My father-in-law, to whom Comte d’Inisdal repeated what he had said to me, took the commission upon himself, and went to the Queen’s apartments.  The King was playing at whist with the Queen, Monsieur, and Madame; Madame Elisabeth was kneeling on a stool near the table.  M. Campan informed the Queen of what had been communicated to me; nobody uttered a word.  The Queen broke silence and said to the King, “Do you hear, Sire, what Campan says to us?”—­“Yes, I hear,” said the King, and continued his game.  Monsieur, who was in the habit of introducing passages from plays into his conversation, said to my father-in-law, “M.  Campan, that pretty little couplet again, if you please;” and pressed the King to reply.  At length the Queen said, “But something must be said to Campan.”  The King then spoke to my father-in-law in these words:  “Tell M. d’Inisdal that I cannot consent to be carried off!” The Queen enjoined M. Campan to take care and, report this answer faithfully.  “You understand,” added she, “the King cannot consent to be carried off.”

Comte d’Inisdal was very much dissatisfied with the King’s answer, and went out, saying, “I understand; he wishes to throw all the blame, beforehand, upon those who are to devote themselves for him.”

He went away, and I thought the enterprise would be abandoned.  However, the Queen remained alone with me till midnight, preparing her cases of valuables, and ordered me not to go to bed.  She imagined the King’s answer would be understood as a tacit consent, and merely a refusal to participate in the design.  I do not know what passed in the King’s apartments during the night; but I occasionally looked out at the windows:  I saw the garden clear; I heard no noise in the palace, and day at length confirmed my opinion that the project had been given up.  “We must, however, fly,” said the Queen to me, shortly afterwards; “who knows how far the factious may go?  The danger increases every day.”

[The disturbances of the 13th of April, 1790, occasioned by the warmth of the discussions upon Dom Gerle’s imprudent motion in the National Assembly, having afforded room for apprehension that the enemies of the country would endeavour to carry off the King from the capital, M. de La Fayette promised to keep watch, and told Louis XVI. that if he saw any alarming movement among the disaffected he would give him notice of it by the discharge of a cannon from Henri iv.’s battery on the Pont Neuf.  On the same night a few casual discharges of musketry were heard from the terrace of the Tuileries.  The King, deceived by the noise, flew to the Queen’s apartments; he did not find her; he ran to the Dauphin’s room, where he found the Queen holding her son in her arms.  “Madame;” said the King to her, “I have been seeking you; and you have made me uneasy.”  The Queen, showing her son, said to him, “I was at my post.”—­“Anecdotes of the Reign of Louis XVI.”]