trange privations for princes.
They had not a sufficient supply of clothes; the little dauphin, in
particular, would have been wholly unprovided, had not the English
embassadress, Lady Sutherland, whose son was of a similar age and size,
sent in a stock of such as she thought might be wanted. But as the
garments thus received wore out, and as all means of replacing them were
refused, the queen and princess were reduced to ply their own needles
diligently to mend the clothes of the whole family, that they might not
appear to their jailers, or to the occupants of the surrounding houses,
who from their windows could command a view of the garden in which they
took their daily walks, absolutely ragged.

Such enforced occupation must indeed in some degree have been welcome as a
relief from thought, which their unbroken solitude left them but too much
leisure to indulge. Clery has given us an account of the manner in which
their day was parceled out.[3] The king rose at six, and Clery, after
dressing his hair, descended to the queen's chamber, which was on the
story below, to perform the same service for her and for the rest of the
family. And the hour so spent brought with it some slight comfort, as he
could avail himself of that opportunity to mention any thing that he might
have learned of what was passing out-of-doors, or to receive any
instructions which they might desire to give him. At nine they breakfasted
in the king's room. At ten they came down-stairs again to the queen's
apartments, where Louis occupied himself in giving the dauphin lessons in
geography, while Marie Antoinette busied herself in a corresponding manner
with Madame Royale. But, in whatever room they were, their guards were
always present; and when, at one o'clock, they went down-stairs to walk in
the garden, they were still accompanied by soldiers: the only member of
the family who was not exposed to their ceaseless vigilance being the
little dauphin, who was allowed to run up and down and play at ball with
Clery, without a soldier thinking it necessary to watch all his movements
or listen to all his childish exclamations. At two dinner was served, and
regularly at that hour the odious Santerre, with two other ruffians of the
same stamp, whom he called his aids-de-camp, visited them to make sure of
their presence and to inspect their rooms; and Clery remarked that the
queen never broke her disdainful silence to him, though Louis often spoke
to him, gen