“Well, she began by asking questions about the townspeople; then spoke of the court, and wanted to know the smallest things that was going on. I told her everything. Why not? There is no secret about it. The king is getting more and more unpopular every day—the people will not trust him; and they hate the queen—yes, hate is the word; while I, yes, since yesterday, I adore him. They do not understand; but the time will come when Dame Tillery will enlighten them——” “But you were speaking of this woman,” said Jacques, impatiently. “She was questioning you about their majesties.” “I was about to say that, monsieur, when you interrupted me; but it was all questions—not a morsel of news did she give me in return; and when she had got all out of me that I had to tell, the politeness with which she permitted me to withdraw was enough to aggravate a saint. Now this is what I want to know—what brings the woman here? Her coming is an insult to the people. They hated her when she lived here, and they hate her worse now, for she was of the nobility only by the fraud of a marriage, and was always hard and cruel to the class she first disgraced, then left.” “For a higher range of infamy!” muttered Monsieur Jacques. “Exactly,” answered Dame Tillery. “That is why her coming here seems so wonderful; but her impudence is something beyond belief. It is not so very long since she came here one moonlight evening, when the great waters were all aflow, and seated herself, side by side, with her majesty. The whole town rang with this audacious boldness; but the queen knew nothing about it, I am told, and never dreamed that the lady who sat so quietly beside her, not once looking out from behind her veil, was, in fact, the Countess Du Berry, a creature from whom she had always turned her eyes in scorn while she was Dauphiness of France.” Here Dame Tillery ceased walking up and down the room, and closed the huge fan, which had waved faster and faster as she grew more angry and vehement, using it now as a baton. “I hear a knock at the door,” she said. “It is the voice of that young man, the duke. Do not be frightened, mademoiselle—remember, I am with you.” Marguerite did not hear these encouraging words; her eyes were fixed on the door, her breath came hurriedly. She knew that the most important event of her life was approaching, and the terror of it made her pale and faint. Monsieur Jacques arose, took his cap from the table, and stood ready for anything that might arise. As these three persons waited in breathless expectation, the Duke de Richelieu entered the room. “Come,” he said, addressing Marguerite, “their majesties will see you.” CHAPTER XXIX. THE QUEEN AND HER LADIES