This broke the pride, the royal pride of Marie Antoinette. She wrung
her hands, she wept, she cried, she implored with such moving,
melting tones, not to be separated from her son and husband, that
even the heart of Simon the cobbler was touched.
"I really believe that these cursed women make me blubber!" cried
he, angry with the tears which forced themselves into his eyes. And
he made no objection when the other officials said to the queen,
with trembling voices, that they would allow the royal family to
come together at their meals.
One last comfort, one last ray of sunshine! There were still hours
in these dismal, monotonous days of November, when they could have
some happiness--hours for which they longed, and for whose sake they
bore the desolate solitude of the remaining time.
At breakfast, dinner, and supper, the Capet family were together;
words were interchanged, hands could rest in one another, and they
could delight in the pleasant chatter of the dauphin when the king
told about the lessons he had given the boy, and the progress he was
making.
They sometimes forgot, at those meetings, that Death was perhaps
crouching outside the Temple, waiting to receive his victims; and
they even uttered little words of pleasantry, to awaken the bright,
fresh laugh of the dauphin, the only music that ever was heard in
those dismal rooms.
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