Marie Antoinette and Her Son

by L. Mühlbach

The little boy said not a word, he uttered not a complaint; he gazed with widely-opened eyes at his dead favorite, and two great tears slowly trickled down his pale cheeks.

The next day the inspectors gave a report of this occurrence, couched in terms of worthy indignation, and all hearts were stirred with righteous anger at the story of the automaton that sang the royal aria, and of the living bird that wore the badge of an order about its neck. They were convinced that the secret royalists were connected with this thing, and it was registered in the communal acts as "the conspiracy of the canary-bird."

The little winged conspirators, the automaton as well as the living birds, were of course instantly removed from the Temple; and Simon had the double vexation of receiving a reprimand from the authorities, and then the losing his little merry companions from the prison. It was all the fault of this little, good-for-nothing boy, who knew how to make long faces, and allowed himself to waken and disturb his master in the night by his crying and sobbing.

"The worthless viper has spoiled my sleep for me," growled Simon the next morning. "My head is as heavy as a bomb, and I shall have to take a foot-bath, to draw the blood away from my ears."

Jeanne Marie silently carried her husband the leaden foot-bath, with the steaming water, and then drew back into the corner, in whose dismal shadow she often sat for hours, gazing idly at her "calendar of the revolution," the long stocking, on which traces of the blood of the queen were still visible.

Meanwhile, Simon took his foot-bath, and while he did so, his wicked, malicious eyes now fell upon his wife, who had once been so cheerful and resolute, and who now had grown so sad and broken, now upon the boy, who, since yesterday, when his canaries had been taken from him, had spoken not a word, or made a sound, and who sat motionless upon the rush-chair, folding his hands in his lap, and gazing at the place where his dead bird lay yesterday.

"This life would make one crazy," growled Simon, with the tone of a hyena. "Capet," he cried aloud, "take the towel and warm it at the chimney-fire, so as to wipe my feet."

Louis rose slowly from his chair, took the towel and crept to the chimney-fire to spread it out and warm it; but the glow of the coals burned his little thin hands so badly, that he let the cloth fall into the fire, and before the trembling, frightened child had time to draw it back, the towel had kindled and was burning brightly.

Simon uttered a howl of rage, and, as with his feet in the water he was not able to reach the boy, he heaped curses and abuse upon him, and not alone on him, but on his father and mother, till his voice was hoarse, and he was exhausted with this outpouring of his wrath.

Deceived by the quiet which followed, little Louis took another towel, warmed it carefully at the chimney, and then cautiously approached his master, to wipe his feet. Simon extended them to the boy and let himself he served as if by a little slave; but just as soon as his feet were dry he kicked the boy's head with such force that without a cry Louis fell down, striking his head violently on the floor. Perhaps it was this pitiful spectacle that exasperated the cobbler still more. He beat the unconscious boy, roused him with kicks and with the noise of his curses, raised his clinched fists and swore that he would now dash the viper in pieces, when he suddenly felt his hands grasped as in iron clamps, and to his boundless astonishment saw before him the pale, grim face of his wife, who had come out from her corner and fixed her black, glistening eyes upon him, while she held his hands firmly.