"Your majesty," answered M. de Bailly, bowing low, "all good citizens of Paris have seen with deep emotion the noble resolve of your majesty, and in all noble and true hearts the royal words are recorded imperishably, which your majesty spoke to the judges of the Chatelet, 'I have heard all, seen all, and forgotten all!' With tears of deep feeling, with a hallowed joy, they are repeated through all Paris; they have become the watchword of all the well-inclined and faithful, the evangel of love and forgiveness for all women, of fidelity and devotion for all men! It has been seen and confessed that the throne of France is the possessor not only of goodness and beauty, but of forgiveness and gentleness, and that your majesty bears rightly the title of the Most Christian Queen.
These nine words which your majesty has uttered, have become the sacred banner of all true souls, and they will cause the golden days to come back, as they once dawned upon Paris when the Dauphin of France made his entry into the capital, and it could be said with truth to the future queen, Marie Antoinette, 'Here are a hundred thousand lovers of your person.'"
The queen was no longer able to master her deep emotion. She who had had the courage to display a proud and defiant mien to her enemies and assailants, could not conceal the intensity of her feeling when hearing words of such devotion, and uttered a cry, then choked with emotion, and at length burst into a torrent of tears. Equally astonished and ashamed, she covered her face with her hands, but the tears gushed out between her white tapering fingers, and would not be withheld. They had been so long repressed behind those proud eyelids, that now, despite the queen's will, they forced their way with double power and intensity.
But only for a moment did the proud-spirited queen allow herself to be overcome by the gentle and deeply-moved woman; she quickly collected herself and raised her head.
"I thank you, sir, I thank you," she said, breathing more freely, "you have done me good, and these tears, though not the first which grief and anger have extorted, are the first for a long time which have sprung from what is almost joy. Who knows whether I shall ever be able to shed such tears again! And who knows," she continued, with a deep sigh, "whether I do not owe these tears more to your wish to do me good, than to true and real gains? I bethink me now--you say all good citizens of Paris repeat my words, all the well-disposed are satisfied with my decision. But, ah! I fear that the number of these is very small, and that the golden days of the past will never return! And is not your appearance here to-day a proof of this? Did you not come here because the people insult and calumniate me, and because you considered it needful to throw around me your protection, which is now mightier than the royal purple and the lilies of the throne of France?"
"Madame, time must be granted to the misguided people to return to the right way," said Lafayette, almost with a supplicating air.
"They must be dealt with as we deal with defiant, naughty children, which can be brought back to obedience and submission better by gentle speech and apparent concession than by rigidity and severity.
On this account I ventured to ask your majesty to intrust me for a little while with the care of your sacred person, and, in order that I may satisfy my duty, that you would graciously appoint the time when your majesty will take your walks here in the park and garden, so that I can make my arrangements accordingly."
"In order to make a fence out of your National Guards, protected by which the Queen of France may not become visible to the hate of the people, and behind which she may be secure against the attacks of her enemies!" cried Marie Antoinette. "No, sir, I cannot accept this! It shall at least be seen that I am no coward, and that I will not hide myself from those who come to attack me!"
"Your majesty," said Bailly, "I conjure you, do this out of compassion for us, for all your faithful servants who tremble for the peace and security of your majesty, and allow M. de Lafayette to keep the brutality of the people away from you, and protect you in your walks."
"Sufficient, gentlemen," cried Marie Antoinette, impatiently. "You now know my fixed resolve, and it is not necessary to discuss it further. I will not hide myself from the people, and I will confront them under the ****** protection of God. Defended by Him, and sustained by the conviction that I have not merited the hate with which I am pursued, I will continue to meet the subjects of the king fearlessly, with an unveiled head, and only God and my fate shall judge between me and them! I thank you, gentlemen, for your zeal and your care, and you may be sure that I shall never forget it. But now farewell, gentlemen! It is growing cold, and I should like to return to the palace."
"Will your majesty not have the kindness to allow us both to mingle with your train, and accompany you to the palace?" asked Lafayette.
"I came hither, attended by only two lackeys, who are waiting outside the pavilion," answered the queen. "You know that I have laid aside the court etiquette which used to attend the queen upon her walks, and which do not allow the free enjoyment of nature. My enemies charge me with this as an offence, and consider it improper that the Queen of France should take a walk without a brilliant train of courtiers, and like any other human being. But I think that the people ought not to be angry at this, and they may take it as a sign that I am not so proud and unapproachable as I am generally believed to be. And so farewell, gentlemen!"
She graciously waved her hand toward the door, and, with a gentle inclination of her head, dismissed the two gentlemen, who, with a sad bearing, withdrew, and left the pavilion.
"Come, my son," said the queen, "we will return to the palace."
"By the same way that we came, shall we not, mamma?" asked the dauphin, taking the extended hand of the queen, and pressing it to his lips.