which they did make on those who witnessed them may be seen
in the unanimity with which the chroniclers of the time record her
forbidding her postilions to drive over a field of corn which lay between
her and the stag, because she would rather miss the sight of the chase
than injure the farmer; and relate how, on one occasion, she gave up
riding for a week or two, and sent her horses back from Compiegne to
Versailles, because the wife of her head-groom was on the point of her
confinement, and she wished her to have her husband near her at such a
moment; and on another, when the horse of one of her attendants kicked
her, and inflicted a severe bruise on her foot, she abstained from
mentioning the hurt, lest it should bring the rider into disgrace by being
attributed to his awkward management.

Not that the intrigues of the mistress and her adherents were at all
diminished. They were even more active than ever since the marriage of the
Count de Provence, who, in an underhanded way, instigated his wife to show
countenance to Madame du Barri, and who allowed, if he did not encourage,
the mistress and her friends to speak slightingly of the dauphiness in his
presence. But, as Marie Antoinette felt firmer in her own position, she
could afford to disregard the malice of these caballers more than she had
felt that she could do at first, and even to defy them. On one occasion
that the Count de Provence was imprudent enough to discuss some of his
schemes with the door open while she was in the next room, she told him
frankly that she had heard all that he said, and reproached him for his
duplicity; and the dauphin coming in at the moment, she flew to him,
throwing her arms round his neck, and telling him how she appreciated his
honesty and candor, and how the more she compared him with the others, the
more she saw his superiority. Indeed, she soon began to find that the
Countess de Provence was as little to be trusted as her husband; and the
only member of the family whom she really liked, or of whom she had at all
a favorable opinion, was the Count d'Artois, who, though not yet out of
the school-room, "showed," as she told her mother, "sentiments of honesty
which he could never have learned of his governor.[8]"

Her indefatigable guardian, Mercy, reported to the empress that she
improved every day. He had learned to conceive a very high idea of her
abilities; and he dilated with especial satisfaction on the powers of
conversatio