He took pains to be contented; he
said not another word about the old pleasant life at Versailles, but
appeared to have forgotten all about ever having been anywhere but
in this great, desolate palace, with its halls filled with faded
tapestry; stately, solemn furniture, their golden adornments having
grown dim, and their upholstery hard; he seemed never to have known
any garden but this, only one little corner of which was set apart
for the royal family, and through the iron gate of which threatening
words were often heard, and spiteful faces seen.
One day, when the dauphin heard such words, and saw such faces
beyond the paling, he shrank back, and ran to his mother, earnestly
imploring her with trembling voice to leave the garden, and go into
the palace. But Marie Antoinette led him farther into the garden,
instead of complying with his wish. In the little pavilion which
stood at the corner of the enclosure on the side of the quay, she
sat down, and lifting her boy up in her arms, set him before her on
the marble table, wiped away his tears with her handkerchief, and
tenderly implored him not to weep or feel badly any more.
"If you weep, my child," she said, sadly, as the dauphin could not
control his tears, "if you weep, I shall have no courage left, and
it will be as dark and dreary to me as if the sun had gone down.
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