Louis XVI. interrupted him. “Sir,” said he, to M. de Crosne, “you maintain what you have said?”
“Unhappily, yes, sire.”
“I will examine into it further,” said the king, passing his handkerchief over his forehead, on which the drops hung from anxiety and vexation. “I did permit the queen to go, but I ordered her to take with her a person safe, irreproachable, and even holy.”
“Ah,” said M. de Crosne, “if she had but done so——”
“Yes,” said the count; “if a lady like Madame de Lamballe for instance——”
“It was precisely she whom the queen promised to take.”
“Unhappily, sire, she did not do so.”
“Well,” said the king, with agitation; “if she has disobeyed me so openly I ought to punish, and I will punish; only some doubts still remain on my mind; these doubts you do not share; that is natural; you are not the king, husband, and friend of her whom they accuse. However, I will proceed to clear the affair up.” He rang. “Let some one see,” said he to the person who came, “where Madame de Lamballe is.”
“Sire, she is walking in the garden with her majesty and another lady.”
“Beg her to come to me. Now, gentlemen, in ten minutes we shall know the truth.”