Monsieur de Beauvau went down a second time. He transmitted to the cellar-men the order he had received from the king.
After doing this, he went upstairs again.
“Well?” said the king, in a tone of inquiry.
“Well, Sire, your Parisians are in high discussion with the gentlemen of the Guards.”
“How!” cried the king, “there is a discussion?”
“Oh! one of pure courteousness. As they have been informed that the king is to set out in two hours, they wish to await his departure, and march behind his Majesty’s carriage.”
“But,” inquired the queen, in her turn, “they are on foot, I suppose?”
“Yes, Madame.”
“But the king has horses to his carriage, and the king travels fast, very fast; you know, Monsieur de Beauvau, that the king is accustomed to travelling very rapidly.”
These words, pronounced in the tone the queen pronounced them, implied:—
“Put wings to his Majesty’s carriage.”
The king made a sign with his hand to stop the colloquy.
“I will go at a walk.”
The queen heaved a sigh which almost resembled a cry of anger.
“It would not be right,” tranquilly added Louis XVI., “that I should make these worthy people run, who have taken the trouble to come so far to do me honor. My carriage shall be driven at a walk, and a slow walk too, so that everybody may be able to follow me.”
The whole of the company testified their admiration by a murmur of approbation; but at the same time there was seen on the countenances of several persons the reflection of the disapproval which was expressed by the features of the queen, at so much goodness of soul, which she considered as mere weakness.
A window was opened.
The queen turned round, amazed. It was Gilbert, who, in his quality of physician, had only exercised the right which appertained to him of renewing the air of the dining-room, thickened by the odors of the viands and the breathing of two hundred persons.
The doctor stood behind the curtains of the open window, through which ascended the voices of the crowd assembled in the courtyard.
“What is that?” asked the king.
“Sire,” replied Gilbert, “the National Guards are down there on the pavement, exposed to the heat of the sun, and they must feel it very oppressive.”
“Why not invite them upstairs to breakfast with the king?” sarcastically said one of her favorite officers to the queen.
“They should be taken to some shady place; put them into the marble courtyard, into the vestibules, wherever it is cool,” said the king.
“Ten thousand men in the vestibules!” exclaimed the queen.
“If they are scattered everywhere, there will be room enough for them,” said the king.
“Scattered everywhere!” cried Marie Antoinette, why, sir, you will teach them the way to your own bedchamber.”
This was the prophecy of terror which was to be realized at Versailles before three months had elapsed.
“They have a great many children with them, Madame,” said Gilbert, in a gentle tone.
“Children!” exclaimed the queen.
“Yes, Madame; a great many have brought their children with them, as if on a party of pleasure. The children are dressed as little National Guards, so great is the enthusiasm for this new institution.”
The queen opened her lips as if about to speak; but almost instantly she held down her head.
She had felt a desire to utter a kind word; but pride and hatred had stopped it ere it escaped her lips.
Gilbert looked at her attentively.
“Ah!” cried the king, “those poor children! When people bring children with them, it is plain that they have no intention to do harm to the father of a family,—another reason for putting them in a cooler place, poor little things! Let them in; let them in.”
Gilbert then, gently shaking his head, appeared to say to the queen, who had remained silent:—
“There, Madame; that is what you ought to have said; I gave you the opportunity. Your kind words would have been repeated, and you would have gained two years of popularity.”
The queen comprehended Gilbert’s mute language, and a blush suffused her face.
She felt the error she had committed, and immediately excused herself by a feeling of pride and resistance, which she expressed by a glance, as a reply to Gilbert. During this time Monsieur de Beauvau was following the king’s orders relating to the National Guards.