No! it was the haughty and resolute queen, with frowning brow and scornful lip; it was a woman whose heart had allowed a portion of its love to escape from it, to harbor, instead of that sweet and vivifying element, the first drops of gall, which by constantly filtering into it was finally to reach her blood.
It was, in short, the woman represented by the third portrait in the gallery of Versailles, that is to say, no longer Marie Antoinette, no longer the Queen of France, but the woman who was now designated only by the name of the Austrian.
Behind her, in the shade, lay a motionless young woman, her head reclining on the cushion of a sofa, and her hand upon her forehead.
This was Madame de Polignac.
Perceiving Monsieur de Lambesq, the queen made one of those gestures indicative of unbounded joy, which mean, “At last we shall know all.”
Monsieur de Lambesq bowed, with a sign that asked pardon at the same time for his soiled boots, his dusty coat, and his sword, which, having been bent in his fall, could not be forced into its scabbard.
“Well, Monsieur de Lambesq,” said the queen, “have you just arrived from Paris?”
“Yes, your Majesty.”
“What are the people doing?”
“They are killing and burning.”
“Through maddening rage or hatred?”
“No; from sheer ferocity.”
The queen reflected, as if she had felt disposed to be of his opinion with regard to the people. Then, shaking her head:—
“No, prince,” said she, “the people are not ferocious; at least, not without a reason. Do not conceal anything from me. Is it madness?—is it hatred?”
“Well, I think it is hatred carried to madness, Madame.”
“Hatred of whom? Ah! I see you are hesitating again, Prince. Take care; if you relate events in that manner, instead of applying to you as I do, I shall send one of my outriders to Paris; he will require one hour to go there, one to acquire information, one to return; and in the course of three hours this man will tell me everything that has happened as accurately and as simply as one of Homer’s heralds.”
Monsieur de Dreux Brézé stepped forward, with a smile upon his lips.
“But, Madame,” said he, “of what consequence to you is the hatred of the people? That can in no way concern you. The people may hate all, excepting you.”
The queen did not even rebuke this piece of flattery.
“Come, come, Prince,” said she to Monsieur de Lambesq, “speak out.”
“Well, then, Madame, it is true the people are influenced by hatred.”
“Hatred of me?”
“Of everything that rules.”
“Well said!—that is the truth! I feel it,” exclaimed the queen, resolutely.
“I am a soldier, your Majesty,” said the prince.
“Well, well! speak to us then as a soldier. Let us see what must be done.”
“Nothing, Madame.”
“How—nothing?” cried the queen, taking advantage of the murmurs occasioned by these words among the wearers of embroidered coats and golden-sheathed swords of her company; “nothing! You, a Prince of Lorraine,—you can speak thus to the Queen of France at a moment when the people, according to your own confession, are killing and burning, and you can coolly say there is nothing to be done!”
A second murmur, but this time of approbation, followed the words of Marie Antoinette.
She turned round, fixed her gaze on all the circle which environed her, and among all those fiery eyes sought those which darted forth the brightest flames, as if she could read a greater proof of fidelity in them.
“Nothing!” continued the prince; “but allow the Parisian to become calm—and he will become so-for he is only warlike when he is exasperated. Why give him the honors of a struggle, and risk the chances of a battle? Let us keep quiet, and in three days there will no longer be a question of a commotion in Paris.”
“But the Bastille, sir?”
“The Bastille! Its doors will be closed, and those who took it will be taken, that is all.”
Some laughter was heard among the before silent group.
The queen continued,—
“Take care, Prince; you are now reassuring me too much.” And thoughtfully, her chin resting on the palm of her hand, she advanced towards Madame de Polignac, who, pale and sad, seemed absorbed in thought.