“That is nothing against her; I gave my consent.”
“Did your majesty intend that she should experimentalize on herself?”
The king stamped with rage as the count said this; he was reading one of the most insulting passages—the history of her contortions, voluptuous disorder, and the attention she had excited.
“Impossible!” he cried, growing pale; and he rang the bell. “Oh, the police shall deal with this! Fetch M. de Crosne.”
“Sire, it is his day for coming here, and he is now waiting.”
“Let him come in.”
“Shall I go, brother?” said the count.
“No; remain. If the queen be guilty, you are one of the family, and must know it; if innocent, you, who have suspected her, must hear it.”
M. de Crosne entered, and bowed, saying, “The report is ready, sire.”
“First, sir,” said the king, “explain how you allow such infamous publications against the queen.”