The son of the Bourbons was spitting on their flag, and wiping his shoes upon its tattered folds.

With shrill cracked voice he sang the Carmagnole, "Ca ira! ca ira! les aristos a la lanterne!" until de Batz himself felt inclined to stop his ears and to rush from the place in horror.
Louis XVII, whom the hearts of many had proclaimed King of France by the grace of God, the child of the Bourbons, the eldest son of the Church, was stepping a vulgar dance over the flag of St.Louis, which he had been taught to defile.

His pale cheeks glowed as he danced, his eyes shone with the unnatural light kindled in them by the intoxicating liquor; with one slender hand he waved the red cap with the tricolour cockade, and shouted "Vive la Republique!" Madame Simon was clapping her hands, looking on the child with obvious pride, and a kind of rough maternal affection.

Simon was gazing on Heron for approval, and the latter nodded his head, murmuring words of encouragement and of praise.
"Thy catechism now, Capet--thy catechism," shouted Simon in a hoarse voice.
The boy stood at attention, cap on head, hands on his hips, legs wide apart, and feet firmly planted on the fleur-de-lys, the glory of his forefathers.
"Thy name ?" queried Simon.
"Louis Capet," replied the child in a clear, high-pitched voice.
"What art thou ?" "A citizen of the Republic of France." "What was thy father ?" "Louis Capet, ci-devant king, a tyrant who perished by the will of the people!" "What was thy mother ?" "A -- --" De Batz involuntarily uttered a cry of horror.

Whatever the man's private character was, he had been born a gentleman, and his every instinct revolted against what he saw and heard.