ese fearful sounds, and their hearts throbbed violently
in view of the terrible scene through which they knew that they must
pass. The queen, pale but tearless, and nerved to the utmost by queenly
pride, descended to the rooms below. She walked into the chamber where
her beautiful son was sleeping, gazed earnestly upon him for a moment,
bent over him, and imprinted upon his cheek a mother's kiss--and yet
without a tear. She entered the apartment of her daughter--lovely,
surpassingly lovely in all the blooming beauty of fifteen. The
princess, comprehending the peril of the hour, could not sleep. Maria
pressed her child to her throbbing heart, and the pride of the queen was
soon vanquished by the tenderness of the mother, as with convulsive
energy she embraced her, and wept in anguish almost unendurable. Shouts
of unfeeling derision arose from the troops below, stationed for the
protection of the royal family, and their ears were assailed by remarks
of the most brutal barbarity. Hour after hour of the night lingered
along, the clamor without incessantly increasing, and the crowds
surrounding the palace augmenting. The excitement within the palace was
so awful that no words could give it utterance. The few hundred
gentlemen who had come so heroically to share the fate of their
sovereign were aware that no resistance could be made to the tens of
thousands who were thirsting for their blood.

Midnight came. It was fraught with horror. The queen, in utter
exhaustion, threw herself upon a sofa. At that moment a musket shot was
fired in the court-yard. "There is the first shot," said the queen, with
the calmness of despair, "but it will not be the last. Let us go and be
with the king." At length, from the windows of their apartment, a few
gleams of light began to redden the eastern sky. "Come," said the
Princess Elizabeth, "and see the rising sun." Maria went mournfully to
the window, gazed long and steadfastly upon the rising luminary, feeling
that, before that day's sun should go down, she and all whom she loved
would be in another world. It was an awful spectacle which the light of
day revealed. All the avenues to the palace were choked with intoxicated
thousands. The gardens, and the court-yard surrounding the palace, were
filled with troops, placed there for the protection of the sovereign,
but evidently sympathizing with the mob, with whom they exchanged badges
and friendly greetings. The queen, apprehensive that the child