us with a tempest. I see all; I have no illusions more. The fair
days are all past--the sunshine of Trianon, and the fragrance of its
flowers."

"And will your majesty not go there to-day?" asked the duchess. "It
is such beautiful weather, the sun shines so splendidly, and we
shall have such a glorious sunset."

"A glorious sunset!" repeated Marie Antoinette, with a bitter smile.
"A queen is at least allowed to see the sun go down; etiquette has
not forbidden a queen to see the sun set and night approach. But the
poor creature is not allowed to see the sun rise, and rejoice in the
beauty of the dawn. I have once, since I was a queen, seen the sun
rise, and all the world cried 'Murder,' and counted it a crime, and
all France laughed at the epigrams and jests with which my friends
punished me for the crime that the queen of France, with her court,
had seen the sun rise. And now you want to allow me to see it set,
but I will not; I will not look at this sad spectacle of coming
night. In me it is night, and I feel the storms which are drawing
nigh. Go, Julia, leave me alone, for you can see that there is
nothing to be done with me to-day. I cannot laugh, I cannot be
merry. Go, for my sadness might infect you, and that would make me
doubly sad."

The duchess did not reply; she only made a deep reverence, and went
with light, inaudible step over the carpet to the door. The queen's
face had been turned away, but as the light sound of the door struck
her ear, she turned quickly around and saw that she was alone.

"She has left me--she has really gone," sighed the queen, bitterly.