CHAPTER LXXIX.
THE LAST ACCUSATION.
As soon as the king left the room, the queen ran towards the boudoir, and opened the door; then, as if her strength failed her, sank down on a chair, waiting for the decision of M. de Charny, her last and most formidable judge.
He came out more sad and pale than ever.
“Well?” said she.
“Madame,” replied he, “you see, everything opposes our friendship. There can be no peace for me while such scandalous reports circulate in public, putting my private convictions aside.”
“Then,” said the queen, “all I have done, this perilous aggression, this public defiance of one of the greatest nobles in the kingdom, and my conduct being exposed to the test of public opinion, does not satisfy you?”
“Oh!” cried Charny, “you are noble and generous, I know——”
“But you believe me guilty—you believe the cardinal. I command you to tell me what you think.”
“I must say, then, madame, that he is neither mad nor wicked, as you called him, but a man thoroughly convinced of the truth of what he said—a man who loves you, and the victim of an error which will bring him to ruin, and you——”
“Well?”