‘It is well that, in danger, we should be together.’

‘At any moment you could be discovered. At any moment the guards may be at my window. They are all about us … Do you know there is a price on your head? There is nothing these beasts, this canaille, want more, than to find you. They know it was you who took us to Varennes … they know that if you had stayed with us … if you had not left us at Bondy … all would be well with us now, and ill with them. Axel … go … go quickly. But how did you come? But let us not stand here where any might see us; come into my little dressing-room. There we shall be safer. There is only Lamballe and Tourzel, and mayhap Elisabeth, who would see you. No other must, Axel. It is foolish to trust any … ’

She drew him into the dressing-room. She lifted her hands to take off the wig. She ran her fingers through his thick hair.

‘Let this minute go on and on …’ she said. ‘If it is a dream …’

‘It is not a dream.’

‘But how did you get here?’

‘I had the key. You remember I had it when I came to get the children on that night. I have kept it. I walked past the guards. There are so many who look as I do … rough wig … great-coat … I was not even challenged.’

‘And if you had been?’ she asked, breathless at the thought.

‘I have a good passport … forged, of course. I am supposed to be travelling to Lisbon on a mission from my King,’ he said.

‘That is my story. ’Tis true I am on a mission … It is this: I shall get you out of France and this time I shall do it thoroughly. I shall be with you the whole of the time. Nothing on earth will make me give up my part until you are safe across the frontier.’

‘Axel …’ she cried. ‘What heart you put into me! What you set out to do … you do.’

‘I have planned everything,’ he said. ‘I have come here to lay those plans before you and the King.’

The mention of Louis brought Antoinette back to reality.

‘Louis will never go.’

‘We must persuade him.’

‘I fear we cannot. I have tried to persuade him. He has some idealistic notion that his place is with his people.’

‘A people who do not want him.’

‘He will not believe that.’

‘We must persuade him. I hear terrible stories. You have been safe so far. Do you think you will go on being safe? Your life is in danger. How I wish you were not a Queen. How I wish you were only my love. Then I would not listen to protests … I would take you with me … whether you were willing or not.’

She lay against him. ‘I like to hear you say that, Axel. It is fantastic, but it is beautiful. How I would love you to take me with you!’

Fersen said: ‘If the King should refuse …’

She answered quickly: ‘And the children?’

‘You and the children …’

She let herself contemplate such a solution for she was still living in her dream. He had come to her, her lover, and he talked of taking her and her beloved children out of this hell.

This was a magic night, a night in which it was possible to believe anything. It was as though she had conjured up his image out of her longings. On such a night anything, however fantastic, could be true.

The Palace was quiet; now and then they heard the sound of the guards marching by. But in her little dressing-room they were safe.

She locked the door, shutting them in.

And that night she was alone with her lover, and they loved frantically, desperately, as though each feared that they might never love or meet again.


* * *

The next day she went to Louis. She whispered to him: ‘Fersen is here.’

‘Impossible!’

‘I thought so too. He has come disguised; he has plans.’

‘What plans could there be?’

‘You must see him. Come to my apartments at six this evening. Then it will be dark and there will be few people about. He cannot come to you, for fear of the guards.’

‘There is nothing he can do,’ said Louis.


* * *

Louis came to the apartment. Fersen was in the dressing-room, and Antoinette took the King to him there.

Fersen kissed the King’s hand and Louis confessed his amazement that he should have been able to get into the Palace.

‘I come with plans, Sire,’ said Fersen.

‘It will be a hundred times more difficult to escape now,’ said Louis; ‘and the last attempt failed.’

‘Sire, we learn by our mistakes. It was wrong to have travelled all together. We should have broken up the party and travelled more simply. I realise now the folly of the way we did it and yet, with a little luck then, we should have succeeded.’

‘I have misused my chance of escape,’ said the King. ‘It is no longer possible.’

He did not look at Antoinette. She was standing, pale and tense, her arms folded across her breast. Oh, God, she thought, Louis will be defeated because he accepts defeat.

She loved them both – so much and so differently. She wanted to run to Axel and beg him to take her in his arms, never to leave her, but she wanted to cradle Louis’ head in her arms and comfort him.

Fersen argued. It was at least worth an attempt. While the King was in Paris, while he accepted the new Constitution, it was difficult for the European countries to come to his aid. Once he was out of the country he could defy the Constitution; he could call loyal men to his aid, and he could fight for his throne.

Louis faced Fersen and said quickly: ‘I could never try to escape, and for this reason: I have given my word to the National Assembly that I will not do so again.’

‘But these men are your enemies.’

‘It matters not. I have given them my word.’

Fersen knew that he was defeated. Louis, who could never make up his mind as to what action he should take in most circumstances, was firmly resolved on this.

He had given his word.

The King said: ‘I will leave you now. Take care when you leave the Palace. Take care while you are in Paris. You risk your life to come here.’

Fersen bowed. ‘My pleasure is to serve Your Majesties.’

Louis nodded. But he understood.

He went away and left them together.


* * *

It was the last embrace; he held her as though he could never let her go.

She murmured: ‘If I could but die at this moment …’

‘Do not speak of dying,’ he said roughly.

Then he released her and turned away, only to turn back and take her in his arms once more.

But he must be gone. Every moment he spent in the Palace was a danger.

She would be expected to appear in the salon, to talk, to seem as usual, and all the time her thoughts would be with him. Where is he now? Is he safe?

What had become of her life which had once been so gay, when the newest hair-style arranged by Monsieur Léonard had provided such excitement in her life?

Why should there be such violent contrasts in the life of one woman?

‘You must not stay,’ she said. ‘You must go …’

‘One day,’ he said, ‘I’ll be back.’

She thought of the little Dauphin, who had said ‘One day.’ She thought of his dying in her arms.

‘Don’t say that,’ she said. ‘It frightens me. Whether we meet again or not I have this night to remember.’

‘For ever …’ he said.

She was alert. ‘I hear the sentry. He is coming this way. Oh, go quickly … now, or it will be too late. He may look in. He may decide to search the apartment. Oh, go … my love … go quickly.’

He kissed her hands. She pushed him from her. She longed to keep him, and yet a greater need demanded that she send him away.

He was gone. She stood at the door, watching his figure swallowed up in the darkness.

Then she returned to her apartments. She heard the sentry marching past her window; and she covered her face with her hands as though to hold in her emotions.


* * *

The uneasy months were passing. Summer had come. In the streets a new publication was being sold. It was La Vie Scandaleuse de Marie Antoinette. Madame de Lamotte had supplied a great deal of the material which went into this and other compilations.

The Assembly had brought forward a proposal that priests who refused to swear to be loyal to the Constitution should be expelled from France. Louis, who was a devout Catholic, declared he could never assent to such a law. In all other matters he had given way. He had even declared war on Austria at the command of the Assembly – Austria, the country whose aim was to restore his monarchy.

It was characteristic of Louis that he should choose his weakest moment to stand out against the Assembly.

Monsieur and Madame Veto had dared attempt to oppose the Assembly, had dared to try to stem the tide of revolution.

It was hot June and the people gathered in the streets; life at the Tuileries had been lived too peaceably since the King and Queen had been brought back to Paris after their ignoble flight. It was time they were taught a lesson, since they had not yet discovered that the Assembly would not allow them to raise their voices in protest against the people.

‘Ça ira!’ was the song the people were singing as they gathered in the squares.

‘A bas le veto!’ they shouted.

They marched to the Tuileries, carrying banners to which had been nailed the symbol of a pair of ragged breeches – the sign of the sans-culottes, the name given to the revolutionary bands who had roamed the streets in their ragged clothes demanding bread and the downfall of the monarchy. They massed in the Place du Carrousel and the narrow streets which intersected it; they streamed along the Terrasse des Feuillants; and forced an entrance into the Palace itself.