Little Louis knew nothing of all that was going on, nor guessed, when he went to bed on the 20th of June, that he should have to get up again presently. As soon as it was dark, his governess took him up, and dressed him, and put a sort of hood over his head, which prevented his face being seen. He was probably as sleepy as a little boy of six, just waked up before eleven o'clock at night, was likely to be; and knew and cared little about what Madame de Tourzel was doing with him. His sister was dressed, and had a hood over her head too; and so had Madame de Tourzel. They were very quiet; for everybody in the palace but those who were in the secret believed that the king was now gone to bed. Somebody opened the doors for them, and showed them the way. They passed some sentinels who knew better than to ask them who they were; then went out through a back-door where there was no sentinel, along a court and a square, and into a street. A glass-coach was stationed before the door of Ronsin, the saddler, as if waiting for some visitors of Ronsin's. The coachman, standing beside his horses, opened the door without any question, and let Madame de Tourzel and the children into the coach. This was no real coachman, however, but Count Fersen. In a little while came another lady, attended by a servant, as it seemed. She said "Good night" cheerfully to him, and stepped into the coach. It was the Princess Elizabeth. If anybody in the street wondered to see ladies coming the same way, one after another, the answer was easy; they had, no doubt, been at the palace. Presently, the coachman's hand was again upon the door; and a gentleman, stout, in a round hat, was seen coming, leaning upon the arm of a servant. As he passed a sentinel, one of his shoe buckles gave way. He stooped down and clasped it. Glad were the party in the coach when the king stepped in. They were all there now but the queen; and it was rather odd that she should be the last. One looked from the window, and then another watched; and still she did not come. It must have been a terrible worry,--waiting and waiting there,--the Count afraid of what everybody in the street might think of a coach standing so long before one door;--the party within afraid of something having happened to the queen. Minute after minute passed slowly away, and then,--"what is this? Here is some great man's carriage, with lights all about it, dashing up the street!" It was Lafayette's carriage, evidently in a prodigious hurry: and it went under the arch; it was certainly going to the palace.