It was ten o’clock; darkness had fallen and clouds obscured the moon.

The berline was now passing under a church which had been built above the street forming an archway; thus the way was very narrow; and as it slowed up to pass beneath this arch there was a cry of ‘Halt!’ and the berline came to an abrupt stop.

A man with a gun was at each window.

‘Your passports?’ said Jean Baptiste Drouet.

Madame de Tourzel produced the forged passport. ‘I am travelling to Russia with my children and my servants,’ she explained.

Jean Baptiste examined the passports; he was trembling with excitement. This was the greatest moment in the life of a country revolutionary. If the flight of the King and Queen were arrested, he, Jean Baptiste Drouet, would have the honour of bringing about this great event.

Had he not ridden with Guillaume into Varennes! And he had had to force Guillaume to accompany him, so Guillaume should not take more than his share of the triumph! Had he not forced the citizens of Varennes to sound the tocsins and waken the townsfolk! Had he not forced the revolutionary young men of Varennes to rise and prepare to help him in this matter! He was a good member of the Jacobin Club; and this was his hour.

‘I fear,’ he said, looking at that woman who was called Madame Rochet but whom he knew to be another, ‘that you cannot pass.’

‘My passport is in order,’ protested Madame de Tourzel.

‘I must take it,’ said Jean Baptiste; ‘it must be examined by the solicitor of this town. And you must accompany me to his house. Drive on,’ he commanded the driver. ‘You will be led to the house of Monsieur Sausse.’

The Queen looked out of the window and caught her breath with horror; she saw that the berline was surrounded by young men, and that many of them were wearing the badge of the revolution.

Monsieur Sausse, mayor, solicitor and shopkeeper of Varennes, was a man who did not like to make trouble. His sympathy was with the royalists, but if necessary he was prepared to keep that to himself.

He knew of the turmoil in the town; he resented the intrusion of this young firebrand from Sainte-Ménehould. He examined the passport. ‘This passport is in order,’ he said.

‘Then let us go,’ said the Queen. ‘We are in a great hurry.’

They turned and made their way out to the berline.

But Drouet had taken Monsieur Sausse by the arm and shaken him.

‘Are you mad? I tell you this is the King. Will you let him escape? You will be a traitor to France. You know what they do with traitors.’

Monsieur Sausse knew. He had seen what happened to them here in Varennes; he had heard even more terrible tales from Paris.

Meanwhile the bells were ringing and the people of Varennes were running into the streets.

Monsieur Sausse was not a brave man.

He followed the travellers out to the berline.

‘I am afraid,’ he said, ‘that you cannot be allowed to leave Varennes to-night. You would not, I am sure, wish to travel by night. Allow me to offer you the hospitality of my house.’

The King looked at the Queen. There was resignation in the King’s expression. There was desperation in that of the Queen. Both knew that they had no alternative but to obey.

So into the humble home of Monsieur and Madame Sausse went the King and Queen with their children, Madame Elisabeth and the two ladies-in-waiting.

And while Madame Sausse, overcome by the grand manners of her guests, hurriedly set about cooking and borrowing beds for them all, the news went through the town: ‘The King and Queen are in Varennes.’

And in the square, Drouet gathered his revolutionaries. They came with their farm implements – their pitchforks and scythes.

And Drouet spoke to them, shouted at them, reminding them of their duty to the revolution.


* * *

The King was the only one who was able to make a good meal, but the children, worn out by their exhausting day, were soon fast asleep.

Now that the Sausses could no longer be in doubt of the identity of their guests, they treated them with the utmost respect; and it was clear to the émigrés that if their hosts could have their way they would help them to escape.

But what could they do? The shouting filled the streets. Drouet had organised bands, armed with scythes and pitchforks, to guard the house and see that the prisoners did not escape.

While the King was eating, there was a commotion from without and two officers, de Damas and Goguelat fought their way through the crowds about the house and demanded to be taken to the King.

De Damas explained that he had planned to fight a way out of the town, but when he had explained his project to his men, many of them had deserted declaring themselves to be for the Nation. Goguelat had had the same experience.

Antoinette was in despair; she wondered how Louis could remain so stolid. Did he not care that all their plans had gone for nothing? She did not believe that he felt this as deeply as she did. He had fought for a long time against the plan to escape. He hated to run away from ‘his children’, as he insisted on calling these people who were determined to bring him low.

Oh, Louis, she thought. Had you been different we should not now be in this sorry plight.

Fresh hope came with the arrival of de Choiseul. De Choiseul, with some of his loyal men, fought his way through the crowds, wounding some of them as he did so.

De Choiseul had a plan.

‘I suggest, Your Majesty,’ he said, ‘that we fight our way out of this town. Warning has now gone to Bouillé and it cannot be long before he joins us. If we can fight our way out of Varennes we can take the road to Montmédy, and on the way we shall be sure to meet Bouillé and his army.’

‘If we went,’ said the King, ‘there would be fighting.’

‘Sire, my soldiers are ready to fight.’

‘My soldiers fight against my people!’

‘They will learn that there are still men in France ready to fight for the King.’

‘I cannot have bloodshed,’ said Louis, shaking his head. ‘What if the Queen were hurt? What if the Dauphin were killed? I should never forgive myself.’

De Choiseul bowed his head. He thought the King foolish in the extreme, because it was clear that he was throwing away one of his last chances of achieving freedom. But de Choiseul was a soldier accustomed to take orders, and the King’s orders were that they stay.

Louis brightened. ‘Before morning,’ he said, ‘Bouillé must be here. The sight of such a force will make all these people go quietly into their houses.’

‘That is so, Sire,’ said de Choiseul. ‘All should yet be well if Bouillé and the army arrive in time.’

Antoinette listened; she felt drained of all strength. Her heart was beating an uneasy tattoo.

Bouillé must arrive in time. He must!


* * *

It was half past six. The terrible night was over, and still Bouillé had not come. Into the town of Varennes two horsemen came riding; they leaped from their sweating horses and, surrounded by the men and women who had thronged the streets all that night, demanded to know whether a magnificently equipped berline had passed through the town.

It had arrived, Drouet told them; and it was here still; and the occupants, whom all now knew – owing to his astuteness – to be the King and Queen, were lodged in the house of Monsieur Sausse, the mayor.

‘Conduct us there!’ said one of the men. ‘We are messengers from the National Assembly; we have come from Paris in the wake of the King, having received instructions to do so as soon as the flight was discovered.’

They were taken to the house of Monsieur Sausse, and into the presence of the King and Queen who were with their sleeping children.

‘Sire,’ said Bayon, one of the men, ‘we come from the Assembly with this decree.’

The King took it. It declared that his rights as monarch had been suspended and that the two men who brought the decree had been instructed to prevent his continuing his journey.

The King turned to Antoinette. ‘They are determined,’ he said, ‘to take us back to Paris.’

He threw the paper onto the bed in a mood of utter dejection. The Queen picked it up, screwed it contemptuously into a ball, and threw it on the floor.

The King said: ‘Are you aware that Bouillé is marching on the town? If he should arrive while you attempt to force us to return, there will be bloodshed in Varennes.’

‘Sire, we have had our orders from Monsieur de La Fayette and the National Assembly.’

‘Do the orders of your King mean nothing to you?’

One of the men – Romeuf – looked shamefaced; the other boldly spoke up. ‘We must obey the Assembly.’

‘You do not understand,’ said Louis. ‘I merely wish to gather loyal troops about me, and then I shall parley and come to terms with those men who are making revolution. Wait until the arrival of Bouillé. He will be here in a short time. I am sure of that.’

Romeuf, who had often guarded the Tuileries and had been impressed by the courage of the Queen, looked anxiously at his companion and said: ‘We had no instructions as to when we should make the return journey. We could wait for Bouillé.’

Bayon’s answer was to stride from the room. He stood at the door of the house, and there was silence throughout the crowd assembled there.

Then Bayon shouted: ‘They want to wait here until Bouillé arrives with his army. Bouillé is against the revolution. He will cut you to pieces; he will bring bloodshed to Varennes. He has trained soldiers at his command, armed men. And what have you but your pitchforks and scythes and a few guns which will not help you? We must set out for Paris as soon as we can arrange it … and we must take the royal family with us.’