Ange Pitou by Alexandre Dumas part three

“Your Majesty has heard?” cried he to the king, in a firm tone. “Monsieur de Lafayette is below, and places himself at your Majesty’s orders.”

The queen continued silent.

The king made an effort to restrain his feelings.

“Let some one go and tell him that I thank him, and invite him, in my name, to come upstairs.”

An officer bowed and left the room.

The queen drew back a step or two.

But the king, with a gesture that was almost imperative, made her resume her position.

The courtiers formed themselves into two groups.

De Charny and Gilbert, with two or three others, remained near the king.

All the rest retreated behind the queen’s chair, and arranged themselves in a half-circle round her.

The footsteps of a man, ascending the staircase alone, were heard, and Monsieur de Lafayette appeared in the doorway.

In the midst of the silence which his appearance produced, a voice, issuing from the group surrounding the queen, pronounced these words:—

“There is Cromwell!”

Lafayette smiled.

“Cromwell would not have presented himself alone to Charles I.,” said he.

Louis XVI. turned frowningly towards these terrible friends who wished to make an enemy of a man who had hastened to his assistance.

Then, addressing De Charny:—

“Count,” said he, “I shall remain. Monsieur de Lafayette being here, I have nothing more to fear. Order the troops to withdraw to Rambouillet. The National Guards will be posted at the exterior ditches, the body-guards at those immediately near the palace.”

Then, turning to Lafayette:—

“Come with me, General; I have to speak with you.”

And as Gilbert was taking a step towards the door:

“No, Doctor,” cried the king, “you will not be one too many; come with us.”

And showing the way to Lafayette and Gilbert, he went into a cabinet, into which they both followed him.

The queen followed them with her eyes, and when the door had closed behind them:—

“Ah!” cried she, “it was to-day that we ought to have escaped from this. To-day there was still time. To-morrow, perhaps, it will be too late.”

And she, in her turn, left the room, to withdraw to her own apartments.

A great light, similar to that of an extensive conflagration, illuminated the windows of the palace.

It was an immense bonfire, at which the Parisians were roasting the different joints of the horse they had killed.

Chapter XXIV

The Night of the Fifth and Sixth of October

THE night was tolerably tranquil. The Assembly continued its sittings till three o’clock in the morning.

At three o’clock, and before the members separated, they sent two of their ushers, who took a round through Versailles, visited the environs of the palace, and then went round the park.

All was, or all appeared to be, quiet.

The queen had wished to leave the palace by the gate which communicated with Trianon; but the National Guards had refused to allow her to pass.

She had alleged her fears, and she had been answered that she was safer at Versailles than she could be elsewhere.

She had, in consequence, retired to her apartments; and she, in fact, felt reassured when she saw that she was protected by the most faithful of her guards.

At her door she had found George de Charny. He was armed, and leaning upon the small musketoon used by the guards as well as the dragoons. This was unusual; the guards in the interior of the palace stood sentry with their sabres only.

On perceiving him, the queen went up to him:—

“Ah! it is you, Baron,” she said.

“Yes, Madame.”

“Always faithful.”

“Am I not at my post?”

“Who placed you here?”

“My brother, Madame.”

“And where is your brother?”

“He is with the king.”

“And why with the king?”

“Because he is the head of the family,” he said; “and in that capacity has the right to die for the king, who is the head of the State.”

“Yes,” said Marie Antoinette, with a certain degree of bitterness, “while you have only the right of dying for the queen.”

“That would be a great honor for me,” said the young man, bowing, “should God ever permit me to fulfil that duty.”