CHAPTER XXXVII.
AN ALIBI.
M. de Charny entered, a little pale, but upright, and not apparentlysuffering.
"Take care, sister," said the Comte d'Artois; "what is the use of askingso many people?"
"Brother, I will ask the whole world, till I meet some one who will tellyou you are deceived."
Charny and Philippe bowed courteously to each other, and Philippe saidin a low voice, "You are surely mad to come out wounded; one would sayyou wished to die."
"One does not die from the scratch of a thorn in the Bois de Boulogne,"replied Charny.
The queen approached, and put an end to this conversation. "M. deCharny," said she, "these gentlemen say that you were at the ball at theOpera?"
"Yes, your majesty."
"Tell us what you saw there."
"Does your majesty mean whom I saw there?"
"Precisely; and no complaisant reserve, M. de Charny."
"Must I say, madame?"
The cheeks of the queen assumed once more that deadly paleness, whichhad many times that morning alternated with a burning red.
"Did you see me?" she asked.
"Yes, your majesty, at the moment when your mask unhappily fell off."
Marie Antoinette clasped her hands.
"Monsieur," said she, almost sobbing, "look at me well; are you sure ofwhat you say?"
"Madame, your features are engraved in the hearts of your subjects; tosee your majesty once is to see you forever."
"But, monsieur," said she, "I assure you I was not at the ball at theOpera."
"Oh, madame," said the young man, bowing low, "has not your majesty theright to go where you please?"
"I do not ask you to find excuses for me; I only ask you to believe."
"I will believe all your majesty wishes me to believe," cried he.
"Sister, sister, it is too much," murmured the count.
"No one believes me!" cried she, throwing herself on the sofa, withtears in her eyes.
"Sister, pardon me," said the count tenderly, "you are surrounded bydevoted friends; this secret, which terrifies you so, we alone know. Itis confined to our hearts, and no one shall drag it from us while wehave life."
"This secret! oh, I want nothing but to prove the truth."
"Madame," said Andree, "some one approaches."
The king was announced.
"The king! oh, so much the better. He is my only friend; he would notbelieve me guilty even if he thought he saw me."
The king entered with an air of calmness, in strange contrast to thedisturbed countenances of those present.
"Sire," said the queen, "you come apropos; there is yet another calumny,another insult to combat."
"What is it?" said Louis, advancing.
"An infamous report. Aid me, sire, for now it is no longer my enemiesthat accuse me, but my friends."
"Your friends!"
"Yes, sire; M. le Comte d'Artois, M. de Taverney, and M. de Charnyaffirm that they saw me at the ball at the Opera."
"At the ball at the Opera!" cried the king.
A terrible silence ensued.
Madame de la Motte saw the mortal paleness of the queen, the terribledisquietude of the king and of all the others, and with one word shecould have put an end to all this, and saved the queen, not only now,but in the future, from much distress. But she said to herself that itwas too late; that they would see, if she spoke now, that she haddeceived them before when the simple truth would have been of suchadvantage to the queen, and she should forfeit her newly-acquired favor.So she remained silent.
The king repeated, with an air of anguish, "At the ball at the Opera!Does M. de Provence know this?"
"But, sire, it is not true. M. le Comte d'Artois is deceived; M. deTaverney is deceived; M. de Charny, you are deceived, one may bemistaken."
All bowed.
"Come," continued she, "call all my people, ask every one. You say itwas Saturday?"
"Yes, sister."
"Well, what did I do on Saturday? Let some one tell me, for I think I amgoing mad, and shall begin at last to believe that I did go to thisinfamous ball. But, gentlemen, if I had been there I would haveconfessed it."
At this moment the king approached her, every cloud gone from his brow."Well, Marie," said he, "if it was Saturday, there is no need to callyour women, or only to ask them at what hour I came to your room. Ibelieve it was past eleven."
"Oh!" cried the queen, joyfully, "you are right, sire." And she threwherself into his arms; then, blushing and confused, she hid her face onhis shoulder, while he kissed her tenderly.
"Well," said the Comte d'Artois, full of both surprise and joy, "I willcertainly buy spectacles. But on my word, I would not have lost thisscene for a million of money. Would you, gentlemen?"
Philippe was leaning against the wainscot as pale as death. Charny wipedthe burning drops from his forehead.
"Therefore, gentlemen," said the king, turning towards them, "I know itto be impossible that the queen was that night at the ball at theOpera. Believe it or not, as you please. The queen I am sure is contentthat I know her to be innocent."
"Well," said M. d'Artois, "Provence may say what he pleases, but I defyhis wife to prove an alibi in the same way, if she should be accused ofpassing the night out."
"Charles!"
"Pardon, sire, now I will take my leave."
"Well, I will go with you." And once more kissing the queen's hand, theyleft the room.
"M. de Taverney," said the queen severely, when they were gone, "do younot accompany M. d'Artois?"
Philippe started, all the blood rushed to his head, and he had hardlystrength to bow and leave the room.
Andree was to be pitied also. She knew that Philippe would have giventhe world to have taken M. de Charny away with him, but she felt asthough she could not follow to comfort him, leaving Charny alone withthe queen, or only with Madame de la Motte, who, she instinctively felt,was worse than no one. But why this feeling? She could not love Charny;that, she told herself, was impossible. So slight and recent anacquaintance, and she who had vowed to love no one. Why then did shesuffer so much when Charny addressed words of such respectful devotionto the queen? Was not this jealousy? "Yes," she thought, but onlyjealousy that this woman should draw all hearts towards her, while thewhole world of gallantry and love passed her coldly by. It was noattraction to be a living problem, ever cold and reserved like Andree;they felt it, turned from her beauty and her intellect, and contentedthemselves with mere politeness. Andree felt this deeply; but on thenight when they first met Charny, he showed towards her nothing of thiscoldness or reserve; she was to him as interesting as any otherbeautiful woman, and she felt cheered and warmed by it. But now thequeen absorbed his every look and thought, and left her lonely again;therefore she did not follow her brother, although she suffered in hissufferings, and almost idolized him. She did not, however, attempt tomingle in the conversation, but sat down by the fire almost with herback to the queen and Charny, while Madame de la Motte stood in one ofthe deep windows, nearly out of sight, although she could observe allthat passed.
The Queen remained silent for some minutes, then she said, almost toherself, "Would any one believe that such things pass here?" Then,turning to Charny, said, "We hear, sir, of the dangers of the sea and ofthe fury of tempests, but you have doubtless encountered all theirassaults, and you are still safe and honored."
"Madame----"
"Then the English, our enemies, have attacked you with their guns andtheir power, but still you are safe; and on account of the enemies youhave conquered, the king felicitates and admires you, and the peoplebless and love you; therefore, blessed are such enemies who menace usonly with death. Our enemies do not endanger existence, it is true, butthey add years to our lives; they make us bow the head, fearing, thoughinnocent, to meet, as I have done, the double attacks of friends andenemies. And then, sir, if you knew how hard it is to be hated!"
Andree listened anxiously for his reply,
but he only leaned against thewall, and grew pale.
The queen looked at him, and said, "It is too hot here; Madame de laMotte, open the window; monsieur is accustomed to the fresh sea-breezes;he would stifle in our boudoirs."
"It is not that, madame; but I am on duty at two o'clock, and unlessyour majesty wishes me to remain----"
"Oh! no, monsieur; we know what duty is. You are free," said the queen,in a tone of slight pique.
Charny bowed, and disappeared like a man in haste; but in a minute theyheard from the ante-chamber the sound of a groan, and people hurryingforward. The queen, who was near the door, opened it, and uttered anexclamation; and was going out, when Andree rose quickly, saying, "Ohno! madame."
Then they saw through the open door the guards assisting M. de Charny,who had fainted. The queen closed the door, and sat down again, pensiveand thoughtful. At last, she said, "It is an odd thing, but I do notbelieve M. de Charny was convinced!"
"Oh, madame! in spite of the king's word--impossible!"
"He may have thought the king said it for his own sake."
"My brother was not so incredulous," said Andree.
"It would be very wrong," continued the queen, not heeding her; "hecould not have as noble a heart as I thought. But, after all, why shouldhe believe? He thought he saw me. They all thought so. There issomething in all this; something which I must clear up. Andree, I mustfind out what it all means."
"Your majesty is right; you must investigate it."
"For," continued the queen, "people said they saw me at M. Mesmer's."
"But your majesty was there," said Madame de la Motte.
"Yes; but I did not do what they insist they saw me do. And they saw meat the Opera, and I was not there. Oh!" cried she, "at last I guess thetruth."
"The truth!" stammered the countess.
"Oh! I hope so," said Andree.
"Send for M. de Crosne," said the queen, joyously.