The Countess of Charny; or, The Execution of King Louis XVI

The door opened.

"Come, come," cried the queen, without knowing that it would be Charny who appeared.

"I am here, madame," he said.

"Oh, is it you? Then I have nothing to say, as you told me a while ago what you thought should be done."

"Then the gentleman thought that the only course was – " said Roederer.

"To die," returned the queen.

"You see that what I propose is preferable, madame."

"Oh! on my soul, I do not know whether it is or not," groaned the queen.

"What does the gentleman suggest?"

"To take the king under the wing of the House."

"That is not death, but shame," said Charny.

"You hear that, sir?" cried the lady.

"Come, come," said the lawyer; "may there not be some middle course?"

Weber stepped forward.

"I am of very little account," he said, "and I know that it is very bold of me to speak in such company; but my devotion may inspire me. Suppose that your majesty only requested a deputation to watch over the safety of the king?"

"Well, I will consent to that. Lord Charny, if you approve of this suggestion, will you pray submit it to the king?"

Charny bowed and went out.

"Follow the count, Weber, and bring me the king's answer."

Weber went out after the nobleman.

Charny's presence, cold, stern and devoted, was so cruel a reproach to her as a woman, if not as a sovereign, that she shuddered in it. Perhaps she had some terrible forewarning of what was to happen.

Weber came back to say that the king accepted the idea.

"Two gentlemen are going to take his majesty's request to the Assembly."

"But look what they are doing!" exclaimed the queen.

The besiegers were busy fishing for Switzers.

Roederer looked out; but he had not the time to see what was in progress before a pistol-shot was followed by the formidable discharge. The building shook as though smitten to its foundations.

The queen screamed and fell back a step, but returned to the window, drawn by curiosity.

"Oh, see, see!" she cried, with flaring eyes, "they fly! they are routed! Why did you say, that we had no resource but in the Assembly?"

"Will your majesty be good enough to come with me," said the official.

"See, see," continued the queen, "there go the Swiss, making a sortie, and pursuing them! Oh, the Carrousel is swept free! Victory, victory!"

"In pity for yourself, madame, follow me," persisted Roederer.

Returning to her senses, she went with the attorney-syndic to the Louvre gallery, where he learned the king was, and which suited his purpose.

The queen had not an idea of it.

The gallery was barricaded half down, and it was cut through at a third of the way, where a temporary bridge was thrown across the gap; the foot of a fugitive might send it down, and so prevent the pursuers following into the Tuileries.

The king was in a window recess with his captains and some courtiers, and he held a spy-glass in his hand.

The queen had no need for it as she ran to the balcony.

The army of the insurrection was approaching, long and dense, covering the whole of the wide street along the riverside, and extending as far as the eye could reach.

Over the New Bridge, the southern districts effected a junction with the others.

All the church-bells of the town were frenziedly swinging out the tocsin, while the big bell of Notre Dame Cathedral overawed all the metallic vibrations with its bronze boom.

A burning sun sparkled in myriad points from the steel of gun-barrels and lance-points.

Like the rumblings of a storm, cannon was heard rolling on the pavement.

"What now, madame?" said Roederer.

Some fifty persons had gathered round the king.

The queen cast a long look on the group to see how much devotion lingered. Then, mute, not knowing to whom to turn, the poor creature took up her son and showed him to the officers of the court and army and National Guard, no longer the sovereign asking the throne for her heir, but the mother suing for protection for her boy.

During this time, the king was speaking in a low voice with the Commune attorney, or rather, the latter was repeating what he had said to the queen.

Two very distinct groups formed around the two sovereigns. The king's was cold and grave, and was composed of counselors who appeared of Roederer's opinion. The queen's was ardent, numerous, and enthusiastic young military men, who waved their hats, flourished their swords, raised their hands to the dauphin, kissed the hem of the queen's robe, and swore to die for both of them.

Marie Antoinette found some hope in this enthusiasm.

The king's party melted into the queen's, and with his usual impassibility, the monarch found himself the center of the two commingled. His unconcern might be courage.

The queen snatched a pair of pistols from Colonel Maillardet.

"Come, sire," she cried; "this is the time for you to show yourself and die in the midst of your friends!"

This action had carried enthusiasm to its height, and everybody waited for the king's reply, with parted lips and breath held in suspense.