Her son was in her arms; Andrée was with her; two women were at work in one corner of the room; those were the only persons with her.
The brilliantly attired officers, with their waving plumes and bright gleaming arms, by degrees entered the palace. Their horses neighed before the grated gates of the royal stables; their clarions sounded as they approached; and the bands of the Flanders regiment and the guards filled the air with harmonious sounds.
Outside the gilded railings of the courtyard of the palace was a pale, inquisitive crowd, gloomily anxious, watching, analyzing, and commenting on the joyous festival within, and the airs played by the military bands.
In gusts, like the squalls of a distant tempest, there exhaled from the open portals of the palace the sounds of merriment with the odors of the savory viands.
It was very imprudent to allow this crowd of starving people to inhale the odors of the good cheer and wine,-to allow these morose people to hear these sounds of jovial festivity.
The festival was however continued, without anything disturbing its conviviality; for a time all was conducted with sobriety and order. The officers, full of respect for the uniform they wore, at first conversed in an undertone and drank moderately; during the first half hour, the programme which had been agreed upon was strictly adhered to.
The second course was put on the table.
Monsieur de Lusignan, the colonel of the Flanders regiment, rose and proposed four toasts.They were to the health of the king, the queen, the dauphin, and the royal family.
Four shouts of applause re-echoed from the vaulted roofs, and struck the ears of the sorrowful spectators outside the palace.
An officer rose; perhaps he was a man of judgment and of courage,—man of sound good sense, who foresaw the issue of all this; a man sincerely attached to that royal family whose health had just been drunk so noisily.
This man comprehended that among these toasts there was one which was omitted, which probably might present itself to their attention.
He therefore proposed this toast, “The Nation.”
A long murmur preceded a long shout.
“No, no!” cried every person present except the proposer of the toast.
And then the toast to the nation was contemptuously rejected.
The festival had just assumed its real character; the torrent had found its real course.
It has been said, and it is still repeated, that the person who proposed this toast was but an instigator of an opposing manifestation.
However this might be, his words produced an untoward effect. To forget the nation might have been but a trifle, but to insult it Was too much. It avenged itself.
As from this moment the ice was broken, as to the reserved silence succeeded boisterous cries and excited conversation, discipline became but a chimerical modesty; the dragoons, the grenadiers, the “hundred Swiss” were sent for, and even all the private soldiers in the palace.
The wine was pushed round quickly; ten times were the glasses filled; when the dessert was brought in, it was absolutely pillaged. Intoxication became general; the soldiers forgot that they were drinking with their officers; it was in reality a fraternal festival.
From all parts were heard shouts of “Long live the king! long live the queen!” So many flowers, so many lights, illuminating the brilliantly gilded arches, so many faces bright with happiness, so many loyal lightning darting from the eyes of these brave men,—was a spectacle which would have been grateful to the eyes of the queen, and reassuring to those of the king.
This so unfortunate king, this so sorrowful queen, why were they not present at such a festival I
Some officious partisans withdrew from the dining-room, and ran to Marie Antoinette’s apartments, and related, exaggerated to her what they had seen.
Then the sorrowing eyes of the queen become reanimated, and she rises from her chair. There is, then, some loyalty left, some affection in French hearts!
There is therefore something still to hope!
At the doors were soon assembled a crowd of courtiers; they entreat, they conjure the queen to pay a visit, merely to show herself for a moment in the festive hall, where two thousand enthusiastic subjects are consecrating, by their hurrahs, veneration for monarchical principles.