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A deep, solemn silence reigned while the dauphin's voice rang
through the room. The faces of the deputies, hitherto defiant and
severe, softened, deeply moved. They all looked at the beautiful
boy, who was still on his knees, his countenance beaming, and with a
smile upon it like the face of one in a blissful dream. No one
ventured to break the silence. The king, whose arm was thrown around
the neck of his daughter, looked affectionately at the dauphin;
Madame Elizabeth had folded her hands, and was praying; but Marie
Antoinette, no longer able to control her deep emotion, covered her
face with her hands, and wept in silence.
From this day the life of the royal family was one of constant
excitement--an incessant, feverish expectation of coming evil. The
king bore it all with an uncomplaining resignation; no one drew from
him a complaint, no one a reproach. But the thought never seemed to
occur to him that perhaps even yet safety might be attained by
energy, by spirit, or even by flight.
He had surrendered all; he was ready to suffer as a Christian
instead of rising as a king, and preferred to fall in honorable
battle rather than to live despised.
Marie Antoinette had given up her efforts to inspire her husband
with her own energetic will. She knew that all was in vain, and had
accepted her fate.
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