"Eight," asked Madame de Campan, looking at the clock, "it is now scarcely nine. You do not mean to say that you have ridden the eighteen miles from Paris to Versailles in an hour?"
"I have done it, and I assure you that is nothing wonderful. I had four fresh horses stationed along the road, and they were good ones. I fancied myself sometimes a bird flying through the air, and it seems to me now as if I had flown. I beg your pardon if I sit down in your presence, for my feet tremble a little."
"Do sit down, my dear young friend," cried Campan, and she hastened herself to place an easy-chair for the young man.
"Only an instant," he said, sinking into it. "But believe me it is not the quick ride that makes my feet tremble, but joy and excitement. I shall perhaps have the pleasure to have done the queen a little service, for you told me that it would be very important for her majesty to learn the verdict as quickly as possible, and no one has got here before me, has there?"
"No, my friend, the queen will learn the news first through your means, and I shall say to her majesty that I have learned it through you."
"No, madame," he cried, quickly, "no, I would much rather you would not tell the queen, for who knows whether the news is good, or whether it would not trouble the noble heart of the queen, and then my name, if she should learn it, would only be disagreeable to her— rather that she should never hear it than that it should be connected with unpleasant associations to her."
"Then you do not know what the sentence is?" replied Campan, astonished. "Have you come to bring me the sentence, and yet do not know yourself what it is?"
"I do not know what it is, madame. The councillor, the father of my sweetheart, has sent it by me in writing, and I have not allowed myself to take time to read it. Perhaps, too, I was too cowardly for it, for if I had seen that it contained any thing that would trouble the queen, I should not have had courage to come here and deliver the paper to you. So I did not read it, and thought only of this, that I might perhaps save the queen a quarter of an hour's disquiet and anxious expectation. Here, madame, is the paper which contains the sentence. Take it to her majesty, and may the God of justice grant that it contain nothing which may trouble the queen!"
He stood up, and handed Madame de Campan a paper. "And now, madame," he continued, "allow me to retire, that I may return to Paris, for my sweetheart is expecting me, and, besides, they are expecting some disturbance in the city. I must go, therefore, to protect my house."
"Go, my young friend," said Madame de Campan, warmly pressing his hand. "Receive my heartiest thanks for your devotion, and be sure the queen shall hear of it. farewell, farewell!"