rivate examination. To every question
she gave firm and clear answers.[14] She declared that the French people
had indeed been deceived, but not by her or by her husband. She affirmed
"that the happiness of France always had been, and still was, the first
wish of her heart;" and that "she should not even regret the loss of her
son's throne, if it led to the real happiness of the country." She was
taken back to her cell. The next day the four judges of the tribunal took
their seats in the court. Fouquier-Tinville, the public prosecutor, a man
whose greed of blood stamped him with an especial hideousness, even in
those days of universal barbarity, took his seat before them; and eleven
men, the greater part of whom had been carefully picked from the very
dregs of the people--journeymen carpenters, tailors, blacksmiths, and
discharged policemen--were constituted the jury.

Before this tribunal--we will not dignify it with the name of a court of
justice--Marie Antoinette, the widow Capet, as she was called in the
indictment, was now brought. Clad in deep mourning for her murdered
husband, and aged beyond her years by her long series of sorrows, she
still preserved the fearless dignity which became her race and rank and
character. As she took her place at the bar and cast her eyes around the
hall, even the women who thronged the court, debased as they were, were
struck by her lofty demeanor. "How proud she is!" was the exclamation, the
only sign of nervousness that she gave being that, as those who watched
her closely remarked, she moved her fingers up and down on the arm of her
chair, as if she had been playing on the harpsichord. The prosecutor
brought up witness after witness; some whom it was believed that some
ancient hatred, others whom it was expected that some hope of pardon for
themselves, might induce to give evidence such as was required. The Count
d'Estaing had always been connected with her enemies. Bailly, once Mayor
of Paris, as has been seen, had sought a base popularity by the wantonness
of the unprovoked insults which he had offered to the king. Michonis knew
that his head was imperiled by suspicions of his recent desire to assist
her. But one and all testified to her entire innocence of the different
charges which they had been brought forward to support, and to the
falsehood of the statements contained in the indictment. Her own replies,
when any question was addressed to herself, were equally in her favor.