During the journey to Dreux, Charles X. appeared to those around him to accept his misfortunes from the hand of Heaven.  The Duchesse d’Angouleme, pale and self-contained, with all her wounds opened afresh, could hardly bring herself to quit France for the third time.  Her husband was stolid and stupid.  The Duchesse de Berri was almost gay.

Meantime old stories were being circulated throughout France discrediting the legitimacy of the Duc de Bordeaux, the posthumous son of the Duc de Berri.  He had been born seven months after his father’s death, at dead of night, with no doctor in attendance, nor any responsible witnesses to attest that he was heir to the crown.  Louis Philippe had protested against his legitimacy within a week after his birth.  There was no real reason for suspecting his parentage; nobody believes the slander now, but it is not surprising that in times of such excitement, with such great interests at stake, the circumstances attending his birth should have provoked remark.  They were both unfortunate and unusual.

Charles X. was the calmest person in the whole royal party.  He was chiefly concerned for the comfort of the rest.  The dauphine wept, her husband trembled, the children were full of excitement and eager for play.  Charles was unmoved, resigned; only the sight of a tricolored flag overcame him.

He complained much of the haste with which he was escorted through France to Cherbourg; but that haste probably insured his safety.  At Cherbourg two ships awaited him,—­the “Great Britain” and the “Charles Carroll;” both were American-built, and both had formed part of the navy of Napoleon.

The day was fine when the royal fugitives embarked.  In a few hours they were off the Isle of Wight.  For several days they stayed on board, waiting till the English Government should complete arrangements which would enable them to land.  They had come away almost without clothes, and the Duchesses of Angouleme and Berri were indebted for an outfit to an ex-ambassadress.  The king said to some of those who came on board to see him, that he and his son had retired into private life, and that his grandson must wait the progress of events; also, that his conscience reproached him with nothing in his conduct towards his people.

After a few days the party landed in England and took up their abode at Ludworth Castle.  Afterwards, at the king’s own request, the old Palace of Holyrood, in Edinburgh, was assigned him.  There was some fear at the time lest popular feeling should break out in some insult to him or his family.  To avert this, Sir Walter Scott, though then in failing health, wrote in a leading Edinburgh newspaper as follows:—­