"Now, my Louis," asked the queen, "have I guessed right?--wasn't it
the doggy that you wanted so much?"
"Mamma queen has guessed it," cried the boy joyfully, putting his
arms around the neck of the dog. "Does Moufflet belong to my
inheritance too? Do I receive him, since my brother has left him
behind?"
"Yes, my son, the little dog belongs to your inheritance," answered
the king, with a sad smile.
The child shouted with pleasure, and pressed the dog close to his
breast. "Moufflet is mine!" he cried, glowing with joy, "Moufflet is
my inheritance!"
The queen slowly raised to heaven her eyes, red with weeping. "Oh,
the innocence of childhood, the happiness of childhood!" said she,
softly, "why do they not go with us through life? why must we tread
them under feet like the violets arid roses of my son? A kingdom
falls to him as his portion, and yet he takes pleasure in the little
dog which only licks his hands! Love is the fairest inheritance, for
love remains with us till death!"
CHAPTER XI.
KING LOUIS THE SIXTEENTH.
The 14th of July had broken upon Paris with its fearful events. The
revolution had for the first time opened the crater, after
subterranean thunder had long been heard, and after the ground of
Paris had long been shaken. The glowing lava-streams of intense
excitement, popular risings, and murder, had broken out and flooded
all Paris, and before them judgment, discretion, and truth even, had
taken flight.
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