Suddenly the door opened and the lady entered, dressed in the extreme of the showy and fantastic fashion of Marie Antoinette and her court.
She was lovely, this Countess Charny, with a peerless figure and her hand was aristocratic to the utmost with which she played with a small cane.
"She, Andrea Taverney!" muttered Gilbert, involuntarily shrinking behind the curtains.
"My lady, I ask your presence for a little information," began the monarch, seeing nothing of Gilbert's emotion.
"I am ready to satisfy your Majesty." The voice attracted the doctor who came a little forward.
"A week ago, or so, a blank letter under the royal seal was delivered to Minister Necker," went on the King, "for the arrest——"
Gilbert had his eye on the lady, who was pale, feverish and fretful as if bent under the weight of a secret.
"This warrant was applied for by your ladyship and countersigned by the Queen. I say this to refresh your memory. Why do you not say something, countess?"
"It is true, your Majesty," she faltered, in a feverish abstraction, "I wrote for the letter, filled up the blanks, and the Queen backed it."
"Will you please tell me what crime the person committed for whom the measure was taken?" demanded Louis.