a load for a woman to bear!"

The cry of "Vive la Reine!" which had been ready went forth only as a
low murmur.

"Gentlemen," said d'Aguesseau, "our duty may be grave before long.
General Lafayette has, it is true, assumed the external defence of the
Palace with the National Guard of Paris. At the same time, we must
remember that that Guard are now scattered among the churches of the
town and fast asleep, while the invaders are a countless multitude at
our doors, and we but a handful. On us depend, as on a thread, the lives
of our King and Queen and of all these helpless persons of the
household. Remember, sirs, that your time to die, the soldier's hour of
glory, may now have come."

A shoot of "Vive le Roi!" from every throat was again the response. It
echoed through the windows across the Court of Marble and down the
Great Staircase. It was memorable as the last loyal cry of the household
of Versailles.

"The hour has arrived to change guard," Mayor d'Aguesseau went on. "Will
you, Monsieur de Lincy, take command in the Hall of the Queen?"

D'Aguesseau passed on to inspect the precautions at other points of the
Palace.

No sooner had he left than the men disposed themselves with serious
faces for active work. A sympathetic feeling of devotion displayed
itself. Suddenly Des Huttes, the best voice in the company of Noailles,
struck up solemnly that tender reminiscence from the opera of "Richard
Coeur de Lion"--

"Oh, Richard, oh my King, the world forsaketh thee,"

and the Bodyguards, overcome with emotion, one and all stood still with
bended heads.

It was then about three o'clock.

In four hours' more the French Monarchy was to fall and the ancient
_regime_ to pass like a dream. The east wind dashed a terrible gust of
rain against the windows and shook their panes like a summons.

* * * * *

"Oh, Richard, oh my King, the world forsaketh thee," haunted Germain as
he paced the Hall of the Queen's Guards. Recent political events
connected with the drawing up of a national constitution, and the hunger
of the poor, which they naturally blamed on those in power, had, he
knew, raised deep animosity towards Louis XVI. and the Queen. Her
thoughtless life of gaiety in past days, and the greedy demands of her
friends the Polignacs, had made her particularly the mark of venomous
hate. As d'Aguesseau said, "what a load for a woman to bear!" The
thought raised in Lecour the deepest