"I saw you," replied he.

"Oh, I know!" she cried. "Did they not see me at the ball at the Opera, at Mesmer's, scandalizing the crowd? You know it--you, who fought for me!"

"Madame, then I fought because I did not believe it; now I might fight, but I believe."

The queen raised her arms to heaven, while burning tears rolled down her cheeks.

"My G.o.d," she cried, "send me some thought which will save me! I do not wish this man to despise me."

Charny, moved to the heart, hid his face in his hands.

Then, after a moment's silence, the queen continued:

"Sir, you owe me reparation. I exact this from you. You say you have seen me three nights with a man; I have been already injured through the resemblance to me of some woman, I know not whom, but who is like her unhappy queen; but you are pleased to think it was me. Well, I will go with you into the park; and if she appears again, you will be satisfied? Perhaps we shall see her together; then, sir, you will regret the suffering you have caused me."

Charny pressed his hands to his heart.

"Oh, madame, you overwhelm me with your kindness!"

"I wish to overwhelm you with proofs. Not a word, to any one, but this evening, at ten o'clock, wait alone at the door of the park. Now go, sir."

Charny kneeled, and went away without a word.

Jeanne, who was waiting in the ante-chamber, examined him attentively as he came out. She was soon after summoned to the queen.

CHAPTER LXVII.

WOMAN AND DEMON.

Jeanne had remarked the trouble of Charny, the solicitude of the queen, and the eagerness of both for a conversation.

After what we have already told of the meetings between Jeanne and Oliva, our readers will have been at no loss to understand the scenes in the park. Jeanne, when she came in to the queen, watched her closely, hoping to gather something from her; but Marie Antoinette was beginning to learn caution, and she guarded herself carefully. Jeanne was, therefore, reduced to conjectures. She had already ordered one of her footmen to follow M. de Charny; the man reported that he had gone into a house at the end of the park.

"There is, then, no more doubt," thought Jeanne; "it is a lover who has seen everything, it is clear. I should be a fool not to understand. I must undo what I have done."

On leaving Versailles, she drove to the Rue St. Claude; there she found a superb present of plate, sent to her by the cardinal. She then drove to his house, and found him radiant with joy and pride. On her entrance he ran to meet her, calling her "Dear countess," and full of protestations and grat.i.tude.

"Thank you also, for your charming present. You are more than a happy man; you are a triumphant victor."

"Countess, it frightens me; it is too much."

Jeanne smiled.

"You come from Versailles?" continued he.

"Yes."

"You have seen her?"

"I have just left her."

"And she said nothing?"

"What do you expect that she said?"

"Oh, I am insatiable."

"Well, you had better not ask."

"You frighten me. Is anything wrong? Have I come to the height of my happiness, and is the descent to begin?"

"You are very fortunate not to have been discovered."

"Oh! with precautions, and the intelligence of two hearts and one mind----"

"That will not prevent eyes seeing through the trees."

"We have been seen?"

"I fear so."

"And recognized?"

"Oh, monseigneur, if you had been--if this secret had been known to any one, Jeanne de Valois would be out of the kingdom, and you would be dead."

"True; but tell me quickly. They have seen people walking in the park; is there any harm in that?"

"Ask the king."

"The king knows?"

"I repeat to you, if the king knew, you would be in the Bastile. But I advise you not to tempt Providence again."

"What do you mean, dear countess?"

"Do you not understand?"

"I fear to understand," he replied.

"I shall fear, if you do not promise to go no more to Versailles."

"By day?"

"Or by night."