alled Drouot.

The hour for repose has come at last. It is ten o'clock. Certain
individuals still complain: "They took us there for nothing; but we
will go back and have what we want." Still, the storm is over. The
crowd has evacuated the palace, the courtyards, and the garden. The
Assembly closes its sessions at half-past ten. Petion said there: "The
King has no cause of complaint against the citizens who marched before
him. He has said as much to the deputies and magistrates." Finally,
as the deputies were about to separate after this exciting day, one of
them, M. Guyton-Morveau, remarked: "The deputation which preceded us,
has doubtless announced to you that all is now tranquil. We remained
with the King for some time, and saw nothing which could {218} inspire
the least alarm. We invited the King to seek some repose. He sent an
officer of the National Guard to visit the posts, and the officer
reported that there was nobody in the palace. His Majesty assured us
that he desired to remain alone; we left him; and we can certify to you
that all is quiet."

{219}

XXI.

THE MORROW OF JUNE TWENTIETH.

In the morning of June 21 there were still some disorderly gatherings
in front of the Tuileries. On awaking, the Dauphin put this artless
question to the Queen: "Mamma, is it yesterday still?" Alas! yes, it
was still yesterday, it was always to be yesterday until the
catastrophes at the end of the drama. It was just a year to a day
since the royal family had furtively quitted Paris to begin the fatal
journey which terminated at Varennes. This souvenir occurred to Marie
Antoinette, and, recalling the first stations of her Calvary, the
unfortunate sovereign told herself that her humiliations had but just
begun. Her lips had touched only the brim of the chalice, and it must
be drained to the dregs.

Meanwhile, visitors were arriving at the Tuileries one after another to
condole with and protest their fidelity to the King and his family.
When Marshal de Mouchy made his appearance, the worthy old man was
received with the honors due to his noble conduct on the previous day.
When the invasion began, Louis XVI., in order not to irritate the
rabble, had given his gentlemen a formal order to withdraw, but {220}
the old marshal, hoping that his great age (he was seventy-seven) would
excuse his presence in the palace, had refused to leave his master.
More than once, with a strength rejuvenated by devotion,