t the palace of the Trianon, and was a conspicuous figure at the
feasts given in the queen's honor by the Princess de Lamballe, a
beautiful girl whose head was destined afterward to be severed from her
body and borne upon a bloody pike through the streets of Paris. But as
yet the deluge had not arrived and the great and noble still danced
upon the brink of a volcano.

Fersen grew more and more infatuated, nor could he quite conceal his
feelings. The queen, in her turn, was neither frightened nor indignant.
His passion, so profound and yet so respectful, deeply moved her. Then
came a time when the truth was made clear to both of them. Fersen was
near her while she was singing to the harpsichord, and "she was
betrayed by her own music into an avowal which song made easy." She
forgot that she was Queen of France. She only felt that her womanhood
had been starved and slighted, and that here was a noble-minded lover
of whom she could be proud.

Some time after this announcement was officially made of the
approaching accouchement of the queen. It was impossible that malicious
tongues should be silent. The king's brother, the Comte de Provence,
who hated the queen, just as the Bonapartes afterward hated Josephine,
did his best to besmirch her reputation. He had, indeed, the
extraordinary insolence to do so at a time when one would suppose that
the vilest of men would remain silent. The child proved to be a
princess, and she afterward received the title of Duchesse d'Angouleme.
The King of Spain asked to be her godfather at the christening, which
was to be held in the cathedral of Notre Dame. The Spanish king was not
present in person, but asked the Comte de Provence to act as his proxy.

On the appointed day the royal party proceeded to the cathedral, and
the Comte de Provence presented the little child at the baptismal font.
The grand almoner, who presided, asked;

"What name shall be given to this child?"

The Comte de Provence answered in a sneering tone:

"Oh, we don't begin with that. The first thing to find out is who the
father and the mother are!"

These words, spoken at such a place and such a time, and with a
strongly sardonic ring, set all Paris gossiping. It was a thinly veiled
innuendo that the father of the child was not the King of France. Those
about the court immediately began to look at Fersen with significant
smiles. The queen would gladly have kept him near her; but Fersen cared
even more for her go