Bewildered by her fate, unable to make the right choices, Marie faces her lethal comeuppance. In soiled chemise and her now-white hair hacked off, she has a final realization. “It’s like some awful dream and it’s never been mine.” She stands on the red carpet, rolled out toward the dark shape of the guillotine. But she gets the final ironic laugh. She will be remembered. The whoosh of the guillotine reverberates. The dark silhouette opens to reveal a dressmaker’s mirror. Her image reflects in triplicate. Whatever else, she’ll always be famous, forever looked at. With fascination, awe and a bit of sadness, we will always stare at Marie Antoinette.
I can live alone, if self-respect, and circumstances require me so to do. I need not sell my soul to buy bliss. I have an inward treasure born with me, which can keep me alive if all extraneous delights should be withheld, or offered only at a price I cannot afford to give.