Marie Antoinette knew then that the crowning humiliation, against which her soul had risen so hotly, would, in the end, be consummated. Without a word she turned away and left the room, pale as a ghost, and bowing her proud head downward. After a little she remembered that her manner had been abrupt and lacking in respect; touched to the heart, she turned back and softly opened the work-room door. The king had fallen forward upon his bench, and with his face buried in both hands, lay writhing in silent anguish. “Ah!” she thought, mournfully, “he has the power to endure, but not the will to act.” So, with sweet forbearance, she smothered the clamorous pride in her own bosom, and stealing up to the work-bench, wound her arm around her husband’s neck. “Louis!” The king looked up, and turned his heavy eyes upon the tearful face bent so lovingly to his. “Ah!” he said, gently. “An evil fate made me king when France was falling into convulsions. You should have been the leader, my beloved.” “Not so,” was the kindly answer. “What have I done but make the people hate me? I, who would have given my life for their love.” “For that we must both be ready to make great sacrifices. Oh! if I could only lay my heart bare before this concourse of Frenchmen, and let them see how honestly it is theirs, the thing with which they threaten us would be a blessing.” The king spoke earnestly, and his eyes filled with tears. “Shall I write this to Count Mirabeau?” said the queen, touched by this gentle despondency, and forgetting her first wrath in the intense sympathy which she felt for her husband. “I think he is faithful!” said Louis, wistfully! “Let us at least consider his advice.” Then the queen knew that she must submit, and without another word of protest, she went forth to accept the thing she loathed. CHAPTER XCI. THE BAFFLED SPY. An hour after this, Marguerite sat beside Dame Tillery in the little donkey cart which had brought them from Versailles. She carried a letter in her bosom directed to Count Mirabeau. The girl was very silent and thoughtful, and Dame Tillery managed her donkey in sullen dignity, for long after she was ready to start home Marguerite had kept her waiting. At last curiosity overcame the good woman, and she began to ask questions. “Well, Marguerite, did you get a sight of her majesty, or was it a mistake when they told me that she was walking in the Park. It was a great favor if they let you in. Nothing less than a member of the household could have done that for you; but, passing as my heiress, you have privileges. I hope you understand.” “Oh, yes!” answered Marguerite dreamily. “I understand that you are very kind to me.” “But about her majesty; did you get a glimpse of her?” “Yes, I saw her.” “But not too near. I hope you did not take a liberty like that?”