--the rags of the _emeute_,--of the dust of the return
from Varennes; the king wished they should now see them in a state of
tranquillity and affection for him, for he taught his son to love the
people, and not to avenge their offences towards him. In the pangs he
had suffered, the most bitter was rather the ingratitude of the nation,
than his own personal humiliations; for, to be misconstrued by the
nation, was, in his eyes, far more painful than to be persecuted by
them. One moment of justice on the part of public opinion made him
forget two years of outrage. He went that evening to the Theatre Italien
with the queen, Madame Elizabeth, and his children. The hopes to which
the events of the day had given rise--his words of that morning--the
expression of confidence and affection on his features--the beauty of
the two princesses--the infantine grace of his children, produced on the
spectators one of those impressions, where pity vies with respect, and
enthusiasm softens the heart into veneration.

The theatre rang with applause mingled with sobs; every eye was fixed on
the royal box, as though in mute reparation for so many insults offered
to the king and his family. The populace can never resist the sight of
children, there are so many mothers in every crowd; the dauphin, a
lovely child, seated on the lap of his mother, and absorbed in the play,
repeated the gestures of the actors to his mother as though to explain
the piece to her. This careless tranquillity of innocence between the
two storms--this childish sport at the foot of a throne, so soon to
become a scaffold--this expansion of the heart of the queen, that had
been so long closed to joy and security, filled every eye with tears,
not excepting the king himself.

There are moments in every revolution when the most furious and enraged
populace becomes gentle and compassionate; it is when it suffers nature
and not policy to sway it; and instead of being a people, it becomes a
man. Paris had such an instant: it was of short duration.

V.

The Assembly was very anxious to re-acquire the public feeling of which
a momentary weakness had dispossessed it. It already blushed at its
moderation for a day, and was anxious to cast fresh jealousies between
the throne and the nation. A numerous party in the chamber was desirous
of pushing matters to extremities, and to tighten the cord of the
present posture of affairs until it snapped. For this purpose the party
require