A hundred voices at the same time cried, “Yes, yes, yes! Make the hussars dismount! It is our business, and not the business of strangers, to protect the King! Dismount, hussars—dismount!” M. de Damas slipped through the crowd, and rejoined the three or four men who had been faithful to him. M. de Goguelot exchanged signals with M. de Malmy, and in company with M. de Choiseul again ascended to the King’s chamber. Both addressed the Queen, as they knew that it was her head that planned. “Madame,” said M. de Goguelot, “it is no use thinking of proceeding in the carriages; but there is a way of safety.” “What?” “Will you mount a horse, and set out with the King? He will take charge of the Dauphin. The bridge is barricaded, but at the bottom of the Rue Jean the river is fordable. With our forty hussars we will pass. In any case, make a quick resolution. Our hussars are already drinking with the people; in another quarter of an hour they will be brothers.” The Queen drew back; that iron heart failed her at that critical moment. She again became a woman; she feared a struggle, a skirmish—perhaps a bullet. “Speak to the King, messieurs,” said she; “it is he who should decide on this plan; it is he who should command; it is for me but to follow.” She then added, timidly, “After all, it cannot be long before M. de Bouillé arrives.” The gardes du corps were there ready to attempt anything. M. de Valory said, in his and the name of all his comrades, “Her Majesty knows that she can command. We are ready to die for her.” M. de Goguelot and M. de Choiseul chimed in. “M. de Damas is below,” said M. de Choiseul; “he told us to tell your Majesty that he had but three or four dragoons, but that he could count on their fidelity as on his own.” “Let us set out, sire—let us set out, since the Queen places herself in your hands.” If the King replied yes, there was still hope. “Messieurs,” asked the King, “can you promise me that in the struggle which must take place as a consequence of our departure, no ball will strike the Queen, my sister, or my children?” A sigh passed the lips of the King’s defenders. They felt him giving way in their hands. “Let us reason coolly,” said the King. “The municipal council do not refuse to let me go. The annoyance is, that we are compelled to spend the night here; but before daybreak, M. de Bouillé will be acquainted with the situation in which we are. He is at Stenay. Stenay is but eight leagues from here; two hours will take one there, and another two suffice to bring back a message. M. de Bouillé cannot fail to be here in the morning, then shall we depart without danger or violence.” As he uttered these words, without announcing themselves, or asking the permission of the King to be admitted, the municipal council entered the room. The decision that they had arrived at was brief and precise.