Ange Pitou by Alexandre Dumas part three

The queen turned her back to De Charny with an impatient gesture, and went to a window and placed her pale though burning face against a pane of glass. This window looked into the marble courtyard.

She had scarcely done this when she was seen to start.

“Andrée!” cried she, “come here and see who is this horseman coming towards us; he appears to be the bearer of very urgent news.”

Andrée went to the window, but almost immediately recoiled a step from it, turning very pale.

“Ah, Madame!” cried she, in a tone of reproach.

De Charny hastened towards the window; he had minutely observed all that had passed.

“That horseman,” said he, looking alternately at the queen and at Andrée, “is Doctor Gilbert.”

“Ah, that is true,” said the queen; and in a tone which rendered it impossible, even to Andrée, to judge whether the queen had drawn her to the window in one of those fits of feminine vengeance to which poor Marie Antoinette sometimes gave way, or whether her eyes, weakened by watching and the tears she had shed, could no longer recognize, at a certain distance, even those whom it was her interest to recognize.

An ice-like silence immediately ensued; and the three principal characters in this scene interrogated and replied to one another merely by looks.

It was in fact Gilbert who was coming, bringing with him the untoward news which De Charny had predicted.

Although he had hurriedly alighted from his horse, although he had rapidly ascended the staircase, although the three agitated faces of the queen, Andrée, and De Charny were turned towards the door which led to this staircase, and by which the doctor ought to have entered the room, this door did not open.

There was, then, on the part of these three persons an anxious suspense of some minutes.

Suddenly, a door on the opposite side of the room was opened, and an officer came in.

“Madame,” said he, “Doctor Gilbert, who has come for the purpose of conversing with the king on important and urgent matters, demands to have the honor of being received by your Majesty, the king having set out for Meudon an hour ago.”

“Let him come in!” said the queen, fixing on the door a look which was firm even to harshness; while Andrée, as if naturally she sought to find a supporter in her husband, drew back and supported herself on the count’s arm.

Gilbert soon made his appearance on the threshold of the door.

Chapter XXII

The Fifth October

GILBERT cast a glance on the several personages whom we have placed on the stage, and advancing respectfully towards Marie Antoinette:—

“Will the queen permit me,” said he, “in the absence of her august husband, to communicate to her the news of which I am the bearer?”

“Speak, sir!” said Marie Antoinette. “On seeing you coming at so rapid a pace, I summoned up all my fortitude, for I felt well assured that you were bringing me some fearful news.”

“Would the queen have preferred that I should have allowed her to be surprised Forewarned, the queen, with that sound judgment, that elevated mind by which she is characterized, would advance to meet the danger; and then perhaps the danger might retreat before her.”

“Let us see, sir; what is this danger?”

“Madame, seven or eight thousand women have set out from Paris, and are coming armed to Versailles.”

“Seven or eight thousand women?” cried the queen, with an air of contempt.

“Yes; but they will, most likely, have stopped on the way; and perhaps, on arriving here, their numbers will amount to fifteen or twenty thousand.”

“And for what purpose are they coming?”

“They are hungry, Madame, and they are coming to ask the king for bread.”

The queen turned towards De Charny.

“Alas, Madame,” said the count, “that which I predicted has now happened.”

“What is to be done?” asked Marle Antoinette.

“The king should, in the first place, be informed of it,” said Gilbert.

The queen turned quickly towards him.

“The king! oh, no!” she cried, “what good purpose would it answer to expose him to such a meeting?”

This cry burst forth from the heart of Marie Antoinette almost involuntarily. It was a convincing manifestation of the intrepidity of the queen, of her consciousness of possessing a firmness which was altogether personal to her, and at the same time of her consciousness of her husband’s weakness, which she cared not to admit even to herself, and, more particularly, to reveal to strangers.

Pages: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 38 39 40 41 42 43 44 45 46 47 48 49 50 51 52 53 54 55 56 57 58 59 60 61 62 63 64 65 66 67 68 69 70 71 72 73 74 75 76 77 78 79 80 81 82 83 84 85 86 87 88 89 90 91 92 93 94 95 96 97 98 99 100 101 102 103 104 105 106 107 108 109 110 111 112 113 114 115 116 117 118 119 120

Leave a Reply 0

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *