duty and his right, as it is the duty and right of all his subjects
to conform to his wish and be subject to his will."

"But," cried Lord Besenval, "it is horrible to live in a country
where one is not sure but he may lose tomorrow what he holds to-day;
down to this time that has always been the Turkish fashion."
[Footnote: His very words. See Goncourt's "Histoire de Marie
Antoinette," p. 181.]

The queen trembled and raised her great eyes with a look full of
astonishment and pain to Besenval, then to the other friends; she
read upon all faces alienation and unkindly feeling. The mask of
devoted courtiers and true servants had for the first time fallen
from their faces, and Marie Antoinette discovered these all at once
wholly estranged and unknown countenances; eyes without the beam of
friendship, lips without the smile of devotion.

The queen sought to put her hand to her heart. It seemed to her as
if she had been wounded with a dagger. She felt as if she must cry
aloud with pain and grief. But she commanded herself and only gave
utterance to a faint sigh.

"You are not the only ones who will lose, my friends," said she,
gently. "The king is a loser, too; for if he gives up the great
stables, he sacrifices to the common good his horses, his equipages,
and, above all, his true servants. We must all learn to put up with
limitations and a reduction of outlay. But we can still remain good
friends, and here in Trianon pass many pleasant days with one
another in harmless gayety and happy contentment. Come, my friends,
let us forget these cares and these constraints; let us, despite all