the people. The
country was swarming with troops and national guards. The troops began
to show symptoms of hesitation; the horses, fatigued by nine leagues
over a bad road, could not sustain the speed necessary to overtake the
king at Sainte Menehould. All energy deserted them with hope. The
regiment turned round, and M. de Bouille led them back in silence to
Stenay; thence, followed only by a few of the officers most implicated,
he gained Luxembourg, and passed the frontier amidst a shower of balls,
and wishing for death more than he shunned the punishment.

XXIV.

The royal carriages, however, rolled rapidly along the road to Chalons,
attended by the national guard, who relieved each other in order to
escort them on; the whole population lined the road on either side, to
gaze upon a king brought back in triumph by the nation that believed
itself betrayed. The pikes and bayonets of the national guards could
scarcely force them a passage through this dense throng, that at each
instant grew more and more numerous, and who were never weary of
uttering cries of derision and menace, accompanied by the most furious
gestures.

The carriages pursued their journey amidst a torrent of abuse, and the
clamour of the people recommenced at every turn of the wheel. It was a
Calvary of sixty leagues, every step of which was a torture. One
gentleman, M. de Dampierre, an old man, accustomed all his life to
venerate the king, having advanced towards the carriage to show some
marks of respectful compassion to his master, was instantly massacred
before their eyes, and the royal family narrowly escaped passing over
his bleeding corpse. Fidelity was the only unpardonable crime amongst
this band of savages. The king and queen, who had already made the
sacrifice of their lives, had summoned all their dignity and courage, in
order to die worthily. Passive courage was Louis XVI.'s virtue, as
though Heaven, who destined him to suffer martyrdom, had gifted him with
heroic endurance, that cannot resist, but can die. The queen found in
her blood and her pride sufficient hatred for the people, to return
with inward scorn the insults with which they profaned her. Madame
Elizabeth prayed mentally for divine assistance; and the two children
wondered at the hatred of the people they had been taught to love, and
whom they now saw only a prey to the most violent fury. The august
family would never have reached Paris alive, had not the commissioners