The French of the late XVIII century fantasized about their young beautiful queen an awful lot. At Palais Royale in Paris there was a prostitute whose stage name happened to be the Little Queen. Her real name was Nicole d’Olive, they nick-named her after the Queen due to the remarkable resemblance of the woman to Marie-Antoinette. The contemporaries remarked Nicole’s royal profile complete with the stiff upper lip. The difference in age, Nicole d’Olive in her early twenties, while the Queen was about to turn thirty, accounts for the modifier little. Seduced by the resemblance, men flocked to that woman to flesh out what the gossip press of the day ardently articulated as a new national obsession. The police was aware of all that but let it stand where it was, an innocent sex-role playing.
In 1785 the role-playing of Nicole d’Olive has gotten too far, for she happened to be hired by a group of criminals who with her help in the role of the Queen had successfully defrauded Cardinal Rohan of the sum of one and a half million livres. The Little Queen was starring in the same role, essentially recapitulating the main points of the fantasy: the Queen is frivolous, accessible and is largely ignored by her impotent husband; a personal favor to the Queen, a diamond necklace in this case, could get your foot in the door. The idea was further elaborated vis-a-vis the exotic local of Versailles park, Cardinal was getting some in the grove. Unfortunately the necklace turned out to be a little too expensive and he defaulted on a payment; the jeweler went directly to the Queen and the whole thing leaked into press so that the French once again could avidly read the juicy details of the investigation.
Poor little Nicole was thrown into Bastille where her own lawyer took advantage of her disadvantage and handsomely rewarded himself using no protection whatsoever. Remorseful, repentant and pregnant, she ended her days in a convent.