The countess had listened to all the news with visible fear; she only smiled when the queen stopped opposite to her and smiled; although this smile was pale and colorless as a fading flower.
“Well, Countess,” said the queen, “what do you say to all this?”
“Alas! nothing,” she replied. “How, nothing!”
“No.”
And she shook her head with an indescribable expression of despair.
“Come, come,” said the queen in a very low voice, and stooping to the ear of the countess, “our friend Diana is terrified.”
Then she said aloud,—
“But where is Madame de Charny, the intrepid woman? We need her assistance to reassure us, I think.”
“The countess was about to go out,” said Madame de Misery, “when she was summoned to the king’s apartments.”
“Ah! the king’s,” absently answered Marie Antoinette.
And only then did the queen perceive the strange silence which pervaded all around her.
The truth was, these wonderful and incredible events, accounts of which had successively reached Versailles like repeated shocks, had prostrated the firmest hearts, perhaps more by astonishment than fear.
The queen understood that it was necessary to revive all these drooping spirits.
“Can no one advise me?” said she. “Be it so; I will advise myself.”
They all drew nearer to Marie Antoinette.
“The people,” said she, “are not bad at heart, they are only misled. They hate us because we are unknown to them; let us approach them more nearly.”
“To punish them, then,” said a voice, “for they have doubted their masters, and that is a crime.”
The queen looked in the direction from which the voice proceeded, and recognized Monsieur de Besenval.
“Oh, it is you, Monsieur le Baron,” said she; “do you come to give us your good counsel?”
“The advice is already given,” said Besenval, bowing.
“Be it so,” said the queen; “the king will punish only as a tender father.”
“Who loves well chastises well,” said the baron.
Then turning towards Monsieur de Lambesq:—
“Are you not of my opinion, Prince? The people have committed several murders—”
“Which they unfortunately call retaliation,” said a sweet, low voice, at the sound of which the queen turned in her seat.
“You are right, princess; but it is precisely in that that their error consists, my dear Lamballe; we shall be indulgent.”
“But,” replied the Princess, in her mild manner, “before asking whether we must punish, I think we ought to ask whether we can conquer.”
A general cry burst forth from those who were present, a cry of protestation against the truth which had just been spoken by those noble lips.
“Conquer! and where are the Swiss?” said one.
“And the Germans?” said another.
“And the body-guards?” said a third.
“Can doubts be entertained about the army and the nobility” exclaimed a young man wearing the uniform of a lieutenant in the Hussars of Bercheny. “Have we then deserved such a reproach? Do but consider, Madame, that no later than to-morrow, if he chose, the king could assemble forty thousand men, throw these forty thousand men into Paris, and destroy the city. Remember that forty thousand faithful troops are worth half a million of revolted Parisians.”
The young man who had just spoken these words had without doubt a good many other similar reasons to advance; but he stopped short on seeing the eyes of the queen fixed upon him. He had spoken from the centre of a group of officers, and his zeal had carried him further than was consistent with etiquette and his rank.
He checked himself, accordingly, as we have already said, feeling quite ashamed at the impression his words had made.
But it was too late; the queen had already been struck with his enthusiasm.
“You understand the present condition of affairs, sir?” said she, kindly.
“Yes, your Majesty,” said the young man, blushing; “I was at the Champs Elysées.”
“Then, do not fear to speak; come nearer, sir.”
The young man stepped forward, blushing, from the group which opened to let him pass, and advanced towards the queen.
At the same moment the Prince de Lambesq and Monsieur de Besenval retired a step or two, as if they considered it beneath their dignity to attend this sort of council.