Then were heard shouts of joy and benediction from that armed crowd, admitted by the king’s order to the interior of the palace.
The acclamations, the fervent wishes, the loud hurrahs, ascended as a whirlwind to the hall in which the king and queen were seated, whom they reassured with regard to the disposition of the so-much-dreaded inhabitants of Paris.
“Sire,” said Monsieur de Beauvau, “in what order is it that your Majesty determines the procession shall be conducted?”
“And the discussion between the National Guards and my officers?”
“Oh, Sire, it has evaporated, vanished; those worthy people are so happy that they now say, ‘We will go wherever you may please to place us. The king is our king as much as he is everybody else’s king. Wherever he may be, he is ours.”
The King looked at Marie Antoinette, who curled, with an ironical smile, her disdainful lip.
“Tell the National Guards,” said Louis XVI., “that they may place themselves where they will.”
“Your Majesty,” said the queen, “will not forget that your body-guards have the right of surrounding your carriage.”
The officers, who perceived that the king was somewhat undecided, advanced to support the arguments of the queen.
“That is the case, undoubtedly,” replied the king. “Well, we shall see.”
Monsieur de Beauvau and Monsieur de Villeroy left the room to take their stations and to give the necessary orders.,
The clock of Versailles struck ten. “Well, well,” said the king, “I shall put off my usual labors till to-morrow; these worthy people ought not to be kept waiting.”
The king rose from table.
Marie Antoinette went to the king, clasped him in her arms, and embraced him. The children clung weeping to their father’s neck. Louis XVI., who was much moved, endeavored gently to release himself from them; he wished to conceal the emotions which would soon have become overpowering.
The queen stopped all the officers as they passed her, seizing one by his arm, another by his sword.
“Gentlemen, gentlemen!” said she. And this eloquent exclamation recommended to them to be watchful for the safety of the king, who had just descended the staircase.
All of them placed their hands upon their hearts and upon their swords.
The queen smiled to thank them.
Gilbert remained in the room till almost the last.
“Sir,” said the queen to him, “it was you who advised the king to take this step. It was you who induced the king to come to this resolution, in spite of my entreaties. Reflect, sir, that you have assumed a fearful responsibility as regards the wife, as regards the children.”
“I am sensible of that,” coldly replied Gilbert.
“And you will bring the king back to me safe and unhurt?” she said with a solemn gesture.
“Yes, Madame.”
“Reflect that you will answer for his safety with your head.”
Gilbert bowed.
“Reflect that your head is answerable,” cried Marie Antoinette, with the menacing and pitiless authority of an absolute monarch.
“Upon my head be the risk,” said the doctor, again bowing. “Yes, Madame; and this pledge I should consider as a hostage of but little value, if I believed the king’s safety to be at all threatened. But I have said, Madame, that it is to a triumph that I this day conduct his Majesty.”
“I must have news of him every hour,” added the queen.
“You shall, Madame; and this I swear to you.”
“Go, sir; go at once. I hear the drums; the king is about to leave the palace.”
Gilbert bowed, and descending the grand staircase, found himself face to face with one of the king’s aides-de-camp, who was seeking him by order of his Majesty.
They made him get into a carriage which belonged to Monsieur de Beauvau; the grand master of the ceremonies not allowing, as he had not produced proofs of his nobility, that he should travel in one of the king’s carriages.
Gilbert smiled on finding himself alone in a carriage with arms upon its panels, Monsieur de Beauvau being on horseback, curvetting by the side of the royal carriage.
Then it struck him that it was ridiculous in him thus to be occupying a carriage on which was painted a princely coronet and armorial bearings.