“To prison with him!”
Silence was at last restored; but when Languinais sat down, he knew he was a condemned man—he knew nothing could save him.
Meanwhile, in an ante-chamber, where the murmurs of his judges were audible, the King’s counsel were endeavoring to cheer him with a little hope. The people had demonstrated with somewhat of kindly feeling in favor of the King at various theatres.
On his return to the Temple, the King having nothing of value with which he could partially repay his counsel, took off his laced cravat and gave it to Desèze.
On the 1st of January, after the French fashion of wishing friends a happy new year, Cléry approached his master’s bed and offered him best wishes for the continuance of his life.
The King put his hands together and prayed, for he remembered that this was the day in the year when his thousand courtiers flocked to his palace to congratulate him.
Rising, he sent to ask if his daughter was better (for the Princess was ill), and to wish the Queen a happy new year.
From the first to the 16th of January, he was kept immured in the great tower of the Temple, perfectly isolated. No one was allowed to see him, not even one of his family. The fallen King passed his time reading the history of England, especially the volumes of the life and execution of Charles I—history which appeared to fascinate him.
Meanwhile, the members of the Convention were daily disputing the question of the King’s life or death.
St. Just now rose to the surface. Unpityingly he cried, “If the King is innocent, the people are guilty. You have declared martial law against the tyrants of the whole world, and spare your own. The Revolution only begins where the tyrant ends.”