Joseph II. and His Court Part 119

"Too true," sighed the king--"the drawings and the writing are both my brother's. But who can have sent you these shameful sketches?"

"I told you just now, sire, that there are always people to be found, who stab their friends with borrowed weapons. The drawings were accompanied by a letter, informing me, that they were executed in the saloons of Madame Adelaide, and that the remarks were the joint productions of your majesty's brother and your aunts."

The king pa.s.sed his handkerchief over his forehead, to dry the heavy drops of sweat that were gathering there, and rose up, with the paper in his hand.

"Where is your majesty going?" asked the queen.

"To my brother," cried he, indignantly. "I will show him this disgraceful paper, and ask by what right he outrages my wife and his queen! I shall tell him that his actions are those of a traitor and--"

"And when you have told him that, will you punish him as kings punish traitors?"

The king was silent, and the queen continued, with a sad smile.

"You could not punish him; for the traitor who outrages the queen is the brother of the king, and, therefore, he can outrage with impunity."

"He shall not do it with impunity! I will force him to honor and love you."

"Ah, sire, love will not yield to force," said Marie Antoinette, in atone of anguish. "Were I as pure as an angel, the Count de Provence would hate me for my Austrian birth, and Madame Adelaide would use the great influence she possesses over your majesty to rob me of the little favor I am gaining in your sight."

"Oh, Antoinette, do you not feel that my whole heart is yours?" said Louis, affectionately. "Believe me, when I say that it is in the power of no human being to sully your sweet image in my eyes. Do not fear the royal family. I am here to protect you, and, soon or late, your worth will overcome their prejudices."

"No, sire, no. Nothing will ever win me their regard. But I am resolved to brave their emnity, satisfied that, in the eyes of the world, my conduct and my conscience both will sustain me."

"Your husband also," said the king, kissing her hand.

"Sire, I hope so," said Marie Antoinette, in a tremulous voice. "And now," continued she, das.h.i.+ng away the tear-drops that were gathering in her eyes, "now give me those caricatures. They have served to convince your majesty that I know my enemies--and defy them. Their mission is accomplished; let us try to forget their existence."

She took the drawings from his hand, and, tearing them to pieces, scattered them over the carpet. The king picked up a few of the fragments.

"Will you allow me to retain these as a souvenir of this hour?" said he, gazing fondly upon her sweet face.

"Certainly, sire."

"But you know that princes can never receive a gift without returning one. Therefore, do me the favor to accept this. It is paper for paper. "

He drew from his bosom a little package, to which the royal seal was affixed, and Marie Antoinette took it, with a glance of surprise.

"What can it be?" said she, as she unfolded it.

He watched her as she read; and thought how beautiful she was, as, blus.h.i.+ng and smiling, she held out her hand to thank him.

"How, sire," said she, joyfully, "you make me this royal gift?"

"If you will accept it. The chateau de Trianon is a small estate, but its mistress may at least find it a home where she will have liberty to enjoy nature without exciting the malevolence of her enemies. No one can watch you there, Antoinette; for your castle is not large enough to lodge your slanderers. It will scarcely accommodate your friends."

"How can I ever thank you, sire?" said she, in grateful accents. "You have understood my heart, and have gratified its weary longings for occasional solitude. This, then, is my own private domain?"

"Certainly."

"And I may rule there without interference from state or etiquette?"

"a.s.suredly. As chatelaine of Trianon, you alone will regulate its customs, and all who visit you, must submit to your rules."

"And no man can enter my chateau without an invitation?"

"Not even the king himself."

Marie Antoinette smiled until the pearls encased within her coral lips dazzled the royal vision.

"How delightful!" said she. "I do not think that the Count de Provence will ever be invited to Trianon."

"Nor I," replied Louis.

"But the king will be asked so often, that he will certainly wish he were the Count de Provence. Still, he must promise not to come until he receives his invitation."

"I promise, beautiful chatelaine."

"And then to come whenever I invite him."

"That I can promise more safely than the other."

"Upon your royal word?"

"Upon my royal word. And thus I seal it with a kiss upon your fair hand."

"Upon my hand only, sire?" asked she, while she turned a cheek, whose hue was like the rosy lining of a sea-sh.e.l.l.

Louis accepted the challenge, and pressed a kiss so pa.s.sionate upon that cheek, that it flushed to a deep, burning crimson, and the queen's eyes were cast down, till nothing of them was visible except her long, dark lashes.

The royal lover, too, grew very red, and stammered a few inaudible words. Then bowing, awkwardly, he stumbled over an armchair, and retreated in dire confusion.

Marie Antoinette looked after her clumsy king with a beating heart.

"Am I, indeed, to be blessed with his love?" thought the poor, young thing. "If I am, I shall be the happiest and most enviable of women."

CHAPTER CIII.

THE LAST APPEAL.

The carriage of the Countess Esterhazy was returning from a ball which the empress had given in honor of her son's departure from Vienna.

Joseph was about to visit France, and his lovely young sister was once more to hear the sound of a beloved voice from home.

It was long past midnight; but the Hotel Esterhazy was one blaze of light. It had been one of the countess's first orders to her steward that, at dusk, every chandelier in her palace should be lighted. She hated night and darkness, she said, and must have hundreds of wax-lights burning from twilight until morning. This was one of the whims of the fair Margaret, which, although it amused all Vienna, was any thing but comic to her husband, for it cost him one thousand florins a month.