“Indeed,” he said, “you have a strange fancy. Night is made to sleep in; however, if it amuses you I have no objection so long as you do not expect me to be of the party.”
Mme. de Noailles, to whom it was also necessary to speak of the proposed plan, was much perturbed.
“Really,” she said, “this question seems to me very difficult to solve. A Queen go to see the sun rise! I do not know whether in the days of Louis XIV. it would not have been thought——”
“Eh! Madame,” cried the Queen impatiently, “spare us ceremonial in the face of nature.”
“However, it is impossible to dispense with an escort of equerries, pages, valets de pieds to carry torches, piqueurs, gardes du corps, and a detachment of the maison rouge.”
“Comtesse de Noailles, you forget the grand-aumônier, to bless the rising sun after having exorcised the spirits of darkness.”
The Comtesse de Noailles frowned.
“Ah! Madame l’Etiquette,” cried Marie Antoinette, laughing, “God made patience the virtue of kings.”
Directly the Duc de Chartres heard of the project he came to ask to be of the party, and as he was not as yet the open enemy of the royal family, his request was granted.
On the night fixed upon the party, consisting of the Queen, the Comtes and Comtesses de Provence and d’Artois and some ladies and gentlemen of their households, started at three in the morning for Meudon, where a banquet was prepared, after which they went out on the terraces to see the sun rise. It was a lovely night, lamps were scattered about the gardens, guards were posted everywhere, the Queen’s ladies followed her closely. There was a splendid sun rise and all passed off well; but a few days afterwards came out an infamous libel called “l’Aurore,” containing accusations and statements so atrocious that the King, taking it to the Queen, said—