The knowledge of the pitiable condition of her son reduced the Queen to the apathy of despair, and she would sit for hours in silent misery. To know that her child was suffering and not be able to tend or care for him, to know that he was unhappy and not be able to comfort him, to know that he was in danger and not be able to protect him—what tortures could compare with the martyrdom of this poor mother? It turned her beautiful dark hair as white as snow, and made her indifferent to her own fate. The Convention had issued a decree that the Queen should be removed from the Temple to the Conciergerie, and on the second of August, at two o’clock in the morning, the Princesses were roused from their sleep to hear this order. The Queen listened quietly and without a word as it was read to them, then rose immediately and made her preparations to follow the officers, who first searched her roughly, and even took everything out of her pockets. Before she went, she embraced her daughter and sister-in-law, and exhorted them to be brave and steadfast. As she passed through the low doorway, she forgot to stoop, and struck her head a sharp blow against it. One of the men asked her if she was hurt, and she replied: “Nothing can hurt me now.” But ah! with what feelings must she have left that Tower! With what lingering glances at the door of the room where the Dauphin was confined! She knew she was leaving never to return; knew that never again should she clasp her child to her breast; knew that he was in the clutches of a tiger. Poor ill-fated, unhappy Queen and mother! Meanwhile, Simon continued by every vile means in his power to maltreat the child committed to his guardianship. On the seventh of August, Madame Simon went to the theatre to see a low play performed, entitled “Brutus,” and returned full of enthusiasm. She described the piece, the plot of which was directed against royalty, and Simon listened eagerly and attentively. Suddenly he perceived that the little Prince had turned away his head, as if to avoid hearing it. “You accursed young wolf,” he cried furiously, “so you do not want to listen to the citoyenne—to be improved and enlightened! You would like to remain a blockhead and the son of a tyrant!” “Everyone has relatives that he should honor,” replied the boy with angelic calmness and filial affection.