Then, turning to the queen:—
“Madame,” said he, “you had better retire to your own apartment, and prepare yourself.”
This order of the king appeared to remind De Charny of an event of importance which he had forgotten.
He rushed from the room, preceding the queen.
“Why are you going to my apartment, sir?” said the queen, harshly, to him; “you have no need to go there.”
“I earnestly trust it may be so, Madame,” replied De Charny. “But be not uneasy; if really I am not needed there, I shall not remain long enough to cause my presence to be displeasing to your Majesty.”
The queen followed him; traces of blood stained the floor, and the queen saw them. She closed her eyes, and seeking an arm to guide her, she took that of De Charny, and walked some steps in this way as a blind person.
Suddenly she felt that every nerve in De Charny’s body shuddered.
“What is the matter, sir?” she said, opening her eyes.
Then suddenly:—
“A dead body! a dead body!” she exclaimed.
“Your Majesty will excuse my withdrawing my arm,” said he. “I have found that which I came to seek in your apartment,—the dead body of my brother George.”
It was in fact the dead body of the unfortunate young man, whom his brother had ordered to allow himself to be killed rather than that the queen should be approached!
He had punctually obeyed.
1 The Œil de Bœuf, which has so very frequently been mentioned in this book, had an historical interest. It was an oval room in the great palace of Versailles, and its history, compiled recently by one of the most distinguished writers of France, comprises more pages than the annals of many a European kingdom. In the coterie of the Regent Duke of Orleans, of Louis XV., and of the early days of the reign of Louis XVI., it flourished, and not until the days of the Emperor Napoleon did it lose its prestige. The scandal of this room was one of the great causes which made the whole of the bourgeoisie and middle classes of France so cordially detest the old monarchy, and induced them to throw the whole weight of their influence into the cause of the Revolution. Such scenes as were enacted there made Lafayette, Beauharnais, De Romceub, and other nobles, use all their influence to destroy a throne built up by crime, and with courtiers and courtesans as its supporters.
2 The title given to the eldest daughters of the kings of France.
Chapter XXVI
George de Charny
THE circumstances we have just related have been recounted in a hundred different ways; for they were certainly the most interesting which occurred in the great period between 1789 and 1795, and which is called the French Revolution.
They will be related in a hundred various ways still; but we can affirm beforehand that no one will relate them with more impartiality than we have done.
After all these narratives, our own not excepted, there will still remain as much to tell; for history is never perfect. Each of a hundred thousand witnesses has his version; each of a hundred thousand details has its interest and its romance, and for the very reason that they are all different.
But of what service will all these narratives be, however true they are? Did ever a political lesson prove instructive to a political man?
The tears, the mournful stories, and the blood of kings, have they ever had the effect of the drop of water which hollows the rock?
No! queens have wept; no! kings have been murdered; and yet their successors have never profited by the cruel lesson which fate had given them.
Faithful subjects have been prodigal of their devotedness, without those whom fatality had destined to misfortune having derived any advantage from it.
For the Queen!
Alas! we have seen the queen almost stumble over the body of one of those men whom kings, when they depart, leave bleeding upon the road which they have traversed in their fall.
A few hours after the cry of terror which the queen had uttered, and at the moment when, with the king and her children, she was about to leave Versailles, where she was never to return, the following scene took place in an interior courtyard, damp from the rain, and which a sharp autumnal wind had begun to dry.