Distrust and suspicion were in the very air! For the people of Paris, like a sullen, angry dog that has obtained a bone only to have it snatched away again, felt that they had been defeated of their purpose on the day they besieged the Tuileries. They were laying dark plans to repeat the expedition, which this time, they vowed, should not fail. Just at present they were only lying in wait till the time should be fully ripe.
The Dauphin roamed from room to room in the castle, pressed his face to the windows and gazed with envy at the Park, brilliant with sunshine, and at the throngs of common people who were free to come and go as they pleased. He wondered whether Jean and Yvonne ever came to the garden now. Once he thought he distinguished the boy among the strolling crowds but he could not be sure. The King and Queen were preoccupied and sad. His aunt, Madame Elizabeth, was much with them, and had little time to give to his amusement. Even his sister sometimes forgot to romp and frolic with him as had been her wont. To all it was a season of breathless suspense.
And then the fatal day arrived. On the night of August ninth, after his supper, the Queen went to the Dauphin's room where he was being put to bed, to kiss him good-night. Tears stood in her eyes as she clasped him more closely than usual.
"But, Mother, you are crying!" he exclaimed. "Is anything the matter?"
"There is some danger, we have heard, but perhaps not immediate. You would not understand if I explained it, little son!"
"But can you not stay with me this evening?" he begged. "I am so lonesome, and everyone is so sad!"
"That I would love to do, but I must be with your father. He needs me most. Do not be afraid, for we shall be near you."
For a long time the boy lay sleepless, pondering his mother's words. What did it all mean, anyway! His childish mind strove in vain to comprehend why the French people should hate his parents so. There must certainly be something very wrong somewhere! Sleep refused to come to his tired little brain, and the hours passed slowly by.
Suddenly he was startled by the strokes of a bell sounding far across the city. It was the great tocsin of the Cordeliers Club, striking the general alarm. Immediately it was answered by bells from all sections, mingled with cannon-shots and the hoarse cries of an infuriated mob. Nearer and nearer came the racket, and then the tumult became general both within and without the palace. The Dauphin was hurriedly dressed, and joined his parents, sister and aunt in another room. The King alone seemed calm.
"Come," said he, "we must all visit the soldiers who are defending the palace and encourage them! Are you afraid, my son?"