The king had now passed into the garden to ascertain the disposition of the troops stationed there. With his small retinue he traversed the whole length of the line. Some of the battalions received him with applause, others were silent, while here and there voices, in continually increasing numbers, cried, “_À bas le veto! à bas le tyran!_” As the king turned to retrace his steps, menaces and insults were multiplied. Some of the gunners even left their places and thrust their fists in his face, assailing him with the most brutal abuse. The clamor penetrated to the interior of the palace, and the queen, turning pale as death, sank into a chair, exclaiming, “Great God! they are hooting the king. We are all lost.” The king returned to the palace, pale, exhausted, perspiring at every pore, and overwhelmed with shame and confusion. He retired to his cabinet. M. Roederer, chief magistrate of the Department of the Seine, entered immediately. “Sire,” said he, “you have not a moment to lose. Neither the number nor the disposition of the men here assembled can guarantee your life nor the lives of your family. There is no safety for you but in the National Assembly.” Such a refuge to the high-spirited queen was more dreadful than death. It was draining the cup of humiliation to the dregs. “Go to the Assembly!” exclaimed Marie Antoinette; “never! never will I take refuge there. Rather than submit to such infamy, I would prefer to be nailed to the walls of the palace.” “It is there only,” replied M. Roederer, “that the royal family can be in safety, and it is necessary to escape immediately. In another quarter of an hour, perhaps, I shall not be able to command a retreat.” “What!” rejoined the queen, “have we then no defenders? Are we alone?” “Yes, madam,” M. Roederer replied, “we are alone. The troops in the garden and in the court are fraternizing with your assailants, and turning their guns against the palace. All Paris is on the march. Action is useless; resistance impossible.” A gentleman present, who had been active in promoting reform, ventured to add his voice in favor of an immediate retreat to the Assembly. The queen turned upon him sternly, exclaiming: “Silence, sir, silence! It becomes _you_ to be silent here. When the mischief is done, those who did it should not pretend to wish to remedy it.” M. Roederer resumed, saying: “Madam, you endanger the lives of your husband and your children. Think of the responsibility which you take upon yourself!” The queen cast a glance upon her daughter, and a mother’s fears prevailed. The crimson blood mounted to her temples. Rising from her seat, she said proudly, “Let us go.”