eauty--childhood. A lovely woman, a queen,
humiliated,--a young innocent girl,--a child, smiling at his father's
enemies, could not fail to awaken sensibility even in hatred. The men of
the suburbs moved on silent, and as if ashamed, before this group of
humiliated greatness. Some of them the more cowardly made as they passed
derisive or vulgar gestures, which were a dishonour to the
insurrection. Their indignant accomplices checked them in their
insolence, and made these dastards quit the room as speedily as
possible. Some even addressed looks of sympathy and compassion, others
smiles, and others a few familiar words to the dauphin. Conversations,
half menacing, half respectful, were exchanged between the child and the
throng. "If you love the nation," said a volunteer to the queen, "put
the _bonnet rouge_ on your son's head." The queen took the _bonnet
rouge_ from this man's hands, and placed it herself on the dauphin's
head. The astonished child took these insults as play. The men
applauded, but the women, more implacable towards a woman, never ceased
their invectives. Obscene words, borrowed from the sinks of the
fish-market, for the first time echoed in the vaults of the palace, and
in the ears of these children. Their ignorance in not comprehending
their meaning saved them from this horror. The queen, whilst she blushed
to the eyes, did not allow her offended modesty to lessen her lofty
dignity. It was evident that she blushed for the people, for her
children, and not for herself. A young girl, of pleasing appearance and
respectably attired, came forward and bitterly reviled in coarsest terms
_l'Autrichienne_. The queen, struck by the contrast between the rage of
this young girl and the gentleness of her face, said to her in a kind
tone, "Why do you hate me? Have I ever unknowingly done you any injury
or offence?" "No, not to me," replied the pretty patriot; "but it is you
who cause the misery of the nation." "Poor child!" replied the queen;
"some one has told you so, and deceived you. What interest can I have in
making the people miserable? The wife of the king, mother of the
dauphin, I am a Frenchwoman by all the feelings of my heart as a wife
and mother. I shall never again see my own country. I can only be happy
or unhappy in France. I was happy when you loved me."

This gentle reproach affected the heart of the young girl, and her anger
was effaced in a flood of tears. She asked the queen's pardon, saying,
"I