“Una donna rara!” whispered the Queen to the Duchess while Emma exchanged a few words with the Marchesa of San Marco. “Bellissima creatura!” and she overheard and treasured the words for Hamilton, who was almost surfeited with the sugar-plums rained from augustest heights nowadays.
Little did she think, in looking on the handsome, dark-browed woman faded as with excess of life and nervous energy, of the part they two would play together in days not now so very far distant. She saw in “le roi Caroline,” as the diplomats called her, only another key to the security she plotted for—so blind are we to Fate laughing in her sleeve beside us.
But the Queen saw and intended very much more. She had her informants and knew more of Emma’s history than did the Duchess. She knew her unequalled influence with the English Ambassador. Had not Acton assured her that he was wax in the hands of his fascinating mistress? And is not an ambassador a tool in the hands of intrigue if deftly used? She knew something also of Emma’s discretion, from long observation and from her conduct with the King. In the great game of intrigue which was the life of Marie Caroline, Emma was a pawn not to be despised. What! neglect the smallest consideration with revolution darkening like a storm-cloud over Europe, about to burst in thunder in France, with frightful reverberations along the Mediterranean? Not she indeed! The true daughter of the great Maria Theresa knew better than that. She was graciousness itself to Emma, seasoned, of course, with the condescension which gave it value. To the Duchess she chatted coolly apart when Emma was engaged with the other ladies; words apparently lightly said, but intended to be remembered and repeated.
“I never saw so lovely a being. Does not your Grace agree with me?”
“I never saw but one!” said the faithful Duchess, “And she is in heaven.”
The Queen accorded a sigh to beauty so unsympathetically situated, and went on.
“Your Ambassador is devoted to her, I understand, and who can wonder!”
“Certainly, madam, it can surprise no one. Her talents surpass her beauty, if possible. Has Your Majesty heard her sing?”
“No. You will understand, madam, that that was impossible in the circumstances, though I have heard from the King and many more of the delight it is. There is only one thing which surprises me in the whole matter.”
“And that?”