next to the count, on the seat already prepared for her.

"Will not the music be too difficult for me to play?" asked she,
timidly.

"Nothing is too difficult for the Queen of France."

"But there is a great deal that is too difficult for the dilettante,
Marie Antoinette," sighed the queen. "Meanwhile, we will begin and
try it."

And with great facility and lightness of touch, the queen began to
play the base of the piece which had been arranged by the Count de
Vaudreuil for four hands. But the longer she played, the more the
laughter and the unrestrained gayety disappeared from the features
of the queen. Her noble countenance assumed an expression of deep
earnestness, her eye kindled with feeling, and the cheeks which
before had become purple-red with the exercise of playing, now paled
with deep inward emotion.

All at once, in the very midst of the grand and impassioned strains,
Marie Antoinette stopped, and, under the strength of her feeling,
rose from her seat.

"Only Gluck can have written this!" cried she. "This is the music,
the divine music of my exalted master, my great teacher, Chevalier
Gluck."

"You are right; your majesty is a great musician," cried Lord
Vaudreuil, in amazement, "the ideal pupil of the genial maestro.