216
Ꭵ Ꭺ Ꭱ Ꮮ Ꭼ ANTOINETTE'S TALISMAN.
I shall be content, so long as there is a pallet on which I may snatch a few hours’ rest, and light enough to refresh my toilet by.”
“The room has a glazed window, and you shall not be disturbed.”
«Meanwhile, perhaps, you will think of some method by which I can speak to the queen.”
“It is difficult, very difficult; but there are few things that Dame Tillery cannot accomplish when all her energies are set upon it. This is the room; marmosette has arisen—go in, go in; if he has left anything there, set it outside the door, and draw the bolt. I see his bed has not been touched.”
The page stepped over the threshold, saying,
I will not disturb the lady with any noise.”
“Oh! never mind her—she cannot rule here! The time was—but no matter; a good morning's sleep to you. When the breakfast is ready you shall be informed.”
The page entered the little room assigned to him, threw himself on the pallet-bed, and burst into a low, rich gush of laughter, that was little in keeping with the promise he had made not to disturb the lady in the next room. A few minutes after Zamara came to the door. The page sprung up, drew the bolt, and gave the dwarf a glimpse of his laughing face.
“Go away!” he said, “I am here safe and well. Your lady will sleep late; she is ill—has an abominable headache. I should not wonder if she keeps her bed all day.”
Zamara left the door smiling, for he had been very anxious during the night, In the passage he met Dame Tillery.
“How has your lady rested?” she inquired. “Have you seen her this morning?”
“No; but I will inquire,” answered the dwarf.
“It is time, we must be thinking about her breakfast.”
“I fear madame will have but little appetite; she was not well last night.”
“Still we must take her orders. Yes, yes, I am coming! Was ever a house like this! Dame Tillery here, Dame Tillery there! If I could cut myself into a dozen, it would not be enough. You hear how they are calling me, marmosette. In ten minutes I will be back again—expect me.”
Zamara went at once to the door which he had just left, and, after a faint knock, put his lips to the key-hole, and whispered something to the person he heard moving inside, Then he sauntered away, waiting patiently for the reappearance of the dame. She appeared at last, breathing heavily, and flushed with the exertion she was forced to make in lifting her ponderous weight up the stairs.
“Now you will make inquiries about madame,” she said. “It is important; I have so much to accomplish before presenting myself at the chateau.”
Zamara walked softly to Madame Du Barry’s chamber and knocked at the door. A voice bade him come in, and he disappeared. Directly he came back and beckoned to the dame, who was glad enough to enter the sleeping-room of her guest. She would not have known the room in her own house, so completely was it metamorphosed. Silken hangings fell over the windows through which the light came, richly filling the room as with a warm sunset. The only table in the room had been covered with a scarlet cloth, on which golden scent-bottles, pomade-boxes, and caskets, shone in gorgeous profusion. Instead of the best sheets and blankets that her linen-closet could afford, Dame Tillery saw sheets of the finest linen peeping out from blankets of delicate lamb’s- wool, and over them was a coverlet of pale-green satin, which swept the oaken floor with a border of delicate embroidery.
In this bed, with her hair all loose, and her night-dress open at the throat, lay Madame Du Barry, with all the rouge washed from her face, and her head resting languidly on the snowy- whiteness of ber pillows. She certainly had all the appearance of an invalid. The countess held out her hand with a gentle smile.
“This is kind,” she said; “I have been so ill in the night. You are looking at these things. It is foolish, I know, but they please me—they have become necessary; so, when I travel, Zamara always has them ready. I hope you are not offended.”
“Offended! Well, I was, almost! Her majesty, I think, would not have scorned to sleep in my best room as it was.”
“Ah, dame! but she is the queen. She has everything, while I possess nothing but old memories and habits, that make commonplace things repulsive.”
“I do not know about it. Princes have slept in this room before now, and never seemed to feel a want. Well, madame, if you are so dainty, the aid of Dame Tillery can be nothing to you. I shall not take your message to the queen, remember that.”
“Ah, dame! this is unkind.”
“I think it is only prudent.”
“Well, if you really refuse, I have nothing more to say. There was a time when the most courageous woman in Versailles would have been afraid to refuse a request of mine.”
“But now it would take the bravest woman
