She preferred to struggle rather than to submit, to die rather than to yield. With this view, as soon as the first news had reached her from Paris, she had determined upon a stubborn resistance to the rebellious spirit which threatened to swallow up all the prerogatives of French society.
If there is a blind and senseless degree of strength, it is that stimulated by figures and vain hopes.
A figure, followed by an agglomeration of zeros, will soon exceed all the resources of the universe.
The same may be said of the plans of a conspirator or a despot. On enthusiasm, which itself is based on imperceptible hope, gigantic conceptions are built, which are dissipated before the first breath of wind, in less time than was required to condense them into a mist.
After hearing these few words pronounced by the Baron de Charny, after the enthusiastic hurrahs of the bystanders, Marie Antoinette could almost imagine herself at the head of a powerful army; she could hear the rolling of her harmless artillery, and she rejoiced at the fear which they would doubtless occasion among the Parisians, and had already gained a victory which she thought decisive.
Around her, men and women, beaming with youth, with confidence and love, were reckoning the number of those brilliant hussars, those heavy dragoons, those terrible Swiss, those well-equipped artillerymen, and laughed at the vulgar pikes and their coarse wooden handles, little thinking that on the points of these vile weapons were to be borne the noblest heads of France.
“As for me,” murmured the Princess de Lamballe, “I am more afraid of a pike than of a gun.”
“Because it is much uglier, my dear Thérèse,” replied the queen, smiling. “But, at all events, compose yourself. Our Parisian pikemen are not a match for the famous Swiss pikemen of Morat; and the Swiss of the present day have something more than pikes; they have good muskets, with which they take good aim, thank Heaven!”
“Oh, as to that, I will answer for it!” said Monsieur de Besenval.
The queen turned round once more towards Madame de Polignac to see if all these assurances had restored her wonted tranquillity; but the countess appeared still paler and more trembling than before.
The queen, whose extreme tenderness of feeling often caused her to sacrifice her royal dignity for the sake of this friend, in vain seemed to solicit her to look more cheerful.
The young woman still continued gloomy, and appeared absorbed in the saddest thoughts. But this despondency only served to increase the queen’s sorrow. The enthusiasm among the young officers maintained itself at the same pitch, and all of them, with the exception of the superior officers, were gathered round the Baron de Charny, and drawing up their plans for battle.
In the midst of this febrile excitement the king entered alone, unaccompanied by an usher, and with a smile upon his lips.
The queen, still greatly excited by the warlike emotions which she had aroused, rushed forward to meet him.
At the sight of the king all conversation had ceased, and was followed by the most perfect silence; every one expected a kingly word,—one of those words which electrify and subjugate.
When clouds are sufficiently loaded with electricity, the least disturbance, as is well known, is sufficient to produce a flash.
To the eyes of the courtiers, the king and queen, advancing to meet each other, appeared like two electric bodies, from which the thunder must proceed.
They listened, and trembled, and eagerly waited to catch the first words which were to proceed from the royal lips.
“Madame,” said Louis XVI., “amid all these events, they have forgotten to serve up my supper in my own apartment; be so kind as to have it brought me here.”
“Here?” exclaimed the queen, with an air of stupefaction.
“If you will permit it.”
“But—Sire—”
“You were conversing, it is true; but while at supper I shall converse also.”
The mere word “supper” had chilled the enthusiasm of every one present. But on hearing the king’s last words,—”at supper I shall converse also,” the young queen herself could hardly help thinking that so much calmness concealed some small heroism. The king doubtless thought by his tranquillity to overcome all the terror occasioned by the events that had taken place. This must certainly be his design.