There was no cry of horror thereat among the populace, which raised its eyes towards the balcony, expecting to see the carcase.  Still, in the very whirlwind of its passion, the multitude appeared to require reconciliation.  One of the multitude handed a bonnet rouge to Louis XVI. at the end of a pike.  “Let him put it on! let him put it on!” exclaimed the mob, “it is the sign of patriotism, if he puts it on we will believe in his good faith.”  The king made a signal to one of his grenadiers to hand him the bonnet rouge, and smiling, he put it on his head; and then arose shouts of Vive le Roi! The people had crowned its chief with the symbol of liberty, the cap of democracy replaced the bandeau of Rheims.  The people were conquerors, and felt appeased.

However, fresh orators, mounting on the shoulders of their comrades, demanded incessantly of the king, sometimes by entreaties, sometimes with threats, to promise the recall of Roland, and the sanction of the decrees.  Louis XVI., invincible in his constitutional resistance, eluded, or refused to acquiesce in the injunctions of the malcontents.  “Guardian of the prerogative of the executive power, I will not surrender to violence,” he answered:  “this is not the moment for deliberation, when it is impossible to deliberate freely.”  “Do not fear, sire,” said a grenadier of the national guard to him.  “My friend,” was the king’s reply, taking his hand, and placing it on his breast, “place your hand there, and see if my heart beats quicker than usual.”  This action, and the language of unshaken intrepidity, seen and heard in the crowd, had its effect on the rebels.

A fellow in tatters, holding a bottle in his hand, came towards the king, and said, “if you love the people, drink to their health!” Those who surrounded the prince, afraid of poison as much as the poignard, entreated the king not to drink.  Louis XVI., extending his arm, took the bottle, raised it to his lips, and drank “to the nation!” This familiarity with the multitude, represented by a beggar, consummated the king’s popularity.  Renewed cries of Vive le Roi! burst from all tongues and reached even the staircases:  these cries created consternation in the terrace of the garden amongst the groups who were expecting a victim, and thus learnt that his executioners were softened.

XXII.

Whilst the unfortunate prince thus contended alone against a whole people, the queen, in another apartment, was undergoing the same outrages and the same torments; more hated than the king, she ran more risks.  Agitated nations require to have their hatreds personified as well as their love.  Marie Antoinette represented in the eyes of the nation all the corruptions of courts, all the pride of despotism, and all the infamies of treason.  Her beauty, her youthful inclination for pleasure, tenderness of heart provoked by calumny into excesses, the blood of the house of Austria,