When he was accused of shedding the blood of Frenchmen he raised his voice with all the conscientiousness of innocence, and replied: “No, sir, I have never shed the blood of any Frenchman.” His spirit was evidently wounded at this charge, and I perceived a tear trickle down his cheek; but, as if unwilling to give his enemies an opportunity of weakness in his conduct, he instantaneously wiped his face and forehead to denote he was oppressed by heat. After all his answers had been obtained several papers were handed to him, with some degree of politeness, by one of the Huissiers. This civility was a contrast to the brutal behaviour of Mailhé,[1] the Secretary, who was afterwards desired to present some papers to the King. These papers were said to have been signed by the monarch, and to have been found in a box concealed in a secret part of his cabinet. Their contents were not of great importance, but the object of the Convention was to identify the King’s handwriting. A chair was placed for Mailhé close to the King, but within the bar. Immediately he was seated the unfeeling monster turned it completely round, so as to face the President and show his back to the King. The insulted monarch felt the affront, and showed by the manner in which he resented it a proud superiority over his dastardly enemy. He rose from his seat and remained on his legs during the whole of the examination. Mailhé retained his position, and, sitting with one leg crossed over the other, read aloud each paper and then handed it over his right shoulder to the sovereign, accompanied each time by the query: “Louis, is that your handwriting?” The unfortunate monarch snatched it abruptly from his hand and answered indignantly: “No, it is _not_ my writing.” A multitude of papers were presented on the one part and denied on the other, in the same style. Finally Mailhé rose from his seat, exclaiming dramatically, “Louis denies everything! Louis recollects nothing at all!” A voice from the boxes, behind the Deputies, shouted: “Take off his head!” but it was not noticed. Thus far victory was on the side of the King. Never were charges more completely refuted by a forsaken individual, deprived of the support of friends or counsel. The President was at a loss how to proceed. Barbaroux[1] and several Deputies rushed up to his chair and whispered in his ear. This confused him the more. At length Manuel,[1] nicknamed the Solon or Solomon or Socrates of France (I forget which), advanced into the area of the hall, and in a bungling manner said: “President, the representatives of the people have decreed that none of us shall speak while the King--Louis, I mean--is amongst us. Now I propose that Louis be made to withdraw for a little while, so that every member may deliver his opinion.” [Sidenote: THE NATIONAL CONVENTION]