And, in accordance with the feeling thus shown, every mark of respect was studiously withheld from the unhappy monarch, and every care was taken to show him that every deputy considered himself his equal.  Two chairs exactly similar were provided for him and for the president; and when, after taking the oath and affixing his signature to the act, the king resumed his seat, the president, who, having to reply to him in a short address, had at first risen for that purpose, on seeing that Louis retained his seat, sat down beside him, and finished his speech in that position.  Louis felt the affront.  He contained himself while in the hall, and while the members were conducting him back to the palace, which they presently did amidst the music of military bands and the salutes of artillery.  But when his escort had left him, and he reached his own apartments, his pride gave way.  The queen with the dauphin had been present in a box hastily fitted up for her, and had followed him back.  He felt for her more than for himself.  Bursting into tears, he said, “It is all over.  You have seen my humiliation.  Why did I ever bring you into France for such degradation?” And the queen, while endeavoring to console him, turned to Madame de Campan, who has recorded the scene, and dismissed her from her attendance.[17] “Leave us,” she said, “leave us to ourselves.”  She could not bear that even that faithful servant should remain to be a witness to the despair and prostration of her sovereign.

The very rejoicings were turned by the agents of the Jacobins into occasions for further outrages.  The whole city was illuminated, and the sovereigns yielded to the entreaties of the popular leaders, to drive through the streets and the Champs Elysees to see the illumination.  The populace, who believed the Revolution at an end and their freedom secured, cheered them heartily as they passed; but at every cry of “Vive le roi,” a stentorian voice, close to the royal carriage, shouted out, “Not so:  Vive la nation!” and the queen, though it was plain that the ruffian had been hired thus to outrage them, almost fainted with terror at his ferocity.  A few days afterward, the insults were renewed even more pointedly.  The royal family went in state to the opera, where, before their arrival, the Jacobins had packed the pit with a gang of their own hirelings, whose unpowdered hair made them conspicuous objects.[18] The opera was one of Gretry’s, “Les Evenements Imprevus,” in which one of the duets contains the line “Ah, comme j’aime ma maitresse.”  Madame Dugazon, a popular singer of the day, as she uttered the words, bowed toward the royal box, and instantly the whole pit was in a fury.  “No mistress for us! no master!  Liberty!” The whole house was in an uproar.  The king’s partisans and adherents replied with loyal cheers, “Vive le roi!  Vive la reine!” The pit roared out, “No master! no queen!” and the Jacobins even proceeded to acts of violence toward all who refused to join in their cry.  Blows were struck, and it became necessary to send for a company of the Guard to restore order.