The King now joined them, pale of face and his eyes full of tears: he was calling for the Queen as she had for him. On seeing her, he ran into her arms.
"Saved," exclaimed she.
"By the count," replied the monarch, indicating Charny: "And has he saved you, too?"
"It was his brother," said she.
"My lord, we owe more to your family than we can ever repay," observed the sovereign.
The Queen blushed as she met Andrea's glance and turned her head aside. The blows on the door resounded.
"Gentlemen, we must hold the post for an hour," said the count. "It will take that time to kill us seven if we hold out stoutly. It is not likely that help will not have come for their Majesties."
With these words he caught hold of an immense sideboard and, his example being followed, a head of shattered furniture formed a wall in which the guards cut loopholes to shoot through. The Queen prayed over her children, stifled their wailing and tears.
The King retired into a closet adjoining, to burn papers which ought not to fall into strange hands. The door was chopped at till pieces fell off every instant, and through the gaps blood pikes were thrust and jagged bayonets which tried to dart death. At the same time, bullets found holes in the breastwork and furrowed the plaster on the gilded ceiling.
At length a bench on top of the sideboard fell down; the buffet lost one panel and bloody arms were plunged in through the orifice to make the crevice larger. The guards had burnt the last cartridge, though not vainly, for through the channel dead bodies were seen strewing the lobby. At the shrieks of the ladies who supposed death was to leap in at the breach, the King returned.