Monsieur de Charny allowed an inquiring gesture to escape him.
“You will see by-and-by,” said the queen, with a nervous laugh.
“Does your Majesty suffer?” asked the count.
“No, no, sir. Come and sit down near me, and not a word more about those dreadful politics. Try to make me forget them.”
The count obeyed with a sad smile. Marie Antoinette placed her hand upon his forehead.
“Your forehead burns,” said she.
“Yes, I have a volcano in my head.”
“Your hand is icy cold.”
And she pressed the count’s hand between both hers.
“My heart is affected with a deathlike coldness,” said he. “Poor Olivier! I had told you so. Let us forget it. I am no longer queen; I am no longer threatened; I am no longer hated. No, I am no longer a queen. I am a woman, that is all. What is the whole universe to me? One heart that loves me would suffice me.”
The count fell on his knees before the queen, and kissed her feet with the respect the Egyptians had for the goddess Isis.
“Oh, Count, my only friend!” said the queen, trying to raise him up, “do you know what the Duchess Diana is about to do?”
“She is going to emigrate,” answered Charny, without hesitating.
“He has guessed the truth!” exclaimed Marie Antoinette. “He has guessed it. Alas! was it then possible to guess it?”
“Oh, certainly, Madame,” answered the count; “one can imagine anything at such a moment as this.”
“But you and your friends,” exclaimed the queen, “why do you not emigrate, if you consider it so natural a step?”
“In the first place, Madame, I do not emigrate because I am profoundly devoted to your Majesty, and because I have promised, not to you, but to myself, that I will not quit you for a single instant during the impending storm. My brothers will not emigrate, because my conduct will be the model on which they will regulate theirs. In fine, Madame de Charny will not emigrate, because she loves your Majesty sincerely; at least, so I believe.”
“Yes, Andrée has a very noble heart,” said the queen, with perceptible coldness.
“That is the reason why she will not leave Versailles,” answered De Charny.
“Then I shall always have you near me,” said the queen, in the same icy tone, which she varied so as to express either her jealousy or her disdain.
“Your Majesty has done me the honor to make me lieutenant of the guards,” said the Count de Charny; “my post is at Versailles. I should not have left my post if your Majesty had not intrusted me with the care of the Tuileries. ‘It is a necessary exile,’ said the queen to me, and I accepted that exile. Now, in all this, your Majesty well knows the Countess de Charny has neither reproved the step, nor was she consulted with regard to it.”
“It is true,” replied the queen, in the same freezing tone.
“To-day,” continued the count, with intrepidity, “I think my post is no longer at the Tuileries, but at Versailles. Well, may it not displease the queen, I have violated my orders, thus selecting the service I prefer; and here I am. Whether Madame de Charny be alarmed or not at the complexion of events, whether it be her desire to emigrate or not, I will remain near the queen, unless, indeed, the queen breaks my sword; in which case, having no longer the right to fight and to die for her on the floor of Versailles, I shall still have that of sacrificing it on its threshold, on the pavement.”
The young man pronounced these simple words so valiantly and so loyally, which emanated so evidently from the depths of his heart, that the queen appeared suddenly to lose her haughtiness, a retreat behind which she had just concealed feelings more human than royal.
“Count,” said she, “never utter that word again. Do not say that you would die for me, for in truth I know that you would do as you say.”
“Oh, on the contrary, I shall always say it!” exclaimed Monsieur de Charny. “I shall say it to every one, and in every place. I shall say it, and I shall do it, because the time has come, I fear, when all who have been attached to the kings of this earth must die.”