"And never come from there!" cried the queen, with, bursting tears.
"Speak, Lafayette!" cried the king. "What do you think?"
"Sire, I think that there is only one way to restore peace and to quiet the people, and that is, for your majesty to go to-day with the royal family to Paris."
"It is my view, too," said Louis, calmly. "Then go, Lafayette, tell the people that the king and queen, together with the dauphin and the princess, will journey today to Paris."
The simple and easily spoken words had two very different effects in the cabinet on those who heard them. Some faces lightened up with joy, some grew pale with alarm; there were sighs of despair, and cries of fresh hope. Every one felt that this was a crisis in the fate of the royal family—some thinking that it would bring disaster, others deliverance.
The queen alone put on now a grave, decided look; a lofty pride lighted up her high brow, and with an almost joyful expression she looked at her husband, who had been induced to do something—at least, to take a decisive step.
"The king has spoken," she said, amid the profoundest silence, "and it becomes us to obey the will of the king, and to be subject to it. Madame de Campan, make all the preparations for my departure, and do it in view of a long stay in Paris!"
"Now, Lafayette," asked the king, as the general still delayed in the room, "why do you not hasten to announce my will to the people?"
"Sire," answered Lafayette, solemnly, "there are moments when a people can only be pacified by the voice either of God or of its king, and where every other human voice is overwhelmed by the thunder of the storm!"
"And you think that this is such a moment?" asked the king. "You think that I ought myself to announce to the people what I mean to do?"