But in her cottage all rank disappeared; there, was no distinction;
there, ceased the glory of name and title, and no sooner was the
castle abandoned for the cottages than each named the other with
some Arcadic, pastoral appellation, and each busied himself with his
rural avocations. How lustily the laughter, how merrily the song
sounded from these cottages amid these bowers and groves; how the
countenance of the farming-lady was lighted up with happiness and
joy; with what delight rested upon her the eye of the farmer Louis,
who in his blue blouse, with a straw hat on his head, with a rosy,
fleshy, good-natured face, was exactly fitted for his part, and who
found it no difficult task to hide under the farmer's garment the
purple of the king!
How often was Marie Antoinette seen in her simple white dress, her
glowing countenance shaded by a straw hat, bounding through the
garden as light as a gazelle, and going from the barn to the milk-
room, followed by the company she had invited to drink of her milk
and eat of her fresh eggs! How often, when the farmer Louis had
secreted himself in a grove for the sake of reading, how often was
he discovered there by the queen, torn away from his book and drawn
to a dejeuner on the grass! When that was over, and Louis had gone
back to his book, Marie Antoinette hastened to her cows to see them
milked, or she went into the rocking-boat to fish, or else reposed
on the lawn, busy as a peasant, with her spindle.
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