“Honest men?”
“Undoubtedly; I have seen this very day an honest man who was incarcerated there, and who only got out a very short time since.”
“When was that?”
“This morning.”
“You have this evening seen a man who got out of the
Bastille this morning?”
“I have just parted with him.”
“Who is it?”
“Faith, one of your acquaintance.”
“Of my acquaintance!”
“Yes.”
“Might I ask his name?”
“Doctor Gilbert.”
“Gilbert! Gilbert!” exclaimed the queen. “What! he whom Andrée named on returning to her senses?”
“Precisely so; it must have been he; I could swear to it.”
“Was that man in the Bastille?”
“Faith, Madame, one would suppose that you were ignorant of the fact.”
“I am entirely ignorant of it.”
And, perceiving that the king looked astonished:—
“Unless,” continued the queen, “for some reason I may have forgotten it.”
“Ah! there,” exclaimed the king, “for these acts of injustice there is always a reason which one forgets. But though you may have forgotten both the reason and the doctor, Madame de Charny has forgotten neither, I will answer for it.”
“Sire! Sire!” exclaimed Marie Antoinette.
“There must have been something between them,” the king continued.
“Sire, please to refrain!” said the queen, looking anxiously towards the boudoir, where Andrée was concealed, and could hear all that was said.
“Oh, yes!” said the king, laughing; “you fear that De Charny may chance to learn. Poor De Charny!”
“Sire, I entreat you; Madame de Charny is one of the purest of women, and I should rather believe, I assure you, that this Doctor Gilbert—”
“Pshaw!” interrupted the king, “do you accuse that honest fellow? I know what I know; and the worst of it is that, knowing so much, I do not yet know all.”
“Really, I am horrified that you should persist in entertaining such suspicions,” said the queen, without removing her eyes from the cabinet.
“Oh,” continued Louis, “I am in no hurry; I shall lose nothing by waiting a little. The beginning promises me an interesting conclusion, and I can learn the conclusion from Gilbert himself, he being now my doctor.”
“Your doctor! that fellow your doctor! You can trust the life of the king to a stranger!”
“Oh,” replied the king, coolly, “I have confidence in my first impressions, and I needed only a glance to read that man’s inmost soul.”
The queen uttered a groan, from mingled anger and disdain.
“You can sneer at me as you will,” said the king, “but you can never shake my confidence in the learning and science of Doctor Gilbert.”
“Infatuation!”
“I should like to see you in my place. I should like to know if Monsieur Mesmer was not able to make some impression on you and Madame de Lamballe.”
“Monsieur Mesmer?” asked the queen, blushing.
“Yes; four years ago you went disguised to one of his meetings. Oh, my police are drilled thoroughly. You see I know all.”
And the king, while uttering these words, smiled kindly on Marie Antoinette.
“You know all, Sire,” answered the queen; “and you are a good dissembler, for you have never once spoken to me on the subject.”
“Why should I have done so? I am sure the novelists and newspaper reporters abused you sufficiently on that score. But to return to Gilbert and at the same time to Mesmer. Monsieur Mesmer placed you round a vat, touched you with a steel rod, surrounded himself with a thousand phantasmagories, like the quack that he was. Gilbert uses no such illusions; he extends his hand over a woman; she sleeps, and sleeping, talks.”
“Talks!” muttered the queen, terrified.
“Yes,” replied the king, not unwilling to prolong somewhat his wife’s little nervousness; “yes, put to sleep by Gilbert, she talks, and, believe me, says very strange things.”
The queen grew pale.
“Madame de Charny may have said very strange things!” she muttered.
“Most strange,” said the king. “It was very fortunate for her—”
“Hush! hush!” interrupted Marie Antoinette.
“Why hush? I say that it was very fortunate for her that I alone heard what she said in her sleep.”
“Oh, for pity’s sake, Sire, say not a word more!”
“Indeed, I had much rather talk no more. I feel ready to drop with weariness; and as I eat when I am hungry, so do I go to bed when I am sleepy. So good-night, Madame, and may our conversation leave upon you a salutary impression.”