"Where is the Austrian? where is the Lady Veto?" demanded five hundred voices.
It was the critical moment.
"Be calm," said Gilbert to the queen, knowing that all was in Heaven's hand, and man was as nothing. "I need not recommend you to be kind."
Preceding the others was a woman with her hair down, who brandished a saber; she was flushed with rage—perhaps from hunger.
"Where is the Austrian cat? She shall die by no hand but mine!" she screamed.
"This is she," said Gilbert, taking her by the hand and leading her up to the queen.
"Have I ever done you a personal wrong?" demanded the latter, in her sweetest voice.
"I can not say you have," faltered the woman of the people, amazed at the majesty and gentleness of Marie Antoinette.
"Then why should you wish to kill me?"