The Queen’s form of putting the question showed that she had been ruminating it for some time. He sighed as much as to say, it is the same old story.
“Alas, my lady,” he proceeded with profound melancholy, “those you call my people, were yours in former times, and it is less than twenty years ago when Lord Brissac, a delightful courtier whom I look in vain for here, showed you the same people shouting for the Dauphin under the City Hall windows and said: ‘You behold twenty thousand admirers there.'”
The Queen bit her lips from the impossibility of catching this man in want of a repartee or of respect.
“That is true—it only proves that the many-headed change,” she said.
Gilbert bowed this time, without retort.
“I asked you a question, doctor,” persisted the lady, with the obstinacy she had for even disagreeable matters.
“Yes, and I answer since your Majesty insists. They are singing that the Baker’s Wife has plenty of money which it gave her no trouble to get. You are aware that they style your Majesty the Baker’s Wife?”
“Just as they called me Lady Deficit before. Is there any connection between the nicknames?”
“So much also as the finances are concerned. They mean by your money being easily come by that you had complaisant treasurers such as Calonne in particular, who gave you whatever you asked; the people therefore assume that you got your money readily for the asking.”
The Queen’s hand was clenched on the red velvet carriage-window ledge.