The dauphin blushed to hear these words of his grandfather, but the lady, though hearing, had not understood.
King Louis XV. embraced his grand-daughter-in-law, and went forth, with Lady Noailles, laughing mockingly and sadly, for those who did not share his merriment.
The other persons had gone out by the other door.
The wedded pair were left alone in silence.
At last the young husband approached his bride with bosom beating rapidly; to his temples, breast and wrist he felt all his repressed blood rushing hotly. But he guessed that his grandfather was behind the door, and the cynical glance still chilled the dauphin, very timid and awkward by nature.
"You are not well, madame," he stammered. "You are very pale, and I think you are trembling."
"I cannot conceal that I am under a spell of agitation; there must be some terrible storm overhead, for I am peculiarly affected by thunderstorms."
Indeed, she shook by spasms as though affected by electrical shocks.
At this time, as though to justify her assertion, a furious gust of wind, such as shear the tops off mountains and heap up half the sea against the other—the first whoop of the coming tempest filled the palace with tumult, anguish and many a creaking. Leaves were swept off the branches, branches off the boughs and from the trees. A long and immense clamor was drawn from the hundred thousand spectators in the gardens. A lugubrious and endless bellowing ran through the corridors and galleries, composing the most awful notes that had ever vibrated in human ears.
Then an ominous rattling and jingling succeeded the roar; it was the fall of countless shivers of glass out of the window panes on the marble slabs and cornices.