"Are not the air and the sunshine free to all? Well, these are refused to me; I dare not put my head out of window, either on the street or the gardens. Yesterday I did look out on the yard, when a Guards gunner hailed me with an insulting nickname, and said: 'How I should like to carry your head on a bayonet-point.' This morning, I opened the garden window. A man standing on a chair was reading infamous stuff against me; a priest was dragged to a fountain to be ducked; and meanwhile, as though such scenes were matters of course, children were sailing their balloons and couples were strolling tranquilly. What times we are living in—what a place to live in—what a people! And would you have me still believe myself a queen, and even feel like a woman?"
She threw herself on a sofa, and hid her face in her hands.
Dumouriez dropped on one knee, and taking up the hem of her dress respectfully, he kissed it.
"Lady," he said, "from the time when I undertake this struggle, you will become the mighty queen and the happy woman once more, or I shall leave my life on the battle-field."
Rising, he saluted the lady and hurried out. She watched him go with a hopeless look, repeating:
"The mighty queen? Perhaps, thanks to your sword—for it is possible; but the happy woman—never, never, never!"
She let her head fall between the sofa cushions, muttering the name dearer every day and more painful:
"Charny!"
The Dumouriez Cabinet might be called one of war.