He, however, promised his family that they should see him at eight in the morning.
“Why not at seven?” asked the Queen.
“Very well—at seven,” he replied.
“You promise?” cried the women and children.
He then led them to the door—they uttering louder cries as he did so.
“Adieu, adieu!” he cried, in a voice equally yearning after passing-away love, and an expression of hope in the future.
The poor little Princess here fell inanimate at her father’s feet. The attention the Queen now gave the child ameliorated the agony of that parting.
The King availed himself of the heart-rending event to turn away. He closed the door, and the agony of royalty was ended.
“Ah!” he cried, entering the turret, where the Abbé Edgeworth was awaiting him, “what a scene! Alas! why do I love so deeply—why am I so deeply loved?”
He paused for a few moments; then he added, “But I have done with to-day—let me prepare for eternity.”