dissatisfied at seeing the King adopting only a military household, and
not forming his civil household upon the new constitutional plan. "How is
it, Madame," wrote Barnave to the Queen, "that you will persist in giving
these people even the smallest doubt as to your sentiments? When they
decree you a civil and a military household, you, like young Achilles
among the daughters of Lycomedes, eagerly seize the sword and scorn the
mere ornaments." The Queen persisted in her determination to have no
civil household. "If," said she, "this constitutional household be
formed, not a single person of rank will remain with us, and upon a change
of affairs we should be obliged to discharge the persons received into
their place."

"Perhaps," added she, "perhaps I might find one day that I had saved the
nobility, if I now had resolution enough to afflict them for a time; I
have it not. When any measure which injures them is wrested from us they
sulk with me; nobody comes to my card party; the King goes unattended to
bed. No allowance is made for political necessity; we are punished for
our very misfortunes."

The Queen wrote almost all day, and spent part of the night in reading:
her courage supported her physical strength; her disposition was not at
all soured by misfortunes, and she was never seen in an ill-humour for a
moment. She was, however, held up to the people as a woman absolutely
furious and mad whenever the rights of the Crown were in any way attacked.

I was with her one day at one of her windows. We saw a man plainly
dressed, like an ecclesiastic, surrounded by an immense crowd. The Queen
imagined it was some abbe whom they were about to throw into the basin of
the Tuileries; she hastily opened her window and sent a valet de chambre
to know what was going forward in the garden. It was Abbe Gregoire, whom