithinkshewasactuallyweeping.

"'butitwasnotthisveryvelvet!'observedthefootman,andasmileplayedabouthismouth.'true,butitwasthisveryplace,'repliedthewoman,'anditmusthavelookedjustlikethis.'itlookedso,andyetitdidnot,'observedtheman:'thewindowswerebeatenin,andthedoorswereofftheirhinges,andtherewasblooduponthefloor.''butforallthatyoucansay,mygrandsondieduponthethroneoffrance.died!'mournfullyrepeatedtheoldwoman.idonotthinkanotherwordwasspoken,andtheysoonquittedthehall.theeveningtwilightfadedandmylightshonedoublyvividupontherichvelvetthatcoveredthethroneoffrance.

"nowwhodoyouthinkthispoorwomanwas?listen,iwilltellyouastory.

"ithappened,intherevolutionofjuly,ontheeveningofthemostbrilliantlyvictoriousday,wheneveryhousewasafortress,everywindowabreastwork.thepeoplestormedthetuileries.evenwomenandchildrenweretobefoundamongthecombatants.theypenetratedintotheapartmentsandhallsofthepalace.apoorhalf-grownboyinaraggedblousefoughtamongtheolderrtallywoundedwithseveralbayonetthrusts,hesankdown.thishappenedinthethrone-room.theylaidthebleedingyouthuponthethroneoffrance,wrappedthevelvetaroundhiswounds,andhisbloodstreamedforthupontheimperialpurple.therewasapicture!thesplendidhall,thefightinggroups!atornflagupontheground,thetricolorwaswavingabovethebayonets,andonthethronelaythepoorladwiththepaleglorifiedcountenance,hiseyesturnedtowardsthesky,hislimbswrithinginthedeathagony,hisbreastbare,andhispoortatteredclothinghalfhiddenbytherichvelvetembroideredwithsilverlilies.attheboy'scradleaprophecyhadbeenspoken:'hewilldieonthethroneoffrance!'themother'sheartdreamtofasecondnapoleon.

"mybeamshavekissedthewreathofimmortellesonhisgrave,andthisnighttheykissedtheforeheadoftheoldgrandame,whileinadreamthepicturefloatedbeforeherwhichthoumayestdraw-thepoorboyonthethroneoffrance."

sixthevening

"i'vebeeninupsala,"saidthemoon:"ilookeddownuponthegreatplaincoveredwithcoarsegrass,anduponthebarrenfields.imirroredmyfaceinthetyrisriver,whilethesteamboatdrovethefishintotherushes.beneathmefloatedthewaves,throwinglongshadowsontheso-calledgravesofodin,thor,andfriga.inthescantyturfthatcoversthehill-sidenameshavebeencut.thereisnomonumenthere,nomemorialonwhichthetravellercanhavehisnamecarved,norockywallonwhosesurfacehecangetitpainted;sovisitorshavetheturfcutawayforthatpurpose.thenakedearthpeersthroughintheformofgreatlettersandnames;theseformanetworkoverthewholehill.hereisanimmortality,whichlaststillthefreshturfgrows!

"uponthehillstoodaman,apoet.heemptiedthemeadhornwiththebroadsilverrim,andmurmuredaname.hebeggedthewindsnottobetrayhim,butiheardthename.iknewit.acount'scoronetsparklesaboveit,andthereforehedidnotspeakitout.ismiled,foriknewthatapoet'scrownadornshisownname.thenobilityofeleanorad'esteisattachedtothenameoftasso.andialsoknowwheretheroseofbeautyblooms!"