Chapter 2.4.V.

The New Berline.

But scouts all this while and aide-de-camps, have flown forth faster than the leathern Diligences.  Young Romoeuf, as we said, was off early towards Valenciennes:  distracted Villagers seize him, as a traitor with a finger of his own in the plot; drag him back to the Townhall; to the National Assembly, which speedily grants a new passport.  Nay now, that same scarecrow of an Herb-merchant with his ass has bethought him of the grand new Berline seen in the Wood of Bondy; and delivered evidence of it:  (Moniteur, &c. in Hist.  Parl. x. 244-313.) Romoeuf, furnished with new passport, is sent forth with double speed on a hopefuller track; by Bondy, Claye, and Chalons, towards Metz, to track the new Berline; and gallops a franc etrier.

Miserable new Berline!  Why could not Royalty go in some old Berline similar to that of other men?  Flying for life, one does not stickle about his vehicle.  Monsieur, in a commonplace travelling-carriage is off Northwards; Madame, his Princess, in another, with variation of route:  they cross one another while changing horses, without look of recognition; and reach Flanders, no man questioning them.  Precisely in the same manner, beautiful Princess de Lamballe set off, about the same hour; and will reach England safe:—­would she had continued there!  The beautiful, the good, but the unfortunate; reserved for a frightful end!

All runs along, unmolested, speedy, except only the new Berline.  Huge leathern vehicle;—­huge Argosy, let us say, or Acapulco-ship; with its heavy stern-boat of Chaise-and-pair; with its three yellow Pilot-boats of mounted Bodyguard Couriers, rocking aimless round it and ahead of it, to bewilder, not to guide!  It lumbers along, lurchingly with stress, at a snail’s pace; noted of all the world.  The Bodyguard Couriers, in their yellow liveries, go prancing and clattering; loyal but stupid; unacquainted with all things.  Stoppages occur; and breakages to be repaired at Etoges.  King Louis too will dismount, will walk up hills, and enjoy the blessed sunshine:—­with eleven horses and double drink money, and all furtherances of Nature and Art, it will be found that Royalty, flying for life, accomplishes Sixty-nine miles in Twenty-two incessant hours.  Slow Royalty!  And yet not a minute of these hours but is precious:  on minutes hang the destinies of Royalty now.

Readers, therefore, can judge in what humour Duke de Choiseul might stand waiting, in the Village of Pont-de-Sommevelle, some leagues beyond Chalons, hour after hour, now when the day bends visibly westward.  Choiseul drove out of Paris, in all privity, ten hours before their Majesties’ fixed time; his Hussars, led by Engineer Goguelat, are here duly, come ‘to escort a Treasure that is expected:’  but, hour after hour, is no Baroness de Korff’s Berline.  Indeed, over all that North-east Region, on the skirts