But such a flight was forbidden alike by Marie Antoinette’s sense of duty and by her sense of honor, if indeed the two were ever separated in her mind.  Honor forbade her to desert her companions in misery, whose danger might even be increased by the rage of her jailers, exasperated at her escape.  Duty to her boy forbade it still more emphatically.  As his guardian, she ought not to leave him; as his mother, she could not.  And her renunciation of the whole design was conveyed to M. Jarjayes in a letter which did honor alike to both by the noble gratitude which it expressed, and which was long cherished by his heirs as one of their most precious possessions, till it was destroyed, with many another valuable record, when Paris a second time fell under the rule of wretches scarcely less detestable than the Jacobins whom they imitated.[4] It was written by stealth, with a pencil; but no difficulties or hurry, as no acuteness of disappointment or depth of distress, could rob Marie Antoinette of her desire to confer pleasure on others, or of her inimitable gracefulness of expression.  Thus she wrote: 

“We have had a pleasant dream, that is all.  I have gained much by still finding, on this occasion, a new proof of your entire devotion to me.  My confidence in you is boundless.  And on all occasions you will always find strength of mind and courage in me.  But the interest of my son is my sole guide; and, whatever happiness I might find in being out of this place, I can not consent to separate myself from him.  In what remains, I thoroughly recognize your attachment to me in all that you said to me yesterday.  Rely upon it that I feel the kindness and the force of your arguments as far as my own interest is concerned, and that I feel that the opportunity can not recur.  But I could enjoy nothing if I were to leave my children; and this idea prevents me from even regretting my decision.[5]”

And to Toulan she said that “her sole desire was to be reunited to her husband whenever Heaven should decide that her life was no longer necessary to her children.”  He was greatly afflicted, but he could no longer be of use to her.  Her last commission to him was to convey to her eldest brother-in-law, the Count de Provence, her husband’s ring and seal, that they might be in safer custody than her own, and that she or her son might reclaim them, if either should ever be at liberty.  She gave Toulan also, as a memorial of her gratitude, a small gold box, one of the few trinkets which she still possessed, and which, unhappily, proved a fatal present.  In the summer of the next year it was found in his possession, its history was ascertained, and he was sent to the scaffold for the sole offense of having and valuing a relic of his murdered sovereign.