Gabrielle looked round at Madeleine with surprise, but the queen's flower-girl repeated, fixing her eye steadily on her, 'Françoise Rolin.' 'Well, follow me, my girls,' said the princess. When they stood before the queen, Madeleine bent, as she was accustomed; but Gabrielle, unacquainted with etiquette, looked earnestly in the face of Marie Antoinette. The queen smiled. The expression of the young countenance was one of simple admiration. 'Oh! how beautiful you are, madame!' escaped involuntarily from the lips of the peasantess. The queen was pleased; a little colour rose to her cheek, and she held out her hand, which Gabrielle kissed reverently. 'It is not polite to flatter any person to her face,' said Marie Antoinette; 'but, as you have broken rule, I must follow suit, and assure you that you have a charming little face. What is your name, mignonne?' 'Her name, if it please your majesty, is Françoise Rolin,' answered Madeleine. The queen turned to her and said, sharply, 'When I speak to you, answer me. I addressed my question to this child. Is she any relation of yours?' 'Your majesty, she is my cousin.' 'And where do you live, mignonne?' she asked of Gabrielle. 'Madame, at Bernay.' 'Bernay,' echoed the queen; 'where is that?' 'Madame, it is in Normandy.' 'Ah! you are a brave Norman, then?' 'Yes, madame.' 'How long have you been in Paris?' 'Madame, ever since the end of April.' 'Alas!' said Marie Antoinette, with a sigh; 'you little bird of ill-omen, you came fluttering towards the capital to announce the coming on of care and worry. Who knows but you may have come here to Marly to give omen of more care and more worry, and perhaps of disaster?' 'No, dear, beautiful queen!' cried Gabrielle, looking full in her eyes; 'I should cry my eyes out if I thought so.' 'Why do you call me "dear?"' asked Marie Antoinette, with an accent of sadness; 'your people do not generally express much affection for me.' 'My people!' 'Well, well; I mean the people,--the mob, the lower orders.' Gabrielle remained silent. 'What brought you to Paris?' again asked the queen; 'have you come like little David, in the naughtiness of your heart, to see the battle?' 'Madame!' 'I asked you a simple question,' said the queen, petulantly. 'Her majesty asked you why you left Normandy and came to Paris,' said Marie Thérèse de Lamballe. Gabrielle fell at the queen's feet. 'Dear, beautiful madame!' she cried, raising her hands and her eyes, which filled instantly with tears; 'I came to see you.' The queen surprised, and by no means offended, looked at her with benevolence; this encouraged Gabrielle, who pursued,--'Madame! I had a dear mistress, one so kind, so good, and so gentle; she loved me, and I loved her. I was not long with her, but that was quite long enough for her to have gained my heart; and then, madame, she had no one else to love, except yellow Gabriel.' 'Yellow what!' exclaimed the queen.