Nobody prevented this. The National Assembly let every thing go
quietly on, and waited with perfect indifference to see what the
righteous anger of the people should resolve to do.
Immense masses of howling, shrieking people rolled up, on the
afternoon of the 20th of June, to the Tuileries, where no
arrangements had been made for defence, the main entrances not even
being protected that day by the National Guard.
The king gave orders, therefore, that the great doors should be
opened, and the people allowed to pass in unhindered.
In a quarter of an hour all the staircases, corridors, and halls
were filled by a howling, roaring crowd; the room of the king alone
was locked, and in this apartment were the royal family and a few
faithful friends--the king, bland and calm as ever; the queen, pale,
firm, uncomplaining; Madame Elizabeth, with folded hands, praying;
the two children drawing closely together, softly weeping, and yet
suppressing their sobs, because the queen had, in a whisper,
commanded them to keep still.
A little company of faithful servants filled the background of the
room, and listened with suspended breath to the axe-strokes with
which the savage crowd broke down the doors, and heard the
approaching cries of the multitude.
At last a division of the National Guard reached the palace, too
late to drive the people out, but perhaps in season to protect the
royal family.
Pages:
455
456
457
458
459
460
461
462
463
464
465
466
467
468
469
470
471
472
473
474
475
476
477
478
479