On tiptoe the three women stole out into the second ante-chamber, which was lighted only with a couple of glimmering wax tapers, and in its desolate disorder, with the confusion of chairs, divans, and tables, brought back sad recollections of the wild women who had on the day before pressed into this apartment in their desire to speak with the queen. Somebody had told them that this was the antechamber of the queen, and they had withdrawn in order to go to the antechamber of the king. But they now knew the way that led to the apartments of the queen; they knew now that if one turned to the left side of the palace, he would come at once into the apartments occupied by the royal family, and that the queen occupied the adjacent rooms, directly behind the hall of the Swiss Guard.
Madame de Campan thought of this, as she cast her glance over this antechamber which adjoined the Swiss hall, and this thought filled her with horror.
Varicourt had not yet come in; nothing disturbed the silence around her, except the dreadful shouting and singing outside of the palace.
"Let us go back into the waiting-room," whispered her companions, "it is too gloomy here. Only hear how they shout and laugh! O God, it is a fearful night!"
"Yes, a fearful night," sighed Madame de Campan, "and the day that follows it may be yet more fearful. But we must not lose our courage. All depends upon our having decision, upon our defying danger, and defending our mistress. And see, there comes Mr. Varicourt," she continued, earnestly, as the door quickly opened, and an officer of the Swiss guard came in with great haste.
"Tell us, my friend, what news do you bring us?"
"Bad news," sighed Varicourt. "The crowd is increasing every moment. New columns have arrived from Paris, and not only the common people, but the speakers and agitators are here. Everywhere are groups listening to the dreadful speeches which urge on to regicide and revolution. It is a dreadful, horrible night. Treachery, hatred, wickedness around the palace, and cowardice and desertion pass out from the palace to them, and open the doors. Many of the royal soldiers have made common cause with the people, and walk arm in arm with them around the square."
"And what do these dreadful men want?" asked Campan. "Why do they encamp around the palace? What is their object?"
Mr. Varicourt sadly bowed his head, and a loud sigh came from his courageous breast. "They want what they shall never have while I am alive," he then said, with a decided look. "I have sworn fidelity to the king and queen, and I shall keep it to death. My duty calls me, for the hour of changing guards is near, and my post is below at the great staircase which leads up here. We shall meet at daylight, if I am then alive. But till then we shall do our duty. I shall guard the grand staircase, do you guard the sleeping-room of the queen."
"Yes, we will do our duty," answered Madame de Campan, extending her hand to him. "We will watch over those to whom we have devoted ourselves, and to whom we have vowed fidelity. No one shall pass into the chamber of the queen while we are alive, shall there?"