“Your horses!” he shouted, flinging himself almost inside the vehicle. “That I cannot say; but I know another secret I will not tell you.”
“Do you know Frau von Korff?” asked Madame de Tourzel.
“No,” said he, “but I know something better than that”; and with these words he disappeared again. At the Queen’s entreaties, the postilions finally consented to drive the coach at least through the town. The travellers now believed themselves safe; they attributed this incident, like the other mishaps of their journey, to some error or miscalculation, and, full of hope, saw themselves already under the protection of Bouillé’s loyal troops. But alas! matters were soon to assume a different aspect.
Rightly to understand what follows, it should be explained that Varennes is built on the side of a hill, and consists of an upper and lower town connected by a bridge across the Aire, which flows between. At that time the town was approached from Clermont, not as now by way of a fine square, but through a narrow street ending in an arched passageway, guarded by a heavy gate which could be closed at will. This archway was built under a tower, which is still standing; on one side was a church, long since destroyed, and on the other a small inn called the Bras d’Or, kept by the Le Blanc family. The gateway was used as entrance to the town in time of peace, and the inn served as a sort of watch-house. Beyond the passage was the bridge, and it was here that Drouet had placed the ambuscade which was to prevent the King’s farther progress. The host of the Golden Arm tavern was also an officer of the National Guard. Aroused by Drouet, he ran to call up the mayor of the town, M. Sance; then he and his brother armed themselves, and, summoning several of the National Guard, stationed themselves before the entrance to the archway. Sance meanwhile had hastened to alarm the town, and sent out messengers to the nearest villages. His son Georges, a captain of grenadiers, took command of the guard, and while his other children were running through the town at their father’s command, shouting “Fire! Fire!” M. Drouet, accompanied by a notary called Regnier and some of the townspeople, brought up a loaded wagon, which they placed diagonally across the bridge to obstruct its passage. All the preparations were complete, when the expected vehicle was heard approaching. It passed through the upper town without interruption, the houses apparently all dark and silent, and came rapidly on, until, just as it reached the dark archway under the tower, the horses were brought to a sudden standstill by the barricade. At the same instant there sounded from all sides the cry, “Halt, there! Halt!”—a cry issuing from the rough throats of ten armed men, who now emerged from the darkness. They threw themselves upon the horses, seized the postilions, sprang to both doors of the coach, and harshly demanded of the travellers who they were.
“Frau von Korff, with her family!” came the answer.
“That may be,” returned a voice, “but you will have to prove it!”
At the first shout and the first gleam of weapons, the officers of the bodyguard had leaped from their places with their hands on their concealed knives, ready at a signal from the King to make use of them. But Louis the Sixteenth nobly forbade them to use force, and the hostile musket barrels remained pointing toward the coach. Drouet seized a light, held it up to the King’s face, and, without calling him by name, ordered him to alight and show his passport to the mayor. The King, still clinging to the hope that he had not been recognized, descended from the coach, his family following him.
As the party passed up the street, they saw some hussars arriving; it was M. de Choiseul’s force, which should have waited at the bridge in Sommevesle. The National Guard, whose numbers had increased, allowed them to pass, but were ready nevertheless to resist any attempt at rescue. By this time the malicious activity of Drouet had produced its results. The alarm bell was rung, the drums beat, all Varennes was astir. Thousands of peasants came flocking in from neighboring towns, and the villages through which the King had passed were thrown into wild excitement by the news of his flight.
The mayor’s house, whither the royal family was conducted, contained two rooms on the upper floor, reached by a spiral staircase. One of them overlooked the street, the other the garden. The King was lodged in the back room, but, as there was a connecting door between, he could see all that passed in the street. A dense throng of people had gathered there, and increased every moment. Sance at first pretended not to recognize his illustrious guests, and, treating them as ordinary travellers, explained that the horses could go no farther, and besought them to remain and rest until fresh relays could be obtained. But this mask of hypocrisy was soon thrown aside, and he as well as Drouet began to overwhelm the King with cruel taunts and bitter invectives. They accused him directly of intending to escape to foreign lands for the purpose of joining and assisting in an invasion of France by her enemies. In vain the King attempted to deny his rank and claim the liberty accorded to all travellers. They declared flatly that he and his family were recognized, and continued their jeers and abuse.
“Very well, then,” suddenly said the Queen, with dignity—she had not hitherto spoken a word—“since you recognize him as your King, then see that you treat him as such!”