“But, sire, it is only half-past six, and her majesty never rings before seven.”
“And you are sure that her majesty is asleep in bed?”
“I cannot affirm that she is asleep, sire, but I can that she is in bed.”
The king could contain himself no longer, but went straight to the door, which he opened with some noise. The room was in complete darkness, the shutters closed, and the curtains drawn. A night lamp burned on a bracket, but it only gave a dim and feeble light.
The king walked rapidly towards the bed.
“Oh, Madame de Misery,” said the queen, “how noisy you are—you have disturbed me!”
The king remained stupefied. “It is not Madame de Misery,” he murmured.
“What, is it you, sire?” said Marie Antoinette, raising herself up.
“Good morning, madame,” said the king, in a surly tone.
“What good wind blows you here, sire? Madame de Misery, come and open the shutters.”