The count bowed, with an incredulous smile.
The queen rang. “Madame de Misery shall tell you.”
“Why do you not call Laurent also?” said he, laughing.
“Oh!” cried the queen in a rage, “not to be believed!”
“My dear sister, if I believed you, others would not.”
“Mon Dieu!” murmured Andrée, “my brother a witness!”
“Yes; I wish it;” and she went to seek him at his father’s.
He was just leaving, after the scene we have described with his father, when the messenger met him. He came quickly, and Marie Antoinette turned to him at once.
“Sir,” said she, “are you capable of speaking the truth?”
“Well, then, say frankly, have you seen me at any public place within the last week?”
All hearts beat so that you might have heard them.
“Where?” said the queen, in a terrible voice.
“Oh, no concealment, sir! My brother says you saw me at the ball of the Opera.”
The queen sank on a sofa; then, rising furiously, she said:
“It is impossible, for I was not there! Take care, M. de Taverney!”
“Your majesty,” said Andrée, pale with anger, “if my brother says he saw you, he did see you.”
“You also!” cried Marie Antoinette; “it only remains now for you to have seen me. Pardieu! my enemies overwhelm me.”
“When I saw that the blue domino was not the king,” said the Comte d’Artois, “I believed him to be that nephew of M. de Suffren whom you received so well here the other night.”
“Did it not look something like his tournure, M. de Taverney?” continued the count.
“I did not remark, monseigneur,” said he, in a choking voice.
“But I soon found out that it was not he; for suddenly I saw him before me, and he was close by you when your mask fell off.”
“Send for him also, and ask. I will drain this cup to the dregs!”
“I do not think he can come,” said Philippe.
“Oh, he must come, monsieur! I am not well either, but I would go to the end of the world barefoot to prove——”
All at once Andrée, who was near the window, uttered an exclamation.
“Oh, nothing; only here comes M. de Charny.”
The queen, in her excitement, ran to the window, opened it, and cried, “M. de Charny!”
He, full of astonishment, hastened to enter.
M. de Charny entered, a little pale, but upright, and not apparently suffering.
“Take care, sister,” said the Comte d’Artois; “what is the use of asking so many people?”