Then his Majesty told us of the occurrence, as already narrated, and every one was convinced that the thief could not be a novice or an apprentice at his craft.  Inquiries were instantly made, since so bold an attempt called for exemplary punishment.  All the upholsterers of the castle wished to give themselves up as prisoners; their honour was compromised.  It would be hard to describe their consternation, being in truth honest folk.

When the Provost respectfully asked the King if he had had time to notice the culprit’s features, his Majesty replied that the workman in question was a young fellow of about five-and-twenty, fair complexioned, with chestnut hair, and pleasant features of delicate, almost feminine cast.

At this news, all the dark, plain men-servants were exultant; the good-looking ones, however, were filled with fear.

Among the feutiers, whose sole duty it is to attend to the fires and candles in the royal apartments, there was a nice-looking young Dutchman, whom his companions pointed out to the Provost.  They entered his room while he was asleep, and found in his cupboard the following articles:  Two of the King’s lace cravats, two shirts marked with a double L and the crown, a pair of pale blue velvet shoes embroidered with silver, a flowered waistcoat, a hat with white and scarlet plumes, other trifles, and splendid portrait of the King, evidently part of some bracelet.  As regarded the chandelier, nothing was discovered.

When this young foreigner was taken to prison, he refused to speak for twenty-four hours, and in all Versailles there was but one cry,—­“They’ve caught the thief!”

Next day matters appeared in a new light.  The Provost informed his Majesty that the young servant arrested was not a Dutchman, but a very pretty Dutch woman.

At the time of the invasion, she was so unlucky as to see the King close to her father’s house, and conceived so violent a passion for him that she at once forgot country, family, friends,—­everything.  Leaving the Netherlands with the French army, she followed her conqueror back to his capital, and by dint of perseverance managed to secure employment in the royal palace.  While there, her one delight was to see the King as often as possible, and to listen to praise of his many noble deeds.

“The articles found in my possession,” said she to the Provost, “are most dear and precious to me; not for their worth, but because they have touched the King’s person.  I did not steal them from his Majesty; I could not do such a thing.  I bought them of the valets de chambre, who were by right entitled to such things, and who would have sold them indiscriminately to any one else.  The portrait was not sold to me, I admit, but I got it from Madame la Marquise de Montespan, and in this way:  One day, in the parterres, madame dropped her bracelet.  I had the good fortune to pick it up, and I kept it for three or four days in my room.  Then bills were posted up in the park, stating that whoever brought the bracelet to madame should receive a reward of ten louis.  I took back the ornament, for its pearls and diamonds did not tempt me, but I kept the portrait instead of the ten louis offered.”