Five minutes after, Jeanne, with a timid air, although with a distinguished appearance, entered the room.
Louis XVI., strong in his antipathies, had turned his back towards her, and was leaning his head on his hands, seeming to take no longer a part in the conversation. The Comte de Provence cast on her a look which, had her modesty been real, would have increased her confusion; but it required much more than that to trouble Jeanne.
“Madame,” said the queen, “have the goodness to tell the king exactly what passed the other day at M. Mesmer’s.”
Jeanne did not speak.
“It requires no consideration,” continued the queen; “we want nothing but the simple truth.”
Jeanne understood immediately that the queen had need of her, and knew that she could clear her in a moment by speaking the simple truth; but she felt inclined to keep her secret.
“Sire,” said she, “I went to see M. Mesmer from curiosity, like the rest of the world. The spectacle appeared to me rather a coarse one; I turned and suddenly saw her majesty entering, whom I had already had the honor of seeing, but without knowing her till her generosity revealed her rank. It seemed to me that her majesty was out of place in this room, where much suffering and many ridiculous exhibitions were going on. I beg pardon for having taken it on myself to judge; it was a woman’s instinct, but I humbly beg pardon if I passed the bounds of proper respect.” She seemed overcome with emotion as she concluded.
Every one but the king was pleased.
Madame de Lamballe thought her conduct delicate, and herself timid, intelligent, and good.
The queen thanked her by a look.