Ange Pitou

by Alexandre Dumas

  The king allowed her to divest him of his cravat, and the delicate fingers of the queen placed the steel collar round his neck. Then Marie Antoinette herself fastened the hooks of his corselet, which adapted itself beautifully to the shape of the body, being lined throughout with a fine doe-skin, for the purpose of presenting any uncomfortable pressure from the steel.

  This waistcoat was longer than an ordinary cuirass; it covered the whole body. With the waistcoat and shirt over it, it did not increase the volume of the body even half a line. It did not in the slightest degree inconvenience any movement of the wearer.

  "Is it very heavy?" asked the queen.

  "No."

  "Only see, my king, it is a perfect wonder, is it not?" said the queen, clapping her hands, and turning to Madame Campan, who was just buttoning the king's ruffles.

  Madame Campan manifested her joy in as artless a manner as did the queen.

  "I have saved my king!" cried Marie Antoinette. "Test this invisible cuirass; prove it; place it upon a table; try if you can make any impression upon it with a knife; try if you can make a hole through it with a ball; try it! try it!"

  "Oh!" exclaimed the king, with a doubting air.

  "Only try it!" repeated she, with enthusiasm.

  "I would willingly do so from curiosity," replied the king.

  "You need not do so; it would be superfluous, Sire."

  "How! it would be superfluous that I should prove to you the excellence of this marvel of yours?"

  "Ah! thus it is with all the men. Do you believe that I would have given faith to the judgment of another,—of an indifferent person, when the life of my husband, the welfare of France, was in question?"

  "And yet, Antoinette, it seems to me that this is precisely what you have done,—you have put faith in another."

  The queen shook her head with a delightfully playful obstinacy.

  "Ask her!" said she, pointing to the woman who was present,—"ask our good Campan there what we have done this morning?"

  "What was it, then? Good Heaven!" ejaculated the king, completely puzzled.

  "This morning—what am I saying?—this night, after dismissing all the attendants, we went, like two mad-brained women, and shut ourselves up in her room, which is at the far end of the wing occupied by the pages. Now, the pages were sent off last night to prepare the apartments at Rambouillet; and we felt well assured that no one could interrupt us before we had executed our project."

  "Good Heaven! you really alarm me! What were the designs, then, of these two Judiths?"

  "Judith effected less, and certainly with less noise. But for that, the comparison would be marvellously appropriate. Campan carried the bag which contained this breast-plate; as for me, I carried a long hunting-knife which belonged to my father,—that infallible blade which killed so many wild boars."

  "Judith! still Judith!" cried the king, laughing.

  "Oh, Judith had not the heavy pistol which I took from your armory, and which I made Weber load for me."

  "A pistol?"

  "Undoubtedly. You ought to have seen us running in the dark, startled, agitated at the slightest noise, avoiding everybody for fear of their being indiscreet, creeping like two little mice along the deserted corridors. Campan locked three doors and placed a mattress against the last, to prevent our being overheard; we put the cuirass on one of the figures which they use to stretch my gowns on, and placed it against a wall. And I—with a firm hand, too, I can assure you—struck the breastplate with the knife; the blade bent, flew out of my hand, and bounding back, stuck into the floor, to our great terror."

  "The deuce!" exclaimed the king.

  "Wait a little."

  "Did it not make a hole?" asked Louis XVI.

  "Wait a little, I tell you. Campan pulled the knife out of the board. 'You are not strong enough, Madame,' she said, 'and perhaps your hand trembles. I am stronger, as you shall see.' She therefore raised the knife, and gave the figure so violent a blow, so well applied, that my poor German knife snapped off short against the steel mail."

  "See, here are the two pieces, Sire. I will have a dagger made for you out of one of them."

  "Oh, this is absolutely fabulous!" cried the king; "and the mail was not injured?"

  "A slight scratch on the exterior ring, and there are three, one over the other."

  "I should like to see it."

  "You shall see it."

  And the queen began to undress the king again with wonderful celerity, in order that he might the sooner admire her idea and her high feats in arms.

  "Here is a place that is somewhat damaged, it would appear to me," said the king, pointing to a slight depression over a space of about an inch in circumference.

  "That was done by the pistol-ball, Sire."

  "How! you fired off a pistol loaded with ball? you?"

  "Here is the ball completely flattened, and still black. Here, take it; and now do you believe that your life is in safety?"

  "You are my tutelary angel," said the king, who began slowly to unhook the mailed waistcoat, in order to examine more minutely the traces left by the knife and the pistol-shot.

  "Judge of my terror, dear king," said Marie Antoinette, "when on the point of firing the pistol at the breast-plate. Alas! the fear of the report—that horrible noise which you know has so frightful an effect upon me—was nothing; but it appeared to me that in firing at the waistcoat destined to protect you, I was firing at you yourself. I was afraid of wounding you; I feared to see a hole in the mail, and then my efforts, my trouble, my hopes, were forever lost."

  "My dear wife," said Louis XVI., having completely unhooked the coat of mail and placed it on the table, "what gratitude do I not owe you!"

  "Well, now, what is it you are doing?" asked the queen.

  And she took the waistcoat and again presented it to the king. But with a smile replete with nobleness and kindness:—

  "No," said he, "I thank you."

  "You refuse it?" said the queen.

  "I refuse it."

  "Oh, but reflect a moment, Sire."

  "Sire," cried Madame Campan, in a supplicating tone.

  "But," said the queen, "'tis your salvation; 'tis your life!"

  "That is possible," said the king.

  "You refuse the succor which God himself has sent us."

  "Enough! enough!" said the king.

  "Oh, you refuse! you refuse!"

  "Yes, I refuse."

  "But they will kill you."

  "My dear Antoinette, when gentlemen in this eighteenth century are going out to battle, they wear a cloth coat, waistcoat, and shirt; this is all they have to defend them against musket-balls. When they go upon the field of honor to fight a duel, they throw off all but their shirt,—that is for the sword. As to myself, I am the first gentleman of my kingdom; I will do neither more nor less than my friends; and there is more than this,—while they wear cloth, I alone have the right to wear silk. Thanks, my good wife; thanks, my good queen; thanks."

  "Ah!" exclaimed the queen, at once despairing and delighted, "why cannot his army hear him speak thus?"

  As to the king, he quietly completed his toilette, without even appearing to understand the act of heroism he had just performed.

  "Is the monarchy then lost," murmured the queen, "when we can feel so proudly at such a moment?"

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  Chapter VI

  The Departure

  ON leaving the queen's apartment, the king immediately found himself surrounded by all the officers and all the persons of his household, who had been appointed by him to attend him on his journey to Paris.

  The principal personages were Messieurs de Beauvau, de Villeroy, de Nesle, and d'Estaing.

  Louis XVI

  Gilbert was waiting in the middle of the crowd till Louis XVI. should perceive him, were it only to cast a look upon him in passing.

  It could be easily perceived that the whole of the throng there present were still in doubt, and that the
y could not credit that the king would persist in following up the resolution he had come to.

  "After breakfast, gentlemen," said the king, "we will set out."

  Then, perceiving Gilbert:—

  "Ah, you are there, Doctor," he continued, "you know that I take you with me."

  "At your orders, Sire."

  The king went into his cabinet, where he was engaged two hours. He afterwards attended Mass with all his household; then, at about nine o'clock, he sat down to breakfast.

  The repast was taken with the usual ceremonies, excepting that the queen, who, after attending Mass, was observed to be out of spirits, her eyes red and swollen, had insisted on being present at the king's repast, but without partaking of it in the slightest manner, that she might be with him to the last moment.

  The queen had brought her two children with her, who, already much agitated, doubtless by what the queen had said to them, were looking anxiously from time to time at their father's face, and then at the crowd of officers of the guards, who were present.

  The children, moreover, from time to time, by order of their mother, wiped away a tear, which every now and then would rise to their eyelids; and the sight of this excited the pity of some and the anger of others, and filled the whole assembly with profound grief.

  The king ate on stoically. He spoke several times to Gilbert, without taking his eyes off his plate; he spoke frequently to the queen, and always with deep affection.

  At last he gave instructions to the commanders of his troops.

  He was just finishing his breakfast, when an officer came in to announce to him that a compact body of men on foot, coming from Paris, had just appeared at the end of the grand avenue leading to the Place d'Armes.

  On hearing this, the officers and guards at once rushed out of the room. The king raised his head and looked at Gilbert; but seeing that Gilbert smiled, he tranquilly continued eating.

  The queen turned pale, and leaned towards Monsieur de Beauvau, to request him to obtain information.

  Monsieur de Beauvau ran out precipitately.

  The queen then drew near to the window.

  Five minutes afterwards Monsieur de Beauvau returned.

  "Sire," said he, on entering the room, "they are National Guards, from Paris, who, hearing the rumor spread yesterday in the capital, of your Majesty's intention to visit the Parisians, assembled to the number of some ten thousand, for the purpose of coming out to meet you on the road; and not meeting you so soon as they expected, they have pushed on to Versailles."

  "What appear to be their intentions?" asked the king.

  "The best in the world," replied Monsieur de Beauvau.

  "That matters not," said the queen; "have the gates closed."

  "Take good care not to do that," said the king; "it is quite enough that the palace-doors remain closed."

  The queen frowned, and darted a look at Gilbert.

  The latter was awaiting this look from the queen, for one half his prediction was already fulfilled. He had promised the arrival of twenty thousand men, and ten thousand had already come.

  The king turned to Monsieur de Beauvau.

  "See that refreshments be given to these worthy people," said he.

  Monsieur de Beauvau went down a second time. He transmitted to the cellar-men the order he had received from the king.

  After doing this, he went upstairs again.

  "Well?" said the king, in a tone of inquiry.

  "Well, Sire, your Parisians are in high discussion with the gentlemen of the Guards."

  "How!" cried the king, "there is a discussion?"

  "Oh! one of pure courteousness. As they have been informed that the king is to set out in two hours, they wish to await his departure, and march behind his Majesty's carriage."

  "But," inquired the queen, in her turn, "they are on foot, I suppose?"

  "Yes, Madame."

  "But the king has horses to his carriage, and the king travels fast, very fast; you know, Monsieur de Beauvau, that the king is accustomed to travelling very rapidly."

  These words, pronounced in the tone the queen pronounced them, implied:—

  "Put wings to his Majesty's carriage."

  The king made a sign with his hand to stop the colloquy.

  "I will go at a walk."

  The queen heaved a sigh which almost resembled a cry of anger.

  "It would not be right," tranquilly added Louis XVI., "that I should make these worthy people run, who have taken the trouble to come so far to do me honor. My carriage shall be driven at a walk, and a slow walk too, so that everybody may be able to follow me."

  The whole of the company testified their admiration by a murmur of approbation; but at the same time there was seen on the countenances of several persons the reflection of the disapproval which was expressed by the features of the queen, at so much goodness of soul, which she considered as mere weakness.

  A window was opened.

  The queen turned round, amazed. It was Gilbert, who, in his quality of physician, had only exercised the right which appertained to him of renewing the air of the dining-room, thickened by the odors of the viands and the breathing of two hundred persons.

  The doctor stood behind the curtains of the open window, through which ascended the voices of the crowd assembled in the courtyard.

  "What is that?" asked the king.

  "Sire," replied Gilbert, "the National Guards are down there on the pavement, exposed to the heat of the sun, and they must feel it very oppressive."

  "Why not invite them upstairs to breakfast with the king?" sarcastically said one of her favorite officers to the queen.

  "They should be taken to some shady place; put them into the marble courtyard, into the vestibules, wherever it is cool," said the king.

  "Ten thousand men in the vestibules!" exclaimed the queen.

  "If they are scattered everywhere, there will be room enough for them," said the king.

  "Scattered everywhere!" cried Marie Antoinette, why, sir, you will teach them the way to your own bedchamber."

  This was the prophecy of terror which was to be realized at Versailles before three months had elapsed.

  "They have a great many children with them, Madame," said Gilbert, in a gentle tone.

  "Children!" exclaimed the queen.

  "Yes, Madame; a great many have brought their children with them, as if on a party of pleasure. The children are dressed as little National Guards, so great is the enthusiasm for this new institution."

  The queen opened her lips as if about to speak; but almost instantly she held down her head.

  She had felt a desire to utter a kind word; but pride and hatred had stopped it ere it escaped her lips.

  Gilbert looked at her attentively.

  "Ah!" cried the king, "those poor children! When people bring children with them, it is plain that they have no intention to do harm to the father of a family,—another reason for putting them in a cooler place, poor little things! Let them in; let them in."

  Gilbert then, gently shaking his head, appeared to say to the queen, who had remained silent:—

  "There, Madame; that is what you ought to have said; I gave you the opportunity. Your kind words would have been repeated, and you would have gained two years of popularity."

  The queen comprehended Gilbert's mute language, and a blush suffused her face.

  She felt the error she had committed, and immediately excused herself by a feeling of pride and resistance, which she expressed by a glance, as a reply to Gilbert. During this time Monsieur de Beauvau was following the king's orders relating to the National Guards.

  Then were heard shouts of joy and benediction from that armed crowd, admitted by the king's order to the interior of the palace.

  The acclamations, the fervent wishes, the loud hurrahs, ascended as a whirlwind to the hall in which the king and queen were seated, whom they reassured with regard to the disposition of the so-much-dreaded inhabitants of Paris.

  "Sir
e," said Monsieur de Beauvau, "in what order is it that your Majesty determines the procession shall be conducted?"

  "And the discussion between the National Guards and my officers?"

  "Oh, Sire, it has evaporated, vanished; those worthy people are so happy that they now say, 'We will go wherever you may please to place us. The king is our king as much as he is everybody else's king. Wherever he may be, he is ours."

  The King looked at Marie Antoinette, who curled, with an ironical smile, her disdainful lip.

  "Tell the National Guards," said Louis XVI., "that they may place themselves where they will."

  "Your Majesty," said the queen, "will not forget that your body-guards have the right of surrounding your carriage."

  The officers, who perceived that the king was somewhat undecided, advanced to support the arguments of the queen.

  "That is the case, undoubtedly," replied the king. "Well, we shall see."

  Monsieur de Beauvau and Monsieur de Villeroy left the room to take their stations and to give the necessary orders.,

  The clock of Versailles struck ten. "Well, well," said the king, "I shall put off my usual labors till to-morrow; these worthy people ought not to be kept waiting."

  The king rose from table.

  Marie Antoinette went to the king, clasped him in her arms, and embraced him. The children clung weeping to their father's neck. Louis XVI., who was much moved, endeavored gently to release himself from them; he wished to conceal the emotions which would soon have become overpowering.

  The queen stopped all the officers as they passed her, seizing one by his arm, another by his sword.

  "Gentlemen, gentlemen!" said she. And this eloquent exclamation recommended to them to be watchful for the safety of the king, who had just descended the staircase.

  All of them placed their hands upon their hearts and upon their swords.

  The queen smiled to thank them.

  Gilbert remained in the room till almost the last.

  "Sir," said the queen to him, "it was you who advised the king to take this step. It was you who induced the king to come to this resolution, in spite of my entreaties. Reflect, sir, that you have assumed a fearful responsibility as regards the wife, as regards the children."