This new spectacle of abandoned terror brought the mob rushing after the cart with fresh imprecations of hate and contempt towards the woman who had spent the revenues of France in wanton luxury while such as themselves sweated and starved.
But she was ignorant of her offence towards them; and now the conviction of the truth was borne blazingly into her brain, filled only with one desire–to save her life.
She stretched her hands out over the back of the cart.
“I am no aristocrat!” she cried. “I am a woman of the people! Save me; do not let them take me! I do not want to die!”
Such taunts of vile and horrible abuse answered her that she drew back with her fingers to her lips.
“No, no!” she shrieked. “I never wronged any one of you!”
The surging crowd now almost blocked the progress of the cart; the soldiers who were conducting it had to make a way with their bayonets.
Stones and garbage were hurled at her; dirt splashed on her dress; the jerking of the cart shook her hair down; she continually lost her balance and fell against the wooden side.
“Madame, for God’s sake—” said the man next her. “You demean us all.”