Queen Marie Antoinette had returned, after her Paris ride, to her
own Versailles. She was silent the whole of the way, and the Duchess
de Polignac had sought in vain to cheer her friend with light and
pleasant talk, and drive away the clouds from her lofty brow. Marie
Antoinette had only responded by enforced smiles and half-words, and
then, settling back into the carriage, had gazed with dreamy looks
into the heavens, whose cheerful blue called out no reflection upon
the fair face of the queen.

As they drew into the great court of the palace at Versailles, the
drum-beat of the Swiss guards, presenting arms, and the general stir
which followed the approach of the queen, appeared to awaken her
from her sorrowful thoughts, and she straightened herself up and
cast her glances about. They fell quite accidentally upon the child
which was in the arms of the nurse opposite, and which, with great
wide-open eyes, was looking up to the heavens, as its mother had
done before.

In the intensity of her motherly love, the queen stretched out her
arms to the child and drew it to her heart, and pressed a burning
kiss upon its lips.

"Ah! my child, my dear child," said she, softly, "you have to-day,
for the first time, made your entry into Paris, and heard the
acclamations of the people. May you, so long as you live, always be
the recipient of kindly greetings, and never again hear such words
as that dreadful man spoke to us to-day!"