carriages to offer his loyal
greeting, was seized, and roughly handled by the furious mob. Barnave
feared they would kill him, as they had already killed one person under
similar circumstances. He threw himself almost out of the coach-door as
he cried, "Tigers, have you ceased to be Frenchmen? From being brave
fellows have you turned assassins?" The Princess Elizabeth, fearing
lest he should fall out of the carriage, grasped the skirt of his coat;
and the queen told Madame Campan afterwards that she could not but be
struck with the oddity of seeing the Princess Elizabeth taking care of
the safety of a man whom they had all abhorred as a rebel and a traitor.
So vehemently had the whole Court thus detested him, that Madame Campan
could scarcely believe her senses when she heard the queen speak with
earnest regard of the revolutionary Barnave. This is another
circumstance which indicates how much guilt and misery might have been
saved if the adverse parties could early have come to an understanding
and made their mutual complaints face to face.

Barnave's companion, Petion, disgusted them all; including Barnave. He
behaved with ostentatious rudeness and brutality. The king began to
converse with him upon the condition of the nation, and to explain the
reasons of his own conduct, saying that he wished to strengthen the
government so far as to enable it to _be_ a government, since France
could not be a republic... "Not yet, indeed," interrupted Petion; "for
the French are not ripe for a republic yet." This brutal reply silenced
the king, who spoke no more till he entered Paris.

The ladies offered refreshments to their new companions. Barnave said
he had to occupy their Majesties with the serious business on which he
was sent, but would not trouble them with his personal wants.

Petion ate and drank greedily. He threw chicken-bones out of the
window, past the king's face; and when the Princess Elizabeth poured out
wine for him, he jerked his glass, instead of speaking, to show that
there was enough. He took Louis on his knees, and twisted his fingers
in the child's curly hair. When eager in conversation, he twitched the
boy's hair so as to make him call out. The queen held out her arms,
saying, "Give me my son. He is accustomed to tender care, and to
treatment very unlike this familiarity."

The great coach entered Paris on the Saturday evening, slowly rolling on
through hundreds of thousands of gazers. A