h they pushed forward to record their
votes of condemnation; and when a mob of hired ruffians, who thronged the
hall, were cheering every vote for death, and holding daggers to the
throat of every one from whom they apprehended a contrary judgment; one
noble of frail body, but of a spirit worthy of his birth and rank, the
Marquis de Villette, laughed in the faces of his threateners, looked the
assassins in the face, and told them that he would not obey their orders,
and that they dared not kill him; and with a loud voice pronounced a vote
of acquittal.

But no courage or devotion of a few honest men could save Louis. One vote
by an immense majority pronounced him guilty; a second refused all appeal
to the people; a third, by a majority of fifty voices, condemned him to
death. And on the morning of the 20th of January, 1793, Louis was roused
from his bed to hear his sentence, and to learn that it was to be carried
out the next day.

While the trial lasted, the queen and those with her had been kept in
almost absolute ignorance of what was taking place. They never, however,
doubted what the result would be,[6] so that it was scarcely a shock to
them when they heard the news-men crying the sentence under their windows
--the only mercy that was shown to either the prisoner who was to die, or
to those who were to survive him, being that they were allowed once more
to meet on earth. At eight in the evening the queen, his children, and his
sister were to be allowed to visit him. He prepared for the interview with
astonishing calmness, making the arrangements so deliberately that, when
he noticed that Clery had placed a bottle of iced water on the table, he
bid him change it, lest, if the queen should require any, the chill should
prove injurious to her health. Even that last interview was not allowed to
pass wholly without witnesses, since the Municipal Council refused, even
on such an occasion, to relax their regulation that their guards were
never to lose sight-of the king; and all that was permitted was that he
might retire with his family into an inner room which had a glass door, so
that, though what passed must be seen, their last words might not be
overheard. His daughter, Madame Royale, now a girl of fourteen, and old
enough, as her mother had said a few months before, to realize the misery
of the scenes which she daily saw around her, has left us an account of
the interview, necessarily a brief one, for the queen and