CHAPTER XXXIV.
THE STANZAS OF M. DE PROVENCE.
While these events were passing in Paris and in Versailles, the king,tranquil as usual, sat in his study, surrounded by maps and plans, andtraced new paths for the vessels of La Perouse.
A slight knock at his door roused him from his study, and a voice said,"May I come in, brother?"
"The Comte de Provence," growled the king, discontentedly. "Enter."
A short person came in.
"You did not expect me, brother?" he said.
"No, indeed."
"Do I disturb you?"
"Have you anything particular to say?"
"Such a strange report----"
"Oh, some scandal?"
"Yes, brother."
"Which has amused you?"
"Because it is so strange."
"Something against me?"
"Should I laugh if it were?"
"Then against the queen?"
"Sire, imagine that I was told quite seriously that the queen slept outthe other night."
"That would be very sad if it were true," replied the king.
"But it is not true, is it?"
"No."
"Nor that the queen was seen waiting outside the gate at thereservoirs?"
"No."
"The day, you know, that you ordered the gates to be shut at eleveno'clock?"
"I do not remember."
"Well, brother, they pretend that the queen was seen arm-in-arm with M.d'Artois at half-past twelve that night."
"Where?"
"Going to a house which he possesses behind the stables. Has not yourmajesty heard this report?"
"Yes, you took care of that."
"How, sire?--what have I done?"
"Some verses which were printed in the _Mercury_."
"Some verses!" said the count, growing red.
"Oh, yes; you are a favorite of the Muses."
"Not I, sire."
"Oh, do not deny it; I have the manuscript in your writing! Now, if youhad informed yourself of what the queen really did that day, instead ofwriting these lines against her, and consequently against me, you wouldhave written an ode in her favor. Perhaps the subject does not inspireyou; but I should have liked a bad ode better than a good satire."
"Sire, you overwhelm me; but I trust you will believe I was deceived,and did not mean harm."
"Perhaps."
"Besides, I did not say I believed it; and then, a few verses arenothing. Now, a pamphlet like one I have just seen----"
"A pamphlet?"
"Yes, sire; and I want an order for the Bastile for the author of it."
The king rose. "Let me see it," he said.
"I do not know if I ought."
"Certainly you ought. Have you got it with you?"
"Yes, sire;" and he drew from his pocket "The History of the QueenEtteniotna," one of the fatal numbers which had escaped from Philippeand Charny.
The king glanced over it rapidly. "Infamous!" he cried.
"You see, sire, they pretend the queen went to M. Mesmer's."
"Well, she did go."
"She went?"
"Authorized by me."
"Oh, sire!"
"That is nothing against her; I gave my consent."
"Did your majesty intend that she should experimentalize on herself?"
The king stamped with rage as the count said this; he was reading one ofthe most insulting passages--the history of her contortions, voluptuousdisorder, and the attention she had excited.
"Impossible!" he cried, growing pale; and he rang the bell. "Oh, thepolice shall deal with this! Fetch M. de Crosne."
"Sire, it is his day for coming here, and he is now waiting."
"Let him come in."
"Shall I go, brother?" said the count.
"No; remain. If the queen be guilty, you are one of the family, and mustknow it; if innocent, you, who have suspected her, must hear it."
M. de Crosne entered, and bowed, saying, "The report is ready, sire."
"First, sir," said the king, "explain how you allow such infamouspublications against the queen."
"Etteniotna?" asked M. de Crosne.
"Yes."
"Well, sire, it is a man called Reteau."
"You know his name, and have not arrested him!"
"Sire, nothing is more easy. I have an order already prepared in myportfolio."
"Then why is it not done?"
M. de Crosne looked at the count.
"I see, M. de Crosne wishes me to leave," said he.
"No," replied the king, "remain. And you, M. de Crosne, speak freely."
"Well, sire, I wished first to consult your majesty whether you wouldnot rather give him some money, and send him away to be hangedelsewhere."
"Why?"
"Because, sire, if these men tell lies, the people are glad enough tosee them whipped, or even hanged; but if they chance upon a truth----"
"A truth! It is true that the queen went to M. Mesmer's, but I gave herpermission."
"Oh, sire!" cried M. de Crosne.
His tone of sincerity struck the king more than anything M. de Provencehad said; and he answered, "I suppose, sir, that was no harm."
"No, sire; but her majesty has compromised herself."
"M. de Crosne, what have your police told you?"
"Sire, many things, which, with all possible respect for her majesty,agree in many points with this pamphlet."
"Let me hear."
"That the queen went in a common dress, in the middle of this crowd, andalone."
"Alone!" cried the king.
"Yes, sire."
"You are deceived, M. de Crosne."
"I do not think so, sire."
"You have bad reporters, sir."
"So exact, that I can give your majesty a description of her dress, ofall her movements, of her cries----"
"Her cries!"
"Even her sighs were observed, sire."
"It is impossible she could have so far forgotten what is due to me andto herself."
"Oh, yes," said the Comte de Provence; "her majesty is surelyincapable----"
Louis XVI. interrupted him. "Sir," said he, to M. de Crosne, "youmaintain what you have said?"
"Unhappily, yes, sire."
"I will examine into it further," said the king, passing hishandkerchief over his forehead, on which the drops hung from anxiety andvexation. "I did permit the queen to go, but I ordered her to take withher a person safe, irreproachable, and even holy."
"Ah," said M. de Crosne, "if she had but done so----"
"Yes," said the count; "if a lady like Madame de Lamballe forinstance----"
"It was precisely she whom the queen promised to take."
"Unhappily, sire, she did not do so."
"Well," said the king, with agitation; "if she has disobeyed me soopenly I ought to punish, and I will punish; only some doubts stillremain on my mind; these doubts you do not share; that is natural; youare not the king, husband, and friend of her whom they accuse. However,I will proceed to clear the affair up." He rang. "Let some one see,"said he to the person who came, "where Madame de Lamballe is."
"Sire, she is walking in the garden with her majesty and another lady."
"Beg her to come to me. Now, gentlemen, in ten minutes we shall know thetruth."
All were silent.
M. de Crosne was really sad, and the count put on an affectation of itwhich might have solemnized Momus himself.