CHAPTER XCVIII.
THE NEW FASHIONS.
The queen had submitted to a state of things which she felt to be irremediable. She had renounced all idea of interceding with the king for De Choiseul, for she felt that interference on her part would be resented; and she could not afford to lessen, by so much as a shade, the kindly feelings which her husband had begun to manifest toward her.
Louis appeared to have no greater happiness than that which he found in his wife's society. They were often seen wandering in the shady walks of the palace gardens, talking, jesting, and laughing together, as might have done any other young couple, unencumbered by the burden of royalty. It had even happened to Louis to steal an arm around the graceful form of the queen, and once or twice to bestow a shy kiss upon her ivory shoulders.
The heart of the king was thawing; and Marie Antoinette, who had so longed and pined for his regard, sometimes blushed, while with beating heart she indulged a hope that the king was falling in love.
She sought, by every means in her power, to please him; and she who, hitherto, had seemed indifferent to dress, now bestowed hours of thought upon the toilet of the day.
The anti-Austrian party, the royal aunts, the brothers of the king, and the Orleans family, all her enemies, observed this new taste for dress with secret satisfaction. Not one of them suspected that it was aimed at the heart of the king; and that Marie Antoinette, whom they were deriding as a coquette, was coquetting with her husband, and dressing for him alone. So they flattered and encouraged her, hoping to divert her mind from politics, and urge her on to ruin.
The Duchess of Chartres had mentioned to the queen a Parisian modiste, who had instituted a complete revolution in dress. This wonderful modiste, whose taste in modes was exquisite, was Mademoiselle Bertin. The duchess had described her dresses, laces, caps, and coiffures, with so much enthusiasm, that Marie Antoinette grew impatient with curiosity, ordered her carriage, and sent a message to Madauie de Noailles to prepare to accompany her at once to Bertin's establishment.
Madame received this message with indignation, and instead of making ready to obey, went in hot haste to the queen's reception room.
"I wish to drive to Bertin's to make some purchases," said Marie
Antoinette, as her tormentor appeared at the door.
"That is impossible, your majesty," said the guardian of the inferno of etiquette. "No Queen of France has ever set foot within the precincts of a shop, or has ever appeared in a public place of that sort. It would be such an egregious breach of etiquette, that I am convinced your majesty will not be guilty of it."
"Well," said the queen, with a scornful laugh, "I will not disturb your virtuous convictions. I will not be guilty of that which no Queen of France has ever stooped to do, so that you can have Bertin sent to the palace, and I can examine her goods here."
"Here! Your majesty would receive a modiste in your reception room!" cried De Noailles, rolling up the whites of her eyes. "I beseech your majesty to remember that none but the noble ladies, who have the privilege of the tabouret, are allowed to enter the queen's reception-room."
The queen bit her rosy lips. "Well, then, madame," said she, "I will receive Bertin in my own cabinet. I presume there can be no objections to that; and, if there were, I should certainly not heed them."
"The duty of my office, nevertheless, obliges me to remark to your—"
"There is no office at this court which justifies any one in a direct disobedience of the queen's orders. Go, then, madame, and order that Bertin be sent to me in an hour."
"Oh!" murmured Marie Antoinette, as the mistress of ceremonies slowly retreated, "that woman's sole delight in life is to irritate and annoy me!"
An hour later, Mademoiselle Bertin made her appearance before the queen.
Four royal lackeys followed her, laden with band-boxes.
"Mademoiselle," said the queen, "have you brought me the latest fashions?"
"No, your majesty," replied Bertin, reverentially, "I bring the materials wherewith to fill your majesty's orders."
"Were you not told to bring your samples of fashions?" asked Marie
Antoinette, with surprise.
"Your majesty, there are no new fashions," said Bertin. "Your majesty's word is necessary to create them. A queen does not follow the fashion, it follows her."
"Ah! you intend that I shall invent now fashions?"
"Yes, your majesty. The Queen of France cannot stoop to wear that which has already been worn by others."
"You are right," said the queen, pleased by the flattery of the shrewd modiste." Make haste, and show me your goods, that I may begin at once to set the fashions to the court. It will be quite an amusement to invent new modes of dress."
Mademoiselle Bertin smiled, and, opening her boxes, exhibited her goods. There were the beautiful silken fabrics of Lyons; the shimmering white satin, besprinkled with bouquets that rivalled nature; there were heavy, shining velvets, heightened by embroidery of gold and silver; laces, from Alencon and Valenciennes, whose web was as delicate as though elfin fingers, had spun the threads; muslins, from India, so fine that they could only he woven in water; crapes, from China, with the softness of satin and the sheen of velvet; there were graceful ostrich-plumes from Africa, and flowers from Paris, so wondrous in their beauty that nothing was wanting to their perfection save perfume.
Marie Antoinette flitted from one treasure to another; her white hands at one moment deriving new beauty from the dark velvets upon which they rested; at another, looking lovelier than ever, as they toyed with the transparent laces. There was nothing queenly about her now. She was merely a charming woman, anxious to outshine all other women in the eyes of one man.
When Mademoiselle Berlin took her leave, the queen gave her orders to return to the palace daily. "One thing I shall exact of you, mademoiselle, you shall disclose the secret of my toilet for the day to nobody; and the fashions shall be made public at the end of one week."
Mademoiselle Bertin, with a solemnity befitting the importance of her office, swore that henceforth the hands which had been honored by carrying out the ideas of a queen, should never work for lesser mortals; that her dresses should be made with closed doors, and that she would rather be led to execution than betray to a living soul the mysteries of her royal patroness's toilet. [Footnote: Mademoiselle Bertin, from that day, became an important personage, and received many a rich present from noble ladies anxious to imitate the queen in dress.]