Marie Antoinette and Her Son Part 27

More dreadful grew the wild shrieks and howls, the curses and maledictions which came in from without.

The king sprang up the little staircase which led to the rooms of the children, and dashed through the antechamber, where the door was open that led to the dauphin's sleeping-room.

And here Louis stood still, and looked with a breath of relief at the group which met his tearful eyes. The dauphin was lying in his bed fast asleep, with a smile on his face. Marie Antoinette stood erect before the bed in an att.i.tude of proud composure.

"Marie," said the king, deeply moved--"Marie, I was looking for you."

The queen slowly turned her head toward him and pointed at the sleeping prince.

"Sire," answered she calmly, "I was at my post." [Footnote: This conversation, as well as this whole scene, is historical.--See Beauchesne's "Louis XVII.," vol. i.]

Louis, overcome by the sublimity of a mother's love, hastened to his wife and locked her in his arms.

"Remain with me, Marie," he said. "Do not leave me. Breathe your courage and your decision into me."

The queen sighed and sadly shook her head. She had not a word of reproach; she did not say that she no longer believed in the courage and decision of the king, but she had no longer any hope.

But the doors of the room now opened. Through one came the maids of the queen and the governess of the dauphin; through the other, some gentlemen of the court, to call the king back into the audience- hall.

After the first panic, every one had come back to consciousness again, and all vied in devoting themselves to the king and the queen. The gentlemen brought word that something new had occurred, and that this was the cause of the dreadful tumult below upon the square. The National Guard of Paris had arrived; they had fraternized with the National Guard of Versailles, and with the people; they had been received by the women with shouts of applause, and by the men with a volley of musket-shots in salutation. General Lafayette had entered the palace to offer his services to the king, and he now asked for an audience.

"Come, madame," said Louis quickly, cheered up, "let us receive the general. You see that things are not so bad with us as you think. We have faithful servants yet to hasten to our a.s.sistance."

The queen made no reply. Quietly she followed the king into the hall, in which Lafayette, surrounded by the ministers and gentlemen, was standing. On the entrance of the royal couple, the general advanced to meet them with a reverential salutation.

"Sire," said Lafayette, with cheerful confidence--" sire, I have come to protect your majesties and the National a.s.sembly against all those who shall venture to threaten you."

"Are you a.s.sured of the fidelity and trustworthiness of your troops?" asked the queen, whose flaming eyes rested upon Lafayette's countenance as if she wanted to read his utmost thoughts.

But these eyes did not confuse the cheerful calmness of the general.

"I know, madame, that I can rely upon the fidelity of my soldiers,"

answered he, confidently. "They are devoted to me to the death, and as I shall command them, they will watch over the security of the king and queen, and keep all injury from them."

The queen detected the touch of scorn in these loud-sounding words, but she pretended to believe them. At last she really did believe them, for Lafayette repeated emphatically that from this time nothing more was to be feared for the royal family, and that all danger was past. The guard should be chosen this night from his own troops; the Paris National Guard should restore peace again in Versailles, and keep an eye upon the crowds which had encamped upon the great square before the palace.

Lafayette promised well for his army, for the howling, shrieking women, for the cursing, raging men.

And the king was satisfied with these a.s.surances of General Lafayette, and so, too, was Marie Antoinette at last.

Louis ordered the garde du corps to march to Rambouillet, and reserved only the necessary sentinels in the palace. In the immediate neighborhood the soldiers of Lafayette were stationed. The general once more made the rounds, and then, as if every thing was in a position of the greatest security, he went into the palace to spend the night there, and in peaceful slumbers to refresh himself for the labors of the day.

The king, too, had retired to his apartments, and the valets who had a.s.sisted his majesty to undress had not left the sleeping-room, when the loud, uniform breathing which issued from the silken curtains of the bed told them that the king had already fallen asleep. The queen, too, had gone to rest, and while laying her wearied and heavy head upon the cus.h.i.+ons, she tenderly besought both her maids to lie down too. All was quiet now in the dark palace of Versailles. The king and the queen slept.

But through the dark, deserted halls which that day had witnessed so much pain and anxiety, resounded now the clang of the raging, howling voices which came up from the square, and hurled their curses against the queen.

In the palace of Versailles they were asleep, but without, before the palace, Uproar and Hate kept guard, and with wild thoughts of murder stalked around the palace of the Kings of France.

How soon were these thoughts to become fact! Sleep, Marie Antoinette, sleep! One last hour of peace and security!

One last hour! Before the morning dawns Hate will awaken thee, and Murder's terrible voice will resound through the halls of the Kings of France!

CHAPTER XIII.

THE NIGHT OF HORROR.

Marie Antoinette slept! The fearful excitement of the past day and of the stormy evening, crowded with its events, had exhausted the powers of the queen, and she had fallen into that deep, dreamless sleep which sympathetic and gracious Nature sometimes sends to those whom Fate pursues with suffering and peril.

Marie Antoinette slept! In the interior of the palace a deep calm reigned, and Lafayette had withdrawn from the court in order to sleep too. But below, upon this court, Revolution kept her vigils, and glared with looks of hatred and vengeance to the dark walls behind which the queen was sleeping.

The crown of France had for centuries sinned so much, and proved false so much, that the love of the people had at last been transformed into hate. The crown had so long sown the wind, that it could not wonder if it had to reap the whirlwind. The crimes and innovations which Louis XIV. and Louis XV. had sown upon the soil of France, had created an abyss between the crown and the people, out of which revolution must arise to avenge those crimes and sins of the past upon the present. The sins of the fathers had to be visited upon the children to the third and fourth generation.

Marie Antoinette did not know it; she did not see the abyss which had opened between the crown and the people; the courtiers and flatterers had covered it with flowers, and with the sounds of festivity the cries of a distressed people had been drowned.

Now the flowers were torn away, the festive sounds had ceased, and Marie Antoinette saw the abyss between the crown and the people; she heard the curses, the raging cries of these exasperated men, who had been changed from weak, obedient subjects into threatening, domineering rebels. She looked with steady eye down into the abyss, and saw the monster rise from the depths to destroy herself and her whole house; but she would not draw back, she would not yield. She would rather be dragged down and destroyed than meekly and miserably to make her way to the camp of her enemies, to take refuge with them.

Better to die with the crown on her head than to live robbed of her crown in lowliness and in a, subject condition. Thus thought Marie Antoinette, as at the close of that dreadful day she went to rest; this was her prayer as she sank upon her couch:

"Give me power, O G.o.d, to die as a queen, if I can no longer live as a queen! And strengthen my husband, that he may not only be a good man, but a king too!"

With this prayer on her trembling lips, she had fallen asleep. But when Campan stole on tiptoe to the queen's bed to watch her mistress while she slept, Marie Antoinette opened her eyes again, and spoke in her friendly way to her devoted servant.

"Go to bed, Campan," said she, "and the second maid must lie down too. You all need rest after this evil day, and sleep is so refres.h.i.+ng. Go, Campan, good-night!"

Madame de Campan had to obey, and stepped out into the antechamber, where were the two other maids.

"The queen is asleep," she said, "and she has commanded us to go to rest too. Shall we do so?"

The two women answered only with a shake of the head and a shrug of the shoulders.

"I know very well that we are agreed," said Madame de Campan, reaching her hand to them. "For us there must be no sleep to-night, for we must watch the queen. Come, my friends, let us go into the antechamber. We shall find Mr. Varicourt, who will tell us what is going on outside."

On tiptoe the three women stole out into the second ante-chamber, which was lighted only with a couple of glimmering wax tapers, and in its desolate disorder, with the confusion of chairs, divans, and tables, brought back sad recollections of the wild women who had on the day before pressed into this apartment in their desire to speak with the queen. Somebody had told them that this was the antechamber of the queen, and they had withdrawn in order to go to the antechamber of the king. But they now knew the way that led to the apartments of the queen; they knew now that if one turned to the left side of the palace, he would come at once into the apartments occupied by the royal family, and that the queen occupied the adjacent rooms, directly behind the hall of the Swiss Guard.

Madame de Campan thought of this, as she cast her glance over this antechamber which adjoined the Swiss hall, and this thought filled her with horror.

Varicourt had not yet come in; nothing disturbed the silence around her, except the dreadful shouting and singing outside of the palace.

"Let us go back into the waiting-room," whispered her companions, "it is too gloomy here. Only hear how they shout and laugh! O G.o.d, it is a fearful night!"

"Yes, a fearful night," sighed Madame de Campan, "and the day that follows it may be yet more fearful. But we must not lose our courage. All depends upon our having decision, upon our defying danger, and defending our mistress. And see, there comes Mr.

Varicourt," she continued, earnestly, as the door quickly opened, and an officer of the Swiss guard came in with great haste.

"Tell us, my friend, what news do you bring us?"