you, I will beat you and him, both of you, to pieces, and pack you into the clothes-basket, and carry you away. Down into the basket!"

The boy sank down out of sight; and when, after a little while, Jeanne Marie cautiously looked to see whether he had fallen asleep, she saw that Louis Charles was kneeling on the bottom of the basket, and raising his folded hands up to heaven.

"Simon," she whispered--" Simon, do not laugh at me and scold me. You say, I know, that there is no God, and the republic has done away with Deity, and the Church, and the priests. But let me once kneel down and pray to Him with whom little Louis Charles is talking now, and to whom the Austrian spoke on the scaffold."

Without waiting for Simon's answer, Jeanne Marie sank upon her knees. Folding her hands, she leaned her forehead on the rim of the basket, and softly whispered, "Louis Charles, do you hear me?"

"Yes," lisped the child, "I hear you."

"I ask your forgiveness," whispered Jeanne Marie. "I have sinned dreadfully against you, but remorse has taken hold of my heart, and tears it in pieces and gives me no rest day or night. Oh, forgive me, son of the queen, and when you pray, implore your mother to forgive me the evil that I have done her."

"I will pray to my dear mamma queen for you, and I know she will forgive you, for she was so very good, and she always said to me that we must forgive our enemies; and I had to swear to my dear papa that I would forget and forgive all the wrong that men should do to me. And so I forgive you, and I will forget all the bad things that Master Simon has done to me, for my papa and my mamma wished me to."

Jeanne Marie let her head sink lower, and pressed her hands firmly against her lips to repress the outcries which her remorseful conscience prompted. Simon seemed to understand nothing of this soft whispering; he was busily engaged in packing up his things, and no one saw him hastily draw his hand over his eyes, as if he wanted to wipe away the dust which suddenly prevented his seeing.

Gradually it grew still in the gloomy room. The whispering in the basket ceased. Jeanne Marie had retired to her bed, and had wept herself to sleep. Upon the mattress lay the sick, sobbing child, the substitute of King Louis XVII., who was in the basket.

Simon was the only one who was awake, and there must have been dismal thoughts that busied him. He sat upon the stool near the candle, which was nearly burned out, his forehead was corrugated and clouded, his lips were closely pressed together, and the little, flashing eyes looked out into the empty space full of anger and threatenings.

"It must be," he muttered at last, "it must be. I should otherwise not have a moment's peace, and always feel the knife at my throat. One of us must be away from here, in order that he may disclose the other. I will not be that one, it must be Toulan."

He stood up with the air of one who had made a fixed, unchangeable resolve, and stretched his bony, crooked limbs. Then he threw one last look at the stranger-child, that lay moaning and groaning on his mattress, fell upon his bed, and soon his long-drawn, sonorous breathing disclosed the fact that Master Simon was asleep.

On the next morning there reigned in the lower stories of the Temple a busy, stirring life. Master Simon was preparing to move, and all his household goods were set out in the court, in order to be transferred to the wagon that Commissioner Toulan had ordered. Close to the wagon stood one of the officials of the Public Safety, and examined every article of furniture that was put into it, opening even the bandboxes and pillows to look into them. Not, as he said, the Welfare Committee doubted the honesty of the faithful and zealous servant of the republic, but only to satisfy the forms, and to comply with the laws, which demanded that the authorities should have a watchful eye on every thing that was at all connected with the family of the tyrants.

"And you will do me a great pleasure if you will examine every thing with the utmost care. In the republic we are all alike, and I do not see why I should not be served to-day as another would be on the morrow. You know, probably, that I have been appointed collector at Porte Macon, and after to-morrow I shall have to inspect the goods of other people. It is all fair that I should have my turn to-day. Besides, you will not have much more to examine, we are almost through; I believe there is only a basket with the soiled clothes yet to come. That is the sacred possession of my wife, and she was going to bring it out herself, with the commissioner's help. Yes, there they come."

At that moment, Jeanne Marie appeared in the court, followed by Toulan. They brought along, by two ropes which served as handles, a large and longish basket, whose half-opened cover brought to view all kinds of women's clothes.

"Room there," cried Simon, with a laugh, "room for the Citoyenne Simon and her costly dowry!"

"Come, no joking, Simon," said his wife, threatening him with her fist and laughing. "If my dowry is not costly enough, I will only ask you to provide me with better things."

"Your dowry is magnificent," said Simon, "and there is not a single article lacking to make it complete. Come, I will help the commissioner put the basket in the wagon, for it is too heavy for you, my fairest one!"

He took hold of the basket with his strong arm, and helped the commissioner swing it into the wagon.

"But let me look first into the basket, as my duty demands," said the official. "You are too quick! You know, citizen, that I must examine all your goods. The law compels me to."

"Then I beg you to climb up into the wagon and open the basket," said Simon, calmly. "You cannot want us to take the heavy thing down again for you to examine it."

"I do not ask that, citizen, but I must examine the basket."

The official sprang into the wagon, but Jeanne Marie was quicker than he, and stood close by the basket, whose cover was partly opened.

"Look in, citizen," she said, with dignity. "Convince yourself that only the clothing of a woman is in it, and then tell the republic that you found it necessary to examine the basket of the famous knitter of the guillotine, as if Jeanne Marie was a disguised duchess, who wanted to fly from the hand of justice."

"I beg your pardon," said the official, "every one knows and honors the knitter of the guillotine, but--"

"But you are curious, and want to see some of my clothes. Well, look at them!" She raised those which lay at the top, and held them up to the official with a laugh.

"And down below? What is farther down in the basket?"

"Farther down," replied Jeanne Marie, with an expression of the greatest indignation and the most outraged modesty, "farther down are my dirty clothes, and I hope the republic will not consider it necessary to examine these too. I would at least oppose it, and call every female friend I have to my help." [Footnote: Madame Simon's own words, reported from her own account, which she gave in the year 1810 to the Sisters of Mercy who cared for her in her last sickness. The sisterhood of the female hospital in the rue Sevres publicly repeated, in the year 1851, this statement of Jeanne Marie Simon, who died there in 1819. It was in the civil process brought against the Duke de Normandy, who was accused of giving himself out falsely as King Louis XVII., and who could not be proved not to be he.]

"Oh! you will not have to do that," replied the official, with a friendly nod of the head. "It would be presumptuous to go farther with the examination of your goods, and the republic regards with respect the mysteries of an honorable wife."

He jumped down from the wagon, while Jeanne Marie, still wearing an angry look, laid the clothes back into the basket, and shut the cover down.

"Can we go now?" she asked, taking her seat on a low stool which happened to be near the great basket.

"Yes, if the official has nothing against it, we can go," answered Simon. "Our goods are all loaded."

"Then go on, I have nothing against it, and I wish you and your wife much happiness and joy in your new career."

The official waved them a last gracious adieu with the hand, and the wagon started. Alongside of the great, hard-mouthed and long-haired horse that drew the cart, walked the commissioner, in order, once in a while, when they had to turn a corner, to seize the bridle and give it a powerful jerk. At the side of the wagon strode Simon, keeping a watchful eye upon his possessions, and carefully setting every thing aright which was in danger of being shaken off upon the pavement. Above in the carriage near the great basket sat Jeanne Marie, the former knitter of the guillotine. Her naked brown arm rested upon the basket, on whose bottom, covered with dirty linen and Mistress Simon's clothes, was the son of Marie Antoinette, King Louis XVII., making his entrance into the world which should have for him only sufferings and illusions, shattered hopes and dethroned ideals.

This happened on the 19th of January, 1794, and on the very day in which the unhappy King Louis XVII. was leaving the Temple, his sister Theresa, who was still living with her Aunt Elizabeth in the upper rooms, wrote in her diary (known subsequently by the title "Recit des evenements arrives au Temple, par Madame Royale") the following words: "On the 19th of January my aunt and I heard beneath us, in the room of my brother, a great noise which made us suspect that my brother was leaving the Temple.

We were convinced of it when, looking through the keyhole of the door, we saw goods carried away. On the following day we heard the door of the room, in which my brother had been, opened, and recognized the steps of men walking around, which confirmed us in the belief that he had been carried away."

The pitiful wagon, which gave its hospitality to the knitter of the revolution, as well as to a king, drove slowly and carefully through