scarcely strength enough to put my brother to bed; She threw herself,
dressed as she was, on her own bed, where we heard her shivering with cold
and grief all night long. At a quarter-past six the door opened; we
believed that we were sent for to the King, but it was only the officers
looking for a prayer-book for him. We did not, however, abandon the hope
of seeing him, till shouts of joy from the infuriated populace told us
that all was over. In the afternoon my mother asked to see Clery, who
probably had some message for her; we hoped that seeing him would occasion
a burst of grief which might relieve the state of silent and choking agony
in which we saw her." The request was refused, and the officers who
brought the refusal said Clery was in "a frightful state of despair" at
not being allowed to see the royal family; shortly afterwards he was
dismissed from the Temple.

"We had now a little more freedom," continues the Princess; "our guards
even believed that we were about to be sent out of France; but nothing
could calm my mother's agony; no hope could touch her heart, and life or
death became indifferent to her. Fortunately my own affliction increased
my illness so seriously that it distracted her thoughts . . . . My
mother would go no more to the garden, because she must have passed the
door of what had been my father's room, and that she could not bear. But
fearing lest want of air should prove injurious to my brother and me,
about the end of February she asked permission to walk on the leads of the
Tower, and it was granted."

The Council of the Commune, becoming aware of the interest which these sad
promenades excited, and the sympathy with which they were observed from
the neighbouring houses, ordered that the spaces between the battlements
should be filled up with shutters, which intercepted the view. But while
the rules for the Queen's captivity were again made more strict, some of