The count once more fell on his knees before her.
“Madame, in the name of Heaven!” said he, “order me to leave you, to fly from you, to die for you, but do not let me see you weep!”
And the count himself could hardly refrain from sobbing as he spoke.
“It is all over,” said Marie Antoinette, raising her head, and speaking gently, with a smile replete with grace.
And, with a beautiful movement, she threw back her thick powdered hair, which had fallen on her neck, white as the driven snow.
“Yes, yes, it is over!” continued the queen; ” I shall not afflict you any more; let us throw aside all these follies. Great God! it is strange that the woman should be so weak, when the queen so much needs to be firm. You come from Paris, do you not Let us converse about it. You told me some things that I have forgotten; and yet they were very serious, were they not, Monsieur de Charny?”
“Be it so, Madame; let us return to that fatal subject: for, as you observe, what I have to tell you is very serious. Yes, I have just arrived from Paris, and I was present at the downfall of the monarchy.”
“I was right to request you to return to serious matters, and most assuredly, Count, you make them more than sufficiently gloomy. A successful riot,—do you call that the downfall of the monarchy? What! is it because the Bastille has been taken, Monsieur de Charny, that you say the monarchy is abolished? Oh, you do not reflect that the Bastille was founded in France only in the fourteenth century, while monarchy has been taking root in the world during the last six thousand years.”
“I should be well pleased to deceive myself in this matter, Madame,” replied the count; “and then, instead of afflicting your Majesty’s mind, I should bring to you the most consoling news. Unfortunately, the instrument will not produce any other sounds but those for which it was intended.”
“Let us see, let us see; I will sustain you,—I who am but a woman; I will put you on the right path.”
“Alas! I ask for nothing better.”
“The Parisians have revolted, have they not?”
“Yes.”
“In what proportion?”
“In the proportion of twelve to fifteen.”
“How do you arrive at this calculation?”
“Oh, very easily: the people form twelve fifteenths of the body of the nation; there remain two fifteenths for the nobility and one for the clergy.”
“Your calculations are exact, Count, and you have them at your fingers’ ends. Have you read the works of Monsieur and Madame de Necker?”
“Those of Monsieur de Necker? Yes, Madame.”
“Well, the proverb holds good,” said the queen, gayly: “we are never betrayed but by our own friends. Well, then, here is my own calculation; will you listen to it?”
“With all respect.”
“Among these twelve fifteenths there are six of women, are there not?”
“Yes, your Majesty. But—”
“Do not interrupt me. We said there were six fifteenths of women, so let us say six; two of indifferent or incapable old men,—is that too much?”
“No.”
“There still remain four fifteenths, of which you will allow that at least two are cowards or lukewarm individuals,—I flatter the French nation. But finally, there remain two fifteenths; I will grant you that they are furious, robust, brave, and warlike. These two fifteenths, let us consider them as belonging to Paris only, for it is needless to speak of the provinces, is it not? It is only Paris that requires to be retaken?”
“Yes, Madame. But—”
“Always but; wait a moment. You can reply when I have concluded.”
Monsieur de Charny bowed.
“I therefore estimate,” continued the queen, “the two fifteenths of Paris at one hundred thousand men; is that sufficient?”
This time the count did not answer. The queen rejoined:—
“Well, then! to these hundred thousand men, badly armed, badly disciplined, and but little accustomed to battle, hesitating because they know they are doing wrong, I can oppose fifty thousand men, known throughout Europe for their bravery, with officers like you, Monsieur de Charny; besides that sacred cause which is denominated divine right, and in addition to all this, my own firm soul, which it is easy to move, but difficult to break.”