"So it is," said Marie Antoinette in such a tone that it was not possible to tell whether she had or had not visited on Andrea her personal spite.
Gilbert arrived with the sequel to the ominous scenes which Charny described. The famished women had started for Versailles; they were escorted by ragamuffins willing to be shielded by their petticoats and ripe for any deeds.
"Seven or eight thousand women," repeated the Queen when Gilbert had delivered his message of coming woe. She spoke with scorn.
"But they have been reinforced to double that number on the way. They are hungry and come to ask bread of the King."
"Just what I feared," said Charny.
"What is to be done?"
"Prepare the King to receive them," suggested Gilbert.
"Why expose him?" she expostulated, with that bravery and personal consciousness of her traits and of her husband's weakness which ought not to be exhibited before strangers.
But were Charny and Gilbert strangers—one destined to guard the King, the other the Queen?
The count replied for both, having resumed all his command, for he had sacrificed his pride.