for I felt that something—I could not guess what—was about to happen to me.
My captain bowed respectfully, and conversed in a low tone with M. de Lauzun. Marie Antoinette was looking at me! I leaned against the wall to keep myself from falling. There were footsteps upon the staircase, and I saw Michel Sedaine, followed by Grévey and the podgy and pompous manager; and they were bringing Pierrette, the real Pierrette, my Pierrette, to me—my sister, my wife, my Pierrette of Montreuil!
The manager was exclaiming joyfully:—
"Here is a good night's work! Eighteen thousand francs!"
The Queen now came forward, and, taking Pierrette's hand, said in her gay, kindly manner:—
"You see, my child, there was no other way in which you could honourably earn your dot in a single hour. To-morrow I shall take you back to the curé of Montreuil, who will, I trust, absolve us both. He will forgive you for playing in a comedy once in your life."
Here the Queen, with a gracious bow, turned to me. To poor, bewildered, stupid me!
"I hope," said she, "that M. Mathurin will deign to accept Pierrette's fortune. I have added nothing to it; she has earned it all herself!"
"She has earned it all herself!"
