As we went home we
planned that we would carry a faggot in the carriage the next day,
and that I would take it upstairs to her. And so I actually did, but
the sentry insisted on knowing what I was carrying hidden in a cloak,
and when he saw it, the honest man actually burst into tears that the
daughter of Henri IV. should be in such straits. The Queen kissed me
for it, and said I was like the good girl in Madame d'Aulnoy's tales,
and she would fain be the benevolent fairy to reward me. And then
the little Princess insisted that I was Capuchon Rouge, and that she
was my Grandmother Wolf, and after making her great eyes at me, she
ate me up with kisses over and over again! Ah! how happy children
can be. It was strange to remember that this was the way King
Charles's little daughter spent that 30th of January!
We had told M. Darpent of the condition in which we found the Queen,
and he told the Coadjutor, who went himself to see her, and then
stirred up the Parliament to send her regular supplies both of firing
and provisions, so that she never suffered again in the same way.
Each day increased our anxiety for His Sacred Majesty. Lord Jermyn
made his way into Paris, and came to consult with my mother, telling
her that he had little doubt that the iniquitous deed had been
consummated, and between them, by way of preparing the unhappy Queen,
they made up a story that the King had been led out to execution, but
had been rescued by the populace.
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