The Queen, holding her children in her arms, flung herself upon her knees, and began rapidly praying—so also did Elizabeth.
“I believe,” said the brutal Simon, “that these confounded women are even making me weep! Bah!” he added, turning to the Queen; “you did not let tears fall when you caused the people to be assassinated, on the 10th of August!”
“I never harmed a human being,” said the Queen.
The Commune decreed that the family should take their meals together. The members knew somewhat of Marie Antoinette’s determination, and they found that, if separated from her husband, she really would die from inanition, it has to be recorded that the reunion of the King and Queen, during the last four months of their lives, was due, not to the pity, but the fear, of their gaolers.
But they only met at meals, and then they were compelled to speak French only, and in a loud voice. The children were never again allowed play about their father. This family was killed by inches. Their hearts were dead before the knife of the guillotine mercifully released them.
Cléry took pity upon them, and, at the risk of his own liberty and life, forwarded, by his wife, who was allowed to come and see him once a week, a line of farewell to this or that friend, from the King and Queen. These adieux, some of which still exist, are written with the stump of a pencil, upon the margins of printed pages, and which were torn from books.
The King’s cell was, in a few days, set in something like order; but, with a refinement of cruelty beyond description, the walls were hung with a paper representing the interior life of prisons.
Now quite desolate, this is how the King spent his time. He rose at daybreak, and, kneeling, prayed for a long time. Then, the light quickening, he went to the window, and read the psalms for the day. After this, the King read what books he could obtain—he read many scores during his captivity—and this reading appeared entirely to occupy his mind. At nine, the family met, when he kissed them all on the forehead. After breakfast, he taught his son in various branches of knowledge. The Dauphin, precocious in misery, had by this time tested the dispositions of most of the sentinels; and when one he knew to be less brutal than the majority mounted guard, the poor child ran with the news to his mother, and he was happy for the day.
At two, the family again met, and dined. But the King dared not give way to the fine appetite which never deserted him at any period of his life, for he knew not only that the quantity of food he ate was recorded, and the amount spread over Paris, but that the Queen herself was exceedingly desirous that this weak point in the King’s prison-life should not give cause to enable it to be said that the King’s appetite in prison was so great that necessarily he must be hardened and callous to a degree.
After dinner, the King and Queen were allowed to remain for a brief time together—nay, they were allowed a pack of cards and a set of chessmen; but they were forbidden to speak in a low tone to each other, and a sentinel always kept the unhappy couple within view.