the party, gave with firmness the signal for starting.

Officers of gendarmerie were placed on the front seat of the carriage. The
King and M. Edgeworth occupied the back. During the ride, which was
rather long, the King read in M. Edgeworth's breviary the prayers for
persons at the point of death; the two gendarmes were astonished at his
piety and tranquil resignation. The vehicle advanced slowly, and amidst
universal silence. At the Place de la Revolution an extensive space had
been left vacant about the scaffold. Around this space were planted
cannon; the most violent of the Federalists were stationed about the
scaffold; and the vile rabble, always ready to insult genius, virtue, and
misfortune, when a signal is given it to do so, crowded behind the ranks
of the Federalists, and alone manifested some outward tokens of
satisfaction.

At ten minutes past ten the carriage stopped. Louis XVI., rising briskly,
stepped out into the Place. Three executioners came up; he refused their
assistance, and took off his clothes himself. But, perceiving that they
were going to bind his hands, he made a movement of indignation, and
seemed ready to resist. M. Edgeworth gave him a last look, and said,
"Suffer this outrage, as a last resemblance to that God who is about to be
your reward." At these words the King suffered himself to be bound and
conducted to the scaffold. All at once Louis hurriedly advanced to
address the people. "Frenchmen," said he, in a firm voice, "I die
innocent of the crimes which are imputed to me; I forgive the authors of
my death, and I pray that my blood may not fall upon France." He would
have continued, but the drums were instantly ordered to beat: their
rolling drowned his voice; the executioners laid hold of him, and M.
Edgeworth took his leave in these memorable words: "Son of Saint Louis,
ascend to heaven!" As soon as the blood flowed, furious wretches dipped