I laughed. If he knew who he was addressing what would his reaction be?
“You may say Madame,” I answered.
Provence had come closer. I could see that the stranger was aware of him. I tried to see Provence through a stranger’s eyes. He had an air of the great nobleman. Even when he came to a masked ball he could not forget that he was almost a Dauphin.
I wanted to know more of the stranger but I was very conscious of Provence standing there.
“May I say,” he said, ‘that Madame is charming? “
“You may say it if you mean it,” I replied.
“Then I repeat: Madame is charming.”
“What do you do here?”
“I am acquiring culture, Madame.”
At the Opera Ball? “
“One can never be sure where it will be found I laughed. I did not know why except that I was happy.
“So you are doing the grand tour?”
“I am doing the grand tour, Madame.”
“Tell me where you have been before coming to France.”
To Switzerland, Italy.
And then you will return to Sweden. I wonder which country you will like best. Shall you visit Austria? I wonder how you will like Vienna.
I once lived in Vienna. ” A recklessness seemed to come over me. I went on breathlessly:
What is your name? “
He said: “It is Axel de Fersen.”
Monsieur . Prince . Comte . “
“Comte,” he answered.
“Comte Axel de Fersen,” I repeated.
“My mother’s people came from France.”
That is why there is a look of the French about you,” I said.
“You took your fairness from your father, your darkness from your mother.
I saw it at once. “
“Madame is observant.” He took a step closer and I thought he would ask me to dance. I wondered what I should do if he did because I dared not dance with a stranger. Provence was ready to intervene at any moment. Artois was watchful. If the stranger made any move which might be considered lesemajeste, and which he might easily do after the encouragement I had given him, Provence would intervene. I saw trouble ahead, and strangely enough instead of exhilarating me it alarmed me.
“Madame asks many questions,” said the Comte de Fersen, ‘and I have answered them. Should I not be permitted to ask a few in fair return?”
Provence was frowning. I acted with my usual lack of thought. I lifted a hand and removed my mask.
There were gasps of astonishment all about.
“Madame la Dauphine!’ I laughed aloud to hide my elation while I kept my eyes on the Comte de Fersen. How did it feel, I wondered, to indulge in a flirtation with an unknown woman and discover that you had been speaking to the future Queen of France?
He did not hesitate. He behaved with an admirable calm and the utmost dignity. He bowed low and I saw his blond hair touched his embroidered collar. It was the colour of sunshine—beautiful hair. He must think mine was beautiful too.
The people were closing in on me. They were staring at me. Many might have guessed that I was there, but in the masks which covered our faces from forehead to chin no one could be sure. But I had betrayed myself on an impulse and I was creating a scene in that crowded ballroom.
Provence was beside me; with regal dignity he held out his arm. I slipped mine through it. Artois and my party were already signing for the crowd to part and make way for us.
We went straight to our carriages.
Neither Provence, Artois nor their wives mentioned my action, but I knew when I interrupted their speculative glances that they were considering its significance.
I should have considered it too. It did not occur to me then that these worldly young men had construed my conduct as meaning that I was tired of a marriage which was no marriage. I was a young and healthy woman; I was sexually unfulfilled: a dangerous position for a Dauphine whose offspring would be the Enfants de France. Provence was making up his mind to be watchful. What if I took a lover? What if I produced a child and passed it off as my husband’s? It was possible that a bastard could rob him of a crown. Artois’s speculations ran along different lines. Was I thinking of taking a lover? If so, he had always found me very attractive.
And their wives, who were beginning to know their husbands well, would be following their thoughts.
And I . I was going over every one of those minutes when I had talked to the stranger. I was hearing his voice echoing in my ears. I was thinking of his blond hair against the dark of his coat.
I did not think I should ever see the stranger again, but I thought: I shall remember him for a long time. And he will never forget me as long as he lives.
That seemed enough.
Queen of France
A dreadful noise, like thunder, was heard in the outer apartment; it was the crowd of courtiers who were deserting the dead sovereign’s antechamber to come and bow to the new power of Louis XVI. This extraordinary tumult informed Marie Antoinette and her husband that they were to reign; and by a spontaneous movement which deeply affected those near them, they fell to their knees and in tears exclaimed “Oh God, guide us, protect us for we are too young to rule!“
Louis was becoming more and more fond of me and I of him. I had written to my mother that if I could have chosen my husband from the three royal brothers I would have chosen Louis. I valued his good qualities more every day, while I became more and more critical of my brothers-in-law. He was as intelligent as Provence, although the latter, because he was easily able to express himself, gave the impression of being more so—but it was false. Anois was completely lacking in seriousness; he was not only frivolous, which I, more than most, could forgive, but mischievous, which I could not.
Mercy had repeatedly warned me against both my brothers-in-law and I was beginning to see that he was right.
But life was too amusing nowadays for seriousness. Mercy was writing to my mother that my only real fault was my extreme love of pleasure.
I certainly loved it and sought it everywhere.
But I could be thoughtful; and provided I was made aware of the sufferings of poor people, I could be very sympathetic, more so than most people around me.
I often embarrassed Madame de Noailles by this tendency, and on one occasion when I was with the hunt in Fontainebleau Forest I committed a breach of etiquette for which she found it difficult to reprove me.
They were hunting the stag, and because I was not allowed to ride a horse I had to follow in my calash. A peasant had apparently come out of his cottage at the moment when the terrified stag was passing. He was in its way and the poor creature gored him badly. The man lay by the roadside while the hunt swept by; but when I saw him I insisted on stopping to see how badly hurt he was.
His wife had come out of the cottage and was standing over him wringing her bands; on either side of her were two crying children.
We will carry him into the cottage and see how badly hurt he is,” I said, ‘and I will send a doctor to tend to
