from me the oath of my eternal devotion and love. You have honored
me with your confidence, you have called me your friend. But my soul
and my heart glow for another name. Speak the word, Marie
Antoinette, the word--"

The queen drew back, and the paleness of death spread over her
cheeks. She had at the outset listened with amazement, then with
horror and indignation, to the insolent words of the baron, and
gradually her gentle features assumed a fierce and disdainful
expression.

"My lord," she said, with the noble dignity of a queen, "I told you
before that God is above us, and hears our words. You have spoken,
wantonly, and God has heard you. To Him I leave the punishment of
your wantonness. Stand up, my lord! the king shall know nothing of
an insult which would have brought you into ignominy with him
forever. But if you ever, by a glance or a gesture, recall this both
wanton and ridiculous scene, the king shall hear all from me!"

And while the queen pointed, with a proud and dignified gesture, to
the place which was their goal, she said, with commanding tone:

"Go before, my lord; I will follow you alone." The Baron de
Besenval, the experienced courtier, the practised man of the world,
was undergoing what was new to him; he felt himself perplexed,
ashamed, and no longer master of his words. He had risen from his
knees, and, after making a stiff obeisance to the queen, he turned
and went with a swift step and crestfallen look along the path which
the queen had indicated.