He plunged his fingers deep into the box, took a long and voluptuous sniff, and drove on.
At this moment the King, followed by his garde du corps, came out in his turn, his hands in his pockets, and swaggering like a well-to-do tradesman.
He was followed by the second garde.
During his passage, one of the buckles of his shoes slipped off. The King did not care to stop for such a trifling matter as that, but the garde who came after him picked it up.
M. de Fersen got in front of the King.
“And the Queen, sire?” asked he.
“The Queen follows us,” replied the King.
He then got into the carriage in his turn.
They awaited the Queen.
Half an hour passed, and she did not arrive.