CHAPTER XIX.

A LOVING QUEEN.

Charny left the King with his heart full of opposing feelings.

The primary one, mounting to the surface over the tumultuous waves of

turbulent thoughts, was deep gratitude for the boundless confidence

testified to him.

This imposed duties the more holy from his conscience not being dumb. He

remembered his wrongs towards this worthy monarch who laid his hand on

his shoulder as on a true friend at the time of danger.

The more Charny felt guilty towards his master, the more ready he was to

devote himself to him.

The more this respectful allegiance grew the lesser became the less pure

emotion which he had cherished for the Queen during years.

This is the reason why he--having lost the vague hope which led him

towards Andrea for the test, as if she was one of those flowering shrubs

on the precipice edge by which a falling man can save himself--grasped

with eagerness this mission diverging him from the court. Here he felt

the double torment of being still loved by the woman whom he was ceasing

to love and of not being loved by her whom he was beginning to adore.

Profiting by the coldness lately introduced into his relations with the

Queen, he went to her rooms with the intention of leaving a note to tell

of his departure when he found Weber awaiting him.

The Queen wished to see him forthwith, and there is no eluding the

wishes of crowned heads in their palace.

Marie Antoinette was in the opposite mood to her visitor’s, she was

recalling her harshness towards him and his devotion at Versailles; at

the sight of the count’s brother laid dead across her threshold she had

felt a kind of remorse; she confessed to herself that had this been the

count she would have badly paid him for the sacrifice.

But had she any right to expect aught else than devotion of Charny?

She admitted that she was stern and unfair towards him, when the door

opened and the gentleman appeared in the irreproachable costume of the

military officer on duty.

But there was in his deeply respectful bearing something chilly which

repelled the magnetic flow from the Queen’s heart, to go and seek in his

the tender, sweet and sad memories collected during four years.

The Queen looked round her as though to try to ascertain why he remained

on the sill, and when assured it was a matter of his will, she said:

“Come, my lord: we are alone.”

“I see that, but I do not see what in that fact should alter the bearing

of a subject to his sovereign.”

“When I sent Weber for you I thought that fond friends were going to

speak with one another.”

Charny smiled bitterly.

“I understand that smile and that you say, inwardly, the Queen was

unjust at Versailles and is capricious here.”

“Injustice or caprice, a woman is allowed anything,” returned Charny: “a

queen more than all.”

“Whatever the caprice, my friend,” said Marie with all the witchingness

she could put in a voice or smile, “the Queen cannot do without you as

adviser or the woman without you as loved friend.”

She held out her hand, a little thinned but still worthy of a lovely

statue. He kissed it respectfully and was about to let it fall when he

felt her retain his.

“I ought to have wept with you over the loss of your brother, slain for

my sake: well, I have been weeping these ten days since I have not seen

you: they are falling yet.”

Ah, if Charny could have surmised what a quantity of tears would follow

those, no doubt the immense grief would have made him fall at her feet,

and ask pardon for any grievances she had against him.

But the future is enveloped in mystery which no human hand can unveil

before the hour and the black garb which Marie Antoinette was to wear to

the scaffold, was too thickly embroidered with gold for one to spy the

gloom of it.

“Believe, my lady,” he said, “that I am truly grateful for your

remembrance of me and sorrow for my brother? unfortunately I must be

brief as the King has entrusted me with a mission so that I leave in an

hour.”

“What, do you abandon us like the others?”

“I repeat it is a mission.”

“But you refused the like a week ago!”

“In a week much happens in a man’s existence to alter his

determination.”

“Do you depart alone?” she asked, making an effort.

She breathed again when he answered: “Alone.”

“Where do you go?” she asked, recovering from her weakness.

“It is the King’s secret, but he has none from you.”

“My lord, the secret is ours alike,” said Marie Antoinette haughtily.

“But is it abroad or in the kingdom?”

“The King alone can give your Majesty the desired information.”

“So you go away,” said she, with profound sorrow overcoming the

irritation from Charny’s reserve, “to run into dangers afar, and I am

not to know what they are!”

“Wheresoever I go, you will have a devoted heart daring all for you: and

the dangers will be light since I expose my life in the service of the

two sovereigns whom I most venerate on earth.”

The Queen uttered a sob which seemed to tear out her heart; and she said

with a hand on her throat as if to keep down her gorge.

“It is well--go! for you love me no longer.”

Charny felt a thrill run through him; it was the first time this haughty

woman and ruler had bowed unto him.

At any other time and under any other circumstances, he must have fallen

at her feet if only to crave pardon; but the remembrance of what had

happened between him and the King recalled all his strength.

“My lady,” he said, “I should be a scoundrel if, after all the tokens of

kindness and confidence the King has showered on me, I were to assure

your Majesty of anything but my respect and devotion.”

“It is very well,” said she; “you are free to go.”

But when he departed without looking behind him, she waited till she

heard him, not returning, but continuing his departure, in the carriage

which rolled out of the courtyard.

She rang for her foster-brother.

“Weber,” she ordered, “go to the Countess of Charny’s residence and say

I must speak with her this evening. I had an appointment with Dr.

Gilbert, but I postpone that till the morning.”

She dismissed him with a wave of the hand.

“Yes, politics to-morrow,” she mused: “besides my conversation with

Andrea may influence me on the course I take.”

The Hero of the People: A Historical Romance of Love, Liberty and Loyalty · 第 19 / 29 章