placed their dreadful trophy where it must be seen. It was the head of
the Princesse de Lamballe; although bleeding, it was not disfigured, and
her light hair, still in curls, hung about the pike."

At length the immense mob that surrounded the Temple gradually withdrew,
"to follow the head of the Princess de Lamballe to the Palais Royal."

[The pike that bore the head was fixed before the Duc d'Orleans's window
as he was going to dinner. It is said that he looked at this horrid sight
without horror, went into the dining-room, sat down to table, and helped
his guests without saying a word. His silence and coolness left it
doubtful whether the assassins, in presenting him this bloody trophy,
intended to offer him an insult or to pay him homage.--DE MOLLEVILLE'S
"Annals of the French Revolution," vol. vii., p. 398.]

Meanwhile the royal family could scarcely believe that for the time their
lives were saved. "My aunt and I heard the drums beating to arms all
night," says Madame Royale; "my unhappy mother did not even attempt to
sleep. We heard her sobs."

In the comparative tranquillity which followed the September massacres,
the royal family resumed the regular habits they had adopted on entering
the Temple. "The King usually rose at six in the morning," says Clery.
"He shaved himself, and I dressed his hair; he then went to his
reading-room, which, being very small, the municipal officer on duty
remained in the bedchamber with the door open, that he might always keep
the King in sight. His Majesty continued praying on his knees for some
time, and then read till nine. During that interval, after putting his
chamber to rights and preparing the breakfast, I went down to the Queen,
who never opened her door till I arrived, in order to prevent the
municipal officer from going into her apartment. At nine o'clock the
Queen, the children, and Madame Elisabeth went up to the King's chamber to
breakfast. At ten the King and his family went down to the Queen's
chamber, and there passed the day. He employed himself in educating his
son, made him recite passages from Corneille and Racine, gave him lessons
in geography, and exercised him in colouring the maps. The Queen, on her
part, was employed in the education of her daughter, and these different
lessons lasted till eleven o'clock. The remaining time till noon was
passed in needlework, knitting, or making tapestry. At one o'clock, when
the weather was fine, the roy