"Ah, sire, love will not yield to force," said Marie Antoinette, in atone of anguish. "Were I as pure as an angel, the Count de Provence would hate me for my Austrian birth, and Madame Adelaide would use the great influence she possesses over your majesty to rob me of the little favor I am gaining in your sight."
"Oh, Antoinette, do you not feel that my whole heart is yours?" said Louis, affectionately. "Believe me, when I say that it is in the power of no human being to sully your sweet image in my eyes. Do not fear the royal family. I am here to protect you, and, soon or late, your worth will overcome their prejudices."
"No, sire, no. Nothing will ever win me their regard. But I am resolved to brave their emnity, satisfied that, in the eyes of the world, my conduct and my conscience both will sustain me."
"Your husband also," said the king, kissing her hand.
"Sire, I hope so," said Marie Antoinette, in a tremulous voice. "And now," continued she, dashing away the tear-drops that were gathering in her eyes, "now give me those caricatures. They have served to convince your majesty that I know my enemies—and defy them. Their mission is accomplished; let us try to forget their existence."
She took the drawings from his hand, and, tearing them to pieces, scattered them over the carpet. The king picked up a few of the fragments.
"Will you allow me to retain these as a souvenir of this hour?" said he, gazing fondly upon her sweet face.
"Certainly, sire."
"But you know that princes can never receive a gift without returning one. Therefore, do me the favor to accept this. It is paper for paper. "
He drew from his bosom a little package, to which the royal seal was affixed, and Marie Antoinette took it, with a glance of surprise.