The queen quietly went on with her
embroidery, and not for a moment did she intermit the regular motion
of her needle.
Again the blast of trumpets and the rattle of drums. The funeral of
the royalty was ended, and the king was, after this time, to be
known simply as Louis Capet, and the queen as Marie Antoinette.
Within the Temple there was no longer a dauphin, no longer a Madame
Royale, no longer a princess, but only the Capet family!
The republic had hurled the crowns from the heads of Louis and Marie
Antoinette; and when, some days later, the linen which had been long
begged for, had been brought from the Tuileries, the republic
commanded the queen to obliterate the crown which marked each piece,
in addition to the name.
But their sufferings are by no means ended yet. Still there are some
sources of comfort left, and now and then a peaceful hour. The
crowns have fallen, but hearts still beat side by side. They have no
longer a kingdom, but they are together, they can speak with looks
one to another, they can seek to comfort one another with smiles,
they can cheer each other up with a passing grasp of the hand, that
escapes the eye of the sentries! We only suffer half what we bear in
common with others, and every thing seems lighter, when there is a
second one to help lift the load.
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