{284}

XXVIII.

THE MORNING OF AUGUST TENTH.

The fatal day began. It was five o'clock in the morning. The Queen
made her children rise, lest the swords of the insurgents should
surprise them in their beds. The Dauphin, unaccustomed to being called
so early, stared with surprise at the spectacle presented by the court
and garden. "Mamma," said he, "why should any one harm papa? He is so
good!" Then, turning to a little girl who was his usual companion in
his games, he addressed her these words, which prove how well, in spite
of his age, he knew the peril he was in: "Here, Josephine, take this
lock of my hair, and promise to wear it as long as I am in danger."

Led by their chief, Marshal de Mailly, an old man of eighty-six, the
two hundred noblemen, who had assembled in the Gallery of Diana, passed
in review before the royal family with those of the National Guards who
were royalists. "Sire," exclaimed the old marshal, bending his knee,
"here are your faithful nobles who have hastened to re-establish Your
Majesty on the throne of your ancestors."--"For this once," responded
Louis XVI., "I consent that {285} my friends should defend me; we will
perish or save ourselves together." The last defenders of the throne
shed tears of fidelity and tenderness. They kneeled before Marie
Antoinette, and entreated the honor of kissing her hand. Never had the
Queen appeared more gracious and majestic. The National Guards,
enchanted, loaded their arms with transport. The Queen seized the
Dauphin in her arms and held him above their heads like a living
standard. The young men shouted: "Long live the Kings of our fathers!"
And the old men cried: "Long live the King of our children!"

At the gates of the Tuileries the tide was rising. Vanguards of the
insurrection, the Marseillais arrived unhindered. The municipality had
succeeded in removing the cannons which were to have prevented approach
by way of the Pont-Neuf and the Pont-Royal. Mandat was no longer there
to issue orders. Nothing impeded the march of the faubourgs.

And yet resistance might still have been possible. It is Barbaroux,
the fierce revolutionist himself, who says so. "All the faults
committed by the insurrection, the wretched arrangement of the
attacking party, the terror of some and the ignorance of others, the
forces at the palace, all made the victory of the court certain, if the
King had not left his post. If he had shown himself on horseba