“Wherefore?” queried the officer commanding the National Guard.
“To protect the King,” replied M. de Goguelot.
“Good!” returned the officers; “we can take care of him without you.”
A hundred voices at the same time cried, “Yes, yes, yes! Make the hussars dismount! It is our business, and not the business of strangers, to protect the King! Dismount, hussars—dismount!”
M. de Damas slipped through the crowd, and rejoined the three or four men who had been faithful to him.
M. de Goguelot exchanged signals with M. de Malmy, and in company with M. de Choiseul again ascended to the King’s chamber. Both addressed the Queen, as they knew that it was her head that planned.
“Madame,” said M. de Goguelot, “it is no use thinking of proceeding in the carriages; but there is a way of safety.”
“What?”
“Will you mount a horse, and set out with the King? He will take charge of the Dauphin. The bridge is barricaded, but at the bottom of the Rue Jean the river is fordable. With our forty hussars we will pass. In any case, make a quick resolution. Our hussars are already drinking with the people; in another quarter of an hour they will be brothers.”
The Queen drew back; that iron heart failed her at that critical moment. She again became a woman; she feared a struggle, a skirmish—perhaps a bullet.