Part 4 (2/2)
But she, she never thought of there being any thing improper in the run; she looked forward to the goal with laughing glances, as the white house emerged more and more from the verdure by which it was surrounded, and then sideways at her friend, who had not been able to gain a single step upon her.
”Forward, forward!” shouted the queen; ”I will and I must win, for the prize is a kiss from my Julia.” And with renewed speed the queen dashed along. The lane opened and terminated in a square in front of the palace. The queen stopped in her course, and turned round to see her friend, who had been left far behind her.
As soon as the d.u.c.h.ess saw it she tried to quicken her steps, and began to run again, but Marie Antoinette motioned with her hand, and went rapidly back to meet her.
”You shall not make any more effort, Julia,” said she. ”I have won, and you cannot bring my victory into question.”
”And I do not wish to,” answered the d.u.c.h.ess, with a merry look of defiance on her gentle features. ”I really did not wish to win, for it would have seemed as if I had to win what I want on the turn of a merry game. You have done wrong, Marie Antoinette. You want me to forget here in Trianon that you are the Queen of France. But you yourself do not forget it. Only the queen can propose such a prize as you have set, and only the queen can ask so insignificant a boon on the other side. You have made it impossible for me to win, for you know well that I am not selfish.”
”I know it, and that is just the reason why I love you so dearly, Julia. I have done wrong,” she went on to say with her gentle, sweet voice. ”I see it, and I beg your forgiveness. Give me now as a proof that you do forgive me, give me the prize which I have won--a kiss, Julia, a kiss.”
”Not here,” answered the d.u.c.h.ess. ”O, no, not here, Marie. Do not you see that the doors of the saloons are open, and that your company are all a.s.sembled. They would all envy me; they would all be jealous if they were to see the preference which you show for me.”
”Let them be jealous, let them envy you,” cried the queen; ”the whole world shall know that Julia de Polignac is my best-loved friend, that next to husband and children, I love no one so well as her.”
With gentle violence the queen threw both her arms around the neck of the d.u.c.h.ess, and kissed her pa.s.sionately.
”Did you notice,” said the Baron de Besenval to Lord Adhemar, with whom he was playing a game of backgammon in the saloon, ”did you notice the tableau that the queen is presenting, taking for her theme a group representing Friends.h.i.+p?”
”I wish it were in my power to reproduce this wonderful group in marble,” answered Lord Adhemar, laughing. ”It would be a companion piece to Orestes and Pylades.”
”But which,” asked the d.u.c.h.ess de Guemene, looking up from her embroidery, ”which would be the companion of Orestes, pursued of Furies, surrounded by serpents?”
”That is the queen,” answered the Count de Vaudreuil, who was sitting at the piano and practising a new piece of music. ”The queen is the womanly Orestes: the Furies are the three royal aunts; and the serpents--pardon me, ladies--are, with the exception of yourselves, most all the ladies of Paris.”
”You are malicious, count,” cried Madame de Morsan, ”and were we by any chance not here, you would reckon us among the serpents.”
”If I should do so,” said Count Vaudreuil, laughing, ”I should only wish to take the apple from you, in order to be driven out of paradise with you. But still! the queen is coming.”
Yes, just then the queen entered the apartment. Her cheeks were glowing red by reason of her run, her bosom heaved violently with her hurried, agitated breathing. Her hat had fallen upon one side, and the dark blond hair was thrown about in wild confusion.
It was not the queen who entered the saloon, it was only Marie Antoinette, the simple, young woman, greeting her friends with brilliant glances and lively nods. It had been made a rule with her, that when she entered, no one should rise, nor leave the embroidery, or piano-playing, or any other occupation.
The women remained at their work, Lords Besenval and Adhemar went on playing their game of backgammon, and only the Count de Vaudreuil rose from his place at the approach of the queen.
”What have you been playing, count?” asked Marie Antoinette. ”I beg your pardon, if I leave your question unanswered,” replied the count, with a gentle inclination of the head. ”Your majesty has such a fine ear, that you must doubtless recognize the composer in the music. It is an entirely new composition, and I have taken the license of arranging it for four hands. If your majesty would perhaps be inclined-”
”Come,” interrupted the queen, ”let us try it at once.”
Quickly, and with feverish impatience, she drew her black netted gloves from her delicate white hands, and at once took her place next to the count, on the seat already prepared for her.
”Will not the music be too difficult for me to play?” asked she, timidly.
”Nothing is too difficult for the Queen of France.”
”But there is a great deal that is too difficult for the dilettante, Marie Antoinette,” sighed the queen. ”Meanwhile, we will begin and try it.”
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