The Countess De Charny - Volume II (41 page)

Besides, during this last interview, the queen was a prey to something like remorse. She longed to be alone with her husband for a few moments; but, finding that was impossible, she drew the king into a recess formed by a window, and was about to fall at his feet and implore his forgiveness in a passion of tears and sobs. The king probably understood all this; for, checking her, he drew his will from his pocket, and said: —

THE TWENTY-FIRST OF JANUARY. 335

“Eead this, my beloved wife.”

As he spoke, he pointed to the following paragraph, which the queen read in a half-whisper : —

” I entreat my wife to forgive me for all the ills she is suflFering on my account, as well as for the sorrow and mortification I must have caused her during our wedded life ; and she may rest assured I harbour no resentment against her, even if she feels she has anything for which to reproach herself.”

Marie Antoinette seized the king’s hands and kissed them passionately. There was infinite mercy in the words: “I harbour no resentment against her,” and infinite delicacy in the phrase, “Even if she feels she has anything for which to reproach herself.”

So she died in peace, this poor, royal Magdalen. Her love for the king, tardy as it was, won her both human and divine compassion. Forgiveness was granted her, not privately and secretly, like something of which the king was ashamed, but openly and publicly.

So who dares to reproach her when she thus stands be-fore posterity, doubly crowned, — crowned Avith the glory of martyrdom and with her husband’s forgiveness?

She was conscious of this. She felt that from that moment she was strong in the eyes of History; but she felt none the less weak in presence of him whom she had wronged. No words, only despairing moans escaped the lips of the unhappy woman. She exclaimed, again and again, that she wanted to die with her husband; and if this boon was refused her, she would starve herself to death.

The guards who witnessed this scene through the glass door could not bear it. They averted their eyes, but they could still hear the heart-breaking sobs and moans of the unhappy family ; and they, too, could not repress their tears.

This distressing scene lasted nearly two hours. The king was the first to rise; but his wife and sister and children clung to him despairingly. The king and tlie queen each held one of the dauphin’s hands. Standing on her father’s

336 LA COMTESSE DE CHARKY.

left, Madame Royale put her arms around liis waist. Madame Elizabeth, standing on the same side, but a little farther back, grasped his arm, while the queen, as if she had a right to the most consolation, — though she really deserved it least, — passed her arm around her husband’s neck.

The little group moved slowly on together; and amid their sobs and moans such words as these could occasionally be distinguished : —

“We shall see each other again, shall we not?”

*’ Yes, yes ! Be calm ! “

” To-morrow morning, — to-morrow morning at eight o’clock? “

“Yes, I promise.”

“Why not at seven?” pleaded the queen.

“Well, yes, at seven,” replied the king; “but now farewell ! farewell ! “

By the tone in which he uttered the word ” farewell ” it was evident that he was afraid his courage would fail him.

Madame Royale could bear it no longer, she sank to the floor with a long sigh. She had fainted.

The king felt that it was time to put an end to this har-rowing scene; so, resolutely freeing himself from the detaining grasp of the dauphin and the queen, he went into the next room, and closed the door behind him.

The queen , completely overcome, did not dare to ask the king to re-open it, but stood there weeping and sobbing, and smiting the panels with her open palm. But the king had the courage to resist her appeal.

The guards then begged the queen to retire to her own room, renewing the assurance already given that she should see her husband at seven o’clock the next morning.

When the queen had gone, the king turned to the abbé, who had been waiting for him all this while in the little turret room, and said, —

” ^Monsieur, let us now forget everything else and attend to the all-important business of my soul’s salvation.”

THE TWENTY-FIRST OF JANUARY. 337

“I am ready to do my best, sire, and I sincerely hope God will atone for my deficiencies. Do you not think it would be a great comfort to you to hear mass and receive the sacrament?”

“Yes, undoubtedly,” responded the king. “You may well believe I should thoroughly appreciate such a great privilege; but how can you accomplish it?”

“Leave the arrangements to me, sire. I wish to prove to your Majesty that I am not unworthy of the honour you have done me in selecting me as your spiritual adviser. If the king will empower me to proceed in the matter, I will be responsible for the result.”

“Do whatever you think best, monsieur; but I greatly fear you will not succeed.”

The abbé went down to the Council Chamber, and, without any preamble, said to the officials who were on guard there: “The person who is to die to-morrow desires to hear mass and make his confession before death.”

The officials gazed at each other in surprise. The idea that such a request would be made had never once entered their minds, and they did not know what to say in reply.

“Where the deuce can you find a priest and all the paraphernalia at this late hour? ” they asked.

” The priest is already found, as I am here. As for the needed vessels, the nearest church can supply them. It is only necessary to send for them.”

The officials hesitated.

“What if this should be a trap?” remarked one of them.

“What do you mean?” asked the priest.

” What if you intend to poison the king under the pretext of administering the sacred wafer.”

The abbé looked the speaker full in the face.

“You know that history furnishes enough examples of that sort of thing to make us very cautious,” continued the official.

” I was so carefully searched when I entered the prison that you must be pretty well satisfied tliat I have no poison VOL. IV. — 22

338 LA COMTESSE DE CHARNY.

about me. If I have any to-morrow I must certainly have received it from you, as nothing could possibly reach me without passing through your hands.”

The request was finally granted upon two conditions: First, that the abbé should put his request in writing, and afl&x his signature to it ; secondl}’, that the ceremony should be over at seven o’clock the next morning, as the prisoner was to be taken to the place of execution at eight o’clock precisely.

The priest complied with the first condition, and was then conducted back to the king.

It was now ten o’clock, and the abbé remained closeted with the king until midnight. The king then remarked : ” I am tired now, Monsieur Abbé, and I must sleep, for I shall have need of all my strength to-morrow.”

Then he called for Clery, who came in and undressed his master, and suggested taking down his hair; but the king said, with a smile : ” It is hardly worth while, Clery. Be sure and wake me at five to-raorrow morning.”

He went to bed immediately, and his head had hardly touched the pillow before he fell asleep, so imperious were the demands of this man’s physical nature.

The abbé threw himelf down upon the bed usually occupied by Clery, who spent the night in a chair.

Cléry’s slumbers were restless in the extreme; and he was awake some time before five o’clock.

At last he arose and began to make the fire.

The noise woke the king.

‘•‘Well, Clery, is it five o’clock?” he asked.

” Several clocks have struck the hour, sire ; but ours has not,” replied Clery, approaching the bed.

“I rested very well,” remarked the king. “I needed to, for yesterday was a very fatiguing day. Where is Monsieur de Firmont? “

“Asleep on my bed.”

“On your bed? Then where did you spend the night?”

“In a chair,”

THE TWENTY-FIRST OF JANUARY. 339

“I am sorry. You sliould not have done it.”

” Oh, sire, how could I think of myself at a time like this?”

“My poor Clery,” said the king, giving him his hand, which Clery tearfully kissed.

The faithful servant began to dress the king for the last time, having laid out for the purpose a brown coat, a pair of grey knee-breeches, and grey silk stockings.

After the king was dressed, Clery arranged his hair, and, while he was doing it, Louis detached a seal from his watch and placed it in his vest-pocket. He then laid the watch on the mantel, and, removing a ring from his finger, placed it in the same pocket with the seal.

When Clery handed him his coat, the king took from the pockets his memorandum-book, snuff-box, and glasses, and placed them, as well as his purse, on the mantel be-side his watch. These preparations were all made in the presence of the municipal officers, who entered the room of the condemned as soon as they saw the light.

Half-past five sounded.

“Wake Monsieur de Firmont,” the king said to Clery.

The priest was already up and dressed, and, hearing the order given to Clery, he came in. The king bade him good-morning, and asked him to enter the private room.

Clery immediately set to work preparing the altar, which was merely the bureau covered with a table-cloth. The sacerdotal vessels had been secured at a neighbouring church.

When the altar was dressed, Clery notified the king. “Can you take part in the service,” asked Louis.

“I think so, only I’m afraid I don’t know all the responses by heart.”

Whereupon the king gave him a prayer-book open at the Introït.

Father Edgeworth was already in Cléry’s room putting on his robes; and when he entered, the officials retired to the antechamber, fearing they should become contaminated by contact with an ecclesiastic, probably.

340 LA COMTESSE DE CHAKNY.

It was now six o’clock, and the celebration of mass began. Tlie king listened devoutly to the entire service upon his knees. When mass was over, he received the communion, after which the abbé, leaving him to his devotions, went into the next room and proceeded to divest himself of his sacerdotal robes.

The king took advantage of this opportunity to thank Clery for his devotion, and to bid him a last farewell. Then he went into his private room, where the abbé joined him, while Clery sat down on the bed and wept bitterly.

At seven o’clock, the king called him, and Clery hastened to answer the summons. Leading the valet into a sort of recess formed by a window, Louis said: “You will give this seal to my son, and this ring to my wife. Tell them it breaks my heart to part with them. This small package contains a lock of hair of each member of my family. Give this, too, to the queen.”

“But will you not see her again? ” asked Clery.

The king hesitated a moment, as if the temptation was almost too strong for him, but after a little he replied in a decided tone : ” No ; I know I promised to see them again this morning; but it will be much better for me to spare them the cruel grief of such a parting. Clery, if you ever see them again, tell them how much it cost me to depart without embracing them once more.”

And dashing away a tear, he said, in mournful accents: “Clery, you will take them my last farewell, will you not?”

After this, the king again returned to his devotions.

The officials had seen the king place these different articles in Cléry’s hands, and one of the men asked for them; but another suggested that they had better leave them with Clery until the Council decided what was to be done with them, and this last suggestion prevailed.

A quarter of an hour afterwards, the king again emerged from his cabinet. Clery was still standing near the door, awaiting his master’s orders.

THE TWENTY-FIRST OF JANUAEY. 341

“Ask if I can have a pair of scissors, Clery,” he said; and then went back into his private room again.

“What does he want of scissors?” inquired one of the officials.

“I do not know, ask him,” replied Clery.

So one of the officials entered the cabinet, only to find the king kneeling before the priest.

“You asked for scissors,” the officer remarked. “What do you want with them? “

“I want Clery to cut my hair.”

The official returned to his colleagues and a long consultation ensued. At the end of half an hour the request was refused.

“I need not touch the scissors,” urged the king, “and Clery can cut my hair in your presence. Pray reconsider your decision.’-

The official went out and repeated the prisoner’s request, but his superior officers still refused.

Shortly afterwards, an official approached Clery, and said to him: “I think it is about time for you to be getting ready to accompany the king to the scaffold.”

“Good heavens, what for?” asked Clery, trembling in every limb, for fear the last hour had come for him also.

“Nonsense!” exclaimed another official, “the headsman can do all that is needful.”

It was day now, and drums could be heard beating loudly in every part of the town. The noise and stir penetrated to the inmost recesses of the tower, and fairly froze the blood in the veins of Clery and the priest.

Apparently much calmer than they, the king listened, and then said without the slightest trace of emotion : “The National Guards are beginning to assemble, probably.”

A short time afterwards several detachments of cavalry rode into the courtyard of the Temple. The king and his companions could distinctly hear the neighing of the horses and the voices of the officers. Again the king listened, and remarked, with the same unruffled calmness, “They seem to be coming.”

342 LA COMTESSE DE CHARNY.

Between seven and eight o’clock several persons knocked at the door of the cabinet under various pretexts or for different purposes, and each time the abbé thought the last summons had come; but each time the king quietly rose, went to the door, tranquilly answered the intruders, and then returned to his confessor’s side.