This language, supported by a terrible fixity of the will of provocation, exercised by the man upon the woman, this contempt for all etiquette in presence of the queen, produced an unspeakable effect upon Marie Antoinette.
She felt as if a mist were overshadowing her brow, and sending an icy chill through her ideas: she felt her hatred turning into fear; and letting her hands fall heavily by her side, retreated a step to avoid the approach of the unknown danger.
“And now, Madame,” said Gilbert, who clearly perceived all that was passing in her mind, “do you understand that it would be very easy for me to discover that which you conceal from everybody, and that which you conceal even from yourself; do you understand that it would be easy for me to stretch you on that chair, which your fingers are now instinctively seeking as a support?”
“Ah!” exclaimed the queen, who was terrified, for she felt an unknown chill invading even her heart.
“Were I but to utter to myself a word which I will not utter,” continued Gilbert, “were I but to summon up my will, which I renounce, you would fall as if thunder-stricken into my power. You doubt what I am telling you, Madame. Oh, do not doubt it; you might perhaps tempt me once,—and if once you tempted me! But no, you do not doubt it, do you?”
The queen, almost on the point of falling, exhausted, oppressed, and completely lost, grasped the back of her arm-chair with all the energy of despair and the rage of useless resistance.
“Oh,” continued Gilbert, “mark this well, Madame: it is that if I were not the most respectful, the most devoted, the most humble of your subjects, I should convince you by a terrible experiment. Oh, you need fear nothing. I prostrate myself humbly before the woman rather than before-the queen. I tremble at the idea of entertaining any project which might, even in the slightest way, inquire into your thoughts; I would rather kill myself than disturb your soul.”
“Sir! sir!” exclaimed the queen, striking the air with her arms, as if to repel Gilbert, who was standing more than three paces from her.
“And still,” continued Gilbert, “you caused me to be thrown into the Bastille. You only regret that it is taken, because the people, by taking it, reopened its gates for me. There is hatred visible in your eyes towards a man against whom personally you can have no cause of reproach. And see, now, I feel that since I have lessened the influence by means of which I have controlled you, you are perhaps resuming your doubts with your returning respiration.”
In fact, since Gilbert had ceased to control her with his eyes and gestures, Marie Antoinette had reassumed her threatening attitude, like the bird which, being freed from the suffocating influence of the air-pump, endeavors to regain its song and its power of wing.
“Ah! you still doubt; you are ironical; you despise my warnings. Well, then, do you wish me to tell you, Madame, a terrible idea that has just crossed my mind This is what I was on the point of doing. Madame, I was just about to compel you to reveal to me your most intimate troubles, your most hidden secrets. I thought of compelling you to write them down on the table which you touch at this moment, and afterwards, when you had awakened and come to your senses again, I should have convinced you by your own writing of the existence of that power which you seem to contest; and also how real is the forbearance, and shall I say it,—yes, I will say it,—the generosity of the man whom you have just insulted, whom you have insulted for a whole hour, without his having for a single instant given you either a reason or a pretext for so doing.”
“Compel me to sleep!—compel me to speak in my sleep!—me!—me!” exclaimed the queen, turning quite pale: “would you have dared to do it, sir? But do you know what that is? Do you know the grave nature of the threat you make? Why, it is the crime of high treason, sir. Consider it well. It is a crime which, after awakening from my sleep, I should have punished with death.”