"No," cried Marie Antoinette, emerging from behind the screen with a laugh, "no, do not go, sir! Remain to receive your queen's thanks for the disinterested zeal which you have displayed for me this day."
"The queen!" whispered Toulan, turning pale, "the queen!"
And falling upon his knee he looked at the queen with such an expression of rapture and admiration that Marie Antoinette was touched.
"I have much to thank you for, Mr. Toulan," she said. "Not merely that you are the bearer of important news—I thank you besides for convincing me that the Queen of France has faithful and devoted friends, and to know this is so cheering to me that even if you bring me bad news, my sorrow will be softened by this knowledge. I thank you again, Mr. Toulan!"
Toulan perceived that the queen was dismissing him; he stood up and retreated to the door, his eyes fixed on the queen, and then, after opening the door, he sank, as it were, overcome by the storm of his emotions, a second time upon his knee, and folding his hands, raised his great, beaming eyes to heaven.
"God in heaven," he said loudly and solemnly, "I thank Thee for the joy of this hour. From this moment I devote myself to the service of my queen. She shall henceforth be the divinity whom I serve, and to whom I will, if I can avail any thing, freely offer my blood and life. This I swear, and God and the queen have heard my oath!"
And without casting another glance at the queen, without saluting her, Toulan rose and softly left the room, tightly closing the door after him.
"Singular," murmured the queen, "really singular. When he took the oath a shudder passed through my soul, and something seemed to say to me that I should some time be very unhappy, and that this young man should then be near me."
"Your majesty is excited to-day, and so every thing seems to have a sad meaning," said Madame de Campan, softly.
"But the sentence, the sentence!" cried the queen. "Give me the paper, I will read it myself."