The queen raised her head, her hands convulsively clinched, and her face burning with shame and anger.
“Oh, let me fall from my throne,” said she, “let me be torn to pieces by your five hundred thousand Parisians, but do not suffer me to hear a Charny, a man devoted to me, speak to me thus.”
“If he speaks to you thus, Madame, it is because it is necessary; for this Charny has not in his veins a single drop of blood that is unworthy of his ancestors, or that is not all your own.”
“Then let him march upon Paris with me, and there we will die together.”
“Ignominiously,” said the count, “without the possibility of a struggle. We shall not even fight; we shall disappear like the Philistines or the Amalekites. March upon Paris!—but you seem to be ignorant of a very important thing,—that at the moment we shall enter Paris, the houses will fall upon us as did the waves of the Red Sea upon Pharaoh; and you will leave in France a name which will be accursed, and your children will be killed like the cubs of a wolf”
“How then, should I fall, Count ” said the queen, with haughtiness; “teach me, I entreat you.”
“As a victim, Madame,” respectfully replied Monsieur de Charny; “as a queen, smiling and forgiving those who strike the fatal blow. Ah! if you had five hundred thousand men like me, I should say: “Let us set out on our march!—let us march to-night! let us march this very instant! And to-morrow you would reign at the Tuileries; to-morrow you would have reconquered your throne.”
“Oh,” exclaimed the queen, “even you have given way to despair,—you in whom I had founded all my hopes!”
“Yes, I despair, Madame; because all France thinks as Paris does; because your army, if it were victorious in Paris, would be swallowed up by Lyons, Rouen, Lille, Strasbourg, Nantes, and a hundred other devouring cities. Come, come, take courage, Madame; return your sword into its scabbard.”
“Ah! was it for this,” cried the queen, “that I have gathered around me so many brave men? Was it for this that. I have inspired them with so much courage?”
“If that is not your opinion, Madame, give your orders, and we will march upon Paris this very night. Say what is your pleasure.”
There was so much devotion in this offer of the count, that it intimidated the queen more than a refusal would have done. She threw herself in despair on a sofa, where she struggled for a considerable time with her haughty soul.
At length, raising her head:—
“Count,” said she, “do you desire me to remain inactive?”
“I have the honor to advise your Majesty to remain so.”
“It shall be so,—come back.”
“Alas! Madame, have I offended you?” said the count, looking at the queen with a sorrowful expression but in which beamed indescribable love.
“No—your hand.”
The count bowed gracefully, and gave his hand to the queen.
“I must scold you,” said Marie Antoinette, endeavoring to smile.
“For what reason, Madame?”
“How! you have a brother in the army, and I have only been accidentally informed of it.”
“I do not comprehend—”
“This evening, a young officer of the Hussars of
Bercheny—”
“Ah! my brother George!”
“Why have you never spoken to me of this young man? Why has he not a high rank in a regiment?”
“Because he is yet quite young and inexperienced; because he is not worthy of command as a chief officer; because, in fine, if your Majesty has condescended to look so low as upon me who am called Charny, to honor me with your friendship, it is not a reason that my relatives should be advanced, to the prejudice of a crowd of brave noblemen more deserving than my brothers.”
“Have you then still another brother?”
“Yes, Madame; and one who is as ready to die for your Majesty as the two others.”
“Does he not need anything?”
“Nothing, Madame. We have the happiness to have not only our lives, but also a fortune to lay at the feet of your Majesty.”
While he was pronouncing these last words,—the queen being much moved by a trait of such delicate probity, and he himself palpitating with affection caused by the gracious kindness of her Majesty,—they were suddenly disturbed in their conversation by a groan from the adjoining room.