"Fool! Don't you know a good sans-culotte when you see one? I believe you'd murder your own brother!" The ruffian backed away, apologised sheepishly, and darted off into the crowd. And with a glad cry of recognition, Jean found himself in the arms of Bonaparte!
"A close one for you, lad!" was all his rescuer had time to say. To the end of his days, Jean could never tell just how they two struggled out of that palace of horrors, nor how he managed to keep his grip on the frightened, shivering, squirming Moufflet. But at last they found themselves beyond the walls, and near the bank of the Seine. In sheer exhaustion they dropped to the ground and lay there in the sultry morning sun for over an hour, happy merely to be alive and whole, after the experiences of that dreadful day.
And elsewhere the hours of this memorable day wore on, filled with a series of confused events through which the Dauphin and his family moved, as through some horrible nightmare. The child knew not their meaning, and could only occasionally grasp at the import of the drama. Three long, terribly uncomfortable days were passed in the great hall of the Assembly filled with representatives of the people. During all this time the royal family was crowded into a tiny hot room at the side where they were nearly stifled by the intense heat and discomfort, their hearts constantly trembling at the horrible sounds made by the mob raging without the building. Three weary nights were passed in the tiny cells in another building where they were taken to sleep.
The Assembly seemed to have great difficulty in deciding what to do with their superfluous ex-monarch! Some,—they were the fiercest,—wanted him killed immediately, as that would save them all further trouble and expense. Some thought that he and his family should be sent out of the country into exile. This was opposed because they said he might raise an army, march back and regain his throne. Others were in favour of allowing him to live in retirement at the Luxembourg, a smaller palace than the Tuileries. This too was frowned down, because they thought it too luxurious and comfortable, and besides had underground passages to other parts of the city, through which he might escape. Finally they grew weary of the discussion.
"Oh, let us send him to the old Temple Tower, and keep him there! That is good enough for him!" And so it was decided. Two large carriages were procured, and the King, his family, and a few faithful servants were driven across the city, through the pitiless, mocking crowds, to the gloomy prison where they were to pass so many weary months and even years. The Dauphin, seated on his father's knee, looked out at the mob, shouting its frenzy of joy at their monarch's abasement.
"Are they not very wicked, Father?" he asked.
"No, dear son," answered the forgiving Louis XVI. "They are not wicked,—only mistaken!"
When at last the courtyard of the Temple was reached, the carriages halted and the occupants stepped out. The yard was filled with soldiers commanded by Santerre (but yesterday made a general!) yet no one helped them to alight. As they walked to the entrance, no man removed his hat, and when Santerre addressed the King, he forgot to say "Your Majesty," or "Sire." At the doorway they paused a second, but they did not look back. The crowd shouted "Vive la Nation!" They passed inside, and the door was shut on the humiliation of the dethroned monarch!