o his breast if he refused.
The king put it on, and so little regarded it that he forgot to remove it
again, as he afterward repented that he had not done, thinking that his
conduct in allowing it to remain on his head bore too strong a resemblance
to fear or to an unworthy compromise of his dignity.

But still the uproar increased, and above it rose loud cries for the
queen, till at last she also came forward. As yet, from the motives that
have already been mentioned, she had consented to remain out of sight; but
each explosion of the mob increased her unwillingness to keep back. It
was, she felt, her duty to be always at the king's side; if need be, to
die with him; to stand aloof was infamy; and at last, as the demands for
her appearance increased, even those around her confessed that it might be
safer for her to show herself. The door was thrown open, and, leading
forth her children, from whom she refused to part, and accompanied by
Madame de Tourzel, Madame de Lamballe, and others of her ladies, the most
timid of whom seemed as if inspired by her example, Marie Antoinette
advanced and took her place by the side of her husband, and, with head
erect and color heightened by the sight of her enemies, faced them
disdainfully. As lions in their utmost rage have recoiled before a man who
has looked them steadily in the face, so did even those miscreants quail
before their pure and high-minded queen. At first it seemed as if her
bitterest enemies were to be found among her own sex. The men were for a
moment silenced; but a young girl, whose appearance was not that of the
lowest class, came forward and abused her in coarse and furious language,
especially reviling her as "the Austrian." The queen, astonished at
finding such animosity in one apparently tender and gentle, condescended
to expostulate with her. "Why do you hate me? I have never injured you."
"You have not injured me, but it is you who cause the misery of the
nation." "Poor child," replied Marie Antoinette, "they have deceived you.
I am the wife of your king, the mother of your dauphin, who will be your
king. I am a Frenchwoman in every feeling of my heart. I shall never again
see Austria. I can only be happy or unhappy in France, and I was happy
when you loved me." The girl was melted by her patience and gentleness.
She burst into tears of shame, and begged pardon for her previous conduct.
"I did not know you," she said; "I see now that you are good.[2]" Another