Ange Pitou by Alexandre Dumas part two

“I was waiting for the doctor,” replied the king, looking gloomy, “to speak on politics with him.”

“Ah! very well,” said the queen.

And she seated herself as if to listen.

“Come, Doctor,” rejoined the king, taking a step towards the door.

Gilbert made a profound bow to the queen, and was about to follow Louis XVI.

“Where are you going?” exclaimed the queen. “What! are you going to leave me?”

“We are not going to talk on gay subjects, Madame. It would be as well for us to spare you so much care.”

“Do you call my sorrow care?” exclaimed the queen, majestically.

“A still better reason for doing so, my dear.”

“Remain here; I wish it,” said she. “Monsieur Gilbert, I imagine you will not disobey me.”

“Monsieur Gilbert I Monsieur Gilbert!” exclaimed the king, much vexed.

“Well, then, what is the matter?”

“Why, Monsieur Gilbert, who was to give me some advice, who was to talk freely to me according to his conscience,—Monsieur Gilbert will now no longer do so.”

“And why not?” exclaimed the queen.

“Because you will be present, Madame.”

Gilbert made a sort of gesture, to which the queen immediately attributed some important meaning.

“In what manner,” said she, to second it, “will Monsieur Gilbert risk displeasing me, if he speaks according to his conscience?”

“It is easily understood, Madame,” said the king. “You have a political system of your own. It is not always ours; so that—”

“So that Monsieur Gilbert, you clearly say, differs essentially from me in my line of politics.”

“That must be the case, Madame,” replied Gilbert, “judging from the ideas which your Majesty knows me to entertain. Only your Majesty may rest assured that I shall tell the truth as freely in your presence as to the king alone.”

“Ah! that is already something,” exclaimed Marie Antoinette.

“The truth is not always agreeable,” hastily murmured Louis XVI.

“But if it is useful?” observed Gilbert.

“Or even uttered with good intention,” added the queen.

“In that view of the case, I agree with you,” interposed Louis XVI. “But if you were wise, Madame, you would leave the doctor entire freedom of speech, and which I need—”

“Sire,” replied’ Gilbert, “since the queen herself calls for the truth, and as I know her Majesty’s mind is sufficiently noble and powerful not to fear it, I prefer to speak in presence of both my sovereigns.”

“Sire,” said the queen, “I request it.”

“I have full faith in your Majesty’s good sense,” said Gilbert, bowing to the queen. “The subject is the happiness and glory of his Majesty the king.”

“You are right to put faith in me,” said the queen. “Begin, sir.”

“All this is very well,” continued the king, who was growing obstinate, according to his custom; “but, in short, the question is a delicate one; and I know well that, as to myself, you will greatly embarrass me by being present.”

The queen could not withhold a gesture of impatience. She rose, then seated herself again, and darted a penetrating and cold look at the doctor, as if to divine his thoughts.

Louis XVI., seeing that there was no longer any means of escaping the ordinary and extraordinary inquisitorial question, seated himself in his arm-chair, opposite Gilbert, and heaved a deep sigh.

“What is the point in question?” asked the queen, as soon as this singular species of council had been thus constituted and installed.

Gilbert looked at the king once more, as if to ask him for his authority to speak openly.

“Speak! Good Heavens, go on, sir, since the queen desires it.”

“Well, then, Madame,” said the doctor, “I will inform your Majesty in a few words of the object of my early visit to Versailles. I came to advise his Majesty to proceed to Paris.”

Had a spark fallen among the eight thousand pounds of gunpowder at the Hôtel de Ville, it could not have produced the explosion which those words caused in the queen’s heart.

“The king proceed to Paris! The king!—ah!” and she uttered a cry of horror that made Louis XVI. tremble.

“There!” exclaimed the king, looking at Gilbert; “what did I tell you, Doctor?”

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