mob without were incessantly crying, "Have you killed them
yet? Throw us out their heads."

Almost miraculously, the friends surrounding the king succeeded in
warding off the blows which were aimed at him. One of the mob thrust out
to the king, upon the end of a pike, a _red bonnet_, the badge of the
Jacobins, and there was a general shout, "Let him put it on! let him
put it on! It is a sign of patriotism. If he is a patriot he will wear
it." The king, smiling, took the bonnet and put it upon his head.
Instantly there rose a shout from the fickle multitude, "_Vive le roi!_"
The mob had achieved its victory, and placed the badge of its power upon
the brow of the humbled monarch.

There was at that time standing in the court-yard of the palace a young
man, with the blood boiling with indignation in his veins, in view of
the atrocities of the mob. The ignominious spectacle of the red bonnet
upon the head of the king, as he stood in the recess of the window,
seemed more than this young man could endure, and, turning upon his
heel, he hastened away, exclaiming, "The wretches! the wretches! they
ought to be mown down by grape-shot." This is the first glimpse the
Revolution presents of Napoleon Bonaparte.

But while the king was enduring their tortures in one apartment, the
queen was suffering indignities and outrages equally atrocious in
another. Maria Antoinette was, in the eyes of the populace, the
personification of every thing to be hated. They believed her to be
_infamous_ as a wife; proud, tyrannical, and treacherous; that, as an
Austrian, she hated France; that she was doing all in her power to
induce foreign armies to invade the French empire with fire and sword;
and that she had instigated the king to attempt escape, that he might
head the armies. Maria, conscious of this hatred, was aware that her
presence would only augment the tide of indignation swelling against the
king, and she therefore remained in the bed-chamber with her children.
But her sanctuary was instantly invaded. The door of her apartment had
been, by some friend, closed and bolted. Its stout oaken panels were
soon dashed in, and the door driven from its hinges. A crowd of
miserable women, abandoned to the lowest depths of degradation and
vulgarity, rushed into the apartment, assailing her ears with the most
obscene and loathsome epithets the language could afford. The queen
stood in the recess of a window, with queenly pride curbing her mortal
a