On stepping into the coach once more the royal pair noticed they had only the population of the town to stare at them and cavalry to escort them. This was an attention of Barnave's.
He knew what the Queen had suffered from the squalid and infected peasants pressing round the wheels, the severed head, the threats to her guards. He pretended to have heard of an invasion by the Austrians to help Marquis Bouille, and he had turned towards the frontier all the irregularly armed men.
The hatred of the French for the foreign invader was such that it made them forget for the moment that the Queen was one of them.
She guessed to whom she owed this boon, and thanked him with a look.
As she resumed her place in the conveyance she glanced out to see Charny, who had taken the outer seat beside the Guards; he wanted to be in the danger, in hopes that a wound would give him the right to open his wife's letter. He did not notice her looking for him, and that made her sigh, which Barnave heard. Uneasy about it, he stopped on the carriage step.
"Madam," he said, "I remarked yesterday how incommoded we were in here: if you like I will find room in the other carriage with M. Latour-Maubourg."
While suggesting this, he would have given half his remaining days—not that many were left him!—to have her refuse the offer.
"No, stay with us," she quickly responded.
At once the Dauphin held out his little hands to draw him to him, saying:
"My friend Barnave! I do not want him to go."