"Sire, I come bearing tidings from your consort," whispered the adjutant captain of the guard; it was the first truly human voice he had heard for a fortnight.
The now fallen monarch, caged as a common criminal, had been utterly humiliated, having been captured in disguise as a humble friar on the road to Varennes. That ill-fated attempt to elude the rabid revolutionary 'authorities' had imposed upon France a terror such as had never been witnessed in all of Europe.
By the light of a pale Moon's beams he read the smuggled missive:
"Mon cherie, I send you this token of my love knowing that soon I shall cease to be; the mob have made their intentions painfully clear and Dr. Guillotine's cruel artistry awaits its rendezvous with Professor Newton's 'gravity', my troubled crown's frail perch such grisly, yea, costly revenue as a peasant's basket may hold.
Hence, this most desperate proffer of that which, twixt the two------so often in conflict whilst co-existent, beats but for thee.
Take, it then, act as guardian, yours unto mine so truly that, though both may soon cease their mortal tune, it will sustain our love beyond the puny veil of time. Ever yours, Mdme. Du Barry."
Holdining the fragranced paper to his breast, the Sun King betrayed free-flowing tears to beaming Luna, whose light seemed to transport their now conjoined hearts to its peculiar love-lorn custody.