"Oh! you will not have to do that," replied the official, with a friendly nod of the head. "It would be presumptuous to go farther with the examination of your goods, and the republic regards with respect the mysteries of an honorable wife."
He jumped down from the wagon, while Jeanne Marie, still wearing an angry look, laid the clothes back into the basket, and shut the cover down.
"Can we go now?" she asked, taking her seat on a low stool which happened to be near the great basket.
"Yes, if the official has nothing against it, we can go," answered
Simon. "Our goods are all loaded."
"Then go on, I have nothing against it, and I wish you and your wife much happiness and joy in your new career."
The official waved them a last gracious adieu with the hand, and the wagon started. Alongside of the great, hard-mouthed and long-haired horse that drew the cart, walked the commissioner, in order, once in a while, when they had to turn a corner, to seize the bridle and give it a powerful jerk. At the side of the wagon strode Simon, keeping a watchful eye upon his possessions, and carefully setting every thing aright which was in danger of being shaken off upon the pavement. Above in the carriage near the great basket sat Jeanne Marie, the former knitter of the guillotine. Her naked brown arm rested upon the basket, on whose bottom, covered with dirty linen and Mistress Simon's clothes, was the son of Marie Antoinette, King Louis XVII., making his entrance into the world which should have for him only sufferings and illusions, shattered hopes and dethroned ideals.
This happened on the 19th of January, 1794, and on the very day in which the unhappy King Louis XVII. was leaving the Temple, his sister Theresa, who was still living with her Aunt Elizabeth in the upper rooms, wrote in her diary (known subsequently by the title "Recit des evenements arrives au Temple, par Madame Royale") the following words: "On the 19th of January my aunt and I heard beneath us, in the room of my brother, a great noise which made us suspect that my brother was leaving the Temple.
We were convinced of it when, looking through the keyhole of the door, we saw goods carried away. On the following day we heard the door of the room, in which my brother had been, opened, and recognized the steps of men walking around, which confirmed us in the belief that he had been carried away."
The pitiful wagon, which gave its hospitality to the knitter of the revolution, as well as to a king, drove slowly and carefully through the streets, unnoticed by the people who hastily passed by. Now and then they encountered a commissioner who came up to Toulan, greeted him as an acquaintance, and asked after his welfare. Toulan nodded to them confidentially and answered them loudly that he was very well, and that he was helping Simon move out of the Temple and going with him to Porte Macon.
The commissioners then wished him a pleasant journey, and went their way; but the farther they were from the wagon, the quicker were their steps, and here and there they met other commissioners, to whom they repeated Toulan's words, and who then went from there and again told them over to their friends in the streets, in quiet, hidden chambers, and in brilliant palaces. In one such palace the tidings caused a singular commotion. Count Frotte, who lived there, and whom the public permitted to live in Paris, ordered his travelling carriage to be brought out at once. The postilion, with four swift horses, had already stood in the court below half an hour, waiting for this order. The horses were quickly harnessed to the carriage, which was well filled with trunks; and scarcely had it reached the front door, when the count hurried down the grand staircase, thickly wrapped in his riding-furs. At his right sat a little boy of scarcely ten years, a velvet cap, trimmed with fur, upon his short, fair hair; the slender, graceful form concealed with a long velvet cloak, that fell down as far as the shoes with golden, jewelled buckles.