It was she who should have blushed before him, and she tried to make him blush.
M. de Romeuf held in his hands the decree of the Assembly.
The King snatched it from him, cast his eyes over it, and cried, “There is no longer a King in France!”
The Queen took it in her turn, read it, and returned it to the King.
The King re-read it, and then placed it on the bed where his children slept.
“No—no!” cried the Queen, exasperated, furious, mad with hate and anger; “I do not wish that infamous paper to defile my children.”
“Madame,” at last said Romeuf, “you have just reproached me for being charged with this mission. Is it not better that I should have undertaken the task than one who would have borne witness with regard to transports of passion?”
There was, in fact, at this action of the Queen’s, a terrible murmur among the spectators.
The Queen had crumpled up the decree, and dashed it on the floor.