“Do not be afraid!” whispered a grenadier to Louis.
“My friend,” said the King, “does my heart beat rapidly?”
And he placed the man’s left hand upon his breast.
The pulsation of the King’s heart was perfectly equable.
“If you love the people, drink their health!” cried a man in rags, pushing forward a common bottle.
The King smiled and took the bottle, saying, “To the nation!”
And now the cries of “Long live the King!” were so strong that they floated out upon the crowd waiting to see the King’s body cast amongst them; and, instead, they learnt that once more the King had—if only for a time—reconciled himself to his people.
Meanwhile the Queen was undergoing her agony.
Only the conviction that she was more immeasurable hated than the King, prevented her from joining him before the people. She feared her presence might exasperate the people beyond all control.
She remained in her bed-room, pressing her two children to her heart.