Marie Antoinette and Her Son Part 21

"Amen, amen," whispered all present.

"Amen," said the king, closing with gentle pressure the open eyes of his son. "G.o.d has taken you to Himself, my son, perhaps because He wanted to preserve you from much trouble and sorrow. Blessed be His name!"

But the queen still bowed over the cold face of the child, and kissed his lips. "Farewell, my son," she whispered, "farewell! Ah!, why could I not die with you--with you fly from this pitiful, sorrow-stricken world?"

Then, as if the queen regretted the words which the mother had spoken with sighs, Marie Antoinette rose from her knees and turned to the priest, who was sprinkling the corpse of the dauphin with holy water.

"Father," said she, "the children of poor parents, who may be born to-day in Versailles, are each to receive from me the sum of a thousand francs. I wish that the death-bed of my son may be a day of joy for the poor who have not, like me, lost a child, but gained one, and that the lips of happy mothers may bless the day on which my boy died. Have the goodness to bring me to-morrow morning a list of the children born to-day."

"Come, Marie," said the king, "the body of our son belongs no more to the living, but to the grave of out ancestors in St. Denis; his soul to G.o.d. The dauphin is dead! Long live the dauphin! Madame de Polignac, conduct the dauphin to us in the cabinet of his mother."

And with the proud and dignified bearing which was peculiar to the king in great and momentous epochs, he extended his arm to the queen and conducted her out of the death-chamber, and through the adjacent apartments, to her cabinet.

"Ah!" cried the queen, "here we are alone; here I can weep for my poor lost child."

And she threw her arms around the neck of her husband, and, leaning her head upon his breast, wept aloud.

The king pressed her closely to his heart, and the tears which flowed from his own eyes fell in hot drops upon the head of the queen.

Neither saw the door beyond lightly open, and the d.u.c.h.ess de Polignac appear there. But when she saw the royal pair in close embrace, when she heard their loud weeping, she drew back, stooped down to the little boy who stood by her side, whispered a few words to him, and, while gently pushing him forward, drew back herself, and gently closed the door behind them. The little fellow stood a moment irresolutely at the door, fixing his eyes now upon his father and mother, now upon the nosegay of violets and roses which he carried in his hand. The little Louis Charles was of that sweet and touching beauty that brings tears into one's eyes, and fills the heart with sadness, because the thought cannot be suppressed, that life, with its rough, wintry storms, will have no pity on this tender blossom of innocence, and that the beaming, angel-face of the child must one day be changed into the clouded, weather-beaten, furrowed face of the man. A cheering sight to look upon was the little, delicate figure of the four-year-old boy, pleasing in his whole appearance. Morocco boots, with red tips, covered his little feet; broad trousers, of dark-blue velvet, came to his knees, and were held together at the waist by a blue silk sash, whose lace- tipped ends fell at his left side. He wore a blue velvet jacket, with a tastefully embroidered lace ruffle around the neck. The round, rosy face, with the ruby lips, the dimple in the chin, the large blue eyes, shaded by long, dark lashes, and crowned by the broad, lofty brow, was rimmed around with a profusion of golden hair, which fell in long, heavy locks upon his shoulders and over his neck. The child was as beautiful to look upon as one of the angels in Raphael's "Sistine Madonna," and he might have been taken for one, had it not been for the silver-embroidered, brilliant star upon his left side. This star, which designated his princely rank, was for the pretty child the seal of his mortality--the seal which ruin had already impressed upon his innocent child's breast.

One moment the boy stood indecisively there, looking at his weeping parents; then he turned quickly forward, and, holding up his nosegay, he said: "Mamma, I have brought you some flowers from my garden."

Marie Antoinette raised her head, and smiled through her tears as she looked at her son. The king loosened his embrace from the queen, in order to lift up the prince.

"Marie," said he, holding him up to his wife, "Marie, this is our son--this is the Dauphin of France."

Marie Antoinette took his head between her hands, and looked long, with tears in her eyes, and yet smiling all the while, into the lovely, rosy face of her boy. Then she stooped down, and impressed a long, tender kiss upon his smooth forehead.

"G.o.d love you, my child!" said she, solemnly. "G.o.d bless you, Dauphin of France! May the storms which now darken our horizon, have long been past when you shall ascend the throne of your fathers! G.o.d bless and defend you, Dauphin of France!"

"But, mamma," asked the boy, timidly, "why do you call me dauphin to-day? I am your little Louis, and I am called Duke de Normandy."

"My son," said the king, solemnly, "G.o.d has been pleased to give you another name and another calling. Your poor brother, Louis, has left us forever. He has gone to G.o.d, and you are now Dauphin of France!"

"And G.o.d grant that it be for your good," said the queen, with a sigh.

The little prince slowly shook his locks. "It certainly is not for my good," said he, "else mamma would not weep."

"She is weeping, my child," said the queen--" she is weeping, because your brother, who was the dauphin, has left us."

"And will he never come back?" asked the child, eagerly.

"No, Louis, he never will come back."

The boy threw both his arms around the neck of the queen. "Ah!" he cried, "how can any one ever leave his dear mamma and never come back? I will never leave you, mamma!"

"I pray G.o.d you speak the truth," sighed the queen, pressing him tenderly to herself. "I pray G.o.d I may die before you both!"

"Not before me--oh, not before me!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed the king, shuddering.

"Without you, my dear one, my life were a desert; without you, the King of France were the poorest man in the whole land!"

He smiled sadly at her. "And with me he will perhaps be the most unfortunate one," she whispered softly, as if to herself.

"Never unfortunate, if you are with me, and if you love me," cried the king, warmly. "Weep no more; we must overcome our grief, and comfort ourselves with what remains. I say to you once more: the dauphin is dead, long live the dauphin!"

"Papa king," said the boy, quickly, "you say the dauphin is dead, and has left us. Has he taken every thing away with him that belongs to him?"

"No, my son, he has left every thing. You are now the dauphin, and some time will be King of France, for you are the heir of your brother."

"What does that mean, his heir?" asked the child.

"It means," answered the king, "that to you belong now the t.i.tles and honors of your brother."

"Nothing but that?" asked the prince, timidly. "I do not want his t.i.tles and honors."

"You are the heir to the throne; you have now the t.i.tle of Dauphin of France."

The little one timidly grasped the hand of his mother, and lifted his great blue eyes supplicatingly to her.

"Mamma queen," he whispered, "do you not think the t.i.tle of Duke de Normandy sounds just as well, or will you love me more, if I am called Dauphin of France?"

"No, my son," answered the queen, "I shall not love you better, and I should be very happy if you were now the Duke de Normandy."

"Then, mamma," cried the boy, eagerly, "I am not at all glad to receive this new t.i.tle. But I should like to know whether I have received any thing else from my dear sick brother."

"Any thing else?" asked the king in amazement; "what would you desire, my child?"

The little prince cast down his eyes. "I should not like to tell, papa. But if it is true that the dauphin has left us and is not coming back again, and yet has not taken away every thing which belongs to him, there is something which I should very much like to have, and which would please me more than that I am now the dauphin."

The king turned his face inquiringly to the queen. "Do you understand, Marie, what he wants to say?" he whispered.

"I think I can guess," answered Marie Antoinette softly, and she walked quickly across the room, opened the door of the adjoining apartment, and whispered a few words to the page who was there. Then she returned to the king, but while doing so she stepped upon the bouquet which had fallen out of the boy's hands when his father lifted him up.

"Oh, my pretty violets, my pretty roses," cried the prince, sadly, and his face put on a sorrowful expression. But he quickly brightened, and, looking up at the queen, he said, smiling, "Mamma queen, I wish you always walked on flowers which I have planted and plucked for you!"

At this moment the door softly opened, and a little black dog stepped in, and ran forward, whining, directly up to the prince.

"Moufflet," cried the child, falling upon his knee, "Moufflet!"

The little dog, with its long, curly locks of hair, put its fore- paws upon the shoulders of the boy and eagerly and tenderly licked his laughing, rosy face.

"Now, my Louis," asked the queen, "have I guessed right?--wasn't it the doggy that you wanted so much?"

"Mamma queen has guessed it," cried the boy joyfully, putting his arms around the neck of the dog. "Does Moufflet belong to my inheritance too? Do I receive him, since my brother has left him behind?"

"Yes, my son, the little dog belongs to your inheritance," answered the king, with a sad smile.

The child shouted with pleasure, and pressed the dog close to his breast. "Moufflet is mine!" he cried, glowing with joy, "Moufflet is my inheritance!"