Chapter 40 Flight To Varennes



After the resounding echoes of the Women's March to Versailles subsided, the King and his family were unceremoniously escorted back to the heart of Paris. The grandeur of their former abode had given way to the suffocating confines of the Tuileries Palace, where they found themselves imprisoned under an ominous house arrest.

In the face of an inexorable tide turning against him, the King realized that his very survival depended on escaping the clutches of the revolutionaries who held France in an iron grip. A glimmer of hope flickered in his weary eyes as his wife proposed a daring plan - one that would require him to seek refuge beyond the borders of his own kingdom.

***

Two years later. June 20, 1791, in the Tuileries Palace.

Moonlight spilled through the ornate windows of the chamber, casting ethereal shadows upon the opulent furnishings. Within this hallowed sanctuary, the royal family of France prepared for their audacious escape.

Marie-Antoinette, her countenance a delicate mix of determination and anxiety, stood at the center of the room, her eyes fixed upon the transformative task that lay before her. She clutched a bundle of exquisite garments in her hands, each one meticulously selected to disguise her identity and that of her loved ones. With each fold and fabric, she weaved a web of deception that would shield them from the watchful eyes of their captors.

Louis, his face lined with worry, approached her. He glanced at the array of attire laid out before them, his voice laden with concern.

"Marie, are you certain this is our best course of action? The people still supported us, you know? You saw that during the twentieth of February? It's a sign that not all people in France hated us."

Marie-Antoinette turned to face her husband, her gaze unwavering.

"But they were repelled, Louis. And ever since that day, the security around the Palace became stricter. There are rumors about the mobs storming into our palace. We have no other choice. Our very lives are at stake, as well as the future of our children. We must seize this opportunity."

With a sigh tinged with reluctant acceptance, Louis nodded, a flicker of determination kindling in his eyes. "Very well."This chapter is updated by nov(e)(l)biin.com

As the moon ascended its celestial path, casting its silvery glow upon the room, the royal children, Clotilde and Marie-Thérèse, entered, their youthful innocence stark against the backdrop of uncertainty. The queen knelt before them, her voice gentle yet resolute.

"My darlings, we are about to leave Paris, an adventure that requires your utmost bravery. You shall take on new identities, be my daughters no more, but young travelers seeking refuge."

The children exchanged nervous glances, their small hands clasping tightly together. Clotilde, the elder of the two, mustered a determined smile.

"We will be strong, Mama."

Marie-Antoinette's heart swelled with maternal pride, her eyes glistening with unshed tears.

June 21, 1791.

As the royal family resumed their journey following the necessary repairs, they arrived in the town of Sainte-Menehould. It was there that a postmaster named Jean-Baptiste Drouet stepped forward, raising his hand to halt the carriage.

As the carriage came to a halt, he approached the door and rapped his knuckles against it.

The knock on the door reverberated through the carriage, shattering the fragile bubble of hope that had enveloped the royal family. Silence fell upon them as they exchanged anxious glances, their hearts pounding in unison. King Louis motioned for the carriage door to be opened, revealing the postmaster.

Drouet's gaze shifted from one face to another, his eyes lingering on the man dressed as a valet.

He furrowed his brows as he gazed at the valet's face.

"Wait...you are quite familiar sir," Drouet said as he pulled out an assignat from his pocket. His gaze flickered between the assignat and the man's face, his memory working to make a connection.

Louis, feeling a tremor of fear coursing through his veins, tried his best to maintain composure.

"What do you mean, sir?"

Drouet's eyes narrowed, suspicion growing in his gaze. "It can't be..." he muttered under his breath. He took a step closer, studying Louis intently. "You bear a striking resemblance to the King himself, Louis XVI."

Marie-Antoinette, her heart pounding in her chest, felt a cold sweat trickle down her spine. She knew that their carefully constructed disguise had been compromised, and their lives hung precariously in the balance.

Summoning her strength, Marie-Antoinette leaned forward, her voice trembling with a mix of desperation and pleading. "Sir, I implore you to show mercy. Please let us pass!"

Drouet's expression softened momentarily, his eyes reflecting a flicker of sympathy. He had witnessed the suffering of the common people and understood their grievances. But he also knew that capturing the royal family would secure his own place in history.

"I cannot turn a blind eye to my duty, Your Majesty," Drouet replied, his voice tinged with regret. "I must bring you before the authorities."

A heavy silence settled in the carriage as the reality of their capture sank in. The royal family exchanged somber glances, their thoughts entwined with the uncertain future that awaited them.

Suddenly, the stillness was shattered by the sound of approaching footsteps. The clattering of boots echoed through the night, sending a chill down their spines. The guards had arrived, aiming their muskets at the carriage.

"That's King Louis..." One of the guards recognized him. "What is he doing here? And why is he dressed like that?"

"Maybe trying to escape?" One of the guards replied.

"What do we do?"

"It's obvious, we return them to Paris."