Joseph II. and His Court Part 126

"Physiognomy of a free negro," said he, with pathos. "Give the gentleman the Moorish coiffure." [Footnote: "Memoires d'un Voyageur qui se Repose," vol. iii., p. 42.] And with a courtly salute he left the room.

The emperor now burst into shouts of laughter, in which he was heartily joined by Rosenberg.

Meanwhile the b.u.t.terfly had set to work, and was frizzing with all his might.

"How will you manage to give me the Moorish coiffure?" asked the emperor, when he had recovered his speech.

"I shall divide your hair into a mult.i.tude of single locks; curl, friz them, and they will stand out from your head in exact imitation of the negro's wool," answered the b.u.t.terfly, triumphantly.

"I have no doubt that it would accord charmingly with my physiognomy,"

said the emperor, once more indulging in a peal of laughter, "but to-day I must content myself with the usual European style. Dress my hair as you see it, and be diligent, for I am pressed for time."

The hair-dresser reluctantly obeyed, and in a few minutes the work was completed and the artiste had gone.

"Now," said Joseph to Count Rosenberg, "I am about to pay some visits.

My first one shall be to Monsieur de Maurepas. He is one of our most active opponents, and I long to become acquainted with my enemies. Come, then, let us go to the hotel of the keeper of the great seal."

"Your majesty's carriages are not here," replied Rosenberg.

"Dear friend, my equipages are always in readiness. Look on the opposite side of the street at those hackney-coaches. They are my carriages for the present. Now let us cross over and select one of the neatest."

Perfect silence reigned in the anteroom of Monsieur de Maurepas. A liveried servant, with important mien, walked forth and back before the closed door of the reception-room, like a bull-dog guarding his master's sacred premises. The door of the first anteroom was heard to open, and the servant turned an angry look toward two gentlemen who made their appearance.

"Ah," said he, "the two gentlemen who just now alighted from the hackney-coach?"

"The same," said the emperor. "Is monsieur le comte at home?"

"He is," said the servant pompously.

"Then be so good as to announce to him Count Falkenstein."

The man shrugged his shoulders. "I am sorry that I cannot oblige you, sir. Monsieur de Taboreau is with the count; and until their conference is at an end, I can announce n.o.body."

"Very well, then, I shall wait," replied Joseph, taking a seat, and pointing out another to Count Rosenberg.

The servant resumed his walk, and the two visitors in silence awaited the end of the conference.

"Do you know, Rosenberg," said Joseph, after a pause, "that I am grateful to Count de Maurepas for this detention in his ante-room? It is said that experience is the mother of wisdom. Now my experience of to-day teaches me that it is excessively tiresome to wait in an anteroom. I think I shall be careful for the future, when I have promised to receive a man, not to make him wait. Ah! here comes another visitor. We are about to have companions in ennui."

The person who entered the room was received with more courtesy than "the gentlemen who had come in the hackney-coach." The servant came forward with eagerness, and humbly craved his pardon while informing him that his excellency was not yet visible.

"I shall wait," replied the Prince de Harrai, advancing to a seat.

Suddenly he stopped, and looked in astonishment at Count Falkenstein, who, perfectly unconcerned, was sitting in a corner of the room.

"Great Heaven! his majesty, the emperor!" cried he, shocked, but recovering himself sufficiently to make a deep inclination.

"Can your majesty pardon this unheard of oversight!"

"Peace, prince," replied the emperor, smiling; "you will disturb the ministers at their conference."

"Why, man, how is it that his excellency is not apprised of his majesty's presence here?" said the Prince de Harrai to the lackey.

"His excellency never spoke to me of an emperor," stammered the terrified lackey. "He desired me to admit no one except a foreign count, whose name, your highness, I have been so unlucky as to forget."

"Except Count Falkenstein."

"Yes, your highness, I believe--that is, I think it--"

"And you leave the count to wait here in the anteroom!"

"I beg monsieur le comte a thousand pardons. I will at once repair my error."

"Stay," said the emperor, imperatively. Then turning to the Prince de Harrai, he continued good-humoredly: "If your highness is made to wait in the anteroom, there is no reason why the Count of Falkenstein should not bear you company. Let us, then, wait together."

The ministerial conference lasted half an hour longer, but at last the door opened, and Monsieur de Maurepas appeared. He was coming forward with ineffable courtesy to receive his guests, when perceiving the emperor, his self-possession forsook him at once. Pale, hurried, and confused, he stammered a few inaudible words of apology, when Joseph interrupted and relieved him.

He offered his hand with a smile, saying: "Do not apologize; it is unnecessary. It is nothing but right that business of state should have precedence over private visitors." [Footnote: The emperor's own words.

Hubner. "Life of Joseph H.," p. 141.]

"But your majesty is no private individual!" cried the minister, with astonishment.

"Pardon me," said the emperor, gravely. "As long as I remain here. I am nothing more. I left the Emperor of Austria at Vienna: he has no concern with the Count of Falkenstein, who is on a visit to Paris, and who has come hither, not to parade his rank, but to see and to learn where there is so much to be learned. May I hope that you will aid Count Falkenstein in his search after knowledge?"

CHAPTER CX.

THE QUEEN AND THE "DAMES DE LA HALLE."

A brilliant crowd thronged the apartments of the Princess d'Artois. The royal family, the court, and the lords and ladies of high rank were a.s.sembled in her reception-rooms, for close by an event of highest importance to France was about to transpire. The princess was giving birth to a scion of royalty. The longings of France were about to be fulfilled--the House of Bourbon was to have an heir to its greatness.

The accouchement of a royal princess was in those days an event that concerned all Paris, and all the authorities and corporations of the great capital had representatives in those reception-rooms. It being only a princess who was in labor, and not a queen, none but the royal family and the ministers were admitted into her bedchamber. The aristocracy waited in the reception-rooms, the people in the corridors and galleries. Had it been Marie Antoinette, all the doors would have been thrown open to her subjects. The fishwives of Paris, the laborers, the gamins, even the beggars had as much right to see the Queen of France delivered, as the highest dignitary of the land. The people, then, who thronged both palace and gardens, were awaiting the moment when the physician should appear upon the balcony and announce to the enraptured populace that a prince or princess had been vouchsafed to France.

From time to time one of the royal physicians came out to report the progress of affairs, until finally the voice of the accoucheur proclaimed that the Princess d'Artois had given birth to a prince.

A cry of joy followed this announcement. It was that of the young mother. Raising her head from her pillow, she cried out in ecstasy, "Oh, how happy, how happy I am!" [Foreword: Madame de Campan, vol. i., p 216.

The prince whose advent was a source of such triumph to his mother, was the Duke de Berry, father of the present Count de Chambord. He it was who, in 1827, was stabbed as he was about to enter the theatre, and died in the arms of Louis XVIII., former Count de Provence.]

The queen bent over her and kissed her forehead, whispering words of affectionate sympathy in her ear; but no one saw the tears that fell from Marie Antoinette's eyes upon the lace-covered pillow of her fortunate kinswoman.

She kissed the princess again, as though to atone for those tears, and with tender congratulations took her leave. She pa.s.sed through the reception-rooms, greeting the company with smiling composure, and then went out into the corridors which led to her own apartments. Here the scene changed. Instead of the respectful silence which had saluted her pa.s.sage through the rooms, she encountered a hum of voices and an eager mult.i.tude all pressing forward to do her homage after their own rough fas.h.i.+on.

Every one felt bound to speak a word of love or of admiration, and it was only by dint of great exertion that the two footmen who preceded the queen were able to open a small s.p.a.ce through which she could pa.s.s. She felt annoyed--even alarmed--and for the first time in her life regretted the etiquette which once had required that the Queen of France should not traverse the galleries of Versailles without an escort of her ladies of honor.

Marie Antoinette had chosen to dispense with their attendance, and now she was obliged to endure the contact of those terrible "dames de la halle," who for hundreds of years had claimed the privilege of speaking face to face with royalty, and who now pressed around her, with jokes that crimsoned her cheeks while they were rapturously received by the canaille.

With downcast eyes and trembling steps, she tried to hurry past the odious crowd of poissardes.

"Look, look," cried one, peering in her face, "look at the queen and see her blus.h.i.+ng like a rose-bud!"