But these noblemen, these "Chevaliers of the Dagger," excited mistrust, and a major of the National Guard demanded their removal with a loud voice.
"No," cried the queen, eagerly, "these noblemen are our best friends. Place them before the mouth of the cannon, and they will show you how death for one's king is met. Do not disturb yourselves about these brave people,"
She continued, turning to some grenadiers who were approaching her, "your interests and theirs are common.
Every thing that is dearest to you and them-wives, children, property-depends upon your courage and your common bravery."
The grenadiers extended their hands to the chevaliers, and mutual oaths were exchanged to die for the royal family, to save the throne or to perish with it. It was a grand and solemn moment, full of lofty eloquence! The hearts of these noblemen and these warriors longed impatiently for death. With their hands laid upon their weapons, they awaited its coming.
The populace rolled up in great masses to the palace. "Wild shrieks were heard, the thunder of cannon, the harsh cries of women, and the yells of men. Within the palace they listened with suspended breath.
The queen straightened herself up, grasped with a quick movement the hands of her children, drew them to herself, and, with head bent forward and with breathless expectation, gazed at the door, like a lioness awaiting her enemy, and making herself ready to defend her young with her own life.
The door was suddenly opened, and the attorney-general Roderer burst in.
"Sire," cried he, with impassioned utterance, "you must save yourself! All opposition is vain. Only the smallest part of the National Guard is still to be trusted, and even this part only waits the first pretext to fraternize with the populace. The cannoneers have already withdrawn the loading from the cannon, because they are unwilling to fire upon the people. The king has no time to lose.
Sire, there is protection for you only in the National Assembly, and only the representatives of the people can now protect the royal family."
The queen uttered a cry of anger and horror. "How!" she cried. "What do you say? We seek protection with our worst enemies? Never, oh, never! Rather will I be nailed to these walls, than leave the palace to go to the National Assembly!" [Footnote: The queen's own words.--
See Beauchesne, vol. i., p. 90.]
And turning to the king, who stood silent and undecided, she spoke to him with flaming words, with glowing eloquence, addressed him as the father of the dauphin, the successor of Henry IV. and Louis XIV., sought to animate his ambition and touch his heart, and tried for the last time to kindle him with her courage and her decision.
In vain, all in vain. The king remained silent and undecided. A cry, one single cry of grief, burst from the lips of the queen, and one moment her head sank upon her breast.
"Hasten, hasten, sire!" cried Roderer, "every moment increases the peril. In a quarter of an hour perhaps the queen and the children will be lost beyond remedy!"
These words awakened the king from his reverie. He looked up and nodded his head. "We can do nothing else," he said. "Let us go at once to the National Assembly."
"Sir," cried the queen, turning to Roderer, "is it true that we are deserted by all?"
"Madame," answered the attorney-general, sadly, "all opposition is in vain, it will only increase the danger. Would you suffer yourself, the king, your children, and friends, to be killed?"
"God forbid it! Would that I alone could be the offering!"
"Another minute," urged Roderer, "perhaps another second, and it is impossible to guarantee your life, and perhaps that of your husband and children."
"My children!" cried the queen, throwing her arms around them, and drawing them to her breast. "No, oh no, I will not give them over to the knife!"
One sigh, one last sob, burst from her lips, and then she released herself from the children, and approached the king and his ministers.
"This is the last sacrifice," she said, heavily, "that I can offer.
I submit myself, M. Roderer," and then with louder tones, as if she wanted to call all present to be witnesses, she continued, "will you pledge yourself for the person of the king, and for that of my son?"
"Madame," answered Roderer, solemnly, "I pledge myself for this, that we are all ready to die at your side. That is all that I can promise."
And now the noblemen and the grenadiers pressed up to take the king and queen in their escort.
"For God's sake," cried Roderer, "no demonstration, or the king is lost!
"Remain, my friends," said the king, stolidly, "await our return here."
"We shall soon return," said Marie Antoinette; and leading her two children, she followed the king, who walked slowly through the hall.
Princess Lamballe and Madame Tourzel brought up the rear.
It was done. The dying monarchy left the royal palace to put itself under the protection of the revolution, which was soon to give birth to the republic.
It was six o'clock in the morning when the royal family crossed the threshold of the Tuileries--in front the king, conducting Princess Elizabeth on his arm, behind him the queen with the two children.
Before leaving the palace, the king received tidings that a part of the National Guard had withdrawn, in order to protect their families and their property from an attack of the populace, and that another part had declared, itself against the king and in favor of the revolution.
Louis made his way through the seething crowd that scarcely opened to allow a free passage for the royal family, and overwhelmed them with curses, insults, and abuse.
Some members of the National Assembly went in advance, and could themselves scarcely control the raging waves of popular fury.
On the Terrace des Feuillants the people shouted, "Down with the tyrants! To death, to death with them!"