Orleans was on his feet reminding the King that what he had said was illegal.

Knowing that Orleans was a danger, having some notion of the nightly gatherings in the Palais Royale, Louis for once was stem, and banished Orleans to his estates at VillersCotteret.

Now there was a division between the King and the Parlement; and all the Pariements of the country stood firmly behind the Parlement of Paris.

“Brienne must go,” was the cry not only in the capital but throughout the country. There was rioting in several towns; people were demanding the recall of Necker, and he could only come back if Brienne was dismissed.

The cry went up: “The country needs the States-General I’

Madame Louise, the youngest of the aunts, died at that time. I think of her now as one of the lucky ones who did not live too long, as most of us did.

She had died in her convent sure of her place in Heaven, for as she passed away she cried in her delirium as though TO her coachman: “To Paradise, quick. Full speed ahead.”

I think she must have been the happiest of the aunts, removed from the stresses which had become so much a part of our lives.

I was spending more and more time at the Trianon, walking in the gardens, talking to my peasants at the Hameau. I felt so strongly the need to escape. I kept the children with me—my two healthy ones and my Dauphin, who was growing visibly thinner every day.

Rose Benin came with new patterns. She had an exquisite silk—and also the most delightful satin I had ever seen.

“Everything is changed now,” I told her.

“I have many dresses in my wardrobe. They must suffice.”

She looked at me incredulously, and then smiled her roguish familiar smile.

“Wait until Your Majesty sees the new blue velvet.”

I have no wish to see it,” I replied. I shall not be sending for you so often now.”

She laughed and called to one of her women to unroll the velvet, but I turned away and walked to the window.

She was angry; I saw that, as she left the apartment;

her cheeks were pink and her eyes were half-closed. I wondered why I had ever liked the woman; and I was to wonder still more when I understood that she, growing more and more angry when she realised I really meant that I should not send for her, discussed my follies and extravagances with her customers and even went into the market places to do so.

I really had no desire for new dresses. I had changed. I must set a good example. I must cut down my expenses. I told the Due de Polignac that I should have to relieve him of his post of Master of my Horse.

It was in any case almost a sinecure and one which cost me fifty thousand livres a year. I had created it for the sake of Gabrielle. I also relieved her lover, the Comte de Vaudreuil, of his post of Grand Falconer.

“This will make us bankrupt!” cried the infuriated Comte.

Better you than France,” I replied with some sharpness. I was beginning to see how foolish I had been in bestowing such gifts on these people; I was realising how they had battened on my careless generosity, which was in fact no generosity at all for I was giving away something which did not belong to me.

I felt these people were already turning from me—not Gabrielle, who had never asked for anything for herself, only favours for her family because they pressed her to; not the Princesse de Lamballe, who was a disinterested friend; and not my dear sister-in-law Elisabeth, who cared deeply for my children and so had made an even deeper bond between us. These were my true friends. But perhaps even at this stage the others had already begun to desert.

But there was one friend who had returned to France and of whom I was very much aware. This was Comte Axel de Fersen. He appeared at gatherings and I never had more than a discreet word or so with him. But I was conscious of a great serenity because he was there. I felt that he was awaiting that moment when I should give the sign and then he would be at my side.

The Dauphin was growing weaker. I was constantly in his apartments, watching over him. My anxiety for him could make me forget for a time these state affairs. Here was tragedy and one which was more real to me, more heartrending than the difficulties of France. I was writing to Joseph about him:

“I am worried about the health of my eldest boy. His growth is somewhat awry, for he has one leg shorter than the other and his spine is a little twisted and unduly prominent. For some time now he has been inclined to attacks of fever and he is thin and frail.”

I wanted to be with him the whole of the time, nursing him myself. But that was not possible. The Opera House had requested that the King and I attend a gala performance and Louis said that he thought it would be expected that we should show ourselves.

I dreaded it. I told him so. They wished to see him; they loved him, but they hated me. They were fed on the cruel lest lies about me. I hated the thought of going to the Opera House, which in itself would be a reminder of those days when I had danced so madly at the Opera balls.

“It is our duty to go,” said Louis sombrely. I went to the nurseries to show the children my gown; little Louis-Charles shrieked with delight and stroked the soft silk of my skirt.

“Beautiful beautiful Maman,” he said. And he insisted on showing me Moufflet’s latest tricks. Moufflet was the cleverest dog in the world and he wished he were his. My poor little Dauphin was lying in his bed, his misshapen body hidden; I wanted to weep as I bent over and kissed him. He put his arms about my neck and clung to me; he loved me when there was no one there to poison him against me. I left for the

Opera with the memory of my nurseries staying with me. It was a brilliant occasion and I was delighted that the King was so loudly cheered. There were no cheers for me, though, and I heard the shout of “Madame Deficit I’ and: Where is the Diamond Necklace?”

As I stepped into the royal box I saw the paper which had been pinned there. It was hastily removed, but not before I had caught sight of the words: “Tremble, Tyrants.”

I did tremble, throughout the opera, uncontrollably. But Louis sat beside me smiling with that calm smile which it seemed nothing could shake.

What joy it was when my son seemed to be recovering his health a little. I forgot all my anxieties in letting myself believe that he was really growing stronger. He was such a clever child and he was always amusing me with his sayings.

“He will be a very wise King,” I told his father; and Louis agreed with me.

They had put him into a corselet to try to straighten his spine and he never complained. He was like a little man.

I was anxious that he should learn how to manage his finances.

Finances were very much in my mind at that time and I bad ordered his governor and governess not to give him more than his allowance. He was very taken with a mechanical doll he had seen, and greatly desired it.

I planned to give it to him, for he told me. he had asked God to see that he received it.

He told me that one of his attendants had reminded him that it was better to ask God for wisdom than riches.

“To which, Maman,” he told me with a smile, “I replied that while I was about it I saw no reason not to ask for both at once.”

What could one do with such a child but marvel at him?

“My darling,” I cried, you must promise me to eat up all the nourishing food you are given. You must grow into a strong man. Your Papa was not strong as a boy, but look at him now. “

“I want that,” he told me.

“You should say we want, my darling … as the King does.” I was trying to teach him to become a King, for I always remembered his father’s saying that he had been taught nothing.

The King and I say “we want” together, Maman. But I am right, for the King does not say we for himself. “

He looked so grave and’ wise and I did not know what I wanted to do weep or laugh.

And as I was beginning to hope, he became ill again. He awoke in the night suffering terrible convulsions. He suffered so, my dearest son; and I could do nothing for him. The doctors were always examining, always suggesting treatment. They tortured him with blisterings and they talked of cauterising his spine. He bore all this with a sweetness which was amazing. He found it comforting to lie on a billiard table and I had a mattress placed on it for his greater comfort. He read a great deal history mostly. I was there once when the Princesse de Lamballe asked him if he picked out the exciting parts of the book it was a history of the reign of Charles VII and he looked at my dear silly Lam bane almost reprovingly and replied: “I do not know enough about it to choose, Madame; and it is all so interesting.”

As he grew weaker he did not want anyone with him but myself. His eyes would brighten as I came in.

“Maman,” he would say, ‘you are so beautiful. I feel happier when you are near me. Tell me of the olden days. “

He meant by that, those days when he was able to run about and play as his young brother loved to do. And Moufflet would curl up beside him and I would tell him of little incidents from the past such as the occasion at the Trianon theatre when he had sat on Papa’s knee and watched me on the stage.

“I remember, I remember,” he would cry.

“And what happened?”

He would nod as I told, knowing it word for word, for indeed I had told him the story many times, of how I had forgotten my words and Monsieur Campan in the prompter’s box, his large spectacles on his nose, had sought to find the place. My little son cried out in a dramatic tone which could be heard all over the theatre, “Monsieur Campan, take off those big spectacles. Maman cannot hear you.”