The truth was, that Louis was envious of the enthusiasm which Joseph excited among the Parisians; and his brothers, the other members of the royal family, and his ministers, took every opportunity of feeding his envy, by representing that the emperor was doing his utmost to alienate the affections of the French from their rightful sovereign; that he was meditating the seizure of Alsace and Lorraine; that he was seeking to reinstate De Choiseul, and convert France into a mere dependency upon Austria.
Louis, who had begun to regard his wife with passionate admiration, became cold and sarcastic in his demeanor toward her. The hours which, until the emperor's arrival in Paris, he had spent with Marie Antoinette, were now dedicated to his ministers, to Madame Adelaide, and even to the Count de Provence—that brother whose enmity to the queen was not even concealed under a veil of courtly dissimulation.
Not satisfied with filling the king's ears with calumnies of his poor young wife, the Count de Provence was the instigator of all those scandalous songs, in which the emperor and the queen were daily ridiculed on the Pont-Neuf; and of the multifarious caricatures which, hour by hour, were rendering Marie Antoinette odious in the eyes of her subjects. The Count de Provence, who afterward wore his murdered brother's crown, was the first to teach the French nation that odiouus epithet of "d'Autrichienne," with which they hooted the Queen of France to an ignominious death upon the scaffold.
The momentary joy which the visit of the emperor had caused to his sister had vanished, and given place to embarrassment and anxiety of heart. Even she felt vexed, not only that her subjects preferred a foreign prince to their own rightful sovereign, but that Joseph was so unrestrained in his sarcasms upon royal customs in France. Finally she was obliged to confess in the silence of her own heart, that her brother's departure would be a relief to her, and that these dinners en famille, to which he came daily as a guest, were inexpressibly tedious and heavy.
One day the emperor came earlier than usual to dinner—so early, in fact, that the king was still occupied holding his daily levee.
Joseph seated himself quietly in the anteroom to await his turn. At first no one had remarked his entrance; but presently he was recognized by one of the marshals of the household, who hastened to his side, and, apologizing, offered to inform the king at once of Count Falkenstein's presence there.
"By no means," returned the emperor, "I am quite accustomed to this sort of thing. I do it every morning in my mother's ante-room at Vienna." [Footnote: Memoires de Weber, vol. i., p. 98.]
Just then the door opened, and the king, who had been apprised of the emperor's arrival, carne forward to greet him.
"We were not aware that we had so distinguished a guest in our anteroom," said Louis, bowing. "But come, my brother." continued he cordially, "the weather is beautiful. Let us stroll together in the gardens. Give me your arm."
But Joseph, pointing to the crowd, replied, "Pardon me, your majesty, it is not yet my turn; and I should be sorry to interrupt you in your duties as sovereign."