crowd expected pillage.
There is not a patriot in the whole infamous horde; the emigrants had
their schemes and manoeuvres; {333} the foreigners wanted to profit by
the dissensions of France; everybody has had a part in our
misfortunes." Here the Dauphin entered with his sister and Madame de
Tourzel. "Poor children!" cried the Queen. "How cruel it is not to
transmit to them so noble a heritage, and to say: All is over for us!"
And as the little Dauphin, seeing his mother and those around her
weeping, began to shed tears also: "My child," the Queen said,
embracing him, "you see I have consolations too; the friends whom
misfortune deprived me of were not worth as much as those it gave me."
Then Marie Antoinette asked for news of the Princess de Tarente, Madame
de la Roche-Aymon, and others whom she had left at the Tuileries. She
compassionated the fate of the victims of the previous day.

Madame Campan expressed a desire to know what the foreign ambassadors
had done in this catastrophe. The Queen replied that they had done
nothing, but that the English ambassadress, Lady Sutherland, had just
displayed some interest by sending linen for the Dauphin, who was in
need of it.

What memories must not that little cell in the Feuillants convent have
left in the souls of those who were privileged to present there the
homage of their devotion to the Queen! "I think I still see," Madame
Campan has said in her Memoirs, "I shall always see, that little cell,
hung with green paper, that wretched couch from which the dethroned
sovereign stretched out her arms to us, saying that our {334} woes, of
which she was the cause, aggravated her own. There, for the last time,
I saw the tears flowing and heard the sobs of her whose birth and
natural gifts, and above all the goodness of whose heart had destined
her to be the ornament of all thrones and the happiness of all peoples."

During the 11th and 12th of August the tortures of the 10th were
renewed for the royal family. They were obliged to occupy the odious
box of the _Logographe_ during the sessions of the Assembly, and from
there witness, as at a show, the slow and painful death-struggle of
royalty. As she was on her way to this wretched hole, Marie Antoinette
perceived in the garden some curious spectators on whose faces a
certain compassion was depicted. She saluted them. Then a voice
cried: "Don't put on so many airs with that graceful head; it is not
worth while. You'll