"Memoire de Marquis de Crequy," vol. iv.] My dear sire! you have given me not only a bouquet of flowers, but a bouquet of pleasant hours, of happy years, for which I thank you, and you alone."

"And may this bouquet never wither, Marie!" said the king, laying his hand as if in blessing on the head of his wife, and raising his good, blue eyes with a pious and prayerful look. "But, my good woman," said he then, after a little pause, "you quite let me forget the part I have to play, and the mill wheel is standing still again, since the miller is not there. It is, besides, in wretched order, and it is full needful that I practise my art of black smith here a little, and put better screws and springs in the machine. But listen! what kind of song is that without?"

"Those are the peasants greeting us with their singing," said the queen, smiling. "Come, Mr. Miller, let us show ourselves to them."

She drew the king out upon the small staircase. Directly at the foot of it stood the king's two brothers, the Counts de Provence and Artois, as chief official and schoolmaster, and behind them the duchesses and princesses, dukes and counts, arrayed as peasants. In united chorus they greeted the mistress and the miller:

"Oil peut-on etre mieux, Qu'au seiu de sa famille?"

The queen smiled, and yet tears glittered in her eyes, tears of joy.

Those were happy hours which the royal pair spent that day in Trianon--hours of such bright sunshine that Marie Antoinette quite forgot the sad clouds of the morning, and gave herself undisturbed to the enjoyment of this simple, country life. They sat down to a country dinner--a slight, simple repast, brought together from the resources of the hen-coop, the mill, and the milk-room. Then the whole company went out to lie down in the luxuriant grass which grew on the border of the little grove, and looked at the cows grazing before them on the meadow, and with stately dignity pursuing the serious occupation of chewing the cud. But as peasants have something else to do than to live and enjoy, their mistress, Marie Antoinette, soon left her resting-place to set her people a good example in working. The spinning-wheel was brought and set upon a low stool; Marie Antoinette began to spin. How quickly the wheel began to turn, as if it were the wheel of fortune--to-day bringing joy, and to-morrow calamity!

The evening has not yet come, and the wheel of fortune is yet turning, yet calamity is there.

Marie Antoinette does not yet know it; her eye still beams with joy, a happy smile still plays upon her rosy lips. She is sitting now with her company by the lake, with the hook in her hand, and looking with laughing face and fixed attention at the rod, and crying aloud as often as she catches a fish. For these fishes are to serve as supper for the company, and the queen has ceremoniously invited her husband to an evening meal, which she herself will serve and prepare. The queen smiles still and is happy; her spinning-wheel is silent, but the wheel of fate is moving still.

The king is no longer there. He has withdrawn into the mill to rest himself.

And yet there he is not alone. Who ventures to disturb him? It must be something very serious. For it is well known that the king very seldom goes to Trianon, and that when he is there he wishes to be entirely free from business.

And yet he is disturbed today; yet the premier, Baron de Breteuil, is come to seek the miller of Little Trianon, and to beseech him even there to be the king again.

CHAPTER IV.

THE QUEEN'S NECKLACE.

Directly after a page, arrayed in the attire of a miller's boy, had announced the Baron de Breteuil, the king with drew into his chamber and resumed his own proper clothing. He drew on the long, gray coat, the short trousers of black velvet, the long, gold embroidered waistcoat of gray satin; and over this the bright, thin ribbon of the Order of Louis-the attire in which the king was accustomed to present himself on gala-days.

With troubled, disturbed countenance, he then entered the little apartment where his chief minister, the Baron de Breteuil, was awaiting him.

"Tell me quickly," ejaculated the king, "do you bring bad news? Has any thing unexpected occurred?"

"Sire," answered the minister, respectfully, "something unexpected at all events, but whether something bad will be learned after further investigation."

"Investigation!" cried the king. "Then do you speak of a crime?"

"Yes, sire, of a crime-the crime of a base deception, and, as it seems, of a defalcation involving immense sums and objects of great value."

"Ah," said the king, with a sigh of relief, "then the trouble is only one of money."

"No, sire, it is one which concerns the honor of the queen."

Louis arose, while a burning flush of indignation passed over his face.

"Will they venture again to assail the honor of the queen?" he asked.

"Yes, sire," answered Breteuil, with his invincible calmness--"yes, sire, they will venture to do so. And at this time it is so infernal and deeply-laid a plan that it will be difficult to get at the truth. Will your majesty allow me to unfold the details of the matter somewhat fully?"

"Speak, baron, speak," said the king, eagerly, taking his seat upon a wooden stool, and motioning to the minister to do the same.

"Sire," answered the premier, with a bow, "I will venture to sit, because I am in fact a little exhausted with my quick run hither."

"And is the matter so pressing?" muttered the king, drawing out his tobacco-box, and in his impatience rolling it between his fingers.

"Yes, very pressing," answered Breteuil, taking his seat. "Does your majesty remember the beautiful necklace which the court jeweller, Bohmer, some time since had the honor to offer to your majesty?"

"Certainly, I remember it," answered the king, quickly nodding. "The queen showed herself on that occasion just as unselfish and magnanimous as she always is. It was told me that her majesty had very much admired the necklace which Bohmer had showed to her, and yet had declined to purchase it, because it seemed to her too dear. I wanted to buy it and have the pleasure of offering it to the queen, but she decisively refused it."

"We well remember the beautiful answer which her majesty gave to her husband," said Breteuil, gently bowing. "All Paris repeated with delight the words which her majesty uttered: 'Sir, we have more diamonds than ships. Buy a ship with this money!'" [Footnote: "Correspondence Secrete de la Cour de Louis XVI."]

"You have a good memory," said the king, "for it is five years since this happened. Bohmer has twice made the attempt since then to sell this costly necklace to me, but I have dismissed him, and at last forbidden him to allude to the matter again."

"I believe that he has, meanwhile, ventured to trouble the queen several times about the necklace. It appears that he had almost persuaded himself that your majesty would purchase it. Years ago he caused stones to be selected through all Europe, wishing to make a necklace of diamonds which should be alike large, heavy, and brilliant. The queen refusing to give him his price of two million francs, he offered it at last for one million eight hundred thousand."

"I have heard of that," said the king. "Her majesty was at last weary of the trouble, and gave command that the court jeweller, Bohmer, should not be admitted."

"Every time, therefore, that he came to Versailles he was refused admittance. He then had recourse to writing, and two weeks ago her majesty received from him a begging letter, in which he said that he should be very happy if, through his instrumentality, the queen could possess the finest diamonds in Europe, and imploring her majesty not to forget her court jeweller. The queen read this letter, laughing, to her lady-in-waiting, Madame de Campan, and said it seemed as if the necklace had deprived the good Bohmer of his reason. But not wishing to pay any further attention to his letter or to answer it, she burned the paper in a candle which was accidentally standing on her table."

"Good Heaven! How do you know these details?" asked the king, in amazement.

"Sire, I have learned them from Madame de Campan herself, as I was compelled to speak with her about the necklace."

"But what is it about this necklace? What has the queen to do with that?" asked the king, wiping with a lace handkerchief the sweat which stood in great drops upon his lofty forehead.

"Sire, the court jeweller, Bohmer, asserts that he sold the necklace of brilliants to the queen, and now desires to be paid."

"The queen is right," exclaimed the king, "the man is out of his head. If he did sell the necklace to the queen, there must have been witnesses present to confirm it, and the keepers of her majesty's purse would certainly know about it."

"Sire, Bohmer asserts that the queen caused it to be bought of him in secret, through a third hand, and that this confidential messenger was empowered to pay down thirty thousand francs, and to promise two hundred thousand more."

"What is the name of this confidential messenger? What do they call