“Madame,” said Gilbert, watching the feverish emotions of the queen, “be not so hasty in accusing, and especially in threatening. Certainly I should have possessed myself of all your secrets; but be convinced that it would not have been on an occasion like this; it would not have been during an interview between the queen and her subject, between a woman and a stranger. No: I should have put the queen to sleep, it is true,—and nothing would have been easier,—but I should not have ventured to put her to sleep, I should not have allowed myself to speak to her, without having a witness.”
“A witness?”
“Yes, Madame, a witness who would faithfully note all your words, all your gestures, all the details, in short, of the scene which I should have brought about, in order that, after its termination, you could not doubt for a single moment longer.”
“A witness, sir!” repeated the queen, terrified; “and who would that witness have been? But consider it maturely, sir, your crime would then have been doubled, for in that case you would have had an accomplice.”
“And if this accomplice, Madame, had been none other than the king?” said Gilbert.
“The king!” exclaimed Marie Antoinette, with an expression of fear that betrayed the wife more energetically than the confession of the somnambulist could have done. “Oh, Monsieur Gilbert!—Monsieur Gilbert!”
“The king,” continued Gilbert, calmly,—” the king is your husband, your supporter, your natural defender. The king would have related to you, when you were awakened from your slumber, how respectful and proud I was in being able to prove my science to the most revered of sovereigns.”
And after having spoken these words, Gilbert allowed her Majesty sufficient time to meditate upon their importance.
The queen remained silent for several minutes, during which nothing was heard but the noise of her agitated breathing.
“Sir,” replied she, after this pause, “from all that you have now told me, you must be a mortal enemy—”
“Or a devoted friend, Madame?”
“It is impossible, sir; friendship cannot exist in unison with fear or mistrust.”
“The friendship, Madame, that exists between a subject and a queen cannot subsist except by the confidence which the subject may inspire her with. You will already have said to yourself that he is not an enemy whom, after the first word, we can deprive of the means of doing harm, especially when he is the first to denounce the use of his weapons.”
“May I believe, sir, what you have been saying?” said the queen, looking thoughtfully at Gilbert.
“Why should you not believe me, Madame, when you have every proof of my sincerity?”
“Men change, sir,—men change.”
“Madame, I have made the same vow that certain illustrious warriors made, before starting on an expedition, as to the use of certain weapons in which they were skilled. I shall never make use of my advantages but to repel the wrong that others may attempt to do me. Not for offence, but for defence. That is my motto.”
“Alas!” said the queen, feeling humbled.
“I understand you, Madame. You suffer because you see your soul in the hands of a physician,—you who rebelled at times against the idea of abandoning the care of your body to him. Take courage; be confident. He wishes to advise you well who has this day given you proof of such forbearance as that you have received from me. I desire to love you, Madame; I desire that you should be beloved by all. The ideas I have already submitted to the king I will discuss with you.”
“Doctor, take care!” exclaimed the queen, gravely. “You caught me in your snare; after having terrified the woman, you think to control the queen.”
“No, Madame,” answered Gilbert, “I am not a contemptible speculator. I have ideas of my own, and I can conceive that you have yours. I must from this very moment repel this accusation—one that you would forever make against me—that I had intimidated you in order to subjugate your reason. I will say more, that you are the first woman in whom I have found united all the passions of a woman and all the commanding qualities of a man. You may be at the same time a woman and a friend. All humanity might be concentred in you, were it necessary. I admire you, and I will serve you. I will serve you without any remuneration from you, merely for the sake of studying you, Madame. I will do still more for your service. In case I should seem to be a too inconvenient piece of palace furniture, or if the impression made by the scene of to-day should not be effaced from your memory, I shall ask you, I shall pray you, to dismiss me.”