Doudel would not give her another moment; so she left the dungeon so full of thankfulness, so resolved to set her father free, that the dark corridors and gloomy sounds had no terror for her. Her father was a reality now. She had seen him—felt his arms around her, fed him with her own hands. Yes and she would set him at liberty or die. CHAPTER XVI. THE KING’S work-shop. The thoughts of her father, in that awful dungeon, took entire possession of that young girl; all other things became as nothing to her. Her new occupation, her old friends, only presented themselves to her mind as aids to the one great object. She would go to the king. She would obtain freedom for her father, or die at the cruel monarch’s feet. Marguerite had promised secrecy to Doudel, and could tell her mother nothing. The great secret preying on her soul, drove her wild. In her impatience she went to Monsieur Jacques, and besought him to find a way to the king. Jacques promised, and fortunately for her, Madame Gosner had fallen ill; the reaction of great excitement had left her weak as an infant, so weak that she scarcely knew when Marguerite went away, and left her to the generous care of Dame Doudel. The next morning, Monsieur Jacques and Marguerite presented themselves at the guarded entrance of the palace of Versailles. The man was admitted, for he brought a message to the king, from a person whom the guard had been ordered to respect. But the poor girl was sent away, and she went drearily back to The Swan, a public house kept by a sister of Dame Doudel, to whom Marguerite was consigned with a kind message. The palace which Monsieur Jacques entered seemed gloomy to him, in spite of its regal splendor; for even then the shadow of coming events was gathering around the vast edifice, which the queen herself forsook whenever she could get an opportunity, for the freedom and pleasure of her bijou of a palace in the great park. Though France was one grand field of excitement, and had already begun to tremble with the moral earthquake that shook it to the very foundations, it seemed impossible to convince the court of the awful danger that threatened it. The very anxieties of her position drove the queen from the distractions of gayety, the gloom that gathered around her, made even pleasure tiresome; and it was with an effort that she flung off the cares of state, which fell heavily, indeed, on a nature so light, so gay, and so womanly as hers.