And with a proud spirit, and a lofty carriage, the queen strode
forward along the path. The bushes began to let the light through,
and the queen emerged from the English garden into the small plain,
in whose midst Marie Antoinette had erected her Arcadia, her dream
of paradise. The queen stood still, and with a countenance which
quickly kindled with joy, and with eyes which beamed with pleasure,
looked at the lovely view which had been called into being by the
skill of her architect, Hubert Robert.

And the queen might well rejoice in this creation, this poetic idyl,
which arose out of the splendor of palaces like a violet in the
sand, and among the variegated tropical flowers which adorn the
table of a king. Closely adjoining each other were little houses
like those in which peasants live, the peasant women being the proud
ladies of the royal court. A little brook babbled behind the houses,
and turned with its foaming torrent the white wheel of the mill
which was at the extremity of the village. Near the mill, farther
on, stood entirely alone a little peasant's house, especially
tasteful and elegant. It was surrounded by flower beds, vineyards,
and laurel paths. The roof was covered with straw; the little panes
were held by leads to the sashes. It was the home of Marie
Antoinette. The queen herself made the drawings, and wrought out the
plan. It was her choice that it should be small, simple, and modest;
that it should have not the slightest appearance of newness, and
that rents and fissures should be represented on the wall by
artificial contrivances, so as to give the house an old look, and an
appearance of having been injured. She had little thought how
speedily time could demolish the simple pastimes of a queen. Close
by stood a still smaller house, known as the milk room. It was close
to the brook. And when Marie Antoinette, with her peasant women, had