kes through the streets. The dissevered
head they bore into an ale house, and drank and danced around the
ghastly trophy in horrid carousal. The rioting multitude then, in the
phrensy of intoxication, swarmed through the streets to the Temple,
to torture the king and queen with the dreadful spectacle. The king,
hearing the shoutings and tumultuous laughter of the mob, went to the
window, and recognized, in the gory head thrust up to him upon the point
of a pike, the features of his much-loved friend. He immediately led the
queen to another part of the room, that she might be shielded from the
dreadful spectacle.

Such were the flashes of terror which were ever gleaming through the
bars of their windows. The horrors of each passing moment were magnified
by the apprehension of still more dreadful evils to come. There was,
however, one consolation yet left them. They were permitted to cling
together. Locked in each other's arms, they could bow in prayer, and by
sympathy and love sustain their fainting hearts. It was soon, however,
thought that these indulgences were too great for dethroned royalty to
enjoy. But a few days of their captivity had passed away, when, at
midnight, they were aroused by an unusual uproar, and a band of brutal
soldiers came clattering into their room with lanterns, and, in the most
harsh and insulting manner, commanded the immediate expulsion of all the
servants and attendants of the royal family. Expostulation and entreaty
were alike unavailing. The captives were stripped of all their friends,
and passed the remainder of the night in sleeplessness and in despair.
With the light of the morning they endeavored to nerve themselves to
bear with patience this new trial. The king performed the part of a
nurse in aiding to wash and dress the children. For the health of the
children, they went into the court-yard of the prison before dinner for
exercise and the fresh air. A soldier, stationed there to guard them,
came up deliberately to the queen, and amused his companions by puffing
tobacco smoke from his pipe into her face. The parents read upon the
walls the names of their children, described as "whelps who ought to be
strangled."

Six weeks of this almost unendurable agony passed away, when, one night,
as the unhappy captives were clustered together, finding in their mutual
and increasing affection a solace for all their woes, six municipal
officers entered the tower, and read a decree ordering the