ce.--The
mob force an entrance.--Fearlessness of the king.--The mob
awed.--Courage of Madame Elizabeth.--Cries of the mob.--The red
bonnet.--First glimpse of Napoleon.--The queen's apartments
invaded.--Insulted by abandoned women.--The queen's children.--The
young girl.--Meeting of the National Assembly.--The king's friends
derided.--The president of the Assembly.--The mob retires.--Deputies
visit the royal family.--Unfeeling remark.--Hopeless condition of the
royal family.--Breast-plate for the king.--Dagger-proof corset for the
queen.--Fete in the Champ de Mars.--The last appearance of the royal
family in public.

During all the long hours of the night, while the king was detained in
the grocer's shop at Varennes, he was, with anxiety indescribable,
looking every moment for soldiers to appear, sent by M. Bouille for his
rescue. But the National Guard, which was composed of those who were in
favor of the Revolution, were soon assembled in such numbers as to
render all idea of rescue hopeless. The sun rose upon Varennes but to
show the king the utter desperation of his condition, and he resigned
himself to despair. The streets were filled with an infuriated populace,
and from every direction the people were flocking toward the focus of
excitement. The children of the royal family, utterly exhausted, had
fallen asleep. Madame Elizabeth, one of the most lovely and gentle of
earthly beings, the sister of the king, who, through all these trials,
and, indeed, through her whole life, manifested peculiarly the spirit of
heaven, was, regardless of herself, earnestly praying for support for
her brother and sister.

Preparations were immediately made to forward the captives to Paris,
lest the troops of M. Bouille, informed of their arrest, should come
to their rescue. The king did every thing in his power to delay the
departure, and one of the women of the queen feigned sudden and alarming
illness at the moment all of the rest had been pressed into the
carriages. But the impatience of the populace could not thus be
restrained. With shouts and threats they compelled all into the
carriages, and the melancholy procession, escorted by three or four
thousand of the National Guard, and followed by a numerous and
ever-increasing concourse of the people, moved slowly toward Paris. Hour
after hour dragged heavily along as the fugitives, drinking the very
dregs of humiliation, were borne by their triumphant and exasperated
foes back t