But the widow of Louis Capet had no
riches, no treasures to convey. She had nothing more that she could
call her own but her love, her tears, and her farewell greetings.
These she left to all who had loved her. She sent a special word to
her brothers and sisters, and bade them farewell.
"I had friends," she says, "and the thought that I am to be forever
separated from them, and their sorrow for me, is the most painful
thing in this hour; they shall at least know that I thought of them
to the last moment."
After Marie Antoinette had ended this letter, whose writing was here
and there blotted with her tears, she turned her thoughts to the
last remembrances she could leave to her children--a remembrance
which should not be profaned by the hand of the executioner. This
was her long hair, whose silver locks, the only ornament that
remained to her, was at the same time the sad record of her sorrows.
Marie Antoinette, with her own hands, despoiled herself of this
ornament, and cut off her long back-hair, that it might be a last
gift to her children, her relations, and friends. Then, after a
period of meditation, she prepared herself for the last great
ceremony of her career--her death. She felt herself exhausted, worn
out, and recognized her need of some physical support during the
hard way which lay before her.
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