I looked at Mademoiselle. She had turned deathly pale. Her eyes were filled with tears. Before my glance she lowered her head. My resolution was taken at once. “But, Your Majesty, I am not going back to America.” “How, Monsieur! You contradict the Queen?” “At least, I am not going back alone,” I added respectfully. “Monsieur, believe me,” the Queen rejoined earnestly, “it is impossible. The Duc de Rivau-Huet would never consent. He is one of the great nobles of France. You——” “I am a criminal, Madame, and respect no conventions save those dictated by my own heart.” I could swear that Mademoiselle gave me one grateful glance. “Is that the custom of America?” asked the Queen. “Of the world, Madame. When one loves as I, there is but one custom.” “That is?” “To give oneself to one’s mistress and to take her for his own.” The situation was becoming impossible. It was fortunately saved for me by the entrance of an equerry. “Your Majesty”—he stopped and bowed low—“Monsieur le Marquis du Trémigon would like the honor of an audience.” “Monsieur,” said the Queen, turning to me, “you still persist in this mad resolution?” “Madame, I am determined in it. There is but one voice that can send me to America—alone.” “And that voice.” “Is Mademoiselle’s.” “Speak to him, Gabrielle,” said the Queen. Mademoiselle turned and looked at me. Her lips formed a word; she drew her breath sharply in, but no sound came. “With reverence to Your Majesty, that word Mademoiselle cannot say.” “Why not, Monsieur?” “Because she loves me,” I answered confidently. The Queen looked from one to the other of us. I only looked at Mademoiselle. She could not sustain the concentrated force of two such stares as ours. She hid her face in her hands. “_Ma foi_,” said Marie Antoinette, with one of those quick changes of mood which made her so fascinating, “it is even so. Before two such lovers, I may be pardoned if I forget that I am a queen and remember only that I am a woman.” “May God bless Your Majesty for that!” I cried enthusiastically. “Does it mean——?” “That I am on your side, Monsieur? Satisfy me of what has been told me of yourself this morning and we shall see.” The look that she gave me spoke volumes. I was speechless with happiness. To satisfy her, everyone, of my position would be easy. If only I could get word to Dr. Franklin. He had been a friend of my father in the colonies. He knew many people I knew, and if that mad little Scotsman were here he would be on my side. The Queen gave me no time for reply, for she turned to the equerry and said: