Marie Antoinette followed him with her eyes so long as he remained
in sight, then looked with a long, sad glance around her.

"And so I am alone again," she whispered, "and poorer by one
illusion more. Ah, and is it then true that there is no friendship
for me; must every friend be an envier or else a lover? Even this
man, whom I honored with my confidence, toward whom I cherished the
feeling of a pupil toward a teacher, even this man has dared to
insult me! Ah, must my heart encounter a new wonder every day, and
must my happiness be purchased with so many pains?"

And with a deep cry of pain the queen drew her hands to her face,
and wept bitterly. All around was still. Only here and there were
heard the songs of the birds in the bushes, light and dreamy; while
the trees, swayed by the wind, gently whispered, as if they wanted
to quiet the grief of the queen, and dry up those tears which fell
upon the flowers.

All at once, after a short pause, the queen let her hands fall
again, and raised her head with proud and defiant energy.

"Away with tears!" she said. "What would my friends say were they to
see me? What buzzing and whispering would there be, were they to see
that the gentle queen, the always happy and careless Marie
Antoinette, had shed tears? Oh, my God!" she cried, raising her
large eyes to heaven, "I have today paid interest enough for my
happiness; preserve for me at least the capital, and I will
cheerfully pay the world the highest rates, such as only a miserly
usurer can desire."