“I was more frightened than ever, but the remembrance of the woman’s impudence got the better of me.

“’I told her that in dressing your Majesty’s hair she had acquired all the court accomplishments but one.’

“‘I’ll warrant that Bertin was curious,’ said the Queen.

“‘She was, your Majesty.’

“‘What is the accomplishment she lacks?’ the Queen demanded; ’I should like to know it myself.’

“It is discrimination, your Majesty.  I told the woman there were some people she could be rude to with impunity.  I was not one of them.’

“‘She’ll never be rude to you again, Mademoiselle,’ said the Queen.

“‘I am sure of it, your Majesty,’ I said.

“The Queen laughed, and bade the Duchesse de Polignac invite me to supper that evening.  My father was delighted,—­I was more frightened than ever.  But the party was small, her Majesty was very gracious and spoke to me often, and I saw that above all things she liked to be amused.  Poor lady!  It was a year after that terrible affair of the necklace, and she wished to be distracted from thinking of the calumnies which were being heaped upon her.  She used to send for me often during the years that followed, and I might have had a place at court near her person.  But my father was sensible enough to advise me not to accept,—­if I could refuse without offending her Majesty.  The Queen was not offended; she was good enough to say that I was wise in my request.  She had, indeed, abolished most of the ridiculous etiquette of the court.  She would not eat in public, she would not be followed around the palace by ladies in court gowns, she would not have her ladies in the room when she was dressing.  If she wished a mirror, she would not wait for it to be passed through half a dozen hands and handed her by a Princess of the Blood.  Sometimes she used to summon me to amuse her and walk with me by the water in the beautiful gardens of the Petit Triano.  I used to imitate the people she disliked.  I disliked them, too.  I have seen her laugh until the tears came into her eyes when I talked of Monsieur Necker.  As the dark days drew nearer I loved more and more to be in the seclusion of the country at Montmery, at the St. Gre of my girlhood.  I can see St. Gre now,” said the Vicomtesse, “the thatched houses of the little village on either side of the high-road, the honest, red-faced peasants courtesying in their doorways at our berline, the brick wall of the park, the iron gates beside the lodge, the long avenue of poplars, the deer feeding in the beechwood, the bridge over the shining stream and the long, weather-beaten chateau beyond it.  Paris and the muttering of the storm were far away.  The mornings on the sunny terrace looking across the valley to the blue hills, the walks in the village, grew very dear to me.  We do not know the value of things, Mr. Ritchie, until we are about to lose them.”

“You did not go back to court?” I asked.