e
fainted on learning her friend's death in this manner. Her children
burst into tears and tried by their caresses to bring her back to
consciousness. The man did not go away. "Sir," the King said to him,
"we are prepared for the worst, but you might have dispensed yourself
from informing the Queen of this frightful calamity." {357} Clery, the
King's valet, was looking through a corner of the window blinds, and
saw Madame de Lamballe's head. The person carrying it had climbed up
on a heap of rubbish from the buildings in process of demolition.
Another, who stood beside him, held her bleeding heart. Clery heard
Danjou expostulating the crowd in words like these: "Antoinette's head
does not belong to you; the departments have their rights in it also.
France has confided these great criminals to the care of Paris; and it
is your business to assist us in guarding them until national justice
shall avenge the people." Then, addressing himself to these cannibals
as if they were heroes whose courage and exploits he praised, he added,
in speaking of the profaned corpse of the Princess de Lamballe: "The
remains you have there are the property of all. Do they not belong to
all Paris? Have you the right to deprive others of the pleasure of
sharing your triumph? Night will soon be here. Make haste, then, to
quit this precinct, which is too narrow for your glory. You ought to
place this trophy in the Palais Royal or the Tuileries garden, where
the sovereignty of the people has been so often trampled under foot, as
an eternal monument of the victory you have just won." Remarks like
these were all that could prevent these tigers from entering the Temple
and destroying the prisoners. Shouts of "To the Palais Royal!" proved
to Danjou that his harangue had been appreciated. The assassins at
last departed, after having covered his face with {358} kisses that
smelt of wine and blood. They wanted to show their victim's head at
the Hotel Toulouse, the mansion of the venerable Duke de Penthievre,
her father-in-law, but were deterred by the assurance that she did not
ordinarily live there, but at the Tuileries. Then they turned toward
the Palais Royal. The Duke of Orleans was at a window with his
mistress, Madame de Buffon. He left it, but he may have seen the head
of his sister-in-law.

Some of the cannibals had remained in the neighborhood of the Temple.
Sitting down at table in a wine-shop, they had the heart of the
Prince