MARIE ANTOINETTE.
As Balsamo had warned them, there was no time to lose. On the high
road, commonly so peaceful, resounded a great tumult of coaches, horses
and voices.
Three carriages stopped at the door, held open by Gilbert, whose
distended eyes and feverish tremor denoted the sharpest emotion at
so much magnificence. The principal coach, loaded with gilding and
mythological carvings, was no less mud-spattered and dusty than the
others.
A score of brilliant young noblemen ranked themselves near this coach,
out of which was assisted a girl of sixteen by a gentleman clad in
black, with the grand sash of the St. Louis order under his coat.
She wore no hair powder, but this plainness had not prevented the
hairdresser building up her tresses a foot above her forehead.
Marie Antoinette Josepha, for it was she, brought into France a fame
for beauty not always owned by princesses destined to share the throne
of that realm. Without being fine, her eyes took any expression she
liked; but particularly those so opposite as mildness and scorn;
her nose was well shaped; her upper lip pretty; but the lower one,
the aristocratic inheritance of seventeen kaisers, too thick and
protruding, even drooping, did not suit the pretty visage, except when
it wanted to show ire or indignation.
On this occasion, Marie Antoinette wore her womanly look and womanly
smile, more, that of a happy woman. If possible, she did not mean to be
the royal princess till the following day. The sweetest calm reigned on
her face; the most charming kindness enlivened her eyes.
She was robed in white silk, and her handsome bare arms supported a
heavy lace mantle.
She refused the arm of the gentleman in black, and freely advanced,
snuffing the air, and casting glances around as though wishful to enjoy
brief liberty.
"Oh, the lovely site! What fine old trees! and the pretty little
house!" she ejaculated. "How happy they must dwell in this nice air and
under these trees which hide us in so well."
Philip Taverney appeared, followed by Andrea, giving her arm to her
father, wearing a fine royal blue velvet coat, last vestige of former
splendor. Andrea wore a ruddy gray silk dress and had her hair in long
plaits. Following Balsamo's hint, the baron had donned the insignia of
the Knightly Order.
"Your highness," said Philip, pale with emotion and noble in his
sorrow, "allow me the honor to present Baron de Taverney, Red Castle,
my sire, and Mademoiselle Claire Andrea, my sister."
The old noble bowed low with the style of one who knew how queens
should be saluted; his daughter displayed all the grace of elegant
timidity, and the most flattering politeness of sincere respect.
Regarding the pair, and recalling what Philip had stated on their
poverty, Marie Antoinette felt with them in their suffering.
"Your highness does Taverney Castle too much honor," said the baron;
"so humble a place is nowise worthy to harbor such beauty and nobility."
"I know that I am at the doors of an old soldier of France," was the
royal response, "and my mother, the Empress Maria Theresa, who often
went to the wars, says that in your kingdom the richest in glory are
oft the poorest in gold."
With ineffable grace she held out her hand to Andrea, who knelt to kiss
it.
The dauphiness suddenly extricated the baron from his terror about
harboring the great number of the retinue.
"My lords and gentlemen," she said, "it is not for you to bear the
fatigue of my whims or enjoy the privileges of a royal princess.
Pray, await me here; in half an hour I shall return. Come with me,
Langenshausen," she said to the countess of that house who was her
duenna. "Follow me, my lord," she added to the gentleman in black.
His plain attire was of remarkable style; he was a handsome person of
thirty years and smooth manners; he stood aside to let the princess
go by. She took Andrea to her side and motioned Philip to follow. The
baron fell into place next the fashionable gentleman.
"So you are a Taverney of Redcastle?" queried this fop, as he preened
his fine honiton lace ruffles with aristocratic impertinence.
"Am I to answer a gentleman or a nobleman?" returned the baron with
equal sauciness.
"Prince will do," said the other, "or eminence."
"Well, yes, your eminence, I am a real Taverney," replied the poor
nobleman, without dropping the insolent tone he usually kept.
The prince had the tact of great lords, for he readily perceived that
he was not dealing with a rustic hobbledehoy.
"I suppose this is your summer residence?" he continued.
"My residence in all seasons," replied the baron, desiring to finish
with this examination, but accompanying his answers with deep bows.
Philip kept turning round to his father with uneasiness; the house
seemed towering up to exhibit more and more of their penury. The baron
was just holding his hand toward the sill, deserted by visitors, when
the dauphiness turned to him, saying:
"Excuse me not going indoors, but these shady spots are so pleasant
that I could pass my life beneath them. I am rather weary of interiors.
For a fortnight I have been received under roofs--and I like open air,
flowers and the shade of foliage. Might I not have a drink of milk in
this bower?"
"What a mean refreshment, your highness!" faltered the baron.
"I prefer it, with new-laid eggs, my lord. Such formed my feasts at
Schoenbrunn."
All of a sudden, Labrie, puffed up with pride in a showy livery, and
holding a damask napkin, appeared in the jessamine hung arbor which the
archduchess was eyeing covetously.
"The refreshment is ready for your royal highness," he said with a neat
mingling of respect and serenity.
"Am I housed by an enchanter?" exclaimed the princess, darting into the
bower.
The perturbed baron forgot etiquette to leave the gentleman in black
and run after his guest.
Philip and Andrea looked at each other with even more anxiety than
astonishment.
Under the twining clematis, jessamine and honeysuckle an oval table was
set, dazzling from the whiteness of the damask cloth and the carved
bullion plate upon it. Ten sets of silver awaited as many guests. A
choice but strange collation attracted the visitor's gaze. Foreign
fruit preserved in sugar; cake and crackers from Aleppo and Madeira,
oranges and melons of uncommon size, set in large vases. The richest
and noblest wines glittered in all hues of ruby and topaz in four
cut-glass Persian decanters. The milk asked for filled a crystal cup.
"But you must have expected me, since in no ten minutes which I have
been here could this sumptuous spread be placed." And the princess
glanced at Labrie as much as to say: "With only one servant, too?"
"I did expect your royal highness," faltered the baron; "of your coming
being apprised."
"If your son did not inform you by letter, then it must have been some
fairy--I suppose, the godmother of your daughter."
"It was not so much a fairy, as a magician," said Taverney, offering
a seat to the princess. "I do not know anything about how he has done
this, as I do not dabble in magic, but I owe it to him that I am fitly
entertaining your highness."
"Then I will have none of it. It is contrary to the faith--but his
eminence is going to sin, with that liver-pie!"
"We are rather too worldly, we princes of the Church," replied the
gentleman in black, "to believe the celestial wrath poisons victuals,
and we are too human to visit ill on magicians who provide such good
things."
"But I assure your eminence that this is a real sorcerer who conjured
up this board ready spread, and who may have produced the gold of this
service in the same manner."
"Does he know of the stone which changes all into gold?" questioned the
churchman, with his eyes kindling with covetousness.
"This pleases the cardinal, who has passed his life seeking the
philosopher's stone," said the princess.
"I own that I find nothing more interesting than supernatural things,"
returned the prince; "nothing more curious than what's impossible."
"So I have hit the vital spot, have I?" said the archduchess. "Every
great man has a mystery, particularly when he is a diplomatist. Let
me warn your eminence that I also am a witch, and that I can see into
matters--if not curious and impossible--incredible."
This was an incomprehensible enigma to all but the cardinal, for he was
plainly embarrassed. The gentle eye of the Austrian had flared with one
of those fires denoting a storm gathering. But there was no thunderous
outbreak, for she went on, restraining herself:
"Come my lord of Taverney, make the feast complete by producing your
magician. Where is he? In what box have you put Old Hocus Pocus?"
"Labrie, notify Baron Joseph Balsamo that her Royal Highness the
Dauphiness desires to see him."
"Balsamo?" repeated the high lady, as the valet started off. "What an
odd name!"
"I fancy I have heard it before," murmured the cardinal.
Five minutes passed with none thinking of breaking the stillness, when
Andrea shuddered, for she heard before any other the step beneath
the foliage. The branches were parted and right in front of Marie
Antoinette, Joseph Balsamo appeared.