marie antoinette and her son-第12章

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views　are　different　from　his；　and　that；　through　the　influence　which
you　have　gained　over　the　heart　of　the　king；　his　aunts　are　driven
into　the　background。　Your　majesty　is　an　Austrian；　a　friend　of　the
Duke　de　Choiseul。　That　is　your　whole　offence。　Now　you　would　not　be
less　blameworthy　in　the　eyes　of　these　enemies　were　you　to　live　in
exact　conformity　with　the　etiquette　books　of　the　Queen　of　France；
covered　with　the　dust　of　a　hundred　years。　Your　majesty　would
therefore　do　yourself　and　the　whole　court　an　injury　were　you　to
allow　your　youth；　your　beauty；　and　your　innocence；　to　be　subjected
to　these　old　laws。　It　were　folly　to　condemn　yourself　to　ennui　and
solitude。　Does　not　the　Queen　of　France　enjoy　a　right　which　the
meanest　of　her　subjects　possesses；　of　collecting　her　own　chosen
friends　around　her　and　taking　her　pleasure　with　them。　We　live；　I
know；　in　an　age　of　reckless　acts；　but　may　there　not　be　some
recklessness　in　dealing　with　the　follies　of　etiquette？　They　bring　it
as　a　charge　against　your　majesty　that　you　adjure　the　great　court
circles；　and　the　stiff　set　with　which　the　royal　family　of　France
used　to　martyr　itself。　They　say　that　by　giving　up　ceremony　you　are
undermining　the　respect　which　the　people　ought　to　cherish　toward
royalty。　But　would　it　not　be　laughable　to　think　that　the　obedience
of　the　people　depends　upon　the　number　of　the　hours　which　a　royal
family　may　spend　in　the　society　of　tedious　and　wearisome　courtiers？
No；　my　queen；　do　not　listen　to　the　hiss　of　the　hostile　serpents
which　surround　you。　Go；　courageously；　your　own　waythe　way　of
innocence；　guilelessness；　and　love。〃

〃I　thank　youoh；　I　thank　you！〃　cried　Marie　Antoinette。　〃You　have
lifted　heavy　doubts　from　my　heart　and　strengthened　my　courage。　I
thank　you！〃

And；　with　beaming　eyes　and　a　sweet　smile；　she　extended　both　her
hands　to　the　baron。

He　pressed　them　tightly　within　his　own；　and；　sinking　upon　his　knee；
drew　the　royal　hands　with　a　glow　to　his　lips。

〃Oh；　my　queen；　my　mistress！〃　he　cried；　passionately；　〃behold　at　your
feet　your　most　faithful　servant；　your　most　devoted　slave。　Receive
from　me　the　oath　of　my　eternal　devotion　and　love。　You　have　honored
me　with　your　confidence；　you　have　called　me　your　friend。　But　my　soul
and　my　heart　glow　for　another　name。　Speak　the　word；　Marie
Antoinette；　the　word〃

The　queen　drew　back；　and　the　paleness　of　death　spread　over　her
cheeks。　She　had　at　the　outset　listened　with　amazement；　then　with
horror　and　indignation；　to　the　insolent　words　of　the　baron；　and
gradually　her　gentle　features　assumed　a　fierce　and　disdainful
expression。

〃My　lord；〃　she　said；　with　the　noble　dignity　of　a　queen；　〃I　told　you
before　that　God　is　above　us；　and　hears　our　words。　You　have　spoken；
wantonly；　and　God　has　heard　you。　To　Him　I　leave　the　punishment　of
your　wantonness。　Stand　up；　my　lord！　the　king　shall　know　nothing　of
an　insult　which　would　have　brought　you　into　ignominy　with　him
forever。　But　if　you　ever；　by　a　glance　or　a　gesture；　recall　this　both
wanton　and　ridiculous　scene；　the　king　shall　hear　all　from　me！〃

And　while　the　queen　pointed；　with　a　proud　and　dignified　gesture；　to
the　place　which　was　their　goal；　she　said；　with　commanding　tone：

〃Go　before；　my　lord；　I　will　follow　you　alone。〃　The　Baron　de
Besenval；　the　experienced　courtier；　the　practised　man　of　the　world；
was　undergoing　what　was　new　to　him；　he　felt　himself　perplexed；
ashamed；　and　no　longer　master　of　his　words。　He　had　risen　from　his
knees；　and；　after　making　a　stiff　obeisance　to　the　queen；　he　turned
and　went　with　a　swift　step　and　crestfallen　look　along　the　path　which
the　queen　had　indicated。

Marie　Antoinette　followed　him　with　her　eyes　so　long　as　he　remained
in　sight；　then　looked　with　a　long；　sad　glance　around　her。

〃And　so　I　am　alone　again；〃　she　whispered；　〃and　poorer　by　one
illusion　more。　Ah；　and　is　it　then　true　that　there　is　no　friendship
for　me；　must　every　friend　be　an　envier　or　else　a　lover？　Even　this
man；　whom　I　honored　with　my　confidence；　toward　whom　I　cherished　the
feeling　of　a　pupil　toward　a　teacher；　even　this　man　has　dared　to
insult　me！　Ah；　must　my　heart　encounter　a　new　wonder　every　day；　and
must　my　happiness　be　purchased　with　so　many　pains？〃

And　with　a　deep　cry　of　pain　the　queen　drew　her　hands　to　her　face；
and　wept　bitterly。　All　around　was　still。　Only　here　and　there　were
heard　the　songs　of　the　birds　in　the　bushes；　light　and　dreamy；　while
the　trees；　swayed　by　the　wind；　gently　whispered；　as　if　they　wanted
to　quiet　the　grief　of　the　queen；　and　dry　up　those　tears　which　fell
upon　the　flowers。

All　at　once；　after　a　short　pause；　the　queen　let　her　hands　fall
again；　and　raised　her　head　with　proud　and　defiant　energy。

〃Away　with　tears！〃　she　said。　〃What　would　my　friends　say　were　they　to
see　me？　What　buzzing　and　whispering　would　there　be；　were　they　to　see
that　the　gentle　queen；　the　always　happy　and　careless　Marie
Antoinette；　had　shed　tears？　Oh；　my　God！〃　she　cried；　raising　her
large　eyes　to　heaven；　〃I　have　today　paid　interest　enough　for　my
happiness；　preserve　for　me　at　least　the　capital；　and　I　will
cheerfully　pay　the　world　the　highest　rates；　such　as　only　a　miserly
usurer　can　desire。〃

And　with　a　proud　spirit；　and　a　lofty　carriage；　the　queen　strode
forward　along　the　path。　The　bushes　began　to　let　the　light　through；
and　the　queen　emerged　from　the　English　garden　into　the　small　plain；
in　whose　midst　Marie　Antoinette　had　erected　her　Arcadia；　her　dream
of　paradise。　The　queen　stood　still；　and　with　a　countenance　which
quickly　kindled　with　joy；　and　with　eyes　which　beamed　with　pleasure；
looked　at　the　lovely　view　which　had　been　called　into　being　by　the
skill　of　her　architect；　Hubert　Robert。

And　the　queen　might　well　rejoice　in　this　creation；　this　poetic　idyl；
which　arose　out　of　the　splendor　of　palaces　like　a　violet　in　the
sand；　and　among　the　variegated　tropical　flowers　which　adorn　the
table　of　a　king。　Closely　adjoining　each　other　were　little　houses
like　those　in　which　peasants　live；　the　peasant　women　being　the　proud
ladies　of　the　royal　court。　A　little　brook　babbled　behind　the　houses；
and　turned　with　its　foaming　torrent　the　white　wheel　of　the　mill
which　was　at　the　extremity　of　the　village。　Near　the　mill；　farther
on；　stood　entirely　alone　a　little　peasant's　house；　especially
tasteful　and　elegant。　It　was　surrounded　by　flower　beds；　vineyards；
and　laurel　paths。　The　roof　was　covered　with　straw；　the　little　panes
were　held　by　leads　to　the　sashes。　It　was　the　home　of　Marie
Antoinette。　The　queen　herself　made　the　drawings；　and　wrought　out　the
plan。　It　was　her　choice　that　it　should　be　small；　simple；　and　modest；
that　it　should　have　not　the　slightest　appearance　of　newness；　and
that　rents　and　fissures　should　be　represented　on　the　wall　by
artificial　contrivances；　so　as　to　give　the　house　an　old　look；　and　an
appearance　of　having　been　injured。　She　had　little　thought　how
speedily　time　could　demolish　the　simple　pastimes　of　a　queen。　Close
by　stood　a　still　smaller　house；　known　as　the　milk　room。　It　was　close
to　the　brook。　And　when　Marie　Antoinette；　with　her　peasant　women；　had
milked　the　cows；　they　bore　the　milk　through　the　village　in　white
buckets；　with　silver　handles；　to　the　milk　room；　where　it　was　poured
out　into　pretty；　white　pans　standing　on　tables　of　white　marble。　On
the　other　side　of　the　road　was　the　house　of　the　chief　magistrate　of
the　village；　and　close　by　lived　the　schoolmaster。

Marie　Antoinette　had　had　a　care　for　everything。　There　were　bins　to
preserve　the　new　crops　in；　and　before　the　hay　scaffoldings　were
ladders　leading　up　to　the　fragrant　hay。　〃Ah；　the　world　is
beautiful；〃　said　Marie　Antoinette；　surveying　her　creation　with　a
cheerful　look。　〃I　will　enjoy　the　pleasant　hours；　and　be　happy　here。〃

She　walked　rapidly　forward；　casting　friendly　glances　up　to　the
houses　to　see　whether　the　peasants　had　not　hid　them…selves　within；
and　were　waiting　for　her。　But　all　was　still；　and　not　one　of　the
inhabitants　peeped　out　from　a　single　window。　All　at　once　the
stillness　was　broken　by　a　loud　clattering　sound。　The　white　wheel　of
the　mill　began　to　turn；　and　at　the　door　appeared　the　corpulent　form
of　the　miller　in　his　white　garments；　with　his　smiling；　meal　powdered
face；　and　with　the　white　cap　upon　his　head。

The　qu