Versailles has had dangerous consequences."

"_Ciel_!" exclaimed a remarkably handsome woman of middle age, with the
"air noble" in every feature. "Pardon me, it must be an error. I was
present. It was the most brilliant of all possible réunions. It was a
pledge to the salvation of France. I hear the sound of 'Richard, O mon
Roi!' in my ear at this moment. When, oh when, shall I hear it again!"
She burst into a passion of tears.

The name was electric. All began that very charming air at the moment.
Sobs and sighs stole in between the pauses of the harmony. Their rich
and practised voices gave it the sweetness and solemnity of a hymn. Fine
eyes were lifted to heaven; fine faces were buried in their clasped
hands; and the whole finished like the subsidence of a prayer.

But madame la duchesse was full of her subject, and we were full of
curiosity. We implored her to give us some idea of a scene, of which all
Europe was thinking and talking. She required no importunity, but told
her tale with the majesty of a Clairon. It was at first all exclamation.
"O my king!--O my unhappy but noble queen!--O my beloved but noble
France! _O Richard! O mon Roi!--Le monde vous abandonné!_" She again
wept, and we again sympathized.

"For weeks," said she, "we had been tortured at Versailles with reports
from the capital. We lived in a perpetual fever. The fury of the
populace was terrible. The wretches who inflamed it constantly
threatened to lead the armed multitude to the palace. We were almost
without defence. The ministers could not be prevailed on to order the
advance of the troops, and we felt our lives from hour to hour dependent
on chance."