d the belfry, and rang the alarm bell. The solemn booming
of that midnight bell roused the affrighted inhabitants from their
pillows, and soon the whole population was gathered around the carriages
and about the door of the grocer's shop. It was in vain for the king to
deny his rank. His marked features betrayed him. Clamor and confusion
filled the night air. Men, women, and children were running to and fro;
the populace were arming, to be prepared for any emergency; and the
royal family were worn out by sleeplessness and toil. At last Louis
made a bold appeal to the magnanimity of his foes. Taking the hand of
Sausse, he said,

"Yes! I am your king, and in your hands I place my destiny, and that
of my wife, my sister, and my children. Our lives and the fate of the
empire depend upon you. Permit me to continue my journey. I have no
design of leaving the country. I am but going to the midst of a part of
the army, and in a French town, to regain my real liberty, of which the
factions at Paris deprive me. From thence I wish to make terms with the
Assembly, who, like myself, are held in subjection through fear. I am
not about to destroy, but to save and to secure the Constitution. If you
detain me, I myself, France, all, are lost. I conjure you, as a father,
as a man, as a citizen, leave the road free to us. In an hour we shall
be saved, and with us France is saved. And, if you have any respect for
one whom you profess to regard as your master, I command you, as your
king, to permit us to depart."

[Illustration: CAPTURE AT VARENNES.]

The appeal touched the heart of the grocer and the captors by whom
the king was surrounded. Tears came into the eyes of many, they
hesitated; the expression of their countenances showed that they would
willingly, if they dared to consult the dictates of their own hearts,
let the king pass on. A more affecting scene can hardly be imagined.
It was midnight. Torches and flambeaux were gleaming around. Men,
women, and children were hurrying to and fro in the darkness. The
alarm bell was pealing out its hurried sounds through the still air. A
crowd of half-dressed peasants and artisans was rapidly accumulating
about the inn. The king stood pleading with his subjects for liberty
and life, far more moved by compassion for his wife and children than
for himself. The children, weary and terrified, and roused suddenly
from the sleep in which they had been lost in their parents' arms,
gazed upon the s