The queen tried to look as though she heard none of this. Not once had she raised her eyes or turned her head. Now she was coming to the end of her painful walk through the corridors, for Heaven be praised! just before her was the door of her own anteroom. Once across that threshold she was safe from the coarse ribaldry that was making her heart throb and her cheeks tingle; for there the rights of the people ended, and those of the sovereign began.
But the "dames de la halle" were perfectly aware of this, and they were determined that she should not escape so easily.
"Promise us," cried a loud, shrill voice, "promise us that we shall have a young dauphin as handsome as his mother and as good as his father."
"Yes, promise, promise," clamored the odious throng; and men and women pressed close upon the queen to see her face and hear her answer.
Marie Antoinette had almost reached her door. She gave a sigh of relief, and for the first time raised her eyes with a sad, reproachful look toward her tormentors.
Just then a strapping, wide-shouldered huckster, pushed her heavy body between the queen and the door, and barring the entrance with her great brown arms, cried out vociferously: "You to not pass until you promise! We love you and love the king we will none of the Count de Provence for our king; we must have a dauphin."
The queen still pretended not to hear. She tried to evade the poissarde and to slip into her room; but the woman perceived the motion, and confronted her again.
"Be so kind, madame," said Marie Antoinette, mildly, "as to allow me to pass."
"Give us the promise, then," said the fish-wife, putting her arms a-kimbo.
The other women echoed the words, "Give us the promise, give us the promise!"