The moment came when the Well Beloved died. His death-room was fetid with disease, and even the long corridors of the palace reeked with infection, while the motley mob of men and women, clad in silks and satins and glittering with jewels, hurried from the spot to pay their homage to the new Louis, who was spoken of as "the Desired." The body of the late monarch was hastily thrown into a mass of quick-lime, and was driven away in a humble wagon, without guards and with no salute, save from a single veteran, who remembered the glories of Fontenoy and discharged his musket as the royal corpse was carried through the palace gates. This was a critical moment in the history of France; but we have to consider it only as a critical moment in the history of Marie Antoinette. She was now queen. She had it in her power to restore to the French court its old-time grandeur, and, so far as the queen was concerned, its purity. Above all, being a foreigner, she should have kept herself free from reproach and above every shadow of suspicion. But here again the indifference of the king undoubtedly played a strange part in her life. Had he borne himself as her lord and master she might have respected him. Had he shown her the affection of a husband she might have loved him. But he was neither imposing, nor, on the other hand, was he alluring. She wrote very frankly about him in a letter to the Count Orsini: My tastes are not the same as those of the king, who cares only for hunting and blacksmith work. You will admit that I should not show to advantage in a forge. I could not appear there as Vulcan, and the part of Venus might displease him even more than my tastes. Thus on the one side is a woman in the first bloom of youth, ardent, eager--and neglected. On the other side is her husband, whose sluggishness may be judged by quoting from a diary which he kept during the month in which he was married. Here is a part of it: Sunday, 13--Left Versailles. Supper and slept at Compignee, at the house of M. de Saint-Florentin. Monday, 14--Interview with Mme. la Dauphine. Tuesday, 15--Supped at La Muette. Slept at Versailles. Wednesday, 16--My marriage. Apartment in the gallery. Royal banquet in the Salle d'Opera. Thursday, 17--Opera of "Perseus." Friday, 18--Stag-hunt. Met at La Belle Image. Took one. Saturday, 19--Dress-ball in the Salle d'Opera. Fireworks. Thursday, 31--I had an indigestion. What might have been expected from a young girl placed as this queen was placed? She was indeed an earlier Eugenie. The first was of royal blood, the second was almost a plebeian; but each was headstrong, pleasure-loving, and with no real domestic ties. As Mr. Kipling expresses it-- The colonel's lady and Judy O'Grady Are sisters under their skins;