"Yes, sire," replied Dumouriez, "and I am delighted to leave this tumultuous city. I have but one regret—your majesty is in danger."
"Yes," replied Louis, with a sigh, "I certainly am."
"Ah! sire," returned the minister, "you can no longer suppose that I spoke from any interested motive. Let me implore you not to persist in your fatal resolution."
"Speak no more of it," said the king, "my part is taken."
"Ah! sire," rejoined Dumouriez, "you said the same when in this very chamber in the presence of the queen you gave me your word."
"I was wrong then," replied the king, "and I repent that I did so."
"It is now, sire, that you are wrong," continued Dumouriez, "not then. I shall see you no more. They abuse your religious scruples. They are leading you to a civil war. You are without force, and you will be overpowered. History will accuse you of having caused the calamities of France."
"God is my witness," said Louis in tones of the deepest affliction, and at the same time placing his hands affectionately upon those of Dumouriez, "that I wish the happiness of France."
Tears gushed into the eyes of Dumouriez, and his voice was broken with emotion as he replied, "I do not doubt it, sire; but you are answerable to God, not only for the purity but for the enlightened direction of your intentions. You think that you are protecting religion, and you are destroying it. The priests will be massacred. You will lose your crown, perhaps your wife, your children."
There was a moment of silence, during which the king pressed the hand of his faithful friend; Dumouriez then continued: