The next few years of Anne's life passed in fairy-tale bliss. The birth of little Marie-Elise helped fill the hole left by the loss of Elizabeth, and she came to love Marie-Therese as if she were her own daughter. Marie Antoinette's visits to her daughter became less and less frequent as time wore on, and eventually all but stopped. Anne saw Marie Antoinette's son Joseph only once and was unable to determine whether the boy looked more like Louis or Axel. Although she knew that it was a mute point anyway, she was still curious.

Anne herself gave birth to two more children after Marie-Elise, Louis-Charles on March 27, 1785, and Marie Sophie Helene Beatrice on July 9, 1786. Louis and Anne were very happy with their growing family, and their love for one another deepened as time passed.

Unfortunately, the state of affairs in France became very troubled. The government went bankrupt, and many of the citizens blamed Louis for having provided so much financial support to the United States in its war for independence.

"Perhaps it was a mistake," Louis said to Anne one evening. "But I didn't know what else to do. This fledgling country needed my help, and I simply didn't have the heart to turn them away." He gave a dejected sigh.

"You did the right thing, darling." Anne came to him and began to massage the tension out of his shoulders.

"I could save up my allowance," Marie-Therese offered.

"Me too," Marie-Elise added.

Louis chuckled sardonically. "I'm afraid that would hardly suffice."

Later that evening, Anne went to the room in which she kept all the music boxes and other costly presents Louis had given her and just stood there looking at them silently. A few minutes later, she felt Louis' arms gently encircling her waist.

"I know what you're thinking, but please don't," he begged her. "I gave you these things made by my own hands because I love you, and I can't bear the thought of them ever belonging to anyone else."

"But if it means the difference between whether or not the kingdom survives..." She walked over to the first music box he'd ever given her, right after she'd recovered from smallpox so long ago. Lovingly her fingers caressed it as she felt a tear slowly slide down her cheek. She looked back at her husband and saw the love he felt for her shining in his eyes. She went to him, and he took her into his arms and held her tight.

"Dearest Annette," he whispered. "There has to be a better way."

Her hand drifted to the front of his pants and lingered there for a moment as she gave him a cheeky grin. He laughed happily, picked her up, and carried her to their bedroom.


Louis never spoke of the country's financial difficulties in his family's presence again, but Anne could see the worry in his eyes every day, and it deeply concerned her.

On July 14, 1789, Louis looked especially despondent. "They stormed the Bastille today." He sounded as if he were crying. "Eighty-three men are dead. They also killed De Launay, Foulon, and De Flesselles and took all the weapons and gunpowder."

"I wish I were older, so I could be a soldier and get it all back!" Louis-Charles exclaimed.

"You can't be a soldier," Marie-Therese told her younger brother. "You have to be the King when you grow up."

"Being a soldier would be a lot more exciting," Louis-Charles argued.

"But if you're the King, you get to tell everybody else what to do, like Papa does," Marie-Elise pointed out.

"If everyone did what I told them to do, cherie, there would never be any trouble, and everyone would get on splendidly all the time, wouldn't they?" Louis smiled ruefully as he ruffled his daughter's hair.

On October 5 of that year, Anne was in her chambers when she heard banging and screaming. Her heart began to race as she realized that an angry mob had broken into the palace. Terrified, she and her ladies ran to the room in which she knew Louis was, only to find the door locked. Desperately the women screamed and beat on the door, but they couldn't be heard over the din of the mob.