"Pray, instead of urging violence, hearken to reason," interposed the King. "Continue," he said to Gilbert.
"Spare the King a battle with doubtful issue; these hates which grow hotter at a distance, these boastings which become courage on occasion. You may by gentleness soften the contact of this army with the palace. Let the King meet them. These twenty thousand are coming perhaps to conquer the King: let him conquer them, and turn them into his own body-guard; for they are the people."
The King nodded approval.
"But do you not know what will be said?" she cried, "that the King applauds what was done, the slaying of his faithful Switzers, the massacre of his officers, the putting his handsome city to fire and blood. You will make him dethrone himself and thank these gentlemen!"
A disdainful smile passed over her lips.
"No, madam, there is your mistake. This conduct would mean, there was some justice in the people's grievances. 'I come to pardon where they overstepped the dealing of wild justice. I am the King and the chief; the head of the French Revolution as Henry Fourth was head of the League and the nation. Your generals are my officers, your National Guards my soldiers; your magistrates my own. Instead of urging me on, follow me if you can. The length of my stride will prove that I lead in the footsteps of Charlemagne.'"
"He is right," the King said ruefully.
"Oh, Sire, for mercy's sake, do not listen to this man, your enemy."
"Her Majesty tells you what she thinks of my suggestion," said Gilbert.
"I think, sir, that you are the only person who has ever ventured to tell me the truth," commented Louis XVI.