WOMAN AND QUEEN.
The next night the door opened at the same time, and the two ladies
appeared. Charny had taken his resolution—he would find out who this
lover was; but when he entered the avenue he could see no one—they had
entered the baths of Apollo. He walked towards the door, and saw the
confidante, who waited outside. The queen, then, was in there alone
with her lover; it was too much. Charny was about to seize this woman,
and force her to tell him everything; but the rage and emotion he had
endured were too much for him—a mist passed over his eyes, internal
bleeding commenced, and he fainted. When he came to himself again, the
clock was striking two, the place was deserted, and there was no trace
of what had passed there. He went home, and passed a night almost of
delirium. The next morning he arose, pale as death, and went towards
the Castle of Trianon just as the queen was leaving the chapel. All
heads were respectfully lowered as she passed. She was looking
beautiful, and when she saw Charny she colored, and uttered an
exclamation of surprise.
“I thought you were in the country, M. de Charny,” she said.
“I have returned, madame,” said he, in a brusque and almost rude tone.
She looked at him in surprise; then, turning to the ladies, “Good
morning, countess,” she said to Madame de la Motte, who stood near.
Charny started as he caught sight of her, and looked at her almost
wildly. “He has not quite recovered his reason,” thought the queen,
observing his strange manner. Then, turning to him again, “How are you
now, M. de Charny?” said she, in a kind voice.
“Very well, madame.”
She looked surprised again; then said:
“Where are you living?”
“At Versailles, madame.”
“Since when?”
“For three nights,” replied he, in a marked manner.
The queen manifested no emotion, but Jeanne trembled.
“Have you not something to say to me?” asked the queen again, with
kindness.
“Oh, madame, I should have too much to say to your majesty.”
“Come,” said she, and she walked towards her apartments; but to avoid
the appearance of a tête-à-tête, she invited several ladies to follow
her. Jeanne, unquiet, placed herself among them; but when they arrived,
she dismissed Madame de Misery, and the other ladies, understanding
that she wished to be alone, left her. Charny stood before her.
“Speak,” said the queen; “you appear troubled, sir.”
“How can I begin?” said Charny, thinking aloud; “how can I dare to
accuse honor and majesty?”
“Sir!” cried Marie Antoinette, with a flaming look.
“And yet I should only say what I have seen.”
The queen rose. “Sir,” said she, “it is very early in the morning for
me to think you intoxicated, but I can find no other solution for this
conduct.”
Charny, unmoved, continued, “After all, what is a queen?—a woman. And
am I not a man as well as a subject?”
“Monsieur!”
“Madame, anger is out of place now. I believe I have formerly proved
that I had respect for your royal dignity. I fear I proved that I had
an insane love for yourself. Choose, therefore, to whom I shall speak.
Is it to the queen, or the woman, that I shall address my accusation of
dishonor and shame?”
“Monsieur de Charny,” cried the queen, growing pale, “if you do not
leave this room, I must have you turned out by my guards!”
“But I will tell you first,” cried he, passionately, “why I call you an
unworthy queen and woman! I have been in the park these three nights!”
Instead of seeing her tremble, as he believed she would on hearing
these words, the queen rose, and, approaching him, said, “M. de Charny,
your state excites my pity. Your hands tremble, you grow pale; you are
suffering. Shall I call for help?”
“I saw you!” cried he again; “saw you with that man to whom you gave
the rose! saw you when he kissed your hands! saw you when you entered
the baths of Apollo with him!”
The queen passed her hands over her eyes, as if to make sure that she
was not dreaming.
“Sit down,” said she, “or you will fall.”
Charny, indeed, unable to keep up, fell upon the sofa.
She sat down by him. “Be calm,” said she, “and repeat what you have
just said.”
“Do you want to kill me?” he murmured.
“Then let me question,” she said. “How long have you returned from the
country?”
“A fortnight.”
“Where do you live?”
“In the huntsman’s house, which I have hired.”
“At the end of the park?”
“Yes.”
“You speak of some one whom you saw with me.”
“Yes.”
“Where?”
“In the park.”
“When?”
“At midnight. Tuesday, for the first time, I saw you and your
companion.”
“Oh, I had a companion! Do you know her also?”
“I thought just now I recognized her, but I could not be positive,
because it was only the figure—she always hid her face, like all who
commit crimes.”
“And this person to whom you say I gave a rose?”
“I have never been able to meet him.”
“You do not know him, then?”
“Only that he is called monseigneur.”
The queen stamped her foot.
“Go on!” said she. “Tuesday I gave him a rose——”
“Wednesday you gave him your hands to kiss, and yesterday you went
alone with him into the baths of Apollo, while your companion waited
outside.”
“And you saw me?” said she, rising.
He lifted his hands to heaven, and cried, “I swear it!”
“Oh, he swears!”
“Yes. On Tuesday you wore your green dress, moirée, with gold;
Wednesday, the dress with great blue and brown leaves; and yesterday,
the same dress that you wore when I last kissed your hand. Oh, madame,
I am ready to die with grief and shame while I repeat that, on my life,
my honor, it was really you!”
“What can I say?” cried the queen dreadfully agitated. “If I swore, he
would not believe me.”
Charny shook his head.
“Madman!” cried she, “thus to accuse your queen—to dishonor thus an
innocent woman! Do you believe me when I swear, by all I hold sacred,
that I was not in the park on either of those days after four o’clock?
Do you wish it to be proved by my women—by the king? No; he does not
believe me.”
“I saw you,” replied he.
“Oh, I know!” she cried. “Did they not see me at the ball at the Opera,
at Mesmer’s, scandalizing the crowd? You know it—you, who fought for
me!”
“Madame, then I fought because I did not believe it; now I might fight,
but I believe.”
The queen raised her arms to heaven, while burning tears rolled down
her cheeks.
“My God,” she cried, “send me some thought which will save me! I do not
wish this man to despise me.”
Charny, moved to the heart, hid his face in his hands.
Then, after a moment’s silence, the queen continued:
“Sir, you owe me reparation. I exact this from you. You say you have
seen me three nights with a man; I have been already injured through
the resemblance to me of some woman, I know not whom, but who is like
her unhappy queen; but you are pleased to think it was me. Well, I will
go with you into the park; and if she appears again, you will be
satisfied? Perhaps we shall see her together; then, sir, you will
regret the suffering you have caused me.”
Charny pressed his hands to his heart.
“Oh, madame, you overwhelm me with your kindness!”
“I wish to overwhelm you with proofs. Not a word, to any one, but this
evening, at ten o’clock, wait alone at the door of the park. Now go,
sir.”
Charny kneeled, and went away without a word.
Jeanne, who was waiting in the ante-chamber, examined him attentively
as he came out. She was soon after summoned to the queen.