ren might
be massacred in their beds, had them dressed, and placed by the side of
herself and the king. It was recommended to the king that he should go
down into the court-yard, among the troops stationed there for his
defense; that his presence might possibly awaken sympathy and enthusiasm
in his behalf. The king and queen, with their son and daughter, and
Madame Elizabeth, went down with throbbing hearts to visit the ranks of
their defenders. They were received with derisive insults and hootings.
Some of the gunners left their posts, and thrust their fists into the
face of the king, insulting him with menaces the most brutal. They
instantly returned to the palace, pallid with indignation and despair.

Soon an officer came in and informed the king that all resistance was
hopeless; that six pieces of artillery were already pointed against the
main door of the palace; that a mob of countless thousands, well armed,
and dragging with them twelve heavy cannon, were rapidly approaching the
scene of conflict; that the whole populace of Paris were up in arms
against the king, and that no reliance whatever could be placed in the
soldiers stationed for his defense. "There is not," said he, "a single
moment to lose. You will all inevitably and immediately perish, unless
you hasten to the hall where the Assembly is in session, and place
yourself under the protection of that body." The pride of the queen was
intensely aroused in view of appealing to the Assembly, their bitterest
enemy, for succor, and she indignantly replied, "I would rather be
nailed to the walls of the palace than leave it to take refuge in the
Assembly." And the heroism of Maria Theresa instinctively inspiring her
bosom, she seized, from the belt of an officer, two pistols, and,
presenting them to the king, exclaimed, "Now, sire, is the time to show
yourself, and if we must perish, let us perish with glory." The king
calmly received the pistols, and silently handed them back to the
officer.

"Madame," said the messenger, "are you prepared to take upon yourself
the responsibility of the death of the king, of yourself, of your
children, and of all who are here to defend you? All Paris is on the
march. Time presses. In a few moments it will be too late." The queen
cast a glance upon her daughter, and a mother's fears prevailed. The
crimson blood mounted to her temples. Then, again, she was pale as a
corpse. Then, rising from her seat, she said, "Let us go." It wa