them to shoot the dreadful people?"

"You know, Master Simon, that I give no such commands and never gave
such," said the queen quickly. "The king and I love our people and
never would give our soldiers orders to fire on them, and now, sir--the
Queen of France and her son will no longer be detained!" With a quick
movement she struck back the arm of the cobbler, Simon, snatched the
Dauphin away like lightning and passed by before Simon had time to put
his arm back.

The crowd watching were filled with enthusiasm by the courage of the
queen. They applauded, laughed and shouted, while the cries, "Long live
the Queen! Long live the Dauphin!" passed like wildfire among the
throng behind the fence, and although in the eyes of Simon whose evil
design had been frustrated by a little child, there still shone hatred,
Marie Antoinette, who was now hand in hand with the Dauphin, reached in
safety the little garden reserved for the use of the royal family. Once
within its iron gate, decorated with the arms of the kings of France,
she felt as if all power had gone from her, and she could no longer
hide her fear and grief, but, no, she must be cheerful for her son's
sake, and her servants must not see her brow clouded, and so, with head
erect and flashing eyes, she walked on.

"Mamma," cried the Dauphin, interrupting her thoughts. "There comes the
king, my father. He will be glad to hear I was so courageous."

The queen quickly stooped and kissed him. "Yes, truly my little Bayard,"
she said, "you have done honour to your great example and been really a
little chevalier '_sans peur et sans reproche_,' but remember, Louis,
true bravery does not glory in its great deeds and does not wish
others to admire them, but keeps silent and leaves others to talk of
them!"

"Yes, and I will be silent too," cried Louis, with sparkling eyes. "You
will see that I can be silent too," and child though he was, he showed
from that moment a quick understanding and appreciation of the humility
necessary to real greatness.

That winter in the Tuileries was a dismal one indeed, for the royal
family had none of the gaiety and freedom which had been part of the
happy life at Versailles, and even when the King wished to go to his
summer palace at St. Cloud for rest and change, this was not allowed.
At last, weary of the insults and restraints heaped upon them, the
royal family attempted to escape secretly from Paris, but the plot was
discovered, their ca