poissarde, and lowered his hat down to his very stirrup. But the populace,
who had been flattered for three years, required far different homage to
its power, and the poor man was unnoticed. The King had been awakened,
and so had Madame Elisabeth, who had gone to him. The Queen, yielding to
the weight of her griefs, slept till nine o'clock on that day, which was
very unusual with her. The King had already been to know whether she was
awake; I told him what I had done, and the care I had taken not to disturb
her. He thanked me, and said, "I was awake, and so was the whole palace;
she ran no risk. I am very glad to see her take a little rest. Alas! her
griefs double mine!" What was my chagrin when, upon awaking and learning
what had passed, the Queen burst into tears from regret at not having been
called, and began to upbraid me, on whose friendship she ought to have
been able to rely, for having served her so ill under such circumstances!
In vain did I reiterate that it had been only a false alarm, and that she
required to have her strength recruited. "It is not diminished," said she;
"misfortune gives us additional strength. Elisabeth was with the King,
and I was asleep,--I who am determined to perish by his side! I am his
wife; I will not suffer him to incur the smallest risk without my sharing
it."




CHAPTER VIII.


During July the correspondence of M. Bertrand de Molleville with the King
and Queen was most active. M. de Marsilly, formerly a lieutenant of the
Cent-Suisses of the Guard, was the bearer of the letters.