“My friend, do not jest any more; you see, I am so passionate that I have lost my temper already. Tell me at once that you were joking with me.”
“I will, if you please, sister.”
“Be serious, Charles. You have invented all this, have you not?”
He winked at the ladies, and said, “Oh, yes, of course.”
“You do not understand me, brother!” cried the queen vehemently. “Say yes or no. Do not tell falsehoods; I only want the truth!”
“Well, then, sister,” said he, in a low voice, “I have told the truth, but I am sorry I spoke.”
“You saw me there?”
“As plain as I see you now; and you saw me.”
The queen uttered a cry, and, running up to Andrée and Jeanne, cried, “Ladies, M. le Comte d’Artois affirms that he saw me at the ball at the Opera; let him prove it.”
“Well,” said he, “I was with M. de Richelieu and others, when your mask fell off.”