The Queen, seated on a stool between two packages of candles, likewise implored his assistance.
But with brutal and petty selfishness, he replied, “I should like to be able to serve you, certainly; but if you think of the King, I think of M. Sauce.”
The Queen turned aside, shedding tears of rage.
She had never been so humbled before.
The day began to dawn.
The crowd filled the street, the Place de la Rue Neuve, and the Place Latry.
All the citizens cried from their windows, “To Paris—to Paris—to Paris with the King!”
Alas! to show himself—he was to appear no longer, as on the 6th of October, on the balcony of the marble court, but at the windows of a grocer’s house.
The King had fallen into a state of torpor.
The cries redoubled.