the little corridor, and thence to the adjacent staircase, and over
the small court to one of the minor gates of the palace, leading to
the park. The coupe of the queen was standing before this door, and
the master of the stole and the lackeys were awaiting the approach
of the queen.

Marie Antoinette sprang like a gazelle into the carriage, and then
extended her hand to the duchess to assist her to ascend. "Forward,
forward!" cried the queen to the coachman, " and drive with all
haste, as if the horses had wings, for I long to fly. Forward! oh,
forward!"




CHAPTER III.

TRIANON


Fly, ye steeds, fly! Bear the Queen of France away from the stiff,
proud Versailles; from the palaces of kings, where every thing
breathes of exaltation, greatness, and unapproachableness; bear her
to little, simple, pretty Trianon, to the dream of paradise, where
all is innocence, simplicity, and peace; where the queen may be a
woman, and a happy one, too, and where Marie Antoinette has the
right to banish etiquette, and live in accordance with her
inclinations, wishes, and humors.

Yes, truly, the fiery steeds have transformed themselves into birds;