c Roederer; then answers, looking
over his shoulder to the Queen: Marchons! They march; King Louis, Queen,
Sister Elizabeth, the two royal children and governess: these, with
Syndic Roederer, and Officials of the Department; amid a double rank of
National Guards. The men with blunderbusses, the steady red Swiss
gaze mournfully, reproachfully; but hear only these words from Syndic
Roederer: "The King is going to the Assembly; make way." It has
struck eight, on all clocks, some minutes ago: the King has left the
Tuileries--for ever.

O ye stanch Swiss, ye gallant gentlemen in black, for what a cause are
ye to spend and be spent! Look out from the western windows, ye may
see King Louis placidly hold on his way; the poor little Prince Royal
'sportfully kicking the fallen leaves.' Fremescent multitude on the
Terrace of the Feuillants whirls parallel to him; one man in it, very
noisy, with a long pole: will they not obstruct the outer Staircase, and
back-entrance of the Salle, when it comes to that? King's Guards can
go no further than the bottom step there. Lo, Deputation of Legislators
come out; he of the long pole is stilled by oratory; Assembly's Guards
join themselves to King's Guards, and all may mount in this case of
necessity; the outer Staircase is free, or passable. See, Royalty
ascends; a blue Grenadier lifts the poor little Prince Royal from the
press; Royalty has entered in. Royalty has vanished for ever from
your eyes.--And ye? Left standing there, amid the yawning abysses,
and earthquake of Insurrection; without course; without command: if ye
perish it must be as more than martyrs, as martyrs who are now without a
cause! The black Courtiers disappear mostly; through such issues as they
can. The poor Swiss know not how to act: one duty only is clear to them,
that of standing by their post; and they will perform that.

But the glittering steel tide has arrived; it beats now against the
Chateau barriers, and eastern Courts; irresistible, loud-surging far
and wide;--breaks in, fills the Court of the Carrousel, blackbrowed
Marseillese in the van. King Louis gone, say you; over to the Assembly!
Well and good: but till the Assembly pronounce Forfeiture of him, what
boots it? Our post is in that Chateau or stronghold of his; there till
then must we continue. Think, ye stanch Swiss, whether it were good
that grim murder began, and brothers blasted one another in pieces for a
stone edifice?--Poor Swiss! they know not ho