Fear of personal danger was not one of the king’s weaknesses.  The hatchets beat down the outer door, and, as it fell, he came forth from the room behind, and with unruffled countenance accosted the ruffians who were pouring through it.  His sister, the Princess Elizabeth, was at his side.  He had charged those around him to keep the queen back; and she, knowing how special an object of the popular hatred and fury she was, with a fortitude beyond that which defies death, remained out of sight lest she should add to his danger.  For a moment the mob, respecting, in spite of themselves, the calm heroism with which they were confronted, paused in their onset; but those in front were pushed on by those behind, and pikes were leveled and blows were aimed at both the king and the princess, whom they mistook for the queen.  At first there were but one or two attendants at the king’s side, but they were faithful and brave men.  One struck down a ruffian who was lifting his weapon to aim a blow at Louis himself.  A pike was even leveled at his sister, when her equerry, M. Bousquet, too far off to bring her the aid of his right hand, called out, “Spare the princess.”  Delicate as were her frame and features, Elizabeth was worthy of her blood, and as dauntless as the rest.  She turned to her preserver almost reproachfully:  “Why did you undeceive him? it might have saved the queen.”  But after a few seconds, Acloque with some grenadiers of the National Guard on whom he could still rely, hastened up by a back staircase to defend his sovereign; and, with the aid of some of the gentlemen who had come with the Marshal de Noailles, drew the king back into a recess formed by a window; and raised a rampart of benches in front of him, and one still more trustworthy of their own bodies.  They would gladly have attacked the rioters and driven them back, but were restrained by Louis himself.  “Put up your swords,” said he; “this crowd is excited rather than wicked.”  And he addressed those who had forced their way into the room with words of condescending conciliation.  They replied with threats and imprecations; and sought to force their way onward, pressing back by their mere numbers and weight the small group of loyal champions who by this time had gathered in front of him.

So great was the uproar that presently a report reached the main body of the insurgents, who were still in the garden beneath, that Louis had been killed; and they mingled shouts of triumph with cheers for Orleans as their new king, and demanded that the heads of the king and queen should be thrown down to them from the windows; but no actual injury was inflicted on Louis, though he owed his safety more to his own calmness than even to the devotion of his guards.  One ruffian threatened him with instant death if he did not at once grant every prayer contained in their petition.  He replied, as composedly as if he had been on his throne at Versailles, that the present was not the time for making such a demand, nor was this the way