Two days later, she stands in the magnificent chapel in the palace of Versailles. Decked in a dress of silver cloth and white brocade adorned with lace, pearls, and diamonds, she gazes at her nervous groom. She shares his timorousness, though she hides it; meanwhile, he shakes a little placing the ring on her finger, and blushes while saying his vows. The ceremony proceeds, and when all is said and done, the royal family members sign the marriage contract. In her agitation, she smudges her new name: Marie Antoinette Josephe Jeanne.
Late that
evening, the couple, accompanied by the King and throngs of courtiers, enters
the royal bedchamber. The Archbishop of Rheims blesses the bed sheets with holy
water, then with much formality, the bride and groom are prepared for the night
before them; after they’ve been dressed their nightclothes, they are escorted
into the bed. They sit rigidly, while the curtains are closed and drawn open
again, to represent the impending consummation. Though they’ve known each other
a mere two days, both know what is expected of them. After everyone has finally
left, Antoinette turns to her husband, covering her anxiousness with a smile.
Expecting her husband to embrace her, she is surprised when he courteously
says, “Goodnight, Madame,” and rolls over to sleep. Replying, “Goodnight,
Monsieur,” she lies back on her pillow, rather confused and quite weary from
all she’s been through.
One night, a
few weeks later, disaster strikes. The fireworks display in Paris, set to round
off the wedding celebrations, instead dissolves in tragedy, and Antoinette,
accompanied by her husband’s three maiden aunts, sees the turmoil. Upon her
return to Versailles, she rushes into Louis’s apartments, where he sits with a
book.
“Monsieur!”
she exclaims, choking back a sob.
Seeing her,
he lays aside the volume and she sits next to him. “What is the matter, Madame?”
“Oh,
Monsieur, when your aunts and I went to the fireworks, we could not arrive in
the city, because in the darkness, many Parisians fell into some pits of a
street which is under construction, and they were crushed to death by carriages
and other members of the crowd.”
She
dissolves into tears, as he sits, unsure of how to comfort her; then, he gently
takes her hand and holds it between his own.
Her weeping
abated, she exclaims, “We must do something to help those poor souls who are
mourning their kindred and friends!”
“Indeed we
must,” he solemnly agrees.
The following morning, they meet again in the
room.
“I have
just sent all my monthly allowance to the Minister of Police, with a note
asking him to dispose of it as he sees fit, to those who are in greatest need,”
he tells her.
“Oh, I
shall do the same with my allowance!” she smiles, delighted at the discovery of
her husband’s benevolence. He too is pleased to see he has married a
good-hearted woman.
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