Joseph II. and His Court Part 118

"It seems to me, madame, that you have no consent to ask save that of your own bright eyes. If they promise to remain open all night, you have no one to consult on the subject but yourself."

"I thank your majesty," said the queen. "And now, as none of the company were able to solve my riddle, all must prepare to sit up with me. May I hope, sire, that you will be magnanimous enough to relinquish the right you have earned to retire, and afford me the happiness of your presence also?"

Louis looked quite discomfited, and was about to stammer out some awkward reply, when the marshal of the household threw open the doors of the banquet-hall, and approaching the king, cried out, "Le roi est servi."

"Ah!" said he, much relieved, "let us refresh ourselves for the vigil."

Dinner over, the company promenaded in the gardens for an hour, and then returned to the drawing-room to await the compulsory privilege of seeing the sun rise. Marie Antoinette, with the impatience of a child, was continually going out upon the terrace to see how the night waned; but the moon was up, and the gardens of Marly were bathed in a silver lizht that was any thing but indicative of the dawn of day.

The scene was so calm and lovely, that the young queen returned to the drawing-room in search of the king, hoping to woo him to the enjoyment of the beautiful nature, which was elevating her thoughts far above the kingdoms of earth and peacefully leading her heart to Heaven. But the king was nowhere to be seen, and as she was seeking him first in one room, then in another, she met the Count de Provence.

"I am charged, madame," said he, "with an apology from the king. His majesty begs that you will pardon him for making use of his right to retire. He hopes that your majesty will not enjoy your night the less for his absence." [Footnote: Campan vol. i., p 38]

The queen colored to her brows, and her expressive face gave token of serious annoyance. She was about to dismiss the company, saying that she had changed her mind, but she remembered that by so doing she might become the subject of the ridicule of the court. Her pride whispered her to remain, and smothered her instinctive sense of propriety. She looked anxiously around for Madame de Noailles, but on the first occasion, when her advice might have been welcome, she was absent. She had been told that etiquette had nothing to do with the queen's party of pleasure, and she, like the king, had retired to rest.

Marie Antoinette then motioned to her first lady of honor, the Princess de Chimay, and requested her to say to Madame de Noailles that her presence would be required in the drawing-room at two o'clock, when the court would set out for the hill, from whence they would witness the dawn of the morrow.

"It is an unconscionable time coming," yawned the Countess de Provence.

"See, my dear sister, the hand of the clock points to midnight. What are we to do in the interim?" asked she, peevishly.

"Propose something to while away the time," said the queen, smiling.

"Let us depute D'Artois to do it. He is readier at such things than the rest of us," said the princess.

"Does your majesty second the proposal?" asked D'Artois.

"I do with all my heart."

"Then," said the thoughtless prince, "I propose that we play the most innocent and rollicking of games--blindman's buff." [Footnote: Campan, vol. i., p. 95.]

A shout of laughter, in which the young queen joined, was the response to this proposition.

"I was charged with the duty of relieving the tedium of the court,"

continued the prince gravely. "I once more propose the exciting game of blindman's buff." [Footnote: This game was frequently played in the courtly circles, and not only in aristocratic houses, but in all social gatherings. It became the fas.h.i.+on. Madame de Gonlis, who was fond of scourging the follies of her day, made this fas.h.i.+on the subject of one of her dramas.]

"We are bound to accede," replied the queen, forgetting her embarra.s.sment of the moment before. "Let us try to recall the happy days of our childhood. Let us play blindman's buff until the sun rises and transforms the children of the night once more into earnest and reasoning mortals."

CHAPTER CII.

THE FOLLOWING DAY.

The queen was alone in her cabinet, which she had not left since she had seen the sun rise. She had taken cold in the garden, and as a souvenir of the event, had carried home a fever and a cough. But it was not indisposition alone which blanched her cheeks. Something mightier than fever glowed in her flas.h.i.+ng eyes, something more painful than malady threw that deadly paleness over her sweet, innocent face. From time to time she glanced at a paper lying on the table before her, and every time her eye fell upon it her brow grow darker.

There was a knock at the door. She started, and murmuring--"The king!"--she flung her handkerchief over the papers, and throwing back her head, compelled herself to calmness; while her husband, lifting the silken portiere, advanced toward the table. She tried to rise, but Louis came hastily to prevent it, saying: "I come to make inquiries concerning your health; but if my presence is to disturb you, I shall retire."

"Remain, then, sire--I will not rise," said the queen, with a languid smile.

"Are you still suffering?" said Louis.

"Only from a cold, sire; it will pa.s.s away."

"A cold, for which you are indebted to the chill night-air. It would appear that the Queens of France, who lived and died without seeing the sun rise, were not so stupid, after all."

The queen gave a searching look at the king's face, and saw that it was disturbed.

"I went with your majesty's consent."

"I believe that I was wrong to give it," returned he, thoughtfully; "I should have remembered that for a hundred years past the court of France has been so corrupt that unhappily the French nation have lost all faith in chast.i.ty and purity of heart. You, madame, must teach them to distinguish the innocence which has nothing to conceal, from the depravity which has lost all shame. But we must be cautious, and so conduct ourselves, that our actions may be beyond misconstruction."

"Your majesty wishes me to infer that my harmless desire to behold one of the glorious works of my Maker, has been misinterpreted?" said the queen, opening her large eyes full upon her husband.

The king avoided her glance.

"No, no," said he, with embarra.s.sment. "I speak not of what has been, but of what might be."

"And this most innocent of wishes has inspired your majesty with these apprehensions?"

"I do not say so, but--"

"But your majesty knows that it is so," cried the queen. "It is very generous of you to save my feelings by concealing that which you know must subject me to mortification; but others here are less magnanimous than you, sire. I have already seen the obscene libel to which my pleasure party has given birth. I have read 'Le lever de l'aurore.'"

"Who has dared to insult you by the sight of it?" asked Louis, indignantly.

"Oh, sire," said Marie Antoinette, bitterly, "there are always good friends, who are ready to wound us with the weapons of others. I found the lampoon on my table this morning, among my letters."

"You shall not be exposed to a repet.i.tion of this. Campan shall look over your papers before he presents them."

"Do you think I am likely to find them often, sire? I hope not. But be that as it may, I am no coward. I have courage to face any amount of calumny--for my heart is pure, and my life will vindicate me."

"It will, indeed," said the king, tenderly. "But you must keep aloof from the poisonous atmosphere of slander. We must live less among the mult.i.tude."

"Ah, sire, how can we keep aloof from those who have the right to be near us?"

The king started, almost imperceptibly, and his anxious glance rested upon his wife's honest, truthful eyes. Removing her handkerchief, she pointed to a paper.

"This is the envelope in which I found 'Le lever de l'aurore.' The handwriting is disguised; but tell me frankly if you do not recognize it. _I_ do."

"I--really--I may be mistaken," began the king, "but--"

"Nay, you see that it is the hand of the Count de Provence, your own brother, sire. He it is, who enjoys the cruel satisfaction of having forced this indecent libel upon my notice, and I doubt not for one moment that he also is the one who sent it to you. "

"Yes, no doubt, he did it to warn us, and we must be grateful and take the warning to our hearts."

The queen laughed scornfully.

"Does your majesty suppose that these drawings were made with the same benevolent intention?" said she, handing him a second paper. "Look at these indecent caricatures, made still more obnoxious by the vulgar observations attached to them. There is no disguise of his handwriting here, for this was not intended for my eye. "