He placed the Dauphin in the arms of his aunt, and opened the carriage door with such violence and rapidity, that he almost fell out; in fact, he would have fallen, had not Madame Elizabeth caught and retained him by his coat-tails. “Oh, Frenchmen!” cried he; “ye are a nation of brave men—would ye become a horde of assassins?” At this eloquent appeal, the people let go the priest, who escaped, protected by the outspread arms and eloquent gestures of Barnave. The door was again shut, Barnave retook his place, and the Queen said to him, “I thank you, M. Barnave.” He bowed his head. Before the arrival of the commissaires, the King had eaten alone with his family; but now, after consulting the Queen, he invited them to share his repast. Pétion accepted the invitation; Latour-Maubourg and Barnave declined. Barnave insisted, however, on waiting on the royal family; but the Queen made him a sign, and he yielded. I was one of the guard at the door of the dining-room. In the evening, MM. Drouet and Guillaume set out at full speed, to inform the Assembly of what had taken place. Drouet came to bid me good-bye. “M. Drouet,” said I to him, “you know me, as I am your pupil. I take the greatest interest in that which is going on. It will be something to talk about for the rest of my life. Give the order, before you leave, to have me always placed close to their Majesties. The fatigue will be nothing, and I wish to see all that goes on.” “Be it as you wish,” said he, without making the least objection. That was the reason why I had been appointed one of the guards that day at the door of the dining-room. This is what happened at Dormans. After dinner, the three commissaires went into the neighboring room—that is to say, the one at which I mounted guard. “Citizens,” said Barnave to them, “we are commissaires of the National Assembly, and not the executioners of the royal family; and to make them proceed under this burning sun is simply to conduct them to the scaffold.” “Good!” said Pétion. “What has happened to them has been brought on by their own follies.” “Still they are no less King and Queen,” replied M. de Latour-Maubourg. “If affairs keep progressing as they do now, it is extremely probable that they will not long even have that title to console them.” “Quite right,” said Barnave. “But still I think that, as long as they retain the titles of King and Queen, they ought to be treated as such.” “I have no objection,” said Pétion, in an indifferent tone. “Do as you like, most loyal gentlemen.” Saying these words, he left the room. Barnave and M. de Latour-Maubourg, being alone, decided that the royal carriage should be accompanied only by a cavalry escort, so that it might proceed at a trot, and on the third evening arrive at Meaux.