"But is now at an end, sire, since I have come," cried Petion, proudly. "You have now nothing more to fear, sire."
"To fear?" replied Louis with a proud shrug. "A man who has a good conscience does not fear. Feel," he said, taking the hand of the grenadier who stood at his side, "lay your hand upon my heart, and tell this man whether it beats faster." [Footnote: The king's words. The grenadier's name whose hand the king took, was Lalanne. Later, in the second year of "the one and indivisible republic," he was condemned to die by the guillotine, because, as stated in the sentence, he showed himself on the 30th of June, 1798, as a common servant of tyranny, and boasted to other citizens that Capet took his hand, laid it upon his heart, and said: "Feel, my friend, whether it beats quicker."—See Hue, "Dernieres Annees de Louis Seize," p. 180.]
Petion now turned to the people and commanded them to withdraw. "Fellow-citizens," said he, "you began this day wisely and worthily; you have proved that you are free. End the day as you began it. Separate peaceably; do as I do, return to your houses, and go to bed!" The multitude, flattered by Petion's praises, began to withdraw, and the National Guards escorted the king into the great council-chamber, where a deputation of the National Assembly had met to pay their respects to the king.
"Where is the queen, where are the children?" cried the king, as, exhausted, he sank into a chair.
His gentlemen hastened out to bring them, and soon the queen and the children came in. With extended arms Marie Antoinette hastened to her husband, and they remained a long time locked in their embrace.
"Papa king," cried the dauphin, "give me a kiss, too! I have deserved it, for I was brave and did not cry when the people put the red cap on my head."
The king stooped down to the child and kissed his golden hair, and then pressed his little daughter, who was nestling up to him, to his heart.
The deputies stood with curious looks around the group, to whom it was not granted, even after such a fearful day and such imminent peril, to embrace each other, and thank God for their preservation, without witnesses.
"Confess, madame," said one of the deputies to Marie Antoinette, in a confidential tone, "confess that you have experienced great anxiety."
"No, sir," replied the queen, "I have not been anxious, but I have suffered severely, because I was separated from the king at a moment when his life was threatened. I had at least my children with me, and so could discharge one of my duties."