slowly into the town of Varennes, situated in the department of
Meuse, in northeastern France. It had set out from Paris at an early
hour of the preceding day, and had now left that turbulent capital more
than a hundred and fifty miles behind it, pursuing a direct route
towards the nearest frontier of the kingdom.

There were in this clumsy vehicle several plainly-dressed ladies, a man
attired as a servant, and a half-grown boy. They all seemed in the best
of spirits, and felicitated themselves on having come so far without
question or obstruction. As they neared Varennes, however, an alarming
sound was borne on the midnight air to their ears,--that of a clanging
bell, ringing quickly, as if in alarm. They entered the town and drove
to the post-house.

"Let us have horses at once," was the demand of the outriders; "we must
go forward without delay."

"There are no horses ready," was the reply. "Have you your passports?"

The papers were presented and taken to M. Sausse, the public officer of
the commune, a timid little shop-keeper, sadly incompetent to deal with
any matter that needed bold decision. He cast his eye over the
passports, which shook in his trembling hand. Yet they appeared to be
all right, being made out in the name of Baron Korf, the man in the
carriage being named as a valet de chambre to the baron.

But the disturbed little commune officer knew better than that. A young
man named Drouet, son of the postmaster at St. Menehould, had, a
half-hour or so before, ridden at furious speed into the town, giving
startling information to such of the citizens as he found awake. There
quickly followed that ringing of the alarm-bell which had pealed trouble
into the ears of the approaching travellers.

M. Sausse approached the carriage, and bowed with the deepest respect
before the seeming servant within.

"Will you not enter my house?" he asked. "There is a rumor abroad that
we are so fortunate as to have our king in our midst. If you remain in
the carriage, while the municipal authorities are in council, your
Majesty might be exposed to insult."

The secret was out; it was the king of France who was thus masquerading
in the dress of a lackey and speeding with all haste towards the
frontier. The town was alarmed: a group of armed men stood at the
shopkeeper's door as the traveller entered; some of them told him rudely
that they knew him to be the king.

"If you recognize him," sharply answered the lady wh