Louis XVI. appeared that day arrayed in the great royal ermine, and wore upon his head a plumed hat, whose band glistened with great diamonds, while the largest in the royal possession, the so-called Titt, formed the centre, and threw its rays far and wide. The king appeared at the outset to be deeply moved at the reception which had been given him. A smile, indicating that his feelings were touched, played upon his face. But afterward, when all was still, and the king saw the grave, manly, marked faces of the commoners opposite him, his manner became confused, and for an instant he seemed to tremble.
The queen, however, looked around her with a calm and self-possessed survey. Her fine eyes swept slowly and searchingly over the rows of grave men who sat opposite the royal couple, and dwelt a moment on Toulan, as if she recalled in him the young man who, two years before, had brought the message of Cardinal Rohan's acquittal. A painful smile shot for an instant over her fine features. Yes, she had recognized him; the young man who, at Madame de Campan's room, had sworn a vow of eternal fidelity to her. And now he sat opposite her, on the benches of the commoners, among her enemies, who gazed at her with angry looks. That was his way of fulfilling the vow which he had made of his own free will!
But Marie Antoinette wondered at nothing now; she had witnessed the falling away of so many friends, she had been forsaken by so many who were closely associated with her, and who were indebted to her, that it caused her no surprise that the young man who hardly knew her, who had admired her in a fit of youthful rapture, had done like all the rest in joining the number of her enemies.
Marie Antoinette sadly let her eyes fall. She could look at nothing more; she had in this solemn moment received a new wound, seen a new deserter!
Toulan read her thoughts in her sad mien, on her throbbing forehead, but his own countenance remained cheerful and bright.
"She will live to see the day when she will confess that I am her friend, am true to her," he said to himself. "And on that day I shall be repaid for the dagger-thrusts which I have just received from her eyes. Courage, Toulan, courage! Hold up your head and be strong. The contest has begun; you must fight it through or die!"
But the queen did not raise her head again. She looked unspeakably sad in her simple, unadorned attire--in her modest, gentle bearing--and it was most touching to see the pale, fair features which sought in vain to disclose nothing of the painful emotions of her soul.
The king now arose from his throne and removed his plumed hat. At once Marie Antoinette rose from her armchair, in order to listen standing to the address of the king.
"Madame," said the king, bowing to her lightly, "madame, be seated, I beg of you."
"Sire," answered Marie Antoinette, calmly, "allow me to stand, for it does not become a subject to sit while the king is standing."
A murmur ran through the rows of men, and loud, scornful laughter from one side. Marie Antoinette shrank back as if an adder had wounded her, and with a flash of wrath her eyes darted in the direction whence the laugh had come. It was from Philip d'Orleans.
He did not take the trouble to smooth down his features; he looked with searching, defiant gaze over to the queen, proclaiming to her in this glance that he was her death-foe, that he was bent on revenge for the scorn which she had poured out on the spendthrift-revenge for the joke which she had once made at his expense before the whole court. It was at the time when the Duke d'Orleans, spendthrift and miser at the same time, had rented the lower rooms of his palace to be used as stores. On his next appearance at Versailles, Marie Antoinette said: "Since you have become a shopkeeper, we shall probably see you at Versailles only on Sundays and holidays, when your stores are closed!" Philip d'Orleans thought of this at this moment, as he stared at the queen with his laughing face, while his looks were threatening vengeance and requital.