was flushed with rage – perhaps from hunger.
"Where is the Austrian cat? She shall die by no hand but mine!" she screamed.
"This is she," said Gilbert, taking her by the hand and leading her up to the queen.
"Have I ever done you a personal wrong?" demanded the latter, in her sweetest voice.
"I can not say you have," faltered the woman of the people, amazed at the majesty and gentleness of Marie Antoinette.
"Then why should you wish to kill me?"
"Folks told me that you were the ruin of the nation," faltered the abashed young woman, lowering the point of her saber to the floor.
"Then you were told wrong. I married your King of France, and am mother of the prince whom you see here. I am a French woman, one who will nevermore see the land where she was born; in France alone I must dwell, happy or unhappy. Alas! I was happy when you loved me." And she sighed.
The girl dropped the sword, and wept.
"Beg your pardon, madame, but I did not know what you were like. I see you are a good sort, after all."
"Keep on like that," prompted Gilbert, "and not only will you be saved, but all these people will be at your feet in an hour."
Intrusting her to some National Guardsmen and the War Minister, who came in with the mob, he ran to the king.
Louis had gone through a similar experience. On hastening toward the crowd, as he opened the Bull's-eye Room, the door panels were dashed in, and pikes, bayonets, and axes showed their points and edges.
"Open the doors!" cried the king.
Servants heaped up chairs before him, and four grenadiers stood in front, but he made them put up their swords, as the flash of steel might seem a provocation.
A ragged fellow, with a knife-blade set in a pole, darted at the king, yelling:
"Take that for your veto!"
One grenadier, who had not yet sheathed his sword, struck down the stick with the blade. But it was the king who, entirely recovering self-command, put the soldier aside with his hand, and said:
"Let me stand forward, sir. What have I to fear amid my people?"
Taking a forward step, Louis XVI., with a majesty not expected in him, and a courage strange heretofore in him, offered his breast to the weapons of all sorts directed against him.
"Hold your noise!" thundered a stentorian voice in the midst of the awful din. "I want a word in here."
A cannon might have vainly sought to be heard in this clamor, but at this voice all the vociferation ceased. This was the butcher Legendre. He went up almost to touching the king, while they formed a ring round the two.
Just then, on the outer edge of the circle, a man made his appearance, and behind the dread double of Danton, the king recognized Gilbert, pale and serene of face. The questioning glance implying: "What have you done with the queen?" was answered by the doctor's smile to the effect that she was in safety. He thanked him with a nod.
"Sirrah," began Legendre.
This expression, which seemed to indicate that the sovereign was already deposed, made the latter turn as if a snake had stung him.
"Yes, sir, I am talking to you, Veto," went on Legendre. "Just listen to us, for it is our turn to have you hear us. You are a double-dealer, who have always cheated us, and would try it again, so look out for yourself. The measure is full, and the people are tired of being your plaything and victim."
"Well, I am listening to you, sir," rejoined the king.
"And a good thing, too. Do you know what we have come here for? To ask the sanction of the decrees and the recall of the ministers. Here is our petition – see!"
Taking a paper from his pocket, he unfolded it, and read the same menacing lines which had been heard in the House. With his eyes fixed on the speaker, the king listened, and said, when it was ended, without the least apparent emotion:
"Sir, I shall do what the laws and the Constitution order me to do!"
"Gammon!" broke in a voice; "the Constitution is your high horse, which lets you block the road of the whole country, to keep France in-doors, for fear of being trampled on, and wait till the Austrians come up to cut her throat."
The king turned toward this fresh voice, comprehending that it was a worse danger. Gilbert also made a movement and laid his hand on the speaker's shoulder.
"I have seen you somewhere before, friend," remarked the king. "Who are you?"
He looked with more curiosity than fear, though this man wore a front of terrible resolution.
"Ay, you have seen me before, sire. Three times: once, when you were brought back from Versailles; next at Varennes; and the last time, here. Sire, bear my name in mind, for it is of ill omen. It is Billet."
At this the shouting was renewed, and a man with a lance tried to stab the king; but Billet seized the weapon, tore it from the wielder's grip, and snapped it across his knee.
"No foul play," he said; "only one kind of steel has the right to touch this man: the ax of the executioner! I hear that a King of England had his head cut off by the people whom he betrayed – you ought to know his name, Louis. Don't you forget it."
"'Sh, Billet!" muttered Gilbert.
"Oh, you may say what you like," returned Billet, shaking his head; "this man is going to be tried and doomed as a traitor."
"Yes, a traitor!" yelled a hundred voices; "traitor, traitor!"
Gilbert threw himself in between.
"Fear nothing, sire, and try by some material token to give satisfaction to these mad men."
Taking the physician's hand, the king laid it on his heart.
"You see that I fear nothing," he said; "I received the sacraments this morning. Let them do what they like with me. As for the material sign which you suggest I should display – are you satisfied?"
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