therewereherlarge，grayish-blueeyes；herhighforehead；herbeautiful，chestnut-brownhair，arrangedinexactlythemannerthatLeonard，thequeen’shair-dresser，wasaccustomedtodresshers。Therestofhertoilet，also，waspreciselylikethatofthequeenwhensheappearedinthegardensofVersaillesanddispensedwithcourtetiquette。Abrightdressoflightlinenfloweddowninlong，broadfoldsoverherbeautifulfigure；herchestandthefullshoulderswerecoveredbyashortwhiterobeal’enfant，andontheloftilydressedhairlayawhitecap，trimmedwithlace。
Yes，itwasthequeen，asshehadoftenbeenseenwanderingupanddowninthebroadwalksofVersailles；andeventheladiesonthetribune，whooftenenoughhadseenthemonarchcloseathandandhadspokenwithher，lookedinastonishmentattheenteringfigure，andwhispered，“Itisshe!Thequeenherselfiscomingtogiveherevidence。Whatfolly，whatthoughtlessness!“
Whilealleyesweredirecteduponthisunexpectedfigure，noonehadthoughtoftheCountessLamotte-Valois，noonehadnoticedhowsheshrankback，andthenstartedfromherseat，asifshewantedtoflyfromthehorrorwhichsosuddenlyconfrontedher。
No，theofficerwhostoodnearherchairhadnoticedthismovement，andwithaquickandstronggraspseizedherarm。
“Whatdoyouwant，madame？Whydoyourisefromyourchairafterbeingtoldtositstill，ifyoudonotwanttobechained？“