vile refuse of their
sex, still drunk with fury and wine. Several of them rode astride upon
cannons, boasting, in the most horrible songs, of the crimes they had
committed themselves, or seen others commit. Those who were nearest the
King's carriage sang ballads, the allusions in which by means of their
vulgar gestures they applied to the Queen. Wagons, full of corn and
flour,--which had been brought into Versailles, formed a train escorted by
grenadiers, and surrounded by women and bullies, some armed with pikes,
and some carrying long branches of poplar. At some distance this part of
the procession had a most singular effect: it looked like a moving forest,
amidst which shone pike-heads and gun-barrels. In the paroxysms of their
brutal joy the women stopped passengers, and, pointing to the King's
carriage, howled in their ears: "Cheer up, friends; we shall no longer be
in want of bread! We bring you the baker, the baker's wife, and the
baker's little boy!" Behind his Majesty's carriage were several of his
faithful Guards, some on foot, and some on horseback, most of them
uncovered, all unarmed, and worn out with hunger and fatigue; the
dragoons, the Flanders regiment, the hundred Swiss, and the National
Guards preceded, accompanied, or followed the file of carriages. I
witnessed this heartrending spectacle; I saw the ominous procession. In
the midst of all the tumult, clamour, and singing, interrupted by frequent
discharges of musketry, which the hand of a monster or a bungler might so
easily render fatal, I saw the Queen preserving most courageous
tranquillity of soul, and an air of nobleness and inexpressible dignity,
and my eyes were suffused with tears of admiration and grief.--"Memoirs of
Bertrand de Molleville."]

The progress of the procession was so slow that it was near six in the
evening when this august family, made prisoners by their own people,
arrived at the Hotel de Ville. Bailly received them there; they were
placed upon a throne, just when that of their ancestors had been
overthrown. The King spoke in a firm yet gracious manner; he said that he
always came with pleasure and confidence among the inhabitants of his good
city of Paris. M. Bailly repeated this observation to the representatives
of the commune, who came to address the King; but he forgot the word
confidence. The Queen instantly and loudly reminded him of the omission.
The King and Queen, their children, and Madame Elisabeth, r