The queen colored to her brows, and her expressive face gave token of serious annoyance. She was about to dismiss the company, saying that she had changed her mind, but she remembered that by so doing she might become the subject of the ridicule of the court. Her pride whispered her to remain, and smothered her instinctive sense of propriety. She looked anxiously around for Madame de Noailles, but on the first occasion, when her advice might have been welcome, she was absent. She had been told that etiquette had nothing to do with the queen's party of pleasure, and she, like the king, had retired to rest.
Marie Antoinette then motioned to her first lady of honor, the Princess de Chimay, and requested her to say to Madame de Noailles that her presence would be required in the drawing-room at two o'clock, when the court would set out for the hill, from whence they would witness the dawn of the morrow.
"It is an unconscionable time coming," yawned the Countess de Provence. "See, my dear sister, the hand of the clock points to midnight. What are we to do in the interim?" asked she, peevishly.
"Propose something to while away the time," said the queen, smiling.
"Let us depute D'Artois to do it. He is readier at such things than the rest of us," said the princess.
"Does your majesty second the proposal?" asked D'Artois.
"I do with all my heart."
"Then," said the thoughtless prince, "I propose that we play the most innocent and rollicking of games—blindman's buff." [Footnote: Campan, vol. i., p. 95.]
A shout of laughter, in which the young queen joined, was the response to this proposition.
"I was charged with the duty of relieving the tedium of the court," continued the prince gravely. "I once more propose the exciting game of blindman's buff." [Footnote: This game was frequently played in the courtly circles, and not only in aristocratic houses, but in all social gatherings. It became the fashion. Madame de Gonlis, who was fond of scourging the follies of her day, made this fashion the subject of one of her dramas.]