ports examined. The man who municipality to have their pass- | guards of the town and of the neighbouring country came up, one by one, to the door of M. Sausse; others repaired to the quarters of the detachment to seduce the troops or disarm them. In vain the king at first denied his rank; his features and those of the queen betrayed him. He then told his name to the mayor and the municipal officers; he took the hands of M. Sausse: "Yes, I am your king," he said, "and I confide my fate and that of my wife, of my sister, of my children, to your fidelity. Our lives, the fortune of the empire, the peace of the kingdom, the safety of the constitution even, are in your hands. Let me depart; I am not flying abroad; I am not going out of the kingdom; I am going into the midst of a division of my army, and to a French town, to recover my real liberty which the factions do not leave me at Paris, and thence to treat with the Assembly dominated, like myself, by the fear of the mob. I am not going to destroy, I am going to support and guarantee the constitution; if you detain me, it is all over with it, with me, and perhaps with France. I conjure you as a man, as a husband, as a father, as a citizen! Open the way to us— in one hour we are saved-France is saved with us! And if you retain in your heart that fidelity which you profess in your words for him who was your master, I order you as the king!" At this sudden apparition, at these cries, at the glitter of these swords and bayonets, the bodyguards rise from their seats, lay their hands on their hidden arms, and seem to await the king's orders. The king forbids them to use force to open a passage. The horses were turned round, and the carriages, escorted by Drouet and his friends, were led back to the house of a grocer named Sausse, who was also the Procureur-Syndic of Varennes. There the king and his family were made to get out, that their passports might be examined, and the correctness of the suspicions about them ascertained. At the same time Drouet's associates dispersed themselves, uttering cries throughout all the town, knocked at the doors, got up into the steeple, sounded the tocsin. The inhabitants awoke in alarm; the National These men, moved, respectful amid their violence. hesitated and seemed overcome. By their looks, by their tears, might be seen the struggle between their natural pity for such a sudden reverse of fortune, and their conscience as patriots. The sight of their king supplicating them and pressing their hands in his, of the queen, by turns majestic and beseeching, who was striving by despair or by entreaties to wring from their mouths a consent to the departure of the royal family, deeply moved them. They would have yielded if they had listened to their feelings alone; but they began to think, with fear for themselves, of the responsibility of indulgence. The people would demand an account of its king, the nation of its head. Selfishness hardened them. The wife of M. de Sausse, whom her husband often consulted by glances, and whose heart the queen hoped to find more open to her appeals, was the least moved of all. While the king was haranguing the municipal officers, this princess in tears, her children on her knees, seated in the shop between two bales of goods, was showing her little ones to Madame Sausse. "You are a mother, madame," the queen said to her; "you are a wife! The fate of a wife and a mother is in your hands. Think what I must suffer for these children, for my husband. With one word I shall owe them to you -the Queen of France will owe you more than her kingdom, more than life!" "Madame," the grocer's wife replied, with that petty common sense of hearts where interest stifles generosity, "I should like to be of use to you. You are thinking of the king; for my part I am thinking of M. Sausse. A woman must think of her husband." All hope was lost if there was no more pity even in the heart of a woman. The queen, hurt and angry, retired with Madame Elizabeth and the children into two little rooms at the top of Madame Sausse's house; she burst into tears. The king, surrounded down stairs by municipal officers and National guards, had also given up hope of making them relent; he kept going up and down the wooden staircase of this wretched shop; he went from the queen to his sister, from his sister to his children. What he had not been able to obtain from pity he hoped to obtain from force and delay. He did not believe that these men, who showed still some feeling and a kind of respect for him, would really persist in detaining him and waiting for the orders of the Assembly. In any case, he was convinced that he would be delivered before the return of the couriers sent to Paris, by the troops of M. de Bouillé, by which he knew himself to be surrounded without the people being aware of it. He was only astonished that this succour was so slow to appear. The hours, however, struck, the night passed on, and the succour did not arrive. The officer detached to command the squadron of hussars posted at Varennes by M. de Bouillé was not taken fully into confidence about the design. He | little detachment dismount before allowing them to enter. They demanded leave to speak to the king. It was granted them. The king forbade them to attempt violence. He was expecting every minute the superior forces of M. de Bouillé. M. de Guoguelas nevertheless issued from the house, and saw the hussars mixed in the crowd which covered the place; wishing to make trial of their fidelity, he imprudently cried, "Hussars, are you for the nation or for the king? "Vive la nation!" replied the soldiers; we are and always will be for it." The crowd ap had only been told that a large sum of money was to pass, and that he was to guard it. No courier preceded the king's carriage; no horseman had come from SainteMenehould to warn him to get ready his troop; MM. de Choiseul and de Guoguelas, who should have been at Varennes before the arrival of the king, and have communicated to this officer the final secret orders as to his duty, were not there. The officer was left to himself and to his own uncertainties. Two other officers without men, sent by M. de Bouillé with complete knowledge of the king's journey, had been despatched by this general to Varennes; but they had remained in the lower town, and in the same inn where the horses of M. de Choiseul, destined for the king's carriages, had been stabled. They were ignorant of what was going on in the other part of the town, and were waiting according to their orders for the appearance of M. de Guoguelas. They were only awakened by the sound of the tocsin. M. de Choiseul and M. de Guoguelas, with Count Charles de Damas and his three faithful dragoons, were galloping towards Varennes, having with difficulty escaped from the mutiny of the squadron at Clermont. When they arrived at the gate of the town, three-quarters of an hour after the arrest of the king, the National guard recognised them, stopped them, and made their plauded. A sergeant of the National guard took command of the hussars. Their commander escaped. He went to join in the lower town the two officers who were with the horses of M. de Choiseul, and all three left the town and rode off to inform their general at Dun. These officers had been fired on when, hearing that the carriages had been stopped, they tried to get to the king. In these vicissitudes the night passed away. Already the National guards of the neighbouring villages were arriving in arms at Varennes ; barricades were being raised between the upper and lower towns, and couriers despatched by the municipality were hastening to desire the authorities of Metz and Verdun to send to Varennes in all haste troops and cannon to prevent the king being taken away by the forces of M. de Bouillé, who was approaching. The king, however, the queen, Madame Elizabeth, and the children, were taking a few minutes' repose, dressed as they were, in the rooms of M. de Sausse's house, amid the sound of the footsteps and the threatening murmurs of the anxious crowd that every | minute grew greater beneath their windows. The queen did not sleep. All her emotions as wife, as mother, as queen; anger, terror, despair; waged so terrible a conflict in her soul, that her hair, which had been brown the night before, in the morning had turned grey. "THE TENTH OF AUGUST." (Lavalette's Memoirs.) A.D. 1792. would go to the palace; that the king would mount his horse, and that the day intended for his ruin would be his triumph. I did all I could to convince him that the National guards would not march; that they had lost all confidence in their own power; that they were divided in their opinions, and, above all, discouraged; in one word, that they were afraid of the Jacobins. I observed that M. THE enterprise of M. de Lafayette, | loyal nobility and citizens of Paris notwithstanding its ill success, made the Jacobins sensible that they had not a moment to lose for the accomplishment of their plans. The court was upon its guard: it was no longer possible to attempt assassination; an attack by open force was in consequence resolved on and fixed for the 4th of August. But whether the conspirators were not yet ready, or whether that day had only been named to deceive the court, the attack did not then take place. M. de Verdière passed all day at the palace, and on returning in the evening, he used to make me share his fears without being able to inspire me with his hopes. He told me that emissaries were dispersed through all the suburbs, and even in the club of the Jacobins itself; that all their designs were known; that the National guards were commanded by M. Mandat, an exofficer of the Gardes Françaises; that on the first order he might give, twenty thousand citizens would rise in arms; that all the Mandat was scarcely known, and inspired no confidence; that three or four battalions of gallant men would be insufficient to repulse the aggressors, who were the whole populace of Paris; that the Swiss guards were objects of horror, and would be overpowered by the irritated people; that it would, therefore, be wiser to make use of the protection of these troops, for the purpose of leaving Paris and retiring towards Normandy, where a numerous body of cavalry might join the court. I insisted chiefly on the necessity of leaving the Tuileries in the night. The Swiss |