'This is insufferable,' said the bishop; 'Berthier is my friend, and I will answer for his conduct. If your majesty were to listen to all the slanders that are cast against their betters and superiors by the rag-tag of the lower orders, you would become a revolutionist.'
'Monsieur! Madame!' pleaded Gabrielle; 'ask Madame Berthier herself if it be not true; ask M. le Curé Lindet!'
'What!' the bishop turned upon her savagely, whilst his red face became purple,—'what about him?'
'Monsieur le Curé received me into his house when I ran away; he knows all about me, and about the truth of what I say.'
'Enough, amply enough to satisfy me,' said the prelate, in a loud voice, as he scowled upon the frightened girl; 'I know you now. Go from this terrace instantly!' He turned towards the queen, composed his face, and said, as calmly as he could, 'Your majesty must really not see any more of that unfortunate girl. On her account, I have had to inhibit one of the priests in my diocese,—the very priest, by the way, of whom the Cardinal de la Rochefoucauld speaks in his letter as a demagogue,—a priest elected by the malcontents to represent them in the States-General,—a man without principle and without morals,—a turbulent leveller, and a violent democrat.'
'Good, dear queen!' cried Gabrielle, casting herself once more at the feet of the royal lady; 'do not believe him, listen to me! Pray obtain the release of my dear mistress from the Bastille!'
Marie Antoinette looked at her for one moment with coldness and with disgust, then turned her back upon her and walked away.
Madeleine waited till the queen and her party had passed to the farther end of the terrace, and then running to Gabrielle, she caught her up in her arms, kissed her, and drew her away. 'You have tried your best in one quarter,' she said; 'do not despair, if that be closed to you. Another may open ere long. You have appealed in vain to the majesty of royalty; let your next appeal be to the majesty of the people, and that, I promise you, shall not be in vain.'