sure. And now her extraordinarily excited memory which was enabling her to see Trianon again down to the smallest details of the scenery, also revealed to her her short-sighted folly in undermining the first principles of that mutual courtesy which constitutes best Court life, at a time when France was on the verge of an immense political whirlpool.
Yes; it was on that very same spot that the messenger came to her, a few months later, to announce the crowd of disaffected women from Paris en route for Versailles. She could never forget that October morning, for from that time her life had entirely altered in character and the Queen had endured a weary round of perpetual and open insult. Throughout the preceding summer the grounds at the Petit Trianon, which had formerly been so jealously guarded even from the Court, had been thrown open to the public,[1] and in order to take the chance of walking there in any privacy the Queen had lately been in the habit of driving over during the morning. That fifth of October had been fairly fine during the early hours, and she remembered having seen the gardeners at
- ↑ Le Petit Trianon, Desjardins, p. 345.
