Santerre leaned over the table and looked complacently at the
singular group. The proud and yet gentle face of the queen was so
near him, that when he saw the sweat-drops rolling down from beneath
the woollen cap over the dauphin's forehead, even he felt a touch of
pity, and, straightening himself up, perhaps to escape the eye of
the queen, he called out, roughly: "Take that cap off from that
child; don't you see how he sweats?"
The queen thanked him with a mute glance, and took the cap herself
from the head of the poor child.
At this point a horde of howling women pressed up to the table, and
threatened the queen with their fists, and hurled wild curses at
her.
"Only see how proudly and scornfully this Austrian looks at us!"
cried a young woman, who stood in the front rank." She would like to
blast us with her eyes, for she hates us."
Marie Antoinette turned kindly to them: "Why should I hate you?" she
asked, in gentle tones. "It is you that hate me--you. Have I ever
done you any harm?"
"Not to me," answered the young woman, "not to me, but to the
nation."
"Poor child!" answered the queen, gently, "they have told you so,
and you have believed it. What advantage would it bring to me to
harm the nation? You call me the Austrian, but I am the wife of the
King of France, the mother of the dauphin.
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