The queen had no need for it as she ran to the balcony.
The army of the insurrection was approaching, long and dense, covering the whole of the wide street along the riverside, and extending as far as the eye could reach.
Over the New Bridge, the southern districts effected a junction with the others.
All the church-bells of the town were frenziedly swinging out the tocsin, while the big bell of Notre Dame Cathedral overawed all the metallic vibrations with its bronze boom.
A burning sun sparkled in myriad points from the steel of gun-barrels and lance-points.
Like the rumblings of a storm, cannon was heard rolling on the pavement.
"What now, madame?" said Roederer.
Some fifty persons had gathered round the king.
The queen cast a long look on the group to see how much devotion lingered. Then, mute, not knowing to whom to turn, the poor creature took up her son and showed him to the officers of the court and army and National Guard, no longer the sovereign asking the throne for her heir, but the mother suing for protection for her boy.
During this time, the king was speaking in a low voice with the Commune attorney, or rather, the latter was repeating what he had said to the queen.