“Do you see that window in which burns a shaded lamp? That represents the life of the King. A friend of mine, Dr. Jussieu, will put it out when the life goes out. His successor is watching that signal, behind a curtain. This signal, warning the ambitious when their era commences, tells the poor philosopher like me when the breath of heaven blasts an age and a monarchy. Look at this night, young man, how full of storms. No doubt I shall see the dawn, for I am not so old as not to see the morrow. But you are more likely to see the end of this new reign than I.”
“Ah!” cried the young man, as he pointed to the window shrouded in darkness.
“The King is dead!” said the old man, rising in dread.
Both were silent for a few instants.
Suddenly, a coach drawn by eight horses gallopped out of the palace courtyard, with two outriders carrying torches. In the vehicle sat the Dauphin, Marie Antoinette and the King’s sister, Lady Elizabeth. The torchlight flared ominously on their faces.
The equipage passed close to the two spectators.
“Long live King Louis the Sixteenth—Long live his Queen!” yelled the young man in a shrill voice as if he were insulting the new rulers rather than greeting them.
The Dauphin bowed, the new Queen showed a sad, stern face, and the coach disappeared.
“My dear Rousseau, Lady Dubarry is a widow,” jeeringly said the young man.
“She will be exiled to-morrow,” added the other. “Farewell, Dr. Marat.”