"I must know what is going on," whispered Campan, and with cool decision she put the key into the door, turned it, entered the antechamber, and flew to the window, where there was a view of the whole court; and a fearful sight met her there. The crowd had broken the gate, pressed into the court, and was surging in great masses toward the palace doors. Here and there torches threw their glare over these masses, disclosing men with angry gestures, and women with streaming hair, swinging their arms savagely, and seeming like a picture of hell, not to be surpassed in horror even by the phantasms of Dante. Women changed to furies and bacchanalians, roaring and shouting in their murderous desires; men, like blood-thirsty tigers, preparing to spring upon their prey, and give it the death-stroke; swinging pikes and guns, which gleamed horribly in the glare of the torches; arms and fists bearing threatening daggers and knives! All this was pressing on upon the palace--all these clinched fists would soon be engaged in hammering upon the walls which separated the king and queen from the people--the executioner from his victim!
All at once there rang out a fearful, thundering cry, which made the windows rattle, and called forth a terrible echo above in the deserted hall; for through all these shrieks and howls, there resounded now a piercing cry, such as only the greatest pain or the most instant need can extort from human lips.
"That was a death-cry," whispered Madame de Campan, trembling, and drawing back from the window. "They have certainly killed the Swiss guards, who are keeping the door; they will now pour into the palace. O God! what will become of Varicourt? I must know what is going on!"
She flew through the antechamber and opened the door of the Swiss hall. It was empty, but outside of it could be heard a confused, mixed mass of sounds, cries, and the tramping as of hundreds and hundreds of men coming on. Nearer and nearer came the sound, more distinct every moment. All at once the door was flung open on the other side of the Swiss hall, the door which led out, and Varicourt appeared in it, pushed backward by the raging, howling mass. He still sought to resist the oncoming tramp of these savage men, and, with a movement like lightning, putting his weapon across the door, he was able for one minute to hold the place against the tide--just so long as the arms which held the weapon had in them the pulse of life! Varicourt looked like a dying man; his uniform was torn and cut, his face deathly pale, and on one side disfigured by the blood which was streaming down from a broad wound in his forehead.
"It is time, it is time!" he cried, with a loud tremulous voice, and, as he saw for an instant the face of Campan at the opposite door, a flash of joy passed over his face.
"Save the queen! They will murder her!" [Varicourt's last words.--
See "Memoires de Madame de Campan," vol. ii., p. 77. ]
Madame de Campan hastily closed the door, drew the great bolt, and then sprang through the antechamber into the waiting-room, and bolted its door too. Then, after she had done that--after she had raised this double wall between the sleeping queen and the raging mob--she sank upon her knees like one who was utterly crushed, and raised her folded hands to heaven.
"Have mercy on his soul, O God! take him graciously to heaven!" whispered she, with trembling lips.
"For whom are you praying?" asked the two women, in low voices, hurrying up to her. "Who is dead?"
"Mr. Varicourt," answered Campan, with a sigh. "I heard his death-cry, as I was bolting the door of the antechamber. But we cannot stop to weep and lament. We must save the queen!"
And she sprang up from her knees, flew through the room, and opened the door leading to the queen's chamber.
At that moment a fearful crash was heard, then a loud shout of triumph in the outer antechamber.
"The queen! We want the heart of the queen!"
"They have broken down the door of the antechamber--they are in the waiting-room!" whispered Campan. "There is no time to be lost. Come, friends, come!"
And she hastened to the bed of the queen, who was still lying in that heavy, unrefreshing sleep which usually follows exhaustion and intense excitement.
"Your majesty, your majesty, wake!"
"What is it, Campan?" asked Marie Antoinette, opening her eyes, and hastily sitting up in bed. "Why do you waken me? What has happened?"
The fearful sounds without, the crashing of the door of the little waiting-room, gave answer. The rough, hard voices of the exasperated women, separated now from the queen by only one thin door, quickly told all that had happened.
Marie Antoinette sprang from her bed. "Dress me quick, quick!"
"Impossible! There is no time. Only hear how the gunstocks beat against the door! They will break it down, and then your majesty is lost! The clothes on without stopping to fasten them! Now fly, your majesty, fly! Through the side-door-through the OEil de Boeuf!"
Madame de Campan went in advance; the two women supported the queen and carried her loose clothes, and then they flew on through the still and deserted corridors to the sleeping-room of the king.
It was empty--no one there!
"O God! Campan, where is the king? I must go to him. My place is by his side! Where is the king?"
"Here I am, Marie, here!" cried the king, who just then entered and saw the eager, anxious face of his wife. "I hurried to save our most costly possessions!"
He laid the dauphin, only half awake, and lying on his breast, in the arms which Marie Antoinette extended to him, and then led her little daughter to her, who had been brought in by Madame Tourzel.
"Now," said the king, calmly, "now that I have collected my dearest treasures, I will go and see what is going on."
But Marie Antoinette held him back. "There is destruction, treachery, and murder outside. Crime may break in here and overwhelm us, but we ought not to go out and seek it."
"Well," said the king, "we will remain here and await what comes."
And turning to his valet, who was then entering, Louis continued:
