body, to testify that her brother was dead and the line of Louis
XVI. ended? Was it chivalry? I ask you if these had shown chivalry
to Madame de Lamballe? to Madame Elizabeth? to Marie Antoinette?
Was it kindness toward a child of unparalleled misfortune? I ask
you if they had been kind to those whom they called the children of
the tyrant? No! They did not conduct her to that bedside, because
he who lay there was not her brother. Are we children, Monsieur, to
be deceived by a tale of a sudden softness of heart? They wished to
spare this child the pain! Had they ever spared any one pain--the
National Assembly?"

And the Marquis de Gemosac's laugh rang with a hatred which must, it
seems, outlive the possibility of revenge.

"There was to be a public funeral. Such a ceremony would have been
of incalculable value at that time. But, at the last minute, their
courage failed them. The boy was thrown into a forgotten corner of
a Paris churchyard, at nine o'clock one night, without witnesses.
The spot itself cannot now be identified. Do you tell me that that
was the Dauphin? Bah! my friend, the thing was too childish!"

"The ignorant and the unlettered," observed Colville, with the air
of making a concession, "are always at a disadvantage--even in
crime."

"That the Dauphin was, in the mean time, concealed in the garret of
the Tower appears to be certain. That he was finally conveyed out
of the prison in a clothes-basket is as certain, Monsieur, as it is
certain that the sun will rise to-morrow. And I believe that the
Queen knew, when she went to the guillotine, that her son was no