"Did I not tell you so?" she cried. "My son is calling, for he is
longing for me. I am coming, my little George, I am coming!"
She sprang forward, and the door closed behind her.
"You have heard the statements of the witness," said the president,
addressing Countess Lamotte. "You see now that we have the proof of
the ignominious and treacherous intrigues which you have conducted.
Will you, in the face of such proofs, still endeavor to deny the
facts which have been given in evidence?"
"I have seen neither proofs nor facts," answered Lamotte,
scornfully. "I have only been amazed at the self-possession with
which the queen goes through her part, and wondered how far her
light-mindedness will carry her. She is truly an adroit player, and
she has played the part of Madame Oliva so well, that not a motion
nor a tone would have betrayed the queen."
"How, madame?" asked the president, in amazement.
"Do you pretend to assert that this witness, who has just left the
hall, is not Madame Oliva, but another person? Do you not know that
this witness, this living portrait of the queen, has for ten months
been detained at the Bastile, and that no change in the person is
possible?"
"I only know that the queen has played her part well," said Lamotte,
shrugging her shoulders. "She has even gone so far, in her desire to
show a difference between Madame Oliva and the queen, as to make a
very great sacrifice, and to disclose a secret of her beauty.
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