lly increased by new deprivations. No communications from the
world without were permitted to reach their ears. Shutters were so
arranged that even the sky was scarcely visible, and no employment
whatever was allowed them to beguile their hours of woe. About four
months after the death of the king, a loud noise was heard one night at
the door of their chamber, and a band of armed men came tumultuously in,
and read to the queen an order that her little son should be entirely
separated from her, and imprisoned by himself. The poor child, as he
heard this cruel decree, was frantic with terror, and, throwing himself
into his mother's arms, shrieked out, "O mother! mother! mother! do not
abandon me to those men. They will kill me as they did papa." The queen
was thrown into a perfect delirium of mental agony. She placed her child
upon the bed, and, stationing herself before him, with eyes glaring like
a tigress, and with almost superhuman energy, declared that they should
tear her in pieces before they should touch her poor boy. The officers
were subdued by this affecting exhibition of maternal love, and
forbore violence. For two hours she thus contended against all their
solicitations, until, entirely overcome by exhaustion, she fell in a
swoon upon the floor. The child was then hurried from the apartment, and
placed under the care of a brutal wretch, whose name, Simon, inhumanity
has immortalized. The unhappy child threw himself upon the floor of
his cell, and for two days remained without any nourishment. The queen
abandoned herself to utter despair. Madame Elizabeth and Maria Theresa
performed all the service of the chamber, making the beds, sweeping the
room, and attending upon the queen. No importunities on the part of
Maria Antoinette could obtain for her the favor of a single interview
with her child.

Three more months passed slowly away, when, early in August, the queen
was aroused from her sleep at midnight by armed men, with lanterns,
bursting into her room. With unfeeling barbarity, they ordered her to
accompany them to the prison of the Conciergerie, the most dismal prison
in Paris, where those doomed to die awaited their execution. The queen
listened, unmoved, to the order, for her heart had now become callous
even to woe. Her daughter and Madame Elizabeth threw themselves at the
feet of the officers, and most pathetically, but unavailingly, implored
them not to deprive them of their only remaining solace. The