The little king is taken away from his mother. (From
Vive la Reine.) In the words of Madame Royale:
On the 3d of July, they read us a decree of the Convention ordering
that my brother be separated from us and lodged in a more secure room in
the Tower. Hardly had he heard it when he flung himself into his
mother’s arms uttering loud cries, and imploring not to be parted from
her. My mother, on her side, was struck down by the cruel order; she
would not give up her son, and defended, against the municipals, the bed
on which she placed him.They, absolutely determined to have him,
threatened to employ violence and to call up the guard. My mother told
them they would have to kill her before they could tear her child from
her.
An hour passed in resistance on her part, in threats and insults from
the municipals, in tears and efforts from all of us. At last they
threatened my mother so positively to kill him and us also that she had
to yield for love of us. We rose, my aunt and I, for my poor mother no
longer had any strength, but after we had dressed him she took him and
gave him into the hands of the municipals herself, bathing him with
tears and foreboding that she would never see him again. The poor little
boy kissed us all very tenderly and went away in tears with the
municipals. (Read more.)
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