Meanwhile, one hundred and sixty heads fell upon the scaffold, some being those of women. The poor Princess de Lamballe, the Queen’s devoted friend, was not one of those saved. She had followed the royal family to the Temple prison, but she was torn from them after a few days. She was a very young widow, passionately loved by her father-in-law, who lived far away in the country. He forwarded 12,000_l._ to save her life, if possible. It was her want of courage, or, perhaps, ability to dissemble, which cost this poor lady her life. On September 3rd, she appeared before the tribunal. She had passed two days continually fainting; and when ordered, with feigned brutality, by two National Guards to follow them, she asked permission to die where she was. One of them leant down, and whispered, “It is to save you.” Upon coming before the tribunal, the sight of the blood all about deprived her of consciousness. It was long before she comprehended what was required of her. “Swear the love of liberty and equality, and hatred of kings!” “I swear the first,” she said, “but not the second. It is not in my heart.” One of the judges whispered to her—“Swear everything, or you are lost.” She remained silent. “Well—when you go out, cry ‘Long live the nation!’” She nodded; but upon being led out by two men, one of them a leader in the massacres—one Grand Nicholas,—upon sight of the dead bodies, she cried, “Good God! how horrible!” Nicholas put his hand over her mouth. They had traversed half the street in safety, when a drunken barber, trying to strike off her cap with his knife, wounded her in the forehead. The men about believed her condemned, and in a few moments she was dead, her head cut off, and set amongst the glasses on the counter of a wine-shop, where they drank to her death. The barber then set the head upon a pole, and carried it in procession to the Temple. There the crowd forced an entrance, and insisted upon shewing the head to the ex-Queen. The King was called upon to show himself to the people; and though an unknown friend endeavored to prevent Louis from seeing the head, the kind intention was foiled, and the King recognised the features. Marie Antoinette was now demanded, and she presented herself to the people; but the King, active for once, saved his wife from the sight of poor Lamballe’s head. She only learnt what had happened in the evening. Three days’ murders! At two other prisons, five hundred and seventy-five victims awaited burial. At the end of the three days, the murder of women was common. A beautiful girl, one of the people, having wounded her lover from jealousy, and he being a national soldier, she was burnt alive, under circumstances of peculiar atrocity, suggested by the wretched woman, “La Belle Heleise,” whose advancing madness was her excuse. Her own time, when she was to be lashed by her own sex, was fast approaching.