Marie Antoinette and Her Son Part 28

"Bad news," sighed Varicourt. "The crowd is increasing every moment.

New columns have arrived from Paris, and not only the common people, but the speakers and agitators are here. Everywhere are groups listening to the dreadful speeches which urge on to regicide and revolution. It is a dreadful, horrible night. Treachery, hatred, wickedness around the palace, and cowardice and desertion pa.s.s out from the palace to them, and open the doors. Many of the royal soldiers have made common cause with the people, and walk arm in arm with them around the square."

"And what do these dreadful men want?" asked Campan. "Why do they encamp around the palace? What is their object?"

Mr. Varicourt sadly bowed his head, and a loud sigh came from his courageous breast. "They want what they shall never have while I am alive," he then said, with a decided look. "I have sworn fidelity to the king and queen, and I shall keep it to death. My duty calls me, for the hour of changing guards is near, and my post is below at the great staircase which leads up here. We shall meet at daylight, if I am then alive. But till then we shall do our duty. I shall guard the grand staircase, do you guard the sleeping-room of the queen."

"Yes, we will do our duty," answered Madame de Campan, extending her hand to him. "We will watch over those to whom we have devoted ourselves, and to whom we have vowed fidelity. No one shall pa.s.s into the chamber of the queen while we are alive, shall there?"

"Never," replied both of the women, with courageous decision.

"And no one shall ascend the great staircase so long as I live,"

said Varicourt. "Adieu now, ladies, and listen carefully to every sound. If a voice calls to you, 'It is time,' wake the queen and save her, for danger will then be right upon her. Hark, it is striking three, that is the hour of changing guard. Farewell!"

He went quickly to the door, but there he stood still, and turned once more around. His glance encountered that of his friend, and Madame de Campan understood its silent language well, for she hastened to him.

"You have something to say to me?"

"Yes," he whispered softly, "I have a presentiment that I shall not survive the horrors of this night. I have one whom I love, who, as you know, is betrothed to me. If I fall in the service of the king, I ask you to see my Cecilia, and tell her that I died with her name upon my lips! Tell her not to weep for me, but at the same time not to forget me. Farewell."

He hurriedly opened the door and hastened away. Madame de Campan repressed the tears which would fill her eyes, and turned to the two maids.

"Now," said she, with decisive tones, "let us return to the waiting- room and watch the door of the queen's chamber."

With a firm step she walked on, and the ladies followed. Without any noise they entered the little hall, where in the mornings those ladies of the court used to gather who had the right to be present while the queen dressed herself. Madame de Campan locked the door through which they had entered, behind her, drew out the key and hid it in her pocket.

"No one will enter here with my will," said she. "Now we will place chairs before the door of the sleeping-room, and sit there. We shall then have erected a barricade before our queen, a wall which will be as strong as any other, for there beat three courageous hearts within it."

They sat down upon the chairs, whose high backs leaned against the door of the queen's room, and, taking one another's hands, began their hallowed watch.

All was still and desolate around them. No one of the women could break the silence with a word or a remark. With dumb lips, with open eyes, the three watchers sat and hearkened to the sounds of the night. At times, when the roaring without was uncommonly loud and wild, they pressed one another's hands, and spoke to one another in looks; but when the sounds died away, they turned their eyes once more to the windows and listened.

Slowly, dreadfully slowly moved the fingers of the great clock above on the chimney. Madame de Campan often fixed her gaze upon it, and it seemed to her as if time must have ceased to go on, for it appeared to be an eternity since Varicourt had taken leave of her, and yet the two longer fingers on the dial had not indicated the fourth hour after midnight. But the pendulum still continued its regular, even swinging; the time went forward; only every moment made the horror, the fear of unknown danger seem like an eternity!

At last, slowly, with calm stroke, the hour began to strike four o'clock. And amid the dreadful sounds outside the palace, the women could recognize the deep tones of the great clock on the Swiss hall.

Four o'clock! One solitary, dreadful hour is pa.s.sed! Three hours more, three eternities before daylight comes!

But hark! what new, fearful noise without? That is no more the sound of singing and shouting, and crying--that is the battle-cry-that is the rattle and clatter of muskets. The three women sprang up, moved as if by one thought, animated by one purpose. They moved the chairs back from the door, ready, as soon as danger should approach, to go into the chamber of the queen and awaken her. Campan then slipped across the room to the door of the antechamber, which she had looked before. She laid her ear to the key-hole, and listened. All was still and quiet in the next room; no one was in the antechamber.

There was no immediate danger near, for Varicourt's voice had not yet uttered the cry of warning.

But more fearful grew the noise outside. The crackle of musketry was more noticeable, and every now and then there seemed to be heavy strokes as if directed against the palace, sounding as if the people were attempting to force the iron gate of the front court.

"I must know what is going on," whispered Campan, and with cool decision she put the key into the door, turned it, entered the antechamber, and flew to the window, where there was a view of the whole court; and a fearful sight met her there. The crowd had broken the gate, pressed into the court, and was surging in great ma.s.ses toward the palace doors. Here and there torches threw their glare over these ma.s.ses, disclosing men with angry gestures, and women with streaming hair, swinging their arms savagely, and seeming like a picture of h.e.l.l, not to be surpa.s.sed in horror even by the phantasms of Dante. Women changed to furies and baccha.n.a.lians, roaring and shouting in their murderous desires; men, like blood- thirsty tigers, preparing to spring upon their prey, and give it the death-stroke; swinging pikes and guns, which gleamed horribly in the glare of the torches; arms and fists bearing threatening daggers and knives! All this was pressing on upon the palace--all these clinched fists would soon be engaged in hammering upon the walls which separated the king and queen from the people--the executioner from his victim!

All at once there rang out a fearful, thundering cry, which made the windows rattle, and called forth a terrible echo above in the deserted hall; for through all these shrieks and howls, there resounded now a piercing cry, such as only the greatest pain or the most instant need can extort from human lips.

"That was a death-cry," whispered Madame de Campan, trembling, and drawing back from the window. "They have certainly killed the Swiss guards, who are keeping the door; they will now pour into the palace. O G.o.d! what will become of Varicourt? I must know what is going on!"

She flew through the antechamber and opened the door of the Swiss hall. It was empty, but outside of it could be heard a confused, mixed ma.s.s of sounds, cries, and the tramping as of hundreds and hundreds of men coming on. Nearer and nearer came the sound, more distinct every moment. All at once the door was flung open on the other side of the Swiss hall, the door which led out, and Varicourt appeared in it, pushed backward by the raging, howling ma.s.s. He still sought to resist the oncoming tramp of these savage men, and, with a movement like lightning, putting his weapon across the door, he was able for one minute to hold the place against the tide--just so long as the arms which held the weapon had in them the pulse of life! Varicourt looked like a dying man; his uniform was torn and cut, his face deathly pale, and on one side disfigured by the blood which was streaming down from a broad wound in his forehead.

"It is time, it is time!" he cried, with a loud tremulous voice, and, as he saw for an instant the face of Campan at the opposite door, a flash of joy pa.s.sed over his face.

"Save the queen! They will murder her!" [Varicourt's last words.-- See "Memoires de Madame de Campan," vol. ii., p. 77. ]

Madame de Campan hastily closed the door, drew the great bolt, and then sprang through the antechamber into the waiting-room, and bolted its door too. Then, after she had done that--after she had raised this double wall between the sleeping queen and the raging mob--she sank upon her knees like one who was utterly crushed, and raised her folded hands to heaven.

"Have mercy on his soul, O G.o.d! take him graciously to heaven!"

whispered she, with trembling lips.

"For whom are you praying?" asked the two women, in low voices, hurrying up to her. "Who is dead?"

"Mr. Varicourt," answered Campan, with a sigh. "I heard his death- cry, as I was bolting the door of the antechamber. But we cannot stop to weep and lament. We must save the queen!"

And she sprang up from her knees, flew through the room, and opened the door leading to the queen's chamber.

At that moment a fearful crash was heard, then a loud shout of triumph in the outer antechamber.

"The queen! We want the heart of the queen!"

"They have broken down the door of the antechamber--they are in the waiting-room!" whispered Campan. "There is no time to be lost. Come, friends, come!"

And she hastened to the bed of the queen, who was still lying in that heavy, unrefreshing sleep which usually follows exhaustion and intense excitement.

"Your majesty, your majesty, wake!"

"What is it, Campan?" asked Marie Antoinette, opening her eyes, and hastily sitting up in bed. "Why do you waken me? What has happened?"

The fearful sounds without, the crashing of the door of the little waiting-room, gave answer. The rough, hard voices of the exasperated women, separated now from the queen by only one thin door, quickly told all that had happened.

Marie Antoinette sprang from her bed. "Dress me quick, quick!"

"Impossible! There is no time. Only hear how the gunstocks beat against the door! They will break it down, and then your majesty is lost! The clothes on without stopping to fasten them! Now fly, your majesty, fly! Through the side-door-through the OEil de Boeuf!"

Madame de Campan went in advance; the two women supported the queen and carried her loose clothes, and then they flew on through the still and deserted corridors to the sleeping-room of the king.

It was empty--no one there!

"O G.o.d! Campan, where is the king? I must go to him. My place is by his side! Where is the king?"

"Here I am, Marie, here!" cried the king, who just then entered and saw the eager, anxious face of his wife. "I hurried to save our most costly possessions!"

He laid the dauphin, only half awake, and lying on his breast, in the arms which Marie Antoinette extended to him, and then led her little daughter to her, who had been brought in by Madame Tourzel.

"Now," said the king, calmly, "now that I have collected my dearest treasures, I will go and see what is going on."

But Marie Antoinette held him back. "There is destruction, treachery, and murder outside. Crime may break in here and overwhelm us, but we ought not to go out and seek it."

"Well," said the king, "we will remain here and await what comes."

And turning to his valet, who was then entering, Louis continued: "Bring me my chocolate, I want to take advantage of the time to breakfast, for I am hungry!"