“We do not know,” replied they.
Then other loud cries were heard. Jeanne could see the crowd pressing round an open carriage, which was going slowly along. Flowers were thrown, hats waved; some even mounted on the steps to kiss the hand of a man who sat grave and half frightened at his own popularity. This was the cardinal. Another man sat by him, and cries of “Vive Cagliostro!” were mingled with the shouts for M. de Rohan. Jeanne began to gather courage from all this sympathy for those whom she chose to call the queen’s victims; but suddenly the thought flashed on her, “They are already set free, and no one has even been to announce my sentence!” and she trembled. New shouts now drew her attention to a coach, which was also advancing, followed by a crowd; and in this Jeanne recognized Oliva, who sat smiling with delight at the people who cheered her, holding her child in her arms. Then Jeanne, seeing all these people free, happy, and fêted, began to utter loud complaints that she was not also liberated, or at least told her fate.
“Calm yourself, madame,” said Madame Hubert.
“But tell me, for you must know.”
“Madame.”
“I implore you! You see how I suffer.”
“We are forbidden, madame.”
“Is it so frightful that you dare not?”
“Oh no; calm yourself.”
“Then speak.”