You may judge of the effect of all this on the King, his favorite, and all this gathering of the envious, curious, intriguers, and news-mongers. Each received a gain or a sting, with pain or shame. There were none indifferent except Andrea herself.
Spurred on by Richelieu, the Dauphiness induced Andrea to sing the ballad:
“I have lost my only joy—
Colin leaves me all alone.”
The King was seen to mark time with a nodding of the head, in such keen pleasure that the rouge scaled off Lady Dubarry’s face in flakes like a painting in the damp.
More spiteful than any woman, Richelieu enjoyed the revenge he was having on Dubarry. Sidling round to old Taverney, the pair resembled a group of Hypocrisy and Corruption signing a treaty of union.
Their joy brightened all the more as the cloud darkened on Dubarry’s brow. She finished by springing up in a pet, which was contrary to all etiquet, for the King was still in his seat.
Foreseeing the storm like ants, the courtiers looked for shelter. So the Dauphiness and La Dubarry were both clustered round by their friends.
The interest in the rehearsal gradually deviated from its natural line and entered into a fresh order of things. Colin and Colette, the lovers in the piece, were no longer thought of, but whether Madame Dubarry might not have to sing:
“I have lost my only joy—
Colin leaves me all alone.”
“Do you see the stunning success of that girl of yours?” asked Richelieu of Taverney.