"Farewell, my child;" she said, tenderly. "You are young. I hope you will escape the fury of these misguided wretches. Pray for me!"
And as the prisoners crowded around her with outstretched hands, she cried, cheerfully:
"Au revoir, my friends, au revoir!"
She was led away. Just as she was disappearing from sight, she turned once more and sent Dolores a last supreme farewell in a smile and kiss. Then, in a clear, strong voice, that rang out like a song of victory, she cried:
"Vive le Roi!"
The very next day Dolores saw two young men led out to die. Their bearing was no less brave than that of the Marquise. They were not royalists. They died accused of Modérantisme, that frightful word with which the revolution sealed the doom of so many of its most devoted children. The Marquise de Beaufort had cried: "Vive le Roi!" They cried:
"Vive la République!"