The Queen took it in her turn, read it, and returned it to the King. The King re-read it, and then placed it on the bed where his children slept. “No—no!” cried the Queen, exasperated, furious, mad with hate and anger; “I do not wish that infamous paper to defile my children.” “Madame,” at last said Romeuf, “you have just reproached me for being charged with this mission. Is it not better that I should have undertaken the task than one who would have borne witness with regard to transports of passion?” There was, in fact, at this action of the Queen’s, a terrible murmur among the spectators. The Queen had crumpled up the decree, and dashed it on the floor. M. de Choiseul, who had regained his liberty, and who, at the moment, entered the chamber, accompanied by two messengers, picked up the decree, and placed it on the table. The Queen appreciated his intention, and thanked him with a look. “At least, sir,” said she, addressing M. de Romeuf, “I hope that you will do all you can for M. de Choiseul, M. de Damas, and M. de Goguelot when we are gone.” In fact, the Queen well understood that go she must. It was seven o’clock in the morning, and M. de Bouillé had not put in an appearance. The peasants of the villages round Varennes continued to pour into the town, armed with guns, pitchforks, and scythes, and each cried louder than the other, “To Paris! to Paris!” The carriage was in readiness. The King made the most of each little obstacle, counting each moment, awaiting Bouillé. At last, it was necessary to make a move. The King rose first. The Queen followed his example. One of her women—whether naturally, or whether as an artifice, to gain time—fainted. “They may cut me into pieces if they will,” said the Queen, “but I will not leave without one who has the misfortune to be my friend.” “As you will—stay if you like,” said a man of the people, “At any rate, I will take the Dauphin.” He took the royal child in his arms, and stepped towards the door. The Queen seized the Dauphin from him, and descended the stairs, blushing. All the family were filled with poignant anxiety. On arriving in the street, Madame Elizabeth perceived that half of the Queen’s hair had turned gray; the other half was to grow gray at the Conciergerie in a second night of agony, which was not, perhaps, more terrible than that which we have recounted. They got into the carriage; the three gardes du corps mounted on the box. M. de Goguelot, in the hope of bringing succor, had found means of escaping through the little passage situate at the back of the house of M. Sauce. M. de Choiseul and M. de Damas were conducted to the city prison, where M. de Romeuf caused himself to be imprisoned with them, for the sake of protecting them more efficiently.