"Folks told me that you were the ruin of the nation," faltered the abashed young woman, lowering the point of her saber to the floor.
"Then you were told wrong. I married your King of France, and am mother of the prince whom you see here. I am a French woman, one who will nevermore see the land where she was born; in France alone I must dwell, happy or unhappy. Alas! I was happy when you loved me." And she sighed.
The girl dropped the sword, and wept.
"Beg your pardon, madame, but I did not know what you were like. I see you are a good sort, after all."
"Keep on like that," prompted Gilbert, "and not only will you be saved, but all these people will be at your feet in an hour."
Intrusting her to some National Guardsmen and the War Minister, who came in with the mob, he ran to the king.
Louis had gone through a similar experience. On hastening toward the crowd, as he opened the Bull's-eye Room, the door panels were dashed in, and pikes, bayonets, and axes showed their points and edges.
"Open the doors!" cried the king.
Servants heaped up chairs before him, and four grenadiers stood in front, but he made them put up their swords, as the flash of steel might seem a provocation.
A ragged fellow, with a knife-blade set in a pole, darted at the king, yelling: