Sauce had opened wide the door of his shop, and passed all sorts of compliments on the King whom he persisted in calling “your Majesty,” though the King equally persisted that his name was M. Durand. The Queen had not the courage to support this humiliating assumption. “Well, then,” said she, “if monsieur is your King, and I your Queen, treat us with the respect that our rank demands.” At these words, the King was ashamed, and said, “Very well, I am your King; there is your Queen, and there are our children.” Though vulgar enough in his royal dress, the King lost altogether what little dignity he had under the costume of a steward. Besides, always unfortunate, a grocer’s shop, with its surroundings, was not the most romantic spot in which to utter those royal words:— “Placed in the capital, in the midst of swords and bayonets, I came to seek in the country, in the midst of my faithful subjects, the liberty and peace that were denied me in Paris.” Then, opening his arms, he pressed poor M. Sauce, paralyzed with the honor, to his breast. At the moment that the King embraced M. Sauce, a thunder of horses’ hoofs was heard coming in an unexpected direction—that is to say, from the Place Latry. The King believed that it was assistance, but the patriots smelt danger; and M. Drouet cried out, “Take the King up to the first floor!” Sauce asked the King to follow him, and he did so, without making any difficulty. Scarcely was the door of the chamber on the ground floor shut, when they heard a tumult at the head of the Rue de la Basse Cour, by the side of the Place Latry. Many voices cried out “The King! the King!” One voice alone replied, “If it is the King you want, you will have him dead!” Recognizing Drouet’s voice, and thinking perhaps he might want me, I crept to his side. At the moment that I opened a passage to him they were parleying; but M. Drouet and his friends parleyed with muskets in their hands, and the officers of hussars with their sabres on their wrists. Between the two officers of hussars I recognised M. de Malmy on horseback, and covered with dust, like them. It appeared as if he had guided them. CHAPTER XXVI. WHAT HAPPENED AT PARIS BEFORE THE DEPARTURE. My story would be incomplete did I not follow the royal family in their flight from the moment that they left the Palace of Tuileries, till their appearance at the top of the Rue des Réligieuses; and did I not tell you through what circumstances M. Drouet was led to make his appearance in time to change the face of events, and to give that terrible blow to the throne of the Bourbons which occasioned Louis XVI not only the loss of his crown, but of his head. I have already told you that Mirabeau, on his death-bed, asserted that the King’s only hope rested in flight now that he was deprived of his assistance. From that moment, Louis XVI had but one idea—to leave Paris—to leave France—to fly to a foreign land. We have mentioned the date of April, 1791.