olf's Whelp,' referring to Marie
Antoinette.

"At this period the police were in the habit of distributing in the
streets songs against 'Madame Veto,' as the queen had been called. One
of the most infamous of these, as vulgar as it was brutal, had been
preserved by Simon.

"One day, for the want of a new torture for the child, Simon resolved
to make him sing this obscene song against his mother.

"'Come along, Capet,' said he, 'here is a new song which you must
sing to me.'

"He handed the song to the dauphin. The boy saw its meaning, and with
all the instincts of a susceptible nature he recoiled from the thought
of reviling his mother. He laid it down on the table without saying a
word.

"Simon arose in wrath.

"'I thought I said you must sing.'

"'I never will sing such a song.'

"'I declare to you that I will kill you if you refuse to obey me.'

"'Never!'

"Simon caught up an andiron, and threw it at the child with a force
that would have proved fatal had he not missed his aim. His passion
then gradually subsided, but the boy refused to sing.

"One day, after a system of abuses too shocking to relate, Simon
seized the dauphin by the ear, and drawing him to the middle of the
apartment, said,--

"'Capet, if the Vendeans were to set you at liberty, what would you do
to me?'

"'I would forgive you,' replied the noble boy.

"His situation at last became wretched in the extreme. He was placed
in a filthy cell where he could neither receive pure air nor have
exercise; his food was scanty, his bed was not made for six months,
and his clothes were not changed for a year. He became covered with
vermin, and the mice used to nibble at his feet. He passed the days in
utter silence, wishing only to die. Once, when he had attempted to
pray kneeling, he had been discovered and terribly punished, and he
felt that it was not safe for him to speak even to his God.

"After the overthrow of the Revolutionary government under
Robespierre, he was assigned to more merciful keepers. But his body
and mind were in ruins, and all efforts to restore him proved in vain.

"It was a lovely June day in the summer of 1795. He was dying;
without, the air was full of sunshine, of birds and roses.

"'Are you in pain?' asked his attendant.

"'Yes,' he said; 'but not in so much as I was, the music is so sweet.'

"He presently added; 'Do you not hear the music?'

"'From whence does it come?'

"'From above.'

"His eyes became