As an instance, let us take the journey of 1776.
Madame de Chartres, having accompanied her husband to Toulon, where he was to embark for his campaign at sea, resolved to visit the Peninsula, without having previously obtained the permission of the Court.[33]
Surely she ought to have taken every care to conceal this freak, for which she expected to be banished at least.[34]
Despite this fear, she had it pompously announced that she should travel under the name of Comtesse de Joinville, published her itinerary, showed herself everywhere in public, and everywhere accepted the homage paid to her.[35]
Why, then, was nothing of all this done three years earlier? Why this profound silence, this impenetrable mystery? Why the secret incognito, as the witnesses call it? Why did the Duke and Duchess wish to remain unknown, even to the extent of going to an inn, in a town over which their nearest relations reigned,[36] and preferring to pass the night at a hotel rather than accept the invitation sent them to come to Court?
Do not these precautions, this secrecy, point to the committing of a crime, and a crime still far more heinous than that of disregarding the deference due to one’s sovereign?
But let us ask, what was that crime?
Point it out to us!
In Heaven’s name, could we be told of any other but that very one with which so many incontestable proofs have made us acquainted?