Part 20 (1/2)

Some of the deputies cried, ”Long live the king!” but their words died away without finding any echo. Not a single voice was raised in honor of the queen! But outside, on the square, there were confused shouts; the crowd of people pressed hard up to the door, and called for the queen. They had seen the deputies as they entered the hall; they had seen the king as he had attended divine service at the church of St. Louis. Now the people were curious to see the queen!

A joyful look pa.s.sed over the face of the queen as she heard those cries. For a long time she had not heard such acclaims. Since the unfortunate 1786, since the necklace trial, they had become more rare; at last, they had ceased altogether, and at times the queen, when she appeared in public, was hailed with loud hisses and angry murmurs.

”The queen! The queen!” sounded louder and louder in the great square. Marie Antoinette obeyed the cry, entered the great hall, had the doors opened which led to the balcony, went out and showed herself to the people, and greeted them with friendly smiles.

But, instead of the shouts of applause which she had expected, the crowd relapsed at once into a gloomy silence. Not a hand was raised to greet her, not a mouth was opened to cry ”Long live the queen!”

Soon, however, there was heard a harsh woman's voice shouting, ”Long live the Duke d'Orleans! Long life to the friend of the people!”

The queen, pale and trembling, reeled back from the balcony, and sank almost in a swoon into the arms of the d.u.c.h.ess de Polignac, who was behind her. Her eyes were closed, and a convulsive spasm shook her breast.

Through the opened doors of the balcony the shouts of the people could be heard all the time, ”Long live the Duke d'Orleans!”

The queen, still in her swoon, was carried into her apartments and laid upon her bed; only Madame de Campan remained in front of it to watch the queen, who, it was supposed, had fallen asleep.

A deep silence prevailed in the room, and the stillness awoke Marie Antoinette from her half insensibility. She opened her eyes, and seeing Campan kneeling before her bed, she threw her arms around the faithful friend, and with gasping breath bowed her head upon her shoulder.

”Oh, Campan,” she cried, with loud, choking voice, ”ruin is upon me!

I am undone! All my happiness is over, and soon my life will be over too! I have to-day tasted of the bitterness of death! We shall never be happy more, for destruction hangs over us, and our death-sentence is p.r.o.nounced!”

CHAPTER X.

THE INHERITANCE OF THE DAUPHIN.

For four weeks the National a.s.sembly met daily at Versailles; that is to say, for four weeks the political excitement grew greater day by day, the struggle of the parties more p.r.o.nounced and fierce, only with this qualification, that the party which attacked the queen was stronger than that which defended her. Or rather, to express the exact truth, there was no party for Marie Antoinette; there were only here and there devoted friends, who dared to encounter the odium which their position called down upon them--dared face the calumnies which were set in circulation by the other parties: that of the people, the democrats; that of Orleans; that of the princes and princesses of the royal family. All these united their forces in order to attack the ”Austrian,” to obscure the last gleams of the love and respect which were paid to her in happier days.

When Mirabeau made the proposition in the National a.s.sembly that the person of the king should be declared inviolable, there arose from all these four hundred representatives of the French nation only one man who dared to declare with a loud voice and with defiant face, ”The persons of the king and queen shall be declared inviolable!”

This was Toulan, the ”soldier of the queen.” But the a.s.sembly replied to this demand only with loud murmurs, and scornful laughter; not a voice was raised in support of this last cry in favor of the queen, and the a.s.sembly decreed only this: ”The person of the king is inviolable.”

”That means,” said the queen to the police minister Brienne, who brought the queen every morning tidings of what had occurred at Paris and Versailles, ”that means that my death-warrant was signed yesterday.”

”Your majesty goes too far!” cried the minister in horror, ”I think that this has an entirely different meaning. The National a.s.sembly has not p.r.o.nounced the person of the queen inviolable, because they want to say that the queen has nothing to do with politics, and therefore it is unnecessary to pa.s.s judgment upon the inviolability of the queen.”

”Ah!” sighed the queen, ”I should have been happy if I had not been compelled to trouble myself with these dreadful politics. It certainly was not in my wish nor in my character. My enemies have compelled me to it; it is they who have turned the simple, artless queen into an intriguer.”

”Ah! madam!” said the minister, astonished, ”you use there too harsh a word; you speak as if they belonged to your enemies.”

”No, I use the right word,” cried Marie Antoinette, sadly. ”My enemies have made an intriguer of me. Every woman who goes beyond her knowledge and the bounds of her duty in meddling with politics is nothing better than an intriguer. You see at least that I do not flatter myself, although it troubles me to have to give myself so bad a name. The Queens of France are happy only when they have nothing to trouble themselves about, and reserve only influence enough to give pleasure to their friends, and reward their faithful servants. Do you know what recently happened to me?” continued the queen, with a sad smile. ”As I was going into the privy council chamber to have a consultation with the king, I heard, while pa.s.sing OEil de Boeuf, one of the musicians saying so loud that I had to listen to every word, 'A queen who does her duty stays in her own room and busies herself with her sewing and knitting.' I said within myself, 'Poor fellow, you are right, but you don't know my unhappy condition; I yield only to necessity, and my bad luck urges me forward.” [Footnote: The queen's own words.--See ”Memoires de Madame de Campan,” vol ii., p. 32.]

”Ah! madame,” said the minister with a sigh, ”would that they who accuse you of mingling in politics out of ambition and love of power--would that they could hear your majesty complain of yourself in these moving words!”

”My friend,” said Marie Antoinette, with a sad smile, ”if they heard it they would say that it was only something learned by heart, with which I was trying to disarm the righteous anger of my enemies. It is in vain to want to excuse or justify myself, for no one will hear a word. I must be guilty, I must be criminal, that they who accuse me may appear to have done right; that they may ascend while they pull me down. But let us not speak more of this! I know my future, I feel it clear and plain in my mind and in my soul that I am lost, but I will at least fight courageously and zealously till the last moment; and, if I must go down, it shall be at least with honor, true to myself and true to the views and opinions in which I have been trained. Now, go on; let me know the new libels and accusations which have been disseminated about me.” The minister drew from his portfolio a whole package of pamphlets, and spread them upon a little table before the queen.

”So much at once!” said the queen, sadly, turning over the papers.

”How much trouble I make to my enemies, and how much they must hate me that I have such tenacity of life! Here is a pamphlet ent.i.tled 'Good advice to Madame Deficit to leave France as soon as possible.'

'Madame Deficit!' that means me, doesn't it?”