It was the queen,
Marie Antoinette, who was approaching. She wore the same dress, the
same coiffure which she had worn the last Sunday, when after the
mass he had gone to Versailles to drive.
Yes, it was the queen, who was hurrying across the terrace, and
approaching the thicket behind which the cardinal was standing.
"Come," whispered she, softly, and the cardinal quickly emerged from
the shade, sank upon his knee before the queen, and eagerly pressed
the fair hand which she extended to him to his lips. "Your
eminence," whispered the queen to him, "I can unfortunately spend
only a moment here. I cherish nothing against you, and shall soon
show you marks of my highest favor. Meantime, accept this token of
my grace." And Marie Antoinette took a rose from her bosom and gave
it to the cardinal. "Accept, also, this remembrancer," whispered the
queen, again placing a little case in his hand. "It is my portrait.
Look often at it, and never doubt me, I--"
At this moment the Countess Valois, who had been waiting at some
distance, hastily came up.
"Some one is coming," whispered she; "for God's sake, your majesty,
fly!"
Voices were audible in the distance, and soon they approached. The
queen grasped the hand of the Countess Lamotte.
"Come, my friend," said she. "Farewell, cardinal, au revoir!"
Full of joy at the high good fortune which had fallen to him, and at
the same time saddened at the abrupt departure of the queen, the
cardinal turned back to Paris.
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