as easy to notice as sobs.  The most strong-minded or the wisest, with eyes fixed on the ground, in corners, meditated on the consequences of such an event—­and especially on their own interests.  Few words passed in conversation—­here and there an exclamation wrung from grief was answered by some neighbouring grief—­a word every quarter of an hour —­sombre and haggard eyes—­movements quite involuntary of the hands—­ immobility of all other parts of the body.  Those who already looked upon the event as favourable in vain exaggerated their gravity so as to make it resemble chagrin and severity; the veil over their faces was transparent and hid not a single feature.  They remained as motionless as those who grieved most, fearing opinion, curiosity, their own satisfaction, their every movement; but their eyes made up for their immobility.  Indeed they could not refrain from repeatedly changing their attitude like people ill at ease, sitting or standing, from avoiding each other too carefully, even from allowing their eyes to meet—­nor repress a manifest air of liberty—­nor conceal their increased liveliness—­nor put out a sort of brilliancy which distinguished them in spite of themselves.

The two Princes, and the two Princesses who sat by their sides, were more exposed to view than any other.  The Duc de Bourgogne wept with tenderness, sincerity, and gentleness, the tears of nature, of religion, and patience.  M. le Duc de Berry also sincerely shed abundance of tears, but bloody tears, so to speak, so great appeared their bitterness; and he uttered not only sobs, but cries, nay, even yells.  He was silent sometimes, but from suffocation, and then would burst out again with such a noise, such a trumpet sound of despair, that the majority present burst out also at these dolorous repetitions, either impelled by affliction or decorum.  He became so bad, in fact, that his people were forced to undress him then and there, put him to bed, and call in the doctor, Madame la Duchesse de Berry was beside herself, and we shall soon see why.  The most bitter despair was painted with horror on her face.  There was seen written, as it were, a sort of furious grief, based on interest, not affection; now and then came dry lulls deep and sullen, then a torrent of tears and involuntary gestures, yet restrained, which showed extreme bitterness of mind, fruit of the profound meditation that had preceded.  Often aroused by the cries of her husband, prompt to assist him, to support him, to embrace him, to give her smelling-bottle, her care for him was evident; but soon came another profound reverie—­then a gush of tears assisted to suppress her cries.  As for Madame la Duchesse de Bourgogne she consoled her husband with less trouble than she had to appear herself in want of consolation.  Without attempting to play a part, it was evident that she did her best to acquit herself of a pressing duty of decorum.  But she found extreme difficulty in keeping up appearances.  When the Prince her brother-in-law howled, she blew her nose.  She had brought some tears along with her and kept them up with care; and these, combined with the art of the handkerchief, enabled her to redden her eyes, and make them swell, and smudge her face; but her glances often wandered on the sly to the countenances of all present.