I started toward him again, but the Queen raised her hand. She looked at the equerry again, an old and trusted attendant, upon whom she could rely.
“The Duc de Rivau-Huet”—she pointed to the door—“bring him here.”
The Duke was almost as quick as I. The curtain was torn aside and he came in erect, with his hand on his sword.
“Your Majesty.” He bowed low before her, a graceful and gallant old gentleman.
“Monsieur le Duc,” said the Queen, extending her hand to be kissed, “you are ever welcome. As the head of the house to which the Marquis du Trémigon belongs. I wish you to hear his charges and his denials, that you may judge him accordingly.”
“I have heard, Your Majesty,” said the Duke, “and give me leave to say I need neither the evidence of Éspiau nor of this gentleman—whoever he may be—to convince me that the Marquis du Trémigon has lied.”
“And I tell you,” burst out the Marquis, “that this man is a common thief, a highway robber and—” He pointed to me.
“Have a care, Monsieur,” said Marie Antoinette quickly; “highway robbery is a grave accusation. Was it on the road to Paris that he committed this highway robbery? This is a most serious indictment. Look again. Think! Do you press the charge? Do you really mean it?”
VII
THE SLIPPER FINDS ITS WEARER
“His Majesty the King!” cried an usher at the great door, throwing it open. “His Excellency, the Minister of the United States, Dr. Franklin, Commodore John Paul Jones, Monsieur Bucknall, sailor,” he added.