“I am aware to whom I am speaking; Madame; of this you may be fully persuaded,” replied Gilbert.
“Show more respect then, sir, or more adroitness; consider your past life; search the depths of that conscience which men who have studied everywhere must possess in common with the rest of mankind, notwithstanding their genius and their wisdom; recall to your mind all that you may have conceived that was vile, hurtful, and criminal,—all the cruelties, the deeds, the crimes even, you have committed. Do not interrupt me; and when you have summed up all your misdeeds, learned doctor, you will bow down your head, and become more humble. Do not approach the dwelling of kings with such insolent pride, who, until there is a new order of things, were established by Heaven to penetrate the souls of criminals, to examine the folds of the human conscience, and to inflict chastisement upon the guilty, without pity and without appeal.
“That, sir,” continued the queen, “is what you ought to do. You will be thought the better of, on, account of your repentance. Believe me, the best mode of healing a soul so diseased as yours, would be to live in solitude, far from the grandeurs which give men false ideas of their own worth. I would advise you, therefore, not to approach the court, and to abandon the idea of attending the king during sickness. You have a cure to accomplish, for which God will esteem you more than for any other,—the cure of yourself. Antiquity had a proverb, which expressed the following maxim, sir: Medice, cura teipsum.”
Gilbert, instead of being irritated at this proposal, which the queen considered as the most disagreeable of conclusions, replied with gentleness:—
“Madame, I have already done all that your Majesty advises.”
“And what have you done, sir?”
“I have meditated.”
“Upon yourself?”
“Yes, upon myself, Madame.”
“And in regard to your conscience?”
“Especially on the subject of my conscience, Madame.”
“Do you think, then, I am sufficiently well informed of what you saw in it?”
“I do not know what your Majesty means by those words, but I think I can discover their meaning, which is, ‘how many times a man of my age must have offended God!'”
“Really—you speak of God?”
“Yes.”
“You?”
“Why not?”
“A philosopher,—do philosophers believe in the existence of a God?”
“I speak of God, and I believe in him.”
“And you are still determined not to withdraw from court?”
“No, Madame, I remain.”
“Monsieur Gilbert, take heed.”
And the queen’s countenance assumed a threatening expression, which it would be impossible to describe.
“Oh, I have reflected much upon the subject, Madame, and my reflections have led me to know that I am not less worthy than another; every one has his faults. I learned this axiom not by pondering over books, but by searching the consciences of others.”
“You are universal and infallible, are you not?” said the queen, ironically.
“Alas, Madame, if I am not universal, if I am not infallible, I am nevertheless very learned in human misery, well versed in the greatest sorrows of the mind. And this is so true, that I could tell, by merely seeing the livid circle round your wearied eyes, by merely seeing the line which extends from one eyebrow to the other, by merely seeing at the corners of your mouth a contraction which is called by the prosaic name of wrinkle,—I can tell you, Madame, how many severe trials you have undergone, how many times your heart has palpitated with anguish, to how many secret dreams of joy your heart has abandoned itself, to discover its error on awaking.
“I will tell you all that, Madame, when you shall desire it; I will tell it you, for I am sure of not being contradicted. I will tell it you, by merely fastening upon you a gaze which can read and wishes to read your mind; and when you have felt the power of that gaze, when you have felt the weight of this curiosity sounding to your inmost soul, like the sea that feels the weight of the lead that plunges into its depths, then you will understand that I am able to do much, Madame, and that if I pause awhile, you should be grateful to me for it, instead of provoking me on to war.”