tinted vapour which bathes objects in full sunlight--the extreme
loveliness which the ideal conveys, and which by giving it life
increases its attraction. With all these charms, a soul yearning to
attach itself, a heart easily moved, but yet earnest in desire to fix
itself; a pensive and intelligent smile, with nothing of vacuity in it,
nothing of preference or mere acquaintanceship in it, because it felt
itself worthy of friendships. Such was Marie-Antoinette as a woman.


XIII.

It was enough to form the happiness of a man and the ornament of a
court: to inspire a wavering monarch, and be the safeguard of a state
under trying circumstances, something more is requisite. The genius of
government is required, and the queen had it not. Nothing could have
prepared her for the regulation of the disordered elements which were
about her; misfortune had given her no time for reflection. Hailed with
enthusiasm by a perverse court and an ardent nation, she must have
believed in the eternity of such sentiments. She was lulled to sleep in
the dissipations of the Trianon. She had heard the first threatenings of
the tempest without believing in its dangers: she had trusted in the
love she inspired, and which she felt in her own heart. The court had
become exacting, the nation hostile. The instrument of the intrigues of
the court on the heart of the king, she had at first favoured and then
opposed all reforms which prevented or delayed the crises that arose.
Her policy was but infatuation; her system but the perpetual abandonment
of herself to every partisan who promised her the king's safety. The
Comte D'Artois, a youthful prince, chivalrous in etiquette, had much
influence with her. He relied greatly on the noblesse; made frequent
references to his sword. He laughed at the crises: he disdained this war