But the sound of the hunt was in the King's ear, and he forgot the cry of want.

Soon the day came when the King stood before the guillotine, and with mute appeals for mercy fronted a mob silent as statues, unyielding as stone, grimly waiting to dip the ends of their pikes in regal blood.

He gave cold looks; he received cold steel.
Marie Antoinette, riding to Notre Dame for her bridal, bade her soldiers command all beggars, cripples and ragged people to leave the line of the procession.

The Queen could not endure for a brief moment the sight of those miserable ones doomed to unceasing squalor and poverty.

What she gave others she received herself, for soon, bound in an executioner's cart, she was riding toward the place of execution midst crowds who gazed upon her with hearts as cold as ice and hard as granite.