Lafayette took the extended hand of the prince, and a flush of deep emotion passed over his face that was just before kindling with anger. As if touched with reverence and astonishment, he bent his knee before this child, whose countenance beamed with innocence, love, and goodness, and pressed to his lips the little hand that rested in his own.
"My prince," said be, deeply moved, "you have just spoken to me with the tongue of an angel, and I swear to you, and to your exalted royal mother, that I will never forget this moment; that I will remember it so long as I live. The kiss which I have impressed upon the hand of my future king is at once the seal of the solemn vow, and the oath of unchangeable fidelity and devotion which I consecrate to my king and to the whole royal family, and in which nothing shall make me waver; nothing, not even the anger and the want of favor of my exalted queen. Dauphin of France, you have to-day gained a soldier for your throne who is prepared to shed his last drop of blood for you and your house, and on whose fidelity and devotion you may continually count."
With tears in his eyes, his brave, noble face quivering with emotion, Lafayette looked at the child that with cheeks all aglow and with a pleasant smile was gazing with great, thoughtful child's eyes up to the strong man, who placed himself so humbly and devotedly at his feet. Behind him stood M. de Bailly, with bended head and folded hands, listening with solemn thoughtfulness to the words of the general, upon whose strong shoulders the fate of the monarchy rested, and who, at this time, was the mightiest and most conspicuous man in France, because the National Guard of Paris was still obedient to him, and followed his commands.
Close by the dauphin stood the queen, in her old, proud attitude, but upon her face a striking change had taken place. The expression of anger and suspicion which it had before displayed had not completely disappeared. The cloud which had gathered upon her lofty forehead was dissipated, and her face shone out bright and clear.
The large, grayish-blue eyes, which before had shot angry darts, now glowed with mild fire, and around her lips played an instant that fair, pleasant smile which, in her happier days, had often moved the favorites of the queen to verses of praise, and which her enemies had so often made a reproach to her.
When the general ceased there was silence--that eloquent, solemn silence which accompanies those moments in which the Genius of History hovers over the heads of men, and, touching them with its pinions, ties their tongues and opens the eyes of the spirit, so that they can look into the future, and, with presaging horror, read all the secrets of coming time as by a flash of lightning.
Such a critical moment in history was that in which Lafayette, at the feet of the dauphin, swore eternal fidelity to the monarchy of France in the presence of the unfortunate mayor of Paris, who was soon to seal his loyalty with his own blood, and in presence of the queen, whose lofty character was soon to make her a martyr.
The moments passed by, then Marie Antoinette bowed to Lafayette with her gracious smile.
"Rise, general," she said, in gentle tones, "God has heard your oath, and I accept it in the name of the French monarchy, my husband, my son, and myself. I shall always continue mindful of it, and I hope that you will also. And I beg you, too," she continued, in a low voice, and with a deep flush upon her face, "I beg you to forgive me if I have hitherto cast unworthy reproaches upon you. I have lived through so many sad and dreadful days, that it will be set down to my favor if my nerves are agitated and easily excited. I shall probably learn to accept evil days with calmness, and to bow my head patiently beneath the yoke which my enemies are laying upon me! But still I feel the injury, and the proud habits of my birth and life war against it. But only wait, and I shall become accustomed to it."
While saying this she stooped down to the dauphin and kissed his golden hair. A tear fell from her eyes upon the forehead of her son, and glittered there like a star fallen from heaven. Marie Antoinette did not see it, did not know that the tear which she was trying to conceal was now glistening on the brow of her son--on that brow which was never to wear any other diadem than the one that the tears of love placed on his innocent head.
"Heaven defend your majesty ever being compelled to become accustomed to insult!" cried Lafayette, deeply moved. "I hope we have seen our worst days, and that after the tempest there will be sunshine and bright weather again. The people will look back with shame and regret upon the wild and stormy scenes to which they have allowed themselves to be drawn by unprincipled agitators; they will bow in love and obedience before the royal couple who, with so much confidence and devotion, leave their beautiful, retired home at Versailles, in order to comply with the wish of the people and come to Paris. Will your majesty have the goodness to ask the mayor of Paris, and he will tell you, madame, how deeply moved all the good citizens of Paris are at the truly noble spirit which prompted you to refuse to initiate an investigation respecting the night of horrors at Versailles, and to bring the ringleaders to justice."
"Is it true, M. de Bailly?" asked the queen, eagerly. "Was my decision approved? Have I friends still among the people of Paris?"