"What could I add to this?" asked Oliva, sighing. "You know as well as I the end of my history. You know, that a fortnight after that little scene at Versailles, I was arrested by police agents in Brussels, and brought to Paris. You know, also, that I swore to take my life if my dear George were not allowed to visit me daily in prison. You know that my dear child was born in prison, and that it is now half a year old, while his poor mother is accused, and not yet gained her freedom. You know that all! What have I that I could add to this? I beg you, let me go and return to my child, for my little George is certainly awake, and his father does not know how to quiet him when he cries."
"You may go to your child," said the president, with a gentle smile.
"Officer, conduct Madame Oliva back to the witness-room."
Madame Oliva expressed her thanks for this by throwing a kiss of the hand to the president and the judges, and then hastily followed the officer, who opened the door of the adjoining room. As it swung back, a loud cry of a child was heard, and Madame Oliva, who was standing upon the threshold, turned her fair face back to the president with a triumphant expression, and smiled.
"Did I not tell you so?" she cried. "My son is calling, for he is longing for me. I am coming, my little George, I am coming!"
She sprang forward, and the door closed behind her.
"You have heard the statements of the witness," said the president, addressing Countess Lamotte. "You see now that we have the proof of the ignominious and treacherous intrigues which you have conducted. Will you, in the face of such proofs, still endeavor to deny the facts which have been given in evidence?"
"I have seen neither proofs nor facts," answered Lamotte, scornfully. "I have only been amazed at the self-possession with which the queen goes through her part, and wondered how far her light-mindedness will carry her. She is truly an adroit player, and she has played the part of Madame Oliva so well, that not a motion nor a tone would have betrayed the queen."
"How, madame?" asked the president, in amazement.
"Do you pretend to assert that this witness, who has just left the hall, is not Madame Oliva, but another person? Do you not know that this witness, this living portrait of the queen, has for ten months been detained at the Bastile, and that no change in the person is possible?"
"I only know that the queen has played her part well," said Lamotte, shrugging her shoulders. "She has even gone so far, in her desire to show a difference between Madame Oliva and the queen, as to make a very great sacrifice, and to disclose a secret of her beauty. She has laid aside her fine false teeth, and let us see her natural ones, in order that we may see a difference between the queen and Madame Oliva. Confess only, gentlemen, that it is a rare and comical sight to have a queen so like a courtesan, that you can only distinguish the one from the other by the teeth."