MARIE ANTOINETTE'S TALISMAN. 59
was, in fact, this contrast with the elaborately
elegant women of the court, which had formed
the chief element of her power in former years.
Neither time nor misfortune had dulled this
broad sense of enjoyment; she had thrown herself into a chair, and was laughing until the
tears rolled down the rouge and tiny black
patches on her face, when Zamara, who had
undertaken to convey a message to the palace,
came in and paused at the door, astonished by
this outburst of hilarity.
Madame composed herself a little, and wiped the tears from her laughing face.
“Did you see her, my Zamara? Did you watch her progress down the street, wielding that green fan, kissing her hand to the crowd? Oh! it was delicious! Come here, marmosette, and tell me your news’ I have not had such a laugh in years; in fact, that heavy climate of England would take the laugh out of Hebe herself. It is an enjoyment, and I feel all the better for it. Now tell me all about it.”
“I have failed to reach the queen, These people were in the way, so I brought the letter back.”
“Oh! that is bad! It will compel us to wait another day in this dismal place—and that I can hardly endure!” exclaimed the countess, losing all desire to laugh. ‘How unfortunate!”
“But that is not the worst,” answered the dwarf.
“Well, what can be worse than two long days in this hole, let me have it, if that is not enough? I have learned how to bear evil tidings, as you know, rogue—so out with your news.”
“Madame will, perhaps, remember a man whom she once summoned from his home in Germany—a learned physician——”
The countess put a hand up to her forehead, and seemed to search her memory; all at once she looked up.
“You mean that Dr. Gosner, with the ring?”
“Yes; that is the man.”
“Well, what of him? He was sent to the Bastile; I remember it all. It seems to me that I intended to let him out; but the king died, and then all my power for good or harm ended. Of course, there was no one to intercede for him. The Bastile makes quick work with its inmates. Of course, he died.”
“No, my mistress, he still lives; and the young girl you saw yonder with Dame Tillery has his release in her bosom. To-morrow he will be the lion of Paris. All France will know that a word of yours took this man from his family, and shut him up in a dungeon deep below the sewers of the street, where his best below the sewers of the street, where his best companions have been the toads and creeping things from which human nature revolts. In this dungeon a good man, a learned man, has grown old in misery. He will come forth with hair like the drifted snow, weak and tottering, perhaps imbecile; and the people, who hate you, will cry out, ‘This is the work of that monster, Du Barry. She kills souls! She had no mercy! She—”
The countess uttered an impatient cry, and clapped both hands to her ears.
“Stop, Zamara—stop, if you have not resolved to kill me. All that-was so long ago, I had almost forgotten it. Can men live so long under ground?”
“Not often; but some lives defy nature, and all that outrages it. Another man has spent half a lifetime in those hideous vaults, and come out at last to exasperate the people. This will complete their frenzy. Gosner will appear in the clubs, in the market-places, everywhere. His white hair will madden the people like a hostile banner; his white lips will tell the story of his wrongs. This will drive tears from the women, clamors of rage from the men. They will demand the author of this cruelty, and he will pronounce your name.”
Madame shrunk back in her chair, white and craven with fear; the dwarf had drawn his picture with terrible force. Shuddering, she acknowledged its truth, and cried out,
“What can I do, Zamara? How can all these horrors be averted? They know that i am in France. I cannot leave; I cannot exist in that horrible England. Oh! why will all one’s little errors keep upon the track so long? I had forgotten this but for the ring—you remember the ring, Zamara?”
“Yes, my mistress. It was only today that I saw it coiling around the queen's finger. They tell me it never leaves her hand.”
“I placed it there. It was only by the ring I remembered this man Gosner at all. It was to get that I obtained the letire-de-cachet. You know how I hated her then. She scorned me 80, it was natural; but when the king died how forbearing she was, how generous. No insults reached me from her; all my estates were left; she crushed me beneath the grandeur of her magnanimity. Then I repented; then I would gladly have taken that fatal serpent from her finger. I remember well what he said of its power, to every hand but his it would bring disgrace and sorrow. Without it, all these evils would fall on him. I took it from him and gave it to her. See how his predictions has turned out, Zamara—from that day to this he has lan-
