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diff --git a/20122-h/20122-h.htm b/20122-h/20122-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d08285a --- /dev/null +++ b/20122-h/20122-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,36234 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" +"http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> +<head> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=utf-8" /> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Style-Type" content="text/css" /> +<title>The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Queen’s Necklace, by Alexandre Dumas, père</title> + +<style type="text/css"> + +body { margin-left: 20%; + margin-right: 20%; + text-align: justify; } + +h1, h2, h3, h4, h5 {text-align: center; font-style: normal; font-weight: +normal; line-height: 1.5; margin-top: .5em; margin-bottom: .5em;} + +h1 {font-size: 300%; + margin-top: 0.6em; + margin-bottom: 0.6em; + letter-spacing: 0.12em; + word-spacing: 0.2em; + text-indent: 0em;} +h2 {font-size: 150%; margin-top: 2em; margin-bottom: 1em;} +h3 {font-size: 130%; margin-top: 1em;} +h4 {font-size: 120%;} +h5 {font-size: 110%;} + +div.chapter {page-break-before: always; margin-top: 4em;} + +hr {width: 80%; margin-top: 2em; margin-bottom: 2em;} + +p {text-indent: 1em; + margin-top: 0.25em; + margin-bottom: 0.25em; } + + table {margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;} + + .blockquot{margin-left: 5%; margin-right: 10%;} + + .smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} + + .figcenter {margin: auto; text-align: center;} + + .footnote {margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-size: 0.9em;} + .footnote .label {position: absolute; right: 84%; text-align: right;} + .fnanchor {vertical-align: super; font-size: .8em; text-decoration: none;} + + </style> +</head> +<body> + +<div style='text-align:center; font-size:1.2em; font-weight:bold'>The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Queen’s Necklace, by Alexandre Dumas, père</div> +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and +most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions +whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms +of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online +at <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. If you +are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the +country where you are located before using this eBook. +</div> +<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Title: The Queen’s Necklace</div> +<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Author: Alexandre Dumas, père</div> +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Release Date: December 16, 2006 [eBook #20122]<br /> +[Most recently updated: August 3, 2021]</div> +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Language: English</div> +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Character set encoding: UTF-8</div> +<div style='display:block; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Produced by: Juergen Lohnert, Wilelmina Maillière, and the Project Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team</div> +<div style='margin-top:2em; margin-bottom:4em'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE QUEEN’S NECKLACE ***</div> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 586px;"> +<img src="images/illus-001.jpg" width="586" height="881" alt="CAGLIOSTRO AND OLIVA +Dumas, Vol. Eight" title="CAGLIOSTRO AND OLIVA +Dumas, Vol. Eight" /> +</div> + + <h3> THE WORKS OF</h3> + <h2>ALEXANDRE DUMAS</h2> + + <h3>IN THIRTY VOLUMES</h3> + + <h1>THE<br /> + QUEEN’S NECKLACE</h1> + +<h4>ILLUSTRATED WITH DRAWINGS ON WOOD BY</h4> +<h4>EMINENT FRENCH AND AMERICAN ARTISTS</h4> + + <h3>NEW YORK</h3> + <h3>P. F. COLLIER AND SON</h3> + <h3>MCMIV</h3> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2>THE QUEEN’S NECKLACE.</h2> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h4>PROLOGUE.—THE PREDICTIONS.</h4> + +<h4>AN OLD NOBLEMAN AND AN OLD MAÎTRE-D’HÔTEL.</h4> + +<p> +It was the beginning of April, 1784, between twelve +and one o’clock. Our old acquaintance, the Marshal de +Richelieu, having with his own hands colored his eyebrows +with a perfumed dye, pushed away the mirror which +was held to him by his valet, the successor of his faithful +Raffè and shaking his head in the manner peculiar to +himself, “Ah!” said he, “now I look myself;” and +rising from his seat with juvenile vivacity, he commenced +shaking off the powder which had fallen from his +wig over his blue velvet coat, then, after taking a turn +or two up and down his room, called for his maître-d’hôtel. +</p> + +<p> +In five minutes this personage made his appearance, +elaborately dressed. +</p> + +<p> +The marshal turned towards him, and with a gravity +befitting the occasion, said, “Sir, I suppose you have prepared +me a good dinner?” +</p> + +<p> +“Certainly, your grace.” +</p> + +<p> +“You have the list of my guests?” +</p> + +<p> +“I remember them perfectly, your grace; I have prepared +a dinner for nine.” +</p> + +<p> +“There are two sorts of dinners, sir,” said the marshal. +</p> + +<p> +“True, your grace, but——” +</p> + +<p> +The marshal interrupted him with a slightly impatient +movement, although still dignified. +</p> + +<p> +“Do you know, sir, that whenever I have heard the +word ‘but,’ and I have heard it many times in the course +of eighty-eight years, it has been each time, I am sorry +to say, the harbinger of some folly.” +</p> + +<p> +“Your grace——” +</p> + +<p> +“In the first place, at what time do we dine?” +</p> + +<p> +“Your grace, the citizens dine at two, the bar at three, +the nobility at four——” +</p> + +<p> +“And I, sir?” +</p> + +<p> +“Your grace will dine to-day at five.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, at five!” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, your grace, like the king——” +</p> + +<p> +“And why like the king?” +</p> + +<p> +“Because, on the list of your guests, is the name of a +king.” +</p> + +<p> +“Not so, sir, you mistake; all my guests to-day are +simply noblemen.” +</p> + +<p> +“Your grace is surely jesting; the Count Haga,<a name="FNanchor_A_" id="FNanchor_A_"></a><a href="#Footnote_A_" class="fnanchor">[A]</a> who +is among the guests——” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, sir!” +</p> + +<p> +“The Count Haga is a king.” +</p> + +<p> +“I know no king so called.” +</p> + +<p> +“Your grace must pardon me then,” said the maître-d’hôtel, +bowing, “but, I believed, supposed——” +</p> + +<p> +“Your business, sir, is neither to believe nor suppose; +your business is to read, without comment, the orders I +give you. When I wish a thing to be known, I tell it; +when I do not tell it, I wish it unknown.” +</p> + +<p> +The maître-d’hôtel bowed again, more respectfully, perhaps, +than he would have done to a reigning monarch. +</p> + +<p> +“Therefore, sir,” continued the old marshal, “you +will, as I have none but noblemen to dinner, let us dine +at my usual hour, four o’clock.” +</p> + +<p> +At this order, the countenance of the maître-d’hôtel +became clouded as if he had heard his sentence of death; +he grew deadly pale; then, recovering himself, with the +courage of despair he said, “In any event, your grace +cannot dine before five o’clock.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why so, sir?” cried the marshal. +</p> + +<p> +“Because it is utterly impossible.” +</p> + +<p> +“Sir,” said the marshal, with a haughty air, “it is now, +I believe, twenty years since you entered my service?” +</p> + +<p> +“Twenty-one years, a month, and two weeks.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, sir, to these twenty-one years, a month, and +two weeks, you will not add a day, nor an hour. You +understand me, sir,” he continued, biting his thin lips +and depressing his eyebrows; “this evening you seek a +new master. I do not choose that the word impossible +shall be pronounced in my house; I am too old now to +begin to learn its meaning.” +</p> + +<p> +The maître-d’hôtel bowed a third time. +</p> + +<p> +“This evening,” said he, “I shall have taken leave of +your grace, but, at least, up to the last moment, my duty +shall have been performed as it should be;” and he made +two steps towards the door. +</p> + +<p> +“What do you call as it should be?” cried the marshal. +“Learn, sir, that to do it as it suits me is to do it as it +should be. Now, I wish to dine at four, and it does not +suit me, when I wish to dine at four, to be obliged to +wait till five.” +</p> + +<p> +“Your grace,” replied the maître-d’hôtel, gravely, “I +have served as butler to his highness the Prince de Soubise, +and as steward to his eminence the Cardinal de +Rohan. With the first, his majesty, the late King of +France, dined once a year; with the second, the Emperor +of Austria dined once a month. I know, therefore, +how a sovereign should be treated. When he visited the +Prince de Soubise, Louis XV. called himself in vain the +Baron de Gonesse; at the house of M. de Rohan, the +Emperor Joseph was announced as the Count de Packenstein; +but he was none the less emperor. To-day, your +grace also receives a guest, who vainly calls himself Count +Haga—Count Haga is still King of Sweden. I shall leave +your service this evening, but Count Haga will have been +treated like a king.” +</p> + +<p> +“But that,” said the marshal, “is the very thing that +I am tiring myself to death in forbidding; Count Haga +wishes to preserve his incognito as strictly as possible. +Well do I see through your absurd vanity; it is not the +crown that you honor, but yourself that you wish to glorify; +I repeat again, that I do not wish it imagined that +I have a king here.” +</p> + +<p> +“What, then, does your grace take me for? It is not +that I wish it known that there is a king here.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then in heaven’s name do not be obstinate, but let +us have dinner at four.” +</p> + +<p> +“But at four o’clock, your grace, what I am expecting +will not have arrived.” +</p> + +<p> +“What are you expecting? a fish, like M. Vatel?” +</p> + +<p> +“Does your grace wish that I should tell you?” +</p> + +<p> +“On my faith, I am curious.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then, your grace, I wait for a bottle of wine.” +</p> + +<p> +“A bottle of wine! Explain yourself, sir, the thing +begins to interest me.” +</p> + +<p> +“Listen then, your grace; his majesty the King of +Sweden—I beg pardon, the Count Haga I should have +said—drinks nothing but tokay.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, am I so poor as to have no tokay in my cellar? +If so, I must dismiss my butler.” +</p> + +<p> +“Not so, your grace; on the contrary, you have about +sixty bottles.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, do you think Count Haga will drink sixty bottles +with his dinner?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, your grace; but when Count Haga first visited +France, when he was only prince royal, he dined with the +late king, who had received twelve bottles of tokay from +the Emperor of Austria. You are aware that the tokay +of the finest vintages is reserved exclusively for the cellar +of the emperor, and that kings themselves can only drink +it when he pleases to send it to them.” +</p> + +<p> +“I know it.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then, your grace, of these twelve bottles of which +the prince royal drank, only two remain. One is in the +cellar of his majesty Louis XVI.——” +</p> + +<p> +“And the other?” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, your grace!” said the maître-d’hôtel, with a +triumphant smile, for he felt that, after the long battle +he had been fighting, the moment of victory was at hand, +“the other one was stolen.” +</p> + +<p> +“By whom, then?” +</p> + +<p> +“By one of my friends, the late king’s butler, who was +under great obligations to me.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! and so he gave it to you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Certainly, your grace,” said the maître-d’hôtel with +pride. +</p> + +<p> +“And what did you do with it?” +</p> + +<p> +“I placed it carefully in my master’s cellar.” +</p> + +<p> +“Your master! And who was your master at that +time?” +</p> + +<p> +“His eminence the Cardinal de Rohan.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, mon Dieu! at Strasbourg?” +</p> + +<p> +“At Saverne.” +</p> + +<p> +“And you have sent to seek this bottle for me!” cried +the old marshal. +</p> + +<p> +“For you, your grace,” replied the maître-d’hôtel, in a +tone which plainly said, “ungrateful as you are.” +</p> + +<p> +The Duke de Richelieu seized the hand of the old +servant and cried, “I beg pardon; you are the king of +maîtres d’hôtel.” +</p> + +<p> +“And you would have dismissed me,” he replied, with +an indescribable shrug of his shoulders. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, I will pay you one hundred pistoles for this +bottle of wine.” +</p> + +<p> +“And the expenses of its coming here will be another +hundred; but you will grant that it is worth it.” +</p> + +<p> +“I will grant anything you please, and, to begin, from +to-day I double your salary.” +</p> + +<p> +“I seek no reward, your grace; I have but done my +duty.” +</p> + +<p> +“And when will your courier arrive?” +</p> + +<p> +“Your grace may judge if I have lost time: on what +day did I have my orders for the dinner?” +</p> + +<p> +“Why, three days ago, I believe.” +</p> + +<p> +“It takes a courier, at his utmost speed, twenty-four +hours to go, and the same to return.” +</p> + +<p> +“There still remain twenty-four hours,” said the +marshal; “how have they been employed?” +</p> + +<p> +“Alas, your grace, they were lost. The idea only came +to me the day after I received the list of your guests. +Now calculate the time necessary for the negotiation, and +you will perceive that in asking you to wait till five I am +only doing what I am absolutely obliged to do.” +</p> + +<p> +“The bottle is not yet arrived, then?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, your grace.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, sir, if your colleague at Saverne be as devoted to +the Prince de Rohan as you are to me, and should refuse +the bottle, as you would do in his place——” +</p> + +<p> +“I? your grace——” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes; you would not, I suppose, have given away such +a bottle, had it belonged to me?” +</p> + +<p> +“I beg your pardon, humbly, your grace; but had a +friend, having a king to provide for, asked me for your +best bottle of wine, he should have had it immediately.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh!” said the marshal, with a grimace. +</p> + +<p> +“It is only by helping others that we can expect help +in our own need, your grace.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, then, I suppose we may calculate that it will be +given, but there is still another risk—if the bottle should +be broken?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! your grace, who would break a bottle of wine of +that value?” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, I trust not; what time, then, do you expect +your courier?” +</p> + +<p> +“At four o’clock precisely.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then why not dine at four?” replied the marshal. +</p> + +<p> +“Your grace, the wine must rest for an hour; and had +it not been for an invention of my own, it would have +required three days to recover itself.” +</p> + +<p> +Beaten at all points, the marshal gave way. +</p> + +<p> +“Besides,” continued the old servant, “be sure, your +grace, that your guests will not arrive before half-past +four.” +</p> + +<p> +“And why not?” +</p> + +<p> +“Consider, your grace: to begin with M. de Launay; +he comes from the Bastile, and with the ice at present +covering the streets of Paris——” +</p> + +<p> +“No; but he will leave after the prisoners’ dinner, at +twelve o’clock.” +</p> + +<p> +“Pardon me, your grace, but the dinner hour at the +Bastile has been changed since your grace was there; it +is now one.” +</p> + +<p> +“Sir, you are learned on all points; pray go on.” +</p> + +<p> +“Madame Dubarry comes from the Luciennes, one +continued descent, and in this frost.” +</p> + +<p> +“That would not prevent her being punctual, since she +is no longer a duke’s favorite; she plays the queen only +among barons; but let me tell you, sir, that I desire to +have dinner early on account of M. de la Pérouse, who +sets off to-night, and would not wish to be late.” +</p> + +<p> +“But, your grace, M. de la Pérouse is with the king, +discussing geography and cosmography; he will not get +away too early.” +</p> + +<p> +“It is possible.” +</p> + +<p> +“It is certain, your grace, and it will be the same with +M. de Favras, who is with the Count de Provence, talking, +no doubt, of the new play by the Canon de Beaumarchais.” +</p> + +<p> +“You mean the ‘Marriage of Figaro’?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, your grace.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why, you are quite literary also, it seems.” +</p> + +<p> +“In my leisure moments I read, your grace.” +</p> + +<p> +“We have, however, M. de Condorcet, who, being a +geometrician, should at least be punctual.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes; but he will be deep in some calculation, from +which, when he rouses himself, it will probably be at least +half an hour too late. As for the Count Cagliostro, as he +is a stranger, and not well acquainted with the customs +of Versailles, he will, in all probability, make us wait for +him.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well,” said the marshal, “you have disposed of all +my guests, except M. de Taverney, in a manner worthy +of Homer, or of my poor Raffè.” +</p> + +<p> +The maître-d’hôtel bowed. “I have not,” said he, +“named M. de Taverney, because, being an old friend, +he will probably be punctual.” +</p> + +<p> +“Good; and where do we dine?” +</p> + +<p> +“In the great dining-room, your grace.” +</p> + +<p> +“But we shall freeze there.” +</p> + +<p> +“It has been warmed for three days, your grace; and +I believe you will find it perfectly comfortable.” +</p> + +<p> +“Very well; but there is a clock striking! Why, it is +half-past four!” cried the marshal. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, your grace; and there is the courier entering the +courtyard with my bottle of tokay.” +</p> + +<p> +“May I continue for another twenty years to be served +in this manner!” said the marshal, turning again to his +looking-glass, while the maître-d’hôtel ran down-stairs. +</p> + +<p> +“Twenty years!” said a laughing voice, interrupting +the marshal in his survey of himself; “twenty years, my +dear duke! I wish them you; but then I shall be sixty—I +shall be very old.” +</p> + +<p> +“You, countess!” cried the marshal, “you are my +first arrival, and, mon Dieu! you look as young and charming +as ever.” +</p> + +<p> +“Duke, I am frozen.” +</p> + +<p> +“Come into the boudoir, then.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! tête-à-tête, marshal?” +</p> + +<p> +“Not so,” replied a somewhat broken voice. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah! Taverney!” said the marshal; and then whispering +to the countess, “Plague take him for disturbing us!” +</p> + +<p> +Madame Dubarry laughed, and they all entered the +adjoining room. +</p> + +<div class="footnote"><p> +<a name="Footnote_A_" id="Footnote_A_"></a><a href="#FNanchor_A_"><span class="label">[A]</span></a> The name of Count Haga was well known as one assumed +by the King of Sweden when traveling in France. +</p></div> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<h4>II.—M. DE LA PEROUSE.</h4> + +<p> +At the same moment, the noise of carriages in the street +warned the marshal that his guests were arriving; and +soon after, thanks to the punctuality of his maître-d’hôtel, +nine persons were seated round the oval table in the dining-room. +Nine lackeys, silent as shadows, quick without +bustle, and attentive without importunity, glided +over the carpet, and passed among the guests, without +ever touching their chairs, which were surrounded with +furs, which were wrapped round the legs of the sitters. +These furs, with the heat from the stoves, and the odors +from the wine and the dinner, diffused a degree of comfort, +which manifested itself in the gaiety of the guests, +who had just finished their soup. +</p> + +<p> +No sound was heard from without, and none within, +save that made by the guests themselves; for the plates +were changed, and the dishes moved round, with the most +perfect quiet. Nor from the maître d’hôtel could a whisper +be heard; he seemed to give his orders with his eyes. +</p> + +<p> +The guests, therefore, began to feel as though they +were alone. It seemed to them that servants so silent +must also be deaf. +</p> + +<p> +M. de Richelieu was the first who broke the silence, by +saying to the guest on his right hand, “But, count, you +drink nothing.” +</p> + +<p> +This was addressed to a man about thirty-eight years of +age, short, fair-haired, and with high shoulders; his eye +a clear blue, now bright, but oftener with a pensive expression, +and with nobility stamped unmistakably on his +open and manly forehead. +</p> + +<p> +“I only drink water, marshal,” he replied. +</p> + +<p> +“Excepting with Louis XV.,” returned the marshal; +“I had the honor of dining at his table with you, and +you deigned that day to drink wine.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah! you recall a pleasing remembrance, marshal; +that was in 1771. It was tokay, from the imperial cellar.” +</p> + +<p> +“It was like that with which my maître-d’hôtel will +now have the honor to fill your glass,” replied Richelieu, +bowing. +</p> + +<p> +Count Haga raised his glass, and looked through it. +The wine sparkled in the light like liquid rubies. “It is +true,” said he; “marshal, I thank you.” +</p> + +<p> +These words were uttered in a manner so noble, that +the guests, as if by a common impulse, rose, and cried,— +</p> + +<p> +“Long live the king!” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” said Count Haga, “long live his majesty the +King of France. What say you, M. de la Pérouse?” +</p> + +<p> +“My lord,” replied the captain, with that tone, at once +flattering and respectful, common to those accustomed +to address crowned heads, “I have just left the king, +and his majesty has shown me so much kindness, that no +one will more willingly cry ‘Long live the king’ than I. +Only, as in another hour I must leave you to join the two +ships which his majesty has put at my disposal, once out +of this house, I shall take the liberty of saying, ‘Long +life to another king, whom I should be proud to serve, +had I not already so good a master.’” +</p> + +<p> +“This health that you propose,” said Madame Dubarry, +who sat on the marshal’s left hand, “we are all ready to +drink, but the oldest of us should take the lead.” +</p> + +<p> +“Is it you, that that concerns, or me, Taverney?” said +the marshal, laughing. +</p> + +<p> +“I do not believe,” said another on the opposite side, +“that M. de Richelieu is the senior of our party.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then it is you, Taverney,” said the duke. +</p> + +<p> +“No, I am eight years younger than you! I was born +in 1704,” returned he. +</p> + +<p> +“How rude,” said the marshal, “to expose my eighty-eight +years.” +</p> + +<p> +“Impossible, duke! that you are eighty-eight,” said +M. de Condorcet. +</p> + +<p> +“It is, however, but too true; it is a calculation easy +to make, and therefore unworthy of an algebraist like +you, marquis. I am of the last century—the great century, +as we call it. My date is 1696.” +</p> + +<p> +“Impossible!” cried De Launay. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, if your father were here, he would not say impossible, +he, who, when governor of the Bastile, had me +for a lodger in 1714.” +</p> + +<p> +“The senior in age, here, however,” said M. de Favras, +“is the wine Count Haga is now drinking.” +</p> + +<p> +“You are right, M. de Favras; this wine is a hundred +and twenty years old; to the wine, then, belongs the +honor——” +</p> + +<p> +“One moment, gentlemen,” said Cagliostro, raising +his eyes, beaming with intelligence and vivacity; “I +claim the precedence.” +</p> + +<p> +“You claim precedence over the tokay!” exclaimed +all the guests in chorus. +</p> + +<p> +“Assuredly,” returned Cagliostro, calmly; “since it +was I who bottled it.” +</p> + +<p> +“You?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, I; on the day of the victory won by Montecucully +over the Turks in 1664.” +</p> + +<p> +A burst of laughter followed these words, which Cagliostro +had pronounced with perfect gravity. +</p> + +<p> +“By this calculation, you would be something like one +hundred and thirty years old,” said Madame Dubarry; +“for you must have been at least ten years old when you +bottled the wine.” +</p> + +<p> +“I was more than ten when I performed that operation, +madame, as on the following day I had the honor +of being deputed by his majesty the Emperor of Austria +to congratulate Montecucully, who by the victory of St. +Gothard had avenged the day at Especk, in Sclavonia, in +which the infidels treated the imperialists so roughly, +who were my friends and companions in arms in 1536.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh,” said Count Haga, as coldly as Cagliostro himself, +“you must have been at least ten years old, when +you were at that memorable battle.” +</p> + +<p> +“A terrible defeat, count,” returned Cagliostro. +</p> + +<p> +“Less terrible than Cressy, however,” said Condorcet, +smiling. +</p> + +<p> +“True, sir, for at the battle of Cressy, it was not only +an army, but all France, that was beaten; but then this +defeat was scarcely a fair victory to the English; for +King Edward had cannon, a circumstance of which Philip +de Valois was ignorant, or rather, which he would not +believe, although I warned him that I had with my own +eyes seen four pieces of artillery which Edward had +bought from the Venetians.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah,” said Madame Dubarry; “you knew Philip de +Valois?” +</p> + +<p> +“Madame, I had the honor to be one of the five lords +who escorted him off the field of battle; I came to France +with the poor old King of Bohemia, who was blind, and +who threw away his life when he heard that the battle +was lost.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, sir,” said M. de la Pérouse, “how much I regret, +that instead of the battle of Cressy, it was not that of +Actium at which you assisted.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why so, sir?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, because you might have given me some nautical +details, which, in spite of Plutarch’s fine narration, have +ever been obscure to me.” +</p> + +<p> +“Which, sir? I should be happy to be of service to you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, you were there, then, also?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, sir; I was then in Egypt. I had been employed +by Queen Cleopatra to restore the library at Alexandria—an +office for which I was better qualified than any one +else, from having personally known the best authors of +antiquity.” +</p> + +<p> +“And you have seen Queen Cleopatra?” said Madame +Dubarry. +</p> + +<p> +“As I now see you, madame.” +</p> + +<p> +“Was she as pretty as they say?” +</p> + +<p> +“Madame, you know beauty is only comparative; a +charming queen in Egypt, in Paris she would only have +been a pretty grisette.” +</p> + +<p> +“Say no harm of grisettes, count.” +</p> + +<p> +“God forbid!” +</p> + +<p> +“Then Cleopatra was——” +</p> + +<p> +“Little, slender, lively, and intelligent; with large +almond-shaped eyes, a Grecian nose, teeth like pearls, +and a hand like your own, countess—a fit hand to hold a +scepter. See, here is a diamond which she gave me, and +which she had had from her brother Ptolemy; she wore +it on her thumb.” +</p> + +<p> +“On her thumb?” cried Madame Dubarry. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes; it was an Egyptian fashion; and I, you see, +can hardly put it on my little finger;” and taking off +the ring, he handed it to Madame Dubarry. +</p> + +<p> +It was a magnificent diamond, of such fine water, and +so beautifully cut, as to be worth thirty thousand or forty +thousand francs. +</p> + +<p> +The diamond was passed round the table, and returned +to Cagliostro, who, putting it quietly on his finger again, +said, “Ah, I see well you are all incredulous; this fatal +incredulity I have had to contend against all my life. +Philip de Valois would not listen to me, when I told him +to leave open a retreat to Edward; Cleopatra would not +believe me when I warned her that Antony would be +beaten: the Trojans would not credit me, when I said to +them, with reference to the wooden horse, ‘Cassandra is +inspired; listen to Cassandra.’” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! it is charming,” said Madame Dubarry, shaking +with laughter; “I have never met a man at once so +serious and so diverting.” +</p> + +<p> +“I assure you,” replied Cagliostro, “that Jonathan +was much more so. He was really a charming companion; +until he was killed by Saul, he nearly drove me +crazy with laughing.” +</p> + +<p> +“Do you know,” said the Duke de Richelieu, “if you +go on in this way you will drive poor Taverney crazy; he +is so afraid of death, that he is staring at you with all his +eyes, hoping you to be an immortal.” +</p> + +<p> +“Immortal I cannot say, but one thing I can affirm——” +</p> + +<p> +“What?” cried Taverney, who was the most eager +listener. +</p> + +<p> +“That I have seen all the people and events of which +I have been speaking to you.” +</p> + +<p> +“You have known Montecucully?” +</p> + +<p> +“As well as I know you, M. de Favras; and, indeed, +much better, for this is but the second or third time I +have had the honor of seeing you, while I lived nearly a +year under the same tent with him of whom you speak.” +</p> + +<p> +“You knew Philip de Valois?” +</p> + +<p> +“As I have already had the honor of telling you, M. +de Condorcet; but when he returned to Paris, I left +France and returned to Bohemia.” +</p> + +<p> +“And Cleopatra.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, countess; Cleopatra, I can tell you, had eyes as +black as yours, and shoulders almost as beautiful.” +</p> + +<p> +“But what do you know of my shoulders?” +</p> + +<p> +“They are like what Cassandra’s once were; and there +is still a further resemblance,—she had like you, or +rather, you have like her, a little black spot on your left +side, just above the sixth rib.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, count, now you really are a sorcerer.” +</p> + +<p> +“No, no,” cried the marshal, laughing; “it was I +who told him.” +</p> + +<p> +“And pray how do you know?” +</p> + +<p> +The marshal bit his lips, and replied, “Oh, it is a +family secret.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, really, marshal,” said the countess, “one should +put on a double coat of rouge before visiting you;” and +turning again to Cagliostro, “then, sir, you have the art +of renewing your youth? For although you say you are +three or four thousand years old, you scarcely look +forty.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, madame, I do possess that secret.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, then, sir, impart it to me.” +</p> + +<p> +“To you, madame? It is useless; your youth is +already renewed; your age is only what it appears to be, +and you do not look thirty.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah! you flatter.” +</p> + +<p> +“No, madame, I speak only the truth, but it is easily +explained: you have already tried my receipt.” +</p> + +<p> +“How so?” +</p> + +<p> +“You have taken my elixir.” +</p> + +<p> +“I?” +</p> + +<p> +“You, countess. Oh! you cannot have forgotten it. +Do you not remember a certain house in the Rue St. +Claude, and coming there on some business respecting +M. de Sartines? You remember rendering a service to +one of my friends, called Joseph Balsamo, and that this +Joseph Balsamo gave you a bottle of elixir, recommending +you to take three drops every morning? Do you +not remember having done this regularly until the last +year, when the bottle became exhausted? If you do +not remember all this, countess, it is more than forgetfulness—it +is ingratitude.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! M. Cagliostro, you are telling me things——” +</p> + +<p> +“Which were only known to yourself, I am aware; +but what would be the use of being a sorcerer if one did +not know one’s neighbor’s secrets?” +</p> + +<p> +“Then Joseph Balsamo has, like you, the secret of +this famous elixir?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, madame, but he was one of my best friends, and +I gave him three or four bottles.” +</p> + +<p> +“And has he any left?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! I know nothing of that; for the last two or +three years, poor Balsamo has disappeared. The last +time I saw him was in America, on the banks of the +Ohio: he was setting off on an expedition to the Rocky +Mountains, and since then I have heard that he is dead.” +</p> + +<p> +“Come, come, count,” cried the marshal; “let us +have the secret, by all means.” +</p> + +<p> +“Are you speaking seriously, sir?” said Count Haga. +</p> + +<p> +“Very seriously, sire,—I beg pardon, I mean count;” +and Cagliostro bowed in such a way as to indicate that +his error was a voluntary one. +</p> + +<p> +“Then,” said the marshal, “Madame Dubarry is not +old enough to be made young again?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, on my conscience.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, then, I will give you another subject: here is +my friend, M. Taverney—what do you say to him? +Does he not look like a contemporary of Pontius Pilate? +But perhaps, he, on the contrary, is too old.” +</p> + +<p> +Cagliostro looked at the baron. “No,” said he. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah! my dear count,” exclaimed Richelieu; “if you +will renew his youth, I will proclaim you a true pupil of +Medea.” +</p> + +<p> +“You wish it?” asked Cagliostro of the host, and +looking round at the same time on all assembled. +</p> + +<p> +Every one called out, “Yes.” +</p> + +<p> +“And you also, M. Taverney?” +</p> + +<p> +“I more than any one,” said the baron. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, it is easy,” returned Cagliostro; and he drew +from his pocket a small bottle, and poured into a glass +some of the liquid it contained. Then, mixing these +drops with half a glass of iced champagne, he passed it +to the baron. +</p> + +<p> +All eyes followed his movements eagerly. +</p> + +<p> +The baron took the glass, but as he was about to drink +he hesitated. +</p> + +<p> +Every one began to laugh, but Cagliostro called out, +“Drink, baron, or you will lose a liquor of which each +drop is worth a hundred louis d’ors.” +</p> + +<p> +“The devil,” cried Richelieu; “that is even better +than tokay.” +</p> + +<p> +“I must then drink?” said the baron, almost trembling. +</p> + +<p> +“Or pass the glass to another, sir, that some one at +least may profit by it.” +</p> + +<p> +“Pass it here,” said Richelieu, holding out his hand. +</p> + +<p> +The baron raised the glass, and decided, doubtless, by +the delicious smell and the beautiful rose color which +those few drops had given to the champagne, he swallowed +the magic liquor. In an instant a kind of shiver ran +through him; he seemed to feel all his old and sluggish +blood rushing quickly through his veins, from his heart +to his feet, his wrinkled skin seemed to expand, his eyes, +half covered by their lids, appeared to open without his +will, and the pupils to grow and brighten, the trembling +of his hands to cease, his voice to strengthen, and his +limbs to recover their former youthful elasticity. In +fact, it seemed as if the liquid in its descent had regenerated +his whole body. +</p> + +<p> +A cry of surprise, wonder, and admiration rang +through the room. +</p> + +<p> +Taverney, who had been slowly eating with his gums, +began to feel famished; he seized a plate and helped +himself largely to a ragout, and then demolished a partridge, +bones and all, calling out that his teeth were coming +back to him. He ate, laughed, and cried for joy, +for half an hour, while the others remained gazing at +him in stupefied wonder; then little by little he failed +again, like a lamp whose oil is burning out, and all the +former signs of old age returned upon him. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh!” groaned he, “once more adieu to my youth,” +and he gave utterance to a deep sigh, while two tears +rolled over his cheeks. +</p> + +<p> +Instinctively, at this mournful spectacle of the old +man first made young again, and then seeming to become +yet older than before, from the contrast, the sigh +was echoed all round the table. +</p> + +<p> +“It is easy to explain, gentlemen,” said Cagliostro; +“I gave the baron but thirty-five drops of the elixir. He +became young, therefore, for only thirty-five minutes.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh more, more, count!” cried the old man eagerly. +</p> + +<p> +“No, sir, for perhaps the second trial would kill you.” +</p> + +<p> +Of all the guests, Madame Dubarry, who had already +tested the virtue of the elixir, seemed most deeply interested +while old Taverney’s youth seemed thus to renew +itself; she had watched him with delight and triumph, and +half fancied herself growing young again at the sight, while +she could hardly refrain from endeavoring to snatch from +Cagliostro the wonderful bottle; but now, seeing him +resume his old age even quicker than he had lost it, +“Alas!” she said sadly, “all is vanity and deception; +the effects of this wonderful secret last for thirty-five +minutes.” +</p> + +<p> +“That is to say,” said Count Haga, “that in order to +resume your youth for two years, you would have to drink +a perfect river.” +</p> + +<p> +Every one laughed. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh!” said De Condorcet, “the calculation is simple; +a mere nothing of 3,153,000 drops for one year’s youth.” +</p> + +<p> +“An inundation,” said La Pérouse. +</p> + +<p> +“However, sir,” continued Madame Dubarry; “according +to you, I have not needed so much, as a small +bottle about four times the size of that you hold has been +sufficient to arrest the march of time for ten years.” +</p> + +<p> +“Just so, madame. And you alone approach this +mysterious truth. The man who has already grown old +needs this large quantity to produce an immediate and +powerful effect; but a woman of thirty, as you were, or a +man of forty, as I was, when I began to drink this elixir, +still full of life and youth, needs but ten drops at each period +of decay; and with these ten drops may eternally +continue his life and youth at the same point.” +</p> + +<p> +“What do you call the periods of decay?” asked +Count Haga. +</p> + +<p> +“The natural periods, count. In a state of nature, +man’s strength increases until thirty-five years of age. +It then remains stationary until forty; and from that +time forward, it begins to diminish, but almost imperceptibly, +until fifty; then the process becomes quicker and +quicker to the day of his death. In our state of civilization, +when the body is weakened by excess, cares, and +maladies, the failure begins at thirty-five. The time, +then, to take nature, is when she is stationary, so as to +forestall the beginning of decay. He who, possessor as I +am of the secret of this elixir, knows how to seize the +happy moment, will live as I live; always young, or, at +least, always young enough for what he has to do in the +world.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, M. Cagliostro,” cried the countess; “why, if you +could choose your own age, did you not stop at twenty +instead of at forty?” +</p> + +<p> +“Because, madame,” said Cagliostro, smiling, “it +suits me better to be a man of forty, still healthy and +vigorous, than a raw youth of twenty.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh!” said the countess. +</p> + +<p> +“Doubtless, madame,” continued Cagliostro, “at +twenty one pleases women of thirty; at forty, we govern +women of twenty, and men of sixty.” +</p> + +<p> +“I yield, sir,” said the countess, “for you are a living +proof of the truth of your own words.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then I,” said Taverney, piteously, “am condemned; +it is too late for me.” +</p> + +<p> +“M. de Richelieu has been more skilful than you,” +said La Pérouse naïvely, “and I have always heard that +he had some secret.” +</p> + +<p> +“It is a report that the women have spread,” laughed +Count Haga. +</p> + +<p> +“Is that a reason for disbelieving it, duke?” asked +Madame Dubarry. +</p> + +<p> +The old duke colored, a rare thing for him; but replied, +“Do you wish, gentlemen, to have my receipt?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, by all means.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, then, it is simply to take care of yourself.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, oh!” cried all. +</p> + +<p> +“But, M. Cagliostro,” continued Madame Dubarry, “I +must ask more about the elixir.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, madame?” +</p> + +<p> +“You said you first used it at forty years of age——” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, madame.” +</p> + +<p> +“And that since that time, that is, since the siege of +Troy——” +</p> + +<p> +“A little before, madame.” +</p> + +<p> +“That you have always remained forty years old?” +</p> + +<p> +“You see me now.” +</p> + +<p> +“But then, sir,” said De Condorcet, “you argue, not +only the perpetuation of youth, but the preservation of +life; for if since the siege of Troy you have been always +forty, you have never died.” +</p> + +<p> +“True, marquis, I have never died.” +</p> + +<p> +“But are you, then, invulnerable, like Achilles, or still +more so, for Achilles was killed by the arrow of Paris?” +</p> + +<p> +“No. I am not invulnerable, and there is my great +regret,” said Cagliostro. +</p> + +<p> +“Then, sir, you may be killed.” +</p> + +<p> +“Alas! yes.” +</p> + +<p> +“How, then, have you escaped all accidents for three +thousand five hundred years?” +</p> + +<p> +“It is chance, marquis, but will you follow my reasoning?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, yes,” cried all, with eagerness. +</p> + +<p> +Cagliostro continued: “What is the first requisite to +life?” he asked, spreading out his white and beautiful +hands covered with rings, among which Cleopatra’s shone +conspicuously. “Is it not health!” +</p> + +<p> +“Certainly.” +</p> + +<p> +“And the way to preserve health is?” +</p> + +<p> +“Proper management,” said Count Haga. +</p> + +<p> +“Right, count. And why should not my elixir be the +best possible method of treatment? And this treatment +I have adopted, and with it have preserved my youth, and +with youth, health, and life.” +</p> + +<p> +“But all things exhaust themselves; the finest constitution, +as well as the worst.” +</p> + +<p> +“The body of Paris, like that of Vulcan,” said the +countess. “Perhaps, you knew Paris, by the bye?” +</p> + +<p> +“Perfectly, madame; he was a fine young man, but +really did not deserve all that has been said of him. In +the first place, he had red hair.” +</p> + +<p> +“Red hair, horrible!” +</p> + +<p> +“Unluckily, madame, Helen was not of your opinion: +but to return to our subject. You say, M. de Taverney, +that all things exhaust themselves; but you also know, +that everything recovers again, regenerates, or is replaced, +whichever you please to call it. The famous knife of St. +Hubert, which so often changed both blade and handle, +is an example, for through every change it still remained +the knife of St. Hubert. The wines which the monks +of Heidelberg preserve so carefully in their cellars, remain +still the same wine, although each year they pour +into it a fresh supply; therefore, this wine always remains +clear, bright, and delicious: while the wine which +Opimus and I hid in the earthen jars was, when I tried +it a hundred years after, only a thick dirty substance, +which might have been eaten, but certainly could not +have been drunk. Well, I follow the example of the +monks of Heidelberg, and preserve my body by introducing +into it every year new elements, which regenerate +the old. Every morning a new and fresh atom replaces +in my blood, my flesh, and my bones, some particle +which has perished. I stay that ruin which most men allow +insensibly to invade their whole being, and I force into +action all those powers which God has given to every human +being, but which most people allow to lie dormant. This +is the great study of my life, and as, in all things, he +who does one thing constantly does that thing better +than others, I am becoming more skilful than others in +avoiding danger. Thus, you would not get me to enter +a tottering house; I have seen too many houses not to +tell at a glance the safe from the unsafe. You would not +see me go out hunting with a man who managed his gun +badly. From Cephalus, who killed his wife, down to the +regent, who shot the prince in the eye, I have seen too +many unskilful people. You could not make me accept +in battle the post which many a man would take without +thinking, because I should calculate in a moment the +chances of danger at each point. You will tell me that +one cannot foresee a stray bullet; but the man who has +escaped a thousand gun-shots will hardly fall a victim to +one now. Ah, you look incredulous, but am I not a +living proof? I do not tell you that I am immortal, only +that I know better than others how to avoid danger; for +instance, I would not remain here now alone with M. de +Launay, who is thinking that, if he had me in the Bastile, +he would put my immortality to the test of starvation; +neither would I remain with M. de Condorcet, for +he is thinking that he might just empty into my glass +the contents of that ring which he wears on his left hand, +and which is full of poison—not with any evil intent, +but just as a scientific experiment, to see if I should +die.” +</p> + +<p> +The two people named looked at each other, and colored. +</p> + +<p> +“Confess, M. de Launay, we are not in a court of justice; +besides, thoughts are not punished. Did you not +think what I said? And you, M. de Condorcet, would +you not have liked to let me taste the poison in your ring, +in the name of your beloved mistress, science?” +</p> + +<p> +“Indeed,” said M. de Launay, laughing, “I confess you +are right; it was folly, but that folly did pass through +my mind just before you accused me.” +</p> + +<p> +“And I,” said M. de Condorcet, “will not be less candid. +I did think that if you tasted the contents of my +ring, I would not give much for your life.” +</p> + +<p> +A cry of admiration burst from the rest of the party; +these avowals confirming not the immortality, but the +penetration, of Count Cagliostro. +</p> + +<p> +“You see,” said Cagliostro, quietly, “that I divined +these dangers; well, it is the same with other things. The +experience of a long life reveals to me at a glance much +of the past and of the future of those whom I meet. My +capabilities in this way extend even to animals and inanimate +objects. If I get into a carriage, I can tell from +the look of the horses if they are likely to run away; +and from that of the coachman, if he will overturn me. +If I go on board ship, I can see if the captain is ignorant +or obstinate, and consequently likely to endanger me. I +should then leave the coachman or captain, escape from +those horses or that ship. I do not deny chance, I only +lessen it, and instead of incurring a hundred chances, +like the rest of the world, I prevent ninety-nine of them, +and endeavor to guard against the hundredth. This is +the good of having lived three thousand years.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then,” said La Pérouse, laughing, amidst the wonder +and enthusiasm created by this speech of Cagliostro’s, +“you should come with me when I embark to make the +tour of the world; you would render me a signal service.” +</p> + +<p> +Cagliostro did not reply. +</p> + +<p> +“M. de Richelieu,” continued La Pérouse, “as the +Count Cagliostro, which is very intelligible, does not wish +to quit such good company, you must permit me to do so +without him. Excuse me, Count Haga, and you, madame, +but it is seven o’clock, and I have promised his majesty +to start at a quarter past. But since Count Cagliostro +will not be tempted to come with me, and see my ships, +perhaps he can tell me what will happen to me between +Versailles and Brest. From Brest to the Pole I ask nothing; +that is my own business.” +</p> + +<p> +Cagliostro looked at La Pérouse with such a melancholy +air, so full both of pity and kindness, that the others were +struck by it. The sailor himself, however, did not remark +it. He took leave of the company, put on his fur +riding coat, into one of the pockets of which Madame +Dubarry pushed a bottle of delicious cordial, welcome to +a traveler, but which he would not have provided for +himself, to recall to him, she said, his absent friends +during the long nights of a journey in such bitter +cold. +</p> + +<p> +La Pérouse, still full of gaiety, bowed respectfully to +Count Haga, and held out his hand to the old marshal. +</p> + +<p> +“Adieu, dear La Pérouse,” said the latter. +</p> + +<p> +“No, duke, au revoir,” replied La Pérouse, “one would +think I was going away forever; now I have but to circumnavigate +the globe—five or six years’ absence; it is +scarcely worth while to say ‘adieu’ for that.” +</p> + +<p> +“Five or six years,” said the marshal; “you might +almost as well say five or six centuries; days are years at +my age, therefore I say, adieu.” +</p> + +<p> +“Bah! ask the sorcerer,” returned La Pérouse, still +laughing; “he will promise you twenty years’ more life. +Will you not, Count Cagliostro? Oh, count, why did I +not hear sooner of those precious drops of yours? Whatever +the price, I should have shipped a tun. Madame, +another kiss of that beautiful hand, I shall certainly not +see such another till I return; au revoir,” and he left the +room. +</p> + +<p> +Cagliostro still preserved the same mournful silence. +They heard the steps of the captain as he left the house, +his gay voice in the courtyard, and his farewells to the +people assembled to see him depart. Then the horses +shook their heads, covered with bells, the door of the +carriage shut with some noise, and the wheels were heard +rolling along the street. +</p> + +<p> +La Pérouse had started on that voyage from which he +was destined never to return. +</p> + +<p> +When they could no longer hear a sound, all looks were +again turned to Cagliostro; there seemed a kind of inspired +light in his eyes. +</p> + +<p> +Count Haga first broke the silence, which had lasted for +some minutes. “Why did you not reply to his question?” +he inquired of Cagliostro. +</p> + +<p> +Cagliostro started, as if the question had roused him +from a reverie. “Because,” said he, “I must either have +told a falsehood or a sad truth.” +</p> + +<p> +“How so?” +</p> + +<p> +“I must have said to him,—‘M. de la Pérouse, the duke +is right in saying to you adieu, and not au revoir.’” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh,” said Richelieu, turning pale, “what do you +mean?” +</p> + +<p> +“Reassure yourself, marshal, this sad prediction does +not concern you.” +</p> + +<p> +“What,” cried Madame Dubarry, “this poor La Pérouse, +who has just kissed my hand——” +</p> + +<p> +“Not only, madame, will never kiss it again, but will +never again see those he has just left,” said Cagliostro, +looking attentively at the glass of water he was holding up. +</p> + +<p> +A cry of astonishment burst from all. The interest of +the conversation deepened every moment, and you might +have thought, from the solemn and anxious air with which +all regarded Cagliostro, that it was some ancient and infallible +oracle they were consulting. +</p> + +<p> +“Pray then, count,” said Madame Dubarry, “tell us +what will befall poor La Pérouse.” +</p> + +<p> +Cagliostro shook his head. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, yes, let us hear!” cried all the rest. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, then, M. de la Pérouse intends, as you know, +to make the tour of the globe, and continue the researches +of poor Captain Cook, who was killed in the Sandwich +Islands.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, yes, we know.” +</p> + +<p> +“Everything should foretell a happy termination to +this voyage; M. de la Pérouse is a good seaman, and +his route has been most skilfully traced by the king.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” interrupted Count Haga, “the King of France +is a clever geographer; is he not, M. de Condorcet?” +</p> + +<p> +“More skilful than is needful for a king,” replied the +marquis; “kings ought to know things only slightly, +then they will let themselves be guided by those who +know them thoroughly.” +</p> + +<p> +“Is this a lesson, marquis?” said Count Haga, smiling. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, no. Only a simple reflection, a general truth.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, he is gone,” said Madame Dubarry, anxious to +bring the conversation back to La Pérouse. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, he is gone,” replied Cagliostro, “but don’t +believe, in spite of his haste, that he will soon embark. I +foresee much time lost at Brest.” +</p> + +<p> +“That would be a pity,” said De Condorcet; “this is +the time to set out: it is even now rather late—February +or March would have been better.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, do not grudge him these few months, M. de +Condorcet, for, during them, he will at least live and +hope.” +</p> + +<p> +“He has got good officers, I suppose?” said Richelieu. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, he who commands the second ship is a distinguished +officer. I see him—- young, adventurous, brave, +unhappily.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why unhappily?” +</p> + +<p> +“A year after I look for him, and see him no more,” +said Cagliostro, anxiously consulting his glass. “No one +here is related to M. de Langle?” +</p> + +<p> +“No.” +</p> + +<p> +“No one knows him?” +</p> + +<p> +“No.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, death will commence with him.” +</p> + +<p> +A murmur of affright escaped from all the guests. +</p> + +<p> +“But he, La Pérouse?” cried several voices. +</p> + +<p> +“He sails, he lands, he reembarks; I see one, two +years, of successful navigation; we hear news of him, and +then——” +</p> + +<p> +“Then?” +</p> + +<p> +“Years pass——” +</p> + +<p> +“But at last?” +</p> + +<p> +“The sea is vast, the heavens are clouded, here and +there appear unknown lands, and figures hideous as the +monsters of the Grecian Archipelago. They watch the +ship, which is being carried in a fog amongst the breakers, +by a tempest less fearful than themselves. Oh! La +Pérouse, La Pérouse, if you could hear me, I would cry +to you. You set out, like Columbus, to discover a world; +beware of unknown isles!” +</p> + +<p> +He ceased, and an icy shiver ran through the assembly. +</p> + +<p> +“But why did you not warn him?” asked Count Haga, +who, in spite of himself, had succumbed to the influence +of this extraordinary man. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” cried Madame Dubarry, “why not send after +him and bring him back? The life of a man like La +Pérouse is surely worth a courier, my dear marshal.” +</p> + +<p> +The marshal rose to ring the bell. +</p> + +<p> +Cagliostro extended his arm to stop him. “Alas!” +said he, “All advice would be useless. I can foretell +destiny, but I cannot change it. M. de la Pérouse would +laugh if he heard my words, as the son of Priam laughed +when Cassandra prophesied; and see, you begin to laugh +yourself, Count Haga, and laughing is contagious: your +companions are catching it. Do not restrain yourselves, +gentlemen—I am accustomed to an incredulous audience.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, we believe,” said Madame Dubarry and the Duke +de Richelieu; “and I believe,” murmured Taverney; +“and I also,” said Count Haga politely. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” replied Cagliostro, “you believe, because it +concerns La Pérouse; but, if I spoke of yourself, you +would not believe.” +</p> + +<p> +“I confess that what would have made me believe, +would have been, if you had said to him, ‘Beware of unknown +isles;’ then he would, at least, have had the chance +of avoiding them.” +</p> + +<p> +“I assure you no, count; and, if he had believed me, it +would only have been more horrible, for the unfortunate +man would have seen himself approaching those isles destined +to be fatal to him, without the power to flee from +them. Therefore he would have died, not one, but a +hundred deaths, for he would have gone through it all +by anticipation. Hope, of which I should have deprived +him, is what best sustains a man under all trials.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” said De Condorcet; “the veil which hides from +us our future is the only real good which God has vouchsafed +to man.” +</p> + +<p> +“Nevertheless,” said Count Haga, “did a man like +you say to me, shun a certain man or a certain thing, I +would beware, and I would thank you for the counsel.” +</p> + +<p> +Cagliostro shook his head, with a faint smile. +</p> + +<p> +“I mean it, M. de Cagliostro,” continued Count Haga; +“warn me, and I will thank you.” +</p> + +<p> +“You wish me to tell you what I would not tell La +Pérouse?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, I wish it.” +</p> + +<p> +Cagliostro opened his mouth as if to begin, and then +stopped, and said, “No, count, no!” +</p> + +<p> +“I beg you.” +</p> + +<p> +Cagliostro still remained silent. +</p> + +<p> +“Take care,” said the count, “you are making me incredulous.” +</p> + +<p> +“Incredulity is better than misery.” +</p> + +<p> +“M. de Cagliostro,” said the count, gravely, “you forget +one thing, which is, that though there are men who +had better remain ignorant of their destiny, there are +others who should know it, as it concerns not themselves +alone, but millions of others.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then,” said Cagliostro, “command me; if your +majesty commands, I will obey.” +</p> + +<p> +“I command you to reveal to me my destiny, M. de +Cagliostro,” said the king, with an air at once courteous +and dignified. +</p> + +<p> +At this moment, as Count Haga had dropped his incognito +in speaking to Cagliostro, M. de Richelieu advanced +towards him, and said, “Thanks, sire, for the +honor you have done my house; will your majesty assume +the place of honor?” +</p> + +<p> +“Let us remain as we are, marshal; I wish to hear what +M. de Cagliostro is about to say.” +</p> + +<p> +“One does not speak the truth to kings, sire.” +</p> + +<p> +“Bah! I am not in my kingdom; take your place +again, duke. Proceed, M. de Cagliostro, I beg.” +</p> + +<p> +Cagliostro looked again through his glass, and one might +have imagined the particles agitated by this look, as they +danced in, the light. “Sire,” said he, “tell me what you +wish to know?” +</p> + +<p> +“Tell me by what death I shall die.” +</p> + +<p> +“By a gun-shot, sire.” +</p> + +<p> +The eyes of Gustavus grew bright. “Ah, in a battle!” +said he; “the death of a soldier! Thanks, M. de Cagliostro, +a thousand times thanks; oh, I foresee battles, and +Gustavus Adolphus and Charles XII. have shown me how +a King of Sweden should die.” +</p> + +<p> +Cagliostro drooped his head, without replying. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh!” cried Count Haga, “will not my wound then +be given in battle?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, sire.” +</p> + +<p> +“In a sedition?—yes, that is possible.” +</p> + +<p> +“No, not in a sedition, sire.” +</p> + +<p> +“But, where then?” +</p> + +<p> +“At a ball, sire.” +</p> + +<p> +The king remained silent, and Cagliostro buried his +head in his hands. +</p> + +<p> +Every one looked pale and frightened; then M. de Condorcet +took the glass of water and examined it, as if there +he could solve the problem of all that had been going +on; but finding nothing to satisfy him, “Well, I also,” +said he, “will beg our illustrious prophet to consult for +me his magic mirror: unfortunately, I am not a powerful +lord; I cannot command, and my obscure life concerns +no millions of people.” +</p> + +<p> +“Sir,” said Count Haga, “you command in the name +of science, and your life belongs not only to a nation, but +to all mankind.” +</p> + +<p> +“Thanks,” said De Condorcet; “but, perhaps, your +opinion on this subject is not shared by M. de Cagliostro.” +</p> + +<p> +Cagliostro raised his head. “Yes, marquis,” said he, +in a manner which began to be excited, “you are indeed +a powerful lord in the kingdom of intelligence; look me, +then, in the face, and tell me, seriously, if you also wish +that I should prophesy to you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Seriously, count, upon my honor.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, marquis,” said Cagliostro, in a hoarse voice, +“you will die of that poison which you carry in your +ring; you will die——” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, but if I throw it away?” +</p> + +<p> +“Throw it away!” +</p> + +<p> +“You allow that that would be easy.” +</p> + +<p> +“Throw it away!” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, yes, marquis,” cried Madame Dubarry; “throw +away that horrid poison! Throw it away, if it be only to +falsify this prophet of evil, who threatens us all with so +many misfortunes. For if you throw it away you cannot +die by it, as M. de Cagliostro predicts; so there at least +he will have been wrong.” +</p> + +<p> +“Madame la Comtesse is right,” said Count Haga. +</p> + +<p> +“Bravo, countess!” said Richelieu. “Come, marquis, +throw away that poison, for now I know you carry +it, I shall tremble every time we drink together; the ring +might open of itself, and——” +</p> + +<p> +“It is useless,” said Cagliostro quietly; “M. de Condorcet +will not throw it away.” +</p> + +<p> +“No,” returned De Condorcet, “I shall not throw it +away; not that I wish to aid my destiny, but because this +is a unique poison, prepared by Cabanis, and which +chance has completely hardened, and that chance might +never occur again; therefore I will not throw it away. +Triumph if you will, M. de Cagliostro.” +</p> + +<p> +“Destiny,” replied he, “ever finds some way to work +out its own ends.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then I shall die by poison,” said the marquis; +“well, so be it. It is an admirable death, I think; a +little poison on the tip of the tongue, and I am gone. It +is scarcely dying: it is merely ceasing to live.” +</p> + +<p> +“It is not necessary for you to suffer, sir,” said Cagliostro. +</p> + +<p> +“Then, sir,” said M. de Favras, “we have a shipwreck, +a gun-shot, and a poisoning which makes my +mouth water. Will you not do me the favor also to predict +some little pleasure of the same kind for me?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, marquis!” replied Cagliostro, beginning to grow +warm under this irony, “do not envy these gentlemen, +you will have still better.” +</p> + +<p> +“Better!” said M. de Favras, laughing; “that is +pledging yourself to a great deal. It is difficult to beat +the sea, fire, and poison!” +</p> + +<p> +“There remains the cord, marquis,” said Cagliostro, +bowing. +</p> + +<p> +“The cord! what do you mean?” +</p> + +<p> +“I mean that you will be hanged,” replied Cagliostro, +seeming no more the master of his prophetic rage. +</p> + +<p> +“Hanged! the devil!” cried Richelieu. +</p> + +<p> +“Monsieur forgets that I am a nobleman,” said M. de +Favras, coldly; “or if he means to speak of a suicide, I +warn him that I shall respect myself sufficiently, even in +my last moments, not to use a cord while I have a sword.” +</p> + +<p> +“I do not speak of a suicide, sir.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then you speak of a punishment?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes.” +</p> + +<p> +“You are a foreigner, sir, and therefore I pardon you.” +</p> + +<p> +“What?” +</p> + +<p> +“Your ignorance, sir. In France we decapitate noblemen.” +</p> + +<p> +“You may arrange this, if you can, with the executioner,” +replied Cagliostro. +</p> + +<p> +M. de Favras said no more. There was a general +silence and shrinking for a few minutes. +</p> + +<p> +“Do you know that I tremble at last,” said M. de +Launay; “my predecessors have come off so badly, that +I fear for myself if I now take my turn.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then you are more reasonable than they; you are +right. Do not seek to know the future; good or bad, let +it rest—it is in the hands of God.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! M. de Launay,” said Madame Dubarry, “I hope +you will not be less courageous than the others have been.” +</p> + +<p> +“I hope so, too, madame,” said the governor. Then, +turning to Cagliostro, “Sir,” he said, “favor me, in +my turn, with my horoscope, if you please.” +</p> + +<p> +“It is easy,” replied Cagliostro; “a blow on the head +with a hatchet, and all will be over.” +</p> + +<p> +A look of dismay was once more general. Richelieu +and Taverney begged Cagliostro to say no more, but female +curiosity carried the day. +</p> + +<p> +“To hear you talk, count,” said Madame Dubarry, +“one would think the whole universe must die a violent +death. Here we were, eight of us, and five are already +condemned by you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, you understand that it is all prearranged to +frighten us, and we shall only laugh at it,” said M. de +Favras, trying to do so. +</p> + +<p> +“Certainly we will laugh,” said Count Haga, “be it +true or false.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, I will laugh too, then,” said Madame Dubarry. +“I will not dishonor the assembly by my cowardice; +but, alas! I am only a woman, I cannot rank among you +and be worthy of a tragical end; a woman dies in her +bed. My death, a sorrowful old woman abandoned by +every one, will be the worst of all. Will it not, M. de +Cagliostro?” +</p> + +<p> +She stopped, and seemed to wait for the prophet to reassure +her. Cagliostro did not speak; so, her curiosity +obtaining the mastery over her fears, she went on. +“Well, M. de Cagliostro, will you not answer me?” +</p> + +<p> +“What do you wish me to say, madame?” +</p> + +<p> +She hesitated—then, rallying her courage, “Yes,” she +cried, “I will run the risk. Tell me the fate of Jeanne +de Vaubernier, Countess Dubarry.” +</p> + +<p> +“On the scaffold, madame,” replied the prophet of +evil. +</p> + +<p> +“A jest, sir, is it not?” said she, looking at him with +a supplicating air. +</p> + +<p> +Cagliostro seemed not to see it. “Why do you think +I jest?” said he. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, because to die on the scaffold one must have +committed some crime—stolen, or committed murder, or +done something dreadful; and it is not likely I shall do +that. It was a jest, was it not?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, mon Dieu, yes,” said Cagliostro; “all I have +said is but a jest.” +</p> + +<p> +The countess laughed, but scarcely in a natural manner. +“Come, M. de Favras,” said she, “let us order +our funerals.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, that will be needless for you, madame,” said +Cagliostro. +</p> + +<p> +“Why so, sir?” +</p> + +<p> +“Because you will go to the scaffold in a car.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, how horrible! This dreadful man, marshal! for +heaven’s sake choose more cheerful guests next time, or +I will never visit you again.” +</p> + +<p> +“Excuse me, madame,” said Cagliostro, “but you, +like all the rest, would have me speak.” +</p> + +<p> +“At least I hope you will grant me time to choose my +confessor.” +</p> + +<p> +“It will be superfluous, countess.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why?” +</p> + +<p> +“The last person who will mount the scaffold in France +with a confessor will be the King of France.” And Cagliostro +pronounced these words in so thrilling a voice +that every one was struck with horror. +</p> + +<p> +All were silent. +</p> + +<p> +Cagliostro raised to his lips the glass of water in which +he had read these fearful prophecies, but scarcely had he +touched it, when he set it down with a movement of disgust. +He turned his eyes to M. de Taverney. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh,” cried he, in terror, “do not tell me anything; +I do not wish to know!” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, then, I will ask instead of him,” said Richelieu. +</p> + +<p> +“You, marshal, be happy; you are the only one of us +all who will die in his bed.” +</p> + +<p> +“Coffee, gentlemen, coffee,” cried the marshal, enchanted +with the prediction. Every one rose. +</p> + +<p> +But before passing into the drawing-room, Count Haga, +approaching Cagliostro, said,— +</p> + +<p> +“Tell me what to beware of.” +</p> + +<p> +“Of a muff, sir,” replied Cagliostro. +</p> + +<p> +“And I?” said Condorcet. +</p> + +<p> +“Of an omelet.” +</p> + +<p> +“Good; I renounce eggs,” and he left the room. +</p> + +<p> +“And I?” said M. de Favras; “what must I fear?” +</p> + +<p> +“A letter.” +</p> + +<p> +“And I?” said De Launay. +</p> + +<p> +“The taking of the Bastile.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, you quite reassure me.” And he went away +laughing. +</p> + +<p> +“Now for me, sir,” said the countess, trembling. +</p> + +<p> +“You, beautiful countess, shun the Place Louis XV.” +</p> + +<p> +“Alas,” said the countess, “one day already I lost +myself there; that day I suffered much.” +</p> + +<p> +She left the room, and Cagliostro was about to follow +her when Richelieu stopped him. +</p> + +<p> +“One moment,” said he; “there remains only Taverney +and I, my dear sorcerer.” +</p> + +<p> +“M. de Taverney begged me to say nothing, and you, +marshal, have asked me nothing.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, I do not wish to hear,” again cried Taverney. +</p> + +<p> +“But come, to prove your power, tell us something +that only Taverney and I know,” said Richelieu. +</p> + +<p> +“What?” asked Cagliostro, smiling. +</p> + +<p> +“Tell us what makes Taverney come to Versailles, +instead of living quietly in his beautiful house at Maison-Rouge, +which the king bought for him three years ago.” +</p> + +<p> +“Nothing more simple, marshal,” said Cagliostro. +“Ten years ago, M. de Taverney wished to give his +daughter, Mademoiselle Andrée, to the King Louis XV., +but he did not succeed.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh!” growled Taverney. +</p> + +<p> +“Now, monsieur wishes to give his son Philippe de +Taverney, to the Queen Marie Antoinette; ask him if I +speak the truth.” +</p> + +<p> +“On my word,” said Taverney, trembling, “this man +is a sorcerer; devil take me if he is not!” +</p> + +<p> +“Do not speak so cavalierly of the devil, my old comrade,” +said the marshal. +</p> + +<p> +“It is frightful,” murmured Taverney, and he turned +to implore Cagliostro to be discreet, but he was gone. +</p> + +<p> +“Come, Taverney, to the drawing-room,” said the +marshal; “or they will drink their coffee without us.” +</p> + +<p> +But when they arrived there, the room was empty; no +one had courage to face again the author of these terrible +predictions. +</p> + +<p> +The wax lights burned in the candelabra, the fire +burned on the hearth, but all for nothing. +</p> + +<p> +“Ma foi, old friend, it seems we must take our coffee +tête-à-tête. Why, where the devil has he gone?” Richelieu +looked all around him, but Taverney had vanished +like the rest. “Never mind,” said the marshal, chuckling +as Voltaire might have done, and rubbing his withered +though still white hands; “I shall be the only one to die +in my bed. Well, Count Cagliostro, at least I believe. +In my bed! that was it; I shall die in my bed, and I +trust not for a long time. Hola! my valet-de-chambre +and my drops.” +</p> + +<p> +The valet entered with the bottle, and the marshal +went with him into the bedroom. +</p> + +<h4>END OF THE PROLOGUE.</h4> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2>CHAPTER I.<br/> +TWO UNKNOWN LADIES.</h2> + +<p> +The winter of 1784, that monster which devoured half +France, we could not see, although he growled at the +doors, while at the house of M. de Richelieu, shut in as +we were in that warm and comfortable dining-room. +</p> + +<p> +A little frost on the windows seems but the luxury of +nature added to that of man. Winter has its diamonds, +its powder, and its silvery embroidery for the rich man +wrapped in his furs, and packed in his carriage, or snug +among the wadding and velvet of a well-warmed room. +Hoar-frost is a beauty, ice a change of decoration by the +greatest of artists, which the rich admire through their +windows. He who is warm can admire the withered +trees, and find a somber charm in the sight of the snow-covered +plain. He who, after a day without suffering, +when millions of his fellow-creatures are enduring dreadful +privations, throws himself on his bed of down, between +his fine and well-aired sheets, may find out that +all is for the best in this best of all possible worlds. +</p> + +<p> +But he who is hungry sees none of these beauties of +nature; he who is cold hates the sky without a sun, and +consequently without a smile for such unfortunates. +Now, at the time at which we write, that is, about the +middle of the month of April, three hundred thousand +miserable beings, dying from cold and hunger, groaned +in Paris alone—in that Paris where, in spite of the boast +that scarcely another city contained so many rich people, +nothing had been prepared to prevent the poor from +perishing of cold and wretchedness. +</p> + +<p> +For the last four months, the same leaden sky had +driven the poor from the villages into the town, as it sent +the wolves from the woods into the villages. +</p> + +<p> +No more bread. No more wood. +</p> + +<p> +No more bread for those who felt this cold—no more +wood to cook it. All the provisions which had been collected, +Paris had devoured in a month. The Provost, +short-sighted and incapable, did not know how to procure +for Paris, which was under his care, the wood which might +have been collected in the neighborhood. When it froze, +he said the frost prevented the horses from bringing it; +if it thawed, he pleaded want of horses and conveyances. +Louis XVI., ever good and humane, always ready to attend +to the physical wants of his people, although he +overlooked their social ones, began by contributing a sum +of 200,000 francs for horses and carts, and insisting on +their immediate use. Still the demand continued greater +than the supply. At first no one was allowed to carry +away from the public timber-yard more than a cart-load +of wood; then they were limited to half this quantity. +Soon the long strings of people might be seen waiting +outside the doors, as they were afterwards seen at the +bakers’ shops. The king gave away the whole of his +private income in charity. He procured 3,000,000 francs +by a grant and applied it to the relief of the sufferers, +declaring that every other need must give way before that +of cold and famine. The queen, on her part, gave 500 +louis from her purse. The convents, the hospitals, and +the public buildings were thrown open as places of asylum +for the poor, who came in crowds for the sake of the fires +that were kept there. They kept hoping for a thaw, but +heaven seemed inflexible. Every evening the same copper-colored +sky disappointed their hopes; and the stars shone +bright and clear as funeral torches through the long, cold +nights, which hardened again and again the snow which fell +during the day. All day long, thousands of workmen, with +spades and shovels, cleared away the snow from before the +houses; so that on each side of the streets, already too +narrow for the traffic, rose a high, thick wall, blocking up +the way. Soon these masses of snow and ice became so +large that the shops were obscured by them, and they +were obliged to allow it to remain where it fell. Paris +could do no more. She gave in, and allowed the winter +to do its worst. December, January, February, and +March passed thus, although now and then a few days’ +thaw changed the streets, whose sewers were blocked up, +into running streams. Horses were drowned, and carriages +destroyed, in the streets, some of which could only +be traversed in boats. Paris, faithful to its character, +sang through this destruction by the thaw as it had done +through that by famine. Processions were made to the +markets to see the fisherwomen serving their customers +with immense leathern boots on, inside which their trousers +were pushed, and with their petticoats tucked round +their waists, all laughing, gesticulating, and splashing +each other as they stood in the water. These thaws, +however, were but transitory; the frost returned, harder +and more obstinate than ever, and recourse was had to +sledges, pushed along by skaters, or drawn by roughshod +horses along the causeways, which were like polished mirrors. +The Seine, frozen many feet deep, was become the +rendezvous for all idlers, who assembled there to skate or +slide, until, warmed by exercise, they ran to the nearest +fire, lest the perspiration should freeze upon them. All +trembled for the time when, the water communications +being stopped, and the roads impassable, provisions could +no longer be sent in, and began to fear that Paris would +perish from want. The king, in this extremity, called a +council. They decided to implore all bishops, abbés, and +monks to leave Paris and retire to their dioceses or convents; +and all those magistrates and officials who, preferring +the opera to their duties, had crowded to Paris, +to return to their homes; for all these people used large +quantities of wood in their hotels, and consumed no small +amount of food. There were still the country gentlemen, +who were also to be entreated to leave. But M. Lenoir, +lieutenant of police, observed to the king that, as none of +these people were criminals, and could not therefore be +compelled to leave Paris in a day, they would probably +be so long thinking about it, that the thaw would come +before their departure, which would then be more hurtful +than useful. All this care and pity of the king and +queen, however, excited the ingenious gratitude of the +people, who raised monuments to them, as ephemeral as the +feelings which prompted them. Obelisks and pillars of +snow and ice, engraved with their names, were to be seen all +over Paris. At the end of March the thaw began, but by fits +and starts, constant returns of frost prolonging the miseries +of the people. Indeed, in the beginning of April it +appeared to set in harder than ever, and the half-thawed +streets, frozen again, became so slippery and dangerous, +that nothing was seen but broken limbs and accidents of +all kinds. The snow prevented the carriages from being +heard, and the police had enough to do, from the reckless +driving of the aristocracy, to preserve from the wheels +those who were spared by cold and hunger. +</p> + +<p> +It was about a week after the dinner given by M. de +Richelieu that four elegant sledges entered Paris, gliding +over the frozen snow which covered the Cours la Reine +and the extremity of the boulevards. From thence they +found it more difficult to proceed, for the sun and the +traffic had begun to change the snow and ice into a wet +mass of dirt. +</p> + +<p> +In the foremost sledge were two men in brown riding +coats with double capes. They were drawn by a black +horse, and turned from time to time, as if to watch the +sledge that followed them, and which contained two +ladies so enveloped in furs that it was impossible to see +their faces. It might even have been difficult to distinguish +their sex, had it not been for the height of their +coiffure, crowning which was a small hat with a plume of +feathers. From the colossal edifice of this coiffure, all +mingled with ribbons and jewels, escaped occasionally a +cloud of white powder, as when a gust of wind shakes +the snow from the trees. +</p> + +<p> +These two ladies, seated side by side, were conversing +so earnestly as scarcely to see the numerous spectators +who watched their progress along the boulevards. +One of them taller and more majestic than the +other, and holding up before her face a finely-embroidered +cambric handkerchief, carried her head erect and +stately, in spite of the wind which swept across their +sledge. +</p> + +<p> +It had just struck five by the clock of the church St. +Croix d’Antin and night was beginning to descend upon +Paris, and with the night the bitter cold. They had just +reached the Porte St. Denis, when the lady of whom we +have spoken made a sign to the men in front, who thereupon +quickened the pace of their horse, and soon disappeared +among the evening mists, which were fast thickening +around the colossal structure of the Bastile. +</p> + +<p> +This signal she then repeated to the other two sledges, +which also vanished along the Rue St. Denis. Meanwhile, +the one in which she sat, having arrived at the Boulevard +de Menilmontant, stopped. +</p> + +<p> +In this place few people were to be seen; night had +dispersed them. Besides, in this out-of-the-way quarter, +not many citizens would trust themselves without torches +and an escort, since winter had sharpened the wants of +three or four thousand beggars who were easily changed +into robbers. +</p> + +<p> +The lady touched with her finger the shoulder of the +coachman who was driving her, and said, “Weber, how +long will it take you to bring the cabriolet you know +where?” +</p> + +<p> +“Madame wishes me to bring the cabriolet?” asked +the coachman, with a strong German accent. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, I shall return by the streets; and as they are +still more muddy than the boulevard, we should not get +on in the sledge; besides, I begin to feel the cold. Do +not you, petite?” said she, turning to the other lady. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, madame.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then, Weber, we will have the cabriolet.” +</p> + +<p> +“Very well, madame.” +</p> + +<p> +“What is the time, petite?” +</p> + +<p> +The young lady looked at her watch, which, however, +she could hardly see, as it was growing dark, and said, +“A quarter to six, madame.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then at a quarter to seven, Weber.” +</p> + +<p> +Saying these words, the lady leaped lightly from the +sledge, followed by her friend, and walked away quickly; +while the coachman murmured, with a kind of respectful +despair, sufficiently loud for his mistress to hear, “Oh, +mein Gott! what imprudence.” +</p> + +<p> +The two ladies laughed, drew their cloaks closer round +them, and went tramping along through the snow, with +their little feet. +</p> + +<p> +“You have good eyes, Andrée,” said the lady who +seemed the elder of the two, although she could not have +been more than thirty or thirty-two; “try to read the name +at the corner of that street.” +</p> + +<p> +“Rue du Pont-aux-Choux, madame.” +</p> + +<p> +“Rue du Pont-aux-Choux! ah, mon Dieu, we must +have come wrong. They told me the second street on +the right;—but what a smell of hot bread!” +</p> + +<p> +“That is not astonishing,” said her companion, “for +here is a baker’s shop.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, let us ask there for the Rue St. Claude,” she +said, moving to the door. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! do not you go in, madame; allow me,” said +Andrée. +</p> + +<p> +“The Rue St. Claude, my pretty ladies?” said a cheerful +voice. “Are you asking for the Rue St. Claude?” +</p> + +<p> +The two ladies turned towards the voice, and saw, +leaning against the door of the shop, a man who, in spite +of the cold, had his chest and his legs quite bare. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! a naked man!” cried the young lady, half hiding +behind her companion; “are we among savages?” +</p> + +<p> +“Was not that what you asked for?” said the journeyman +baker, for such he was, who did not understand her +movement in the least, and, accustomed to his own +costume, never dreamed of its effect upon them. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, my friend, the Rue St. Claude,” said the elder +lady, hardly able to keep from laughing. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, it is not difficult to find; besides, I will conduct +you there myself;” and, suiting the action to the words, +he began to move his long bony legs, which terminated +in immense wooden shoes. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, no!” cried the elder lady, who did not fancy +such a guide; “pray do not disturb yourself. Tell us + +the way, and we shall easily find it.” +</p> + +<p> +“First street to the right,” said he, drawing back +again. +</p> + +<p> +“Thanks,” said the ladies, who ran on as fast as they +could, that he might not hear the laughter which they +could no longer restrain. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2>CHAPTER II.<br/> +AN INTERIOR.</h2> + +<p> +If we do not calculate too much on the memory of our +readers, they certainly know the Rue St. Claude, which +joins at one end the boulevard, and at the other the Rue +St. Louis; this was an important street in the first part +of our story, when it was inhabited by Joseph Balsamo, +his sibyl, Lorenza, and his master, Althotas. It was still +a respectable street, though badly lighted, and by no +means clean, but little known or frequented. +</p> + +<p> +There was, however, at the corner of the boulevard a +large house, with an aristocratic air; but this house, +which might, from the number of its windows, have illuminated +the whole street, had it been lighted up, was the +darkest and most somber-looking of any. The door was +never seen to open; and the windows were thick with +dust, which seemed never disturbed. Sometimes an idler, +attracted by curiosity, approached the gates and peeped +through; all he could see, however, were masses of weeds +growing between the stones of the courtyard, and green +moss spreading itself over everything. Occasionally an +enormous rat, sole inmate of those deserted domains, ran +across the yard, on his way to his usual habitation in the +cellars, which seemed, however, to be an excess of modesty, +when he had the choice of so many fine sitting-rooms, +where he need never fear the intrusion of a cat. +</p> + +<p> +At times, one or two of the neighbors, passing the +house, might stop to take a survey, and one would say to +the other: +</p> + +<p> +“Well, what do you see?” +</p> + +<p> +“Why,” he would reply, “I see the rat.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! let me look at him. How fat he has grown!” +</p> + +<p> +“That is not to be wondered at; he is never disturbed; +and there must be some good pickings in the house. M. +de Balsamo disappeared so suddenly, that he must have +left something behind.” +</p> + +<p> +“But you forget that the house was half burned down.” +</p> + +<p> +And they would pursue their way. +</p> + +<p> +Opposite this ruin was a high narrow house inclosed +within a garden wall. From the upper windows, a light +was to be seen; the rest was shrouded in darkness. +Either all the inhabitants were already asleep, or they +were very economical of wood and candles, which certainly +were frightfully dear this winter. It is, however, +with the fifth story only that we have any business. +</p> + +<p> +We must, in the first place, take a survey of the house, +and, ascending the staircase, open the first door. This +room is empty and dark, however, but it opens into +another of which the furniture deserves our attention. +</p> + +<p> +The doors were gaudily painted, and it contained easy +chairs covered in white, with yellow velvet trimming, and +a sofa to match; the cushions of which, however, were so +full of the wrinkles of old age as scarcely to be cushions +any longer. Two portraits hanging on the walls next +attracted attention. A candle and a lamp—one placed +on a stand, about three feet high, and the other on the +chimney-piece—threw a constant light on them. +</p> + +<p> +The first was a well-known portrait of Henry III., King +of France and Poland; a cap on his head, surmounting +his long pale face and heavy eyes; a pointed beard, and a +ruff round his neck. +</p> + +<p> +Under it was the inscription, traced in black letters, +on a badly-gilded frame, “Henri de Valois.” +</p> + +<p> +The other portrait, of which the gilding was newer, +and the painting more fresh and recent, represented a +young lady with black eyes, a straight nose, and rather +compressed lips, who appeared crushed under a tower of +hair and ribbons, to which the cap of Henry III. was in +the proportion of a mole-hill to a pyramid. +</p> + +<p> +Under this portrait was inscribed, “Jeanne de Valois.” +</p> + +<p> +Glance at the fireless hearth, at the faded curtains, and +then turn towards a little oak table in the corner; for +there, leaning on her elbow, and writing the addresses of +some letters, sits the original of this portrait. +</p> + +<p> +A few steps off, in an attitude half curious, half respectful, +stands a little old woman, apparently about +sixty. +</p> + +<p> +“Jeanne de Valois,” says the inscription; but if this +lady be indeed a Valois, one wonders however the portrait +of Henry III., the sybarite king, the great voluptuary, +could support the sight of so much poverty in a person +not only of his race, but bearing his name. +</p> + +<p> +In her person, however, this lady of the fifth story did +no discredit to her portrait. She had white and delicate +hands, which from time to time she rubbed together, as +if to endeavor to put some warmth into them; her foot +also, which was encased in a rather coquettish velvet +slipper, was small and pretty. +</p> + +<p> +The wind whistled through all the old doors, and penetrated +the crevices of the shaking windows; and the old +servant kept glancing sadly towards the empty grate. +Her lady continued her occupation, talking aloud as she +did so. +</p> + +<p> +“Madame de Misery,” she murmured; “first lady of +the bedchamber to her majesty—I cannot expect more +than six louis from her, for she has already given to me +once.” And she sighed. “Madame Patrick, lady’s-maid +to her majesty, two louis; M. d’Ormesson, an audience; +M. de Calonne, some good advice, M. de Rohan, +a visit; at least, we will try to induce him,” said she, +smiling at the thought. “Well, then, I think I may +hope for eight louis within a week.” Then, looking +up, “Dame Clotilde,” she said, “snuff this candle.” +</p> + +<p> +The old woman did as she was bid, and then resumed +her place. This kind of inquisition seemed to annoy the young +lady, for she said, “Pray go and look if you cannot find +the end of a wax candle for me; this tallow is odious.” +</p> + +<p> +“There is none,” replied the old woman. +</p> + +<p> +“But just look.” +</p> + +<p> +“Where?” +</p> + +<p> +“In the ante-chamber.” +</p> + +<p> +“It is so cold there.” +</p> + +<p> +“There is some one ringing,” said the young lady. +</p> + +<p> +“Madame is mistaken,” replied the obstinate old +woman. +</p> + +<p> +“I thought I heard it, Dame Clotilde;” then, abandoning +the attempt, she turned again to her calculations. +“Eight louis! Three I owe for the rent, and five I have +promised to M. de la Motte, to make him support his +stay at Bar-sur-Aube. Pauvre diable, our marriage has +not enriched him as yet—but patience;” and she smiled +again, and looked at herself in the mirror that hung between +the two portraits. “Well, then,” she continued, +“I still want one louis for going from Versailles to +Paris and back again; living for a week, one louis; dress, +and gifts to the porters of the houses where I go, four +louis; but,” said she, starting up, “some one is ringing!” +</p> + +<p> +“No, madame,” replied the old woman. “It is below, +on the next floor.” +</p> + +<p> +“But I tell you it is not,” said she angrily, as the bell +rang yet louder. +</p> + +<p> +Even the old woman could deny it no longer; so she +hobbled off to open the door, while her mistress rapidly +cleared away all the papers, and seated herself on the +sofa, assuming the air of a person humble and resigned, +although suffering. +</p> + +<p> +It was, however, only her body that reposed; for her +eyes, restless and unquiet, sought incessantly, first her +mirror and then the door. +</p> + +<p> +At last it opened, and she heard a young and sweet +voice saying, “Is it here that Madame la Comtesse de la +Motte lives?” +</p> + +<p> +“Madame la Comtesse de la Motte Valois,” replied +Clotilde. +</p> + +<p> +“It is the same person, my good woman; is she at +home?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, madame; she is too ill to go out.” +</p> + +<p> +During this colloquy, the pretended invalid saw reflected +in the glass the figure of a lady talking to Clotilde, +unquestionably belonging to the higher ranks. She then +saw her turn round, and say to some one behind, “We +can go in—it is here.” +</p> + +<p> +And the two ladies we have before seen asking the way +prepared to enter the room. +</p> + +<p> +“Whom shall I announce to the countess?” said Clotilde. +</p> + +<p> +“Announce a Sister of Charity,” said the elder lady. +</p> + +<p> +“From Paris?” +</p> + +<p> +“No; from Versailles.” +</p> + +<p> +Clotilde entered the room, and the strangers followed +her. +</p> + +<p> +Jeanne de Valois seemed to rise with difficulty from +her seat to receive her visitors. +</p> + +<p> +Clotilde placed chairs for them, and then unwillingly +withdrew. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2>CHAPTER III.<br/> +JEANNE DE LA MOTTE VALOIS.</h2> + +<p> +The first thought of Jeanne de la Motte was to examine +the faces of her visitors, so as to gather what she +could of their characters. The elder lady, who might +have been, as we have said, about thirty-two years of age, +was remarkably beautiful, although, at first sight, a great +air of hauteur detracted slightly from the charm of her +expression; her carriage was so proud, and her whole +appearance so distingué that Jeanne could not doubt her +nobility, even at a cursory glance. +</p> + +<p> +She, however, seemed purposely to place herself as far +as possible from the light, so as to be little seen. +</p> + +<p> +Her companion appeared four or five years younger, +and was not less beautiful. Her complexion was charming; +her hair, drawn back from her temples, showed to +advantage the perfect oval of her face; two large blue +eyes, calm and serene; a well-formed mouth, indicating +great frankness of disposition; a nose that rivaled the +Venus de Medicis; such was the other face which presented +itself to the gaze of Jeanne de Valois. +</p> + +<p> +She inquired gently to what happy circumstance she +owed the honor of their visit. +</p> + +<p> +The elder lady signed to the younger, who thereupon +said, “Madame, for I believe you are married——” +</p> + +<p> +“I have the honor to be the wife of M. le Comte de la +Motte, an excellent gentleman.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, Madame la Comtesse, we are at the head of a +charitable institution, and have heard concerning your +condition things that interest us, and we consequently +wished to have more precise details on the subject.” +</p> + +<p> +“Mesdames,” replied Jeanne, “you see there the portrait +of Henry III., that is to say, of the brother of my +grandfather, for I am truly of the race of Valois, as you +have doubtless been told.” And she waited for the next +question, looking at her visitors with a sort of proud +humility. +</p> + +<p> +“Madame,” said the grave and sweet voice of the elder +lady, “is it true, as we have also heard, that your mother +was housekeeper at a place called Fontelle, near Bar-sur-Seine?” +</p> + +<p> +Jeanne colored at this question, but replied, “It is +true, madame; and,” she went on, “as Marie Jossel, my +mother, was possessed of rare beauty, my father fell in +love with her, and married her, for it is by my father +that I am nobly descended; he was a St. Rémy de Valois, +direct descendant of the Valois who were on the throne.” +</p> + +<p> +“But how have you been reduced to this degree of +poverty, madame?” +</p> + +<p> +“Alas! that is easily told. You are not ignorant that +after the accession of Henry IV., by which the crown +passed from the house of Valois to that of Bourbon, there +still remained many branches of the fallen family, obscure, +doubtless, but incontestably springing from the same root +as the four brothers who all perished so miserably.” +</p> + +<p> +The two ladies made a sign of assent. +</p> + +<p> +“Then,” continued Jeanne, “these remnants of the +Valois, fearing, in spite of their obscurity, to be obnoxious +to the reigning family, changed their name of Valois +into that of St. Rémy, which they took from some property, +and they may be traced under this name down to +my father, who, seeing the monarchy so firmly established, +and the old branch forgotten, thought he need no longer +deprive himself of his illustrious name, and again called +himself Valois, which name he bore in poverty and obscurity +in a distant province, while no one at the court of +France even knew of the existence of this descendant of +their ancient kings.” +</p> + +<p> +Jeanne stopped at these words, which she had spoken +with a simplicity and mildness which created a favorable +impression. +</p> + +<p> +“You have, doubtless, your proofs already arranged, +madame,” said the elder lady, with kindness. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, madame,” she replied, with a bitter smile, +“proofs are not wanting—my father arranged them, and +left them to me as his sole legacy; but of what use are +proofs of a truth which no one will recognize?” +</p> + +<p> +“Your father is then dead?” asked the younger lady. +</p> + +<p> +“Alas! yes.” +</p> + +<p> +“Did he die in the provinces?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, madame.” +</p> + +<p> +“At Paris, then?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes.” +</p> + +<p> +“In this room?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, madame; my father, Baron de Valois, great-nephew +of the King Henry III., died of misery and +hunger; and not even in this poor retreat, not in his +own bed, poor as that was. No; my father died side by +side with the suffering wretches in the Hôtel Dieu!” +</p> + +<p> +The ladies uttered an exclamation of surprise and +distress. +</p> + +<p> +“From what you tell me, madame, you have experienced, +it is evident, great misfortunes; above all, the +death of your father.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, if you heard all the story of my life, madame, +you would see that my father’s death does not rank +among its greatest misfortunes.” +</p> + +<p> +“How, madame! You regard as a minor evil the +death of your father?” said the elder lady, with a frown. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, madame; and in so doing I speak only as a pious +daughter, for my father was thereby delivered from all +the ills which he experienced in this life, and which continue +to assail his family. I experience, in the midst of +the grief which his death causes me, a certain joy in +knowing that the descendant of kings is no longer obliged +to beg his bread.” +</p> + +<p> +“To beg his bread?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, madame; I say it without shame, for in all our +misfortunes there was no blame to my father or myself.” +</p> + +<p> +“But you do not speak of your mother?” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, with the same frankness with which I told you +just now that I blessed God for taking my father, I complain +that He left me my mother.” +</p> + +<p> +The two ladies looked at each other, almost shuddering +at these strange words. +</p> + +<p> +“Would it be indiscreet, madame, to ask you for a +more detailed account of your misfortunes?” +</p> + +<p> +“The indiscretion, madame, would be in me, if I +fatigued you with such a long catalogue of woes.” +</p> + +<p> +“Speak, madame,” said the elder lady, so commandingly, +that her companion looked at her, as if to warn her +to be more guarded. Indeed, Madame de la Motte had +been struck with this imperious accent, and stared at her +with some astonishment. +</p> + +<p> +“I listen, madame,” she then said, in a more gentle +tone; “if you will be good enough to inform us what we +ask.” +</p> + +<p> +Her companion saw her shiver as she spoke, and fearing +she felt cold, pushed towards her a rug, on which to +place her feet, and which she had discovered under one +of the chairs. +</p> + +<p> +“Keep it yourself, my sister,” said she, pushing it back +again. “You are more delicate than I.” +</p> + +<p> +“Indeed, madame,” said Jeanne, “it grieves me much +to see you suffer from the cold; but wood is now so dear, +and my stock was exhausted a week ago.” +</p> + +<p> +“You said, madame, that you were unhappy in having +a mother,” said the elder lady, returning to the subject. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, madame. Doubtless, such a blasphemy shocks +you much, does it not?” said Jeanne; “but hear my +explanation. I have already had the honor to tell you that +my father made a mésalliance, and married his housekeeper. +Marie Jossel, my mother, instead of feeling +gratified and proud of the honor he had done her, began +by ruining my father, which certainly was not difficult +to a person determined to consult only her own pleasures. +And having reduced him to sell all his remaining property, +she induced him to go to Paris to claim the rights +to which his name entitled him. My father was easily +persuaded; perhaps he hoped in the justice of the king. +He came then, having first turned all he possessed into +money. He had, besides me, another daughter, and a +son. +</p> + +<p> +“His son, unhappy as myself, vegetates in the lowest +ranks of the army; the daughter, my poor sister, was +abandoned, on the evening of our departure, before the +house of a neighboring farmer. +</p> + +<p> +“The journey exhausted our little resources—my father +wore himself out in fruitless appeals—we scarcely ever +saw him—our house was wretched—and my mother, to +whom a victim was necessary, vented her discontent and +ill-humor upon me: she even reproached me with what +I ate, and for the slightest fault I was unmercifully beaten. +The neighbors, thinking to serve me, told my father of +the treatment I experienced. He endeavored to protect +me, but his interference only served to embitter her still +more against me. +</p> + +<p> +“At last my father fell ill, and was confined first to +the house, and then to his bed. My mother banished me +from his room on the pretext that I disturbed him. She +made me now learn a sentence, which, child as I was, I +shrank from saying; but she would drive me out into the +street with blows, ordering me to repeat it to each passer-by, +if I did not wish to be beaten to death.” +</p> + +<p> +“And what was this sentence?” asked the elder lady. +</p> + +<p> +“It was this, madame: ‘Have pity on a little orphan, +who descends in a direct line from Henri de Valois.’” +</p> + +<p> +“What a shame!” cried the ladies. +</p> + +<p> +“But what effect did this produce on the people?” inquired +Andrée. +</p> + +<p> +“Some listened and pitied me, others were angry and +menaced me; some kind people stopped and warned me +that I ran a great risk from repeating such words; but I +knew no other danger than that of disobeying my mother. +The result was, however, as she hoped: I generally +brought home a little money, which kept us for a time +from starvation or the hospital; but this life became so +odious to me, that at last, one day, instead of repeating +my accustomed phrase, I sat on a doorstep all the time, +and returned in the evening empty-handed. My mother +beat me so that the next day I fell ill; then my poor +father, deprived of all resources, was obliged to go to the +Hôtel Dieu, where he died.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! what a horrible history,” cried the ladies. +</p> + +<p> +“What became of you after your father’s death?” +asked the elder lady. +</p> + +<p> +“God took pity upon me a month after my father’s +death, my mother ran away with a soldier, abandoning +my brother and me. We felt ourselves relieved by her +departure, and lived on public charity, although we never +begged for more than enough to eat. One day, I saw a +carriage going slowly along the Faubourg Saint Marcel. +There were four footmen behind, and a beautiful lady +inside; I held out my hand to her for charity. She +questioned me, and my reply and my name seemed to +strike her with surprise. She asked for my address, and +the next day made inquiries, and finding that I had told +her the truth, she took charge of my brother and myself; +she placed my brother in the army, and me with a dressmaker.” +</p> + +<p> +“Was not this lady Madame de Boulainvilliers?” +</p> + +<p> +“It was.” +</p> + +<p> +“She is dead, I believe?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes; and her death deprived me of my only protector.” +</p> + +<p> +“Her husband still lives, and is rich.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, madame, it is to him that I owe my later misfortunes. +I had grown tall, and, as he thought, pretty, +and he wished to put a price upon his benefits which I +refused to pay. Meanwhile, Madame de Boulainvilliers +died, having first married me to a brave and loyal soldier, +M. de la Motte, but, separated from him, I seemed more +abandoned after her death than I had been after that of +my father. This is my history, madame, which I have +shortened as much as possible, in order not to weary +you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Where, then, is your husband?” asked the elder +lady. +</p> + +<p> +“He is in garrison at Bar-sur-Aube; he serves in the +gendarmerie, and is waiting, like myself, in hopes of +better times.” +</p> + +<p> +“But you have laid your case before the court?” +</p> + +<p> +“Undoubtedly.” +</p> + +<p> +“The name of Valois must have awakened some sympathy.” +</p> + +<p> +“I know not, madame, what sentiments it may have +awakened, for I have received no answer to any of my +petitions.” +</p> + +<p> +“You have seen neither the ministers, the king, nor +the queen?” +</p> + +<p> +“No one. Everywhere I have failed.” +</p> + +<p> +“You cannot now beg, however.” +</p> + +<p> +“No, madame; I have lost the habit; but I can die of +hunger, like my poor father.” +</p> + +<p> +“You have no child?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, madame; and my husband, by getting killed in +the service of his king, will find for himself a glorious +end to all our miseries.” +</p> + +<p> +“Can you, madame—I beg pardon if I seem intrusive—but +can you bring forward the proofs of your genealogy?” +</p> + +<p> +Jeanne rose, opened a drawer, and drew out some +papers, which she presented to the lady, who rose to +come nearer the light, that she might examine them; +but seeing that Jeanne eagerly seized this opportunity to +observe her more clearly than she had yet been able to +do, she turned away as if the light hurt her eyes, turning +her back to Madame de la Motte. +</p> + +<p> +“But,” said she, at last, “these are only copies.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! madame, I have the originals safe, and am ready +to produce them.” +</p> + +<p> +“If any important occasion should present itself, I +suppose?” said the lady, smiling. +</p> + +<p> +“It is, doubtless, madame, an important occasion +which procures me the honor of your visit, but these +papers are so precious——” +</p> + +<p> +“That you cannot show them to the first comer. I +understand you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, madame!” cried the countess; “you shall see +them;” and opening a secret drawer above the other, she +drew out the originals, which were carefully inclosed in +an old portfolio, on which were the arms of the Valois. +</p> + +<p> +The lady took them, and after examining them, said, +“You are right; these are perfectly satisfactory, and +you must hold yourself in readiness to produce them +when called upon by proper authority.” +</p> + +<p> +“And what do you think I may expect, madame?” +asked Jeanne. +</p> + +<p> +“Doubtless a pension for yourself, and advancement +for M. de la Motte, if he prove worthy of it.” +</p> + +<p> +“My husband is an honorable man, madame, and has +never failed in his military duties.” +</p> + +<p> +“It is enough, madame,” said the lady, drawing her +hood still more over her face. She then put her hand in +her pocket, and drew out first the same embroidered +handkerchief with which we before saw her hiding her +face when in the sledge, then a small roll about an inch +in diameter, and three or four in length, which she +placed on the chiffonier, saying, “The treasurer of our +charity authorizes me, madame, to offer you this small +assistance, until you shall obtain something better.” +</p> + +<p> +Madame de la Motte threw a rapid glance at the little +roll. “Three-franc pieces,” thought she, “and there +must be nearly a hundred of them; what a boon from +heaven.” +</p> + +<p> +While she was thus thinking, the two ladies moved +quickly into the outer room, where Clotilde had fallen +asleep in her chair. +</p> + +<p> +The candle was burning out in the socket, and the +smell which came from it made the ladies draw out their +smelling-bottles. Jeanne woke Clotilde, who insisted +on following them with the obnoxious candle-end. +</p> + +<p> +“Au revoir, Madame la Comtesse,” said they. +</p> + +<p> +“Where may I have the honor of coming to thank +you?” asked Jeanne. +</p> + +<p> +“We will let you know,” replied the elder lady, going +quickly down the stairs. +</p> + +<p> +Madame de la Motte ran back into her room, impatient +to examine her rouleau, but her foot struck against something, +and stooping to pick it up, she saw a small flat +gold box. +</p> + +<p> +She was some time before she could open it, but having +at last found the spring, it flew open and disclosed +the portrait of a lady possessing no small beauty. The +coiffure was German, and she wore a collar like an order. +An M and a T encircled by a laurel wreath ornamented +the inside of the box. Madame de la Motte did not +doubt, from the resemblance of the portrait to the lady +who had just left her, that it was that of her mother, or +some near relation. +</p> + +<p> +She ran to the stairs to give it back to them; but hearing +the street-door shut, she ran back, thinking to call +them from the window, but arrived there only in time to +see a cabriolet driving rapidly away. She was therefore +obliged to keep the box for the present, and turned again +to the little rouleau. +</p> + +<p> +When she opened it, she uttered a cry of joy, “Double +louis, fifty double louis, two thousand and four hundred +francs!” and transported at the sight of more gold than +she had ever seen before in her life, she remained with +clasped hands and open lips. “A hundred louis,” she +repeated; “these ladies are then very rich. Oh! I will +find them again.” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2>CHAPTER IV.<br/> +BELUS.</h2> + +<p> +Madame de la Motte was not wrong in thinking that +the cabriolet which she saw driving off contained the two +ladies who had just left her. +</p> + +<p> +They had, in fact, found it waiting for them on their +exit. It was lightly built, open and fashionable, with +high wheels, and a place behind for a servant to stand. +It was drawn by a magnificent bay horse of Irish breed, +short-tailed, and plump, which was driven by the same +man whom we have already heard addressed by the name +of Weber. The horse had become so impatient with waiting, +that it was with some difficulty that Weber kept +him stationary. +</p> + +<p> +When he saw the ladies, he said, “Madame, I intended +to bring Scipio, who is gentle and easy to manage, but +unluckily he received an injury last evening, and I was +forced to bring Bélus, and he is rather unmanageable.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, Weber, I do not mind in the least,” said the +lady; “I am well used to driving, and not at all timid.” +</p> + +<p> +“I know how well madame drives, but the roads are so +bad. Where are we to go?” +</p> + +<p> +“To Versailles.” +</p> + +<p> +“By the boulevards then, madame?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, Weber; it freezes hard, and the boulevards will +be dreadful; the streets will be better.” +</p> + +<p> +He held the horse for the ladies to get in, then jumped +up behind, and they set off at a rapid pace. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, Andrée, what do you think of the countess?” +asked the elder lady. +</p> + +<p> +“I think, madame,” she replied, “that Madame de la +Motte is poor and unfortunate.” +</p> + +<p> +“She has good manners, has she not?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, doubtless.” +</p> + +<p> +“You are somewhat cold about her, Andrée.” +</p> + +<p> +“I must confess, there is a look of cunning in her face +that does not please me.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, you are always difficult to please, Andrée; to +please you, one must have every good quality. Now, I +find the little countess interesting and simple, both in her +pride and in her humility.” +</p> + +<p> +“It is fortunate for her, madame, that she has succeeded +in pleasing you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Take care!” cried the lady, at the same time endeavoring +to check her horse, which nearly ran over a street-porter +at the corner of the Rue St. Antoine. +</p> + +<p> +“Gare!” shouted Weber, in the voice of the Stentor. +</p> + +<p> +They heard the man growling and swearing, in which +he was joined by several people near, but Bélus soon carried +them away from the sound, and they quickly reached +the Place Baudoyer. +</p> + +<p> +From thence the skilful conductress continued her +rapid course down the Rue de la Tisseranderie, a narrow +unaristocratic street, always crowded. Thus, in spite of +the reiterated warnings of herself and Weber, the numbers +began to increase around them, many of whom +cried fiercely, “Oh! the cabriolet! down with the cabriolet!” +</p> + +<p> +Bélus, however, guided by the steady hand which held +the reins, kept on his rapid course, and not the smallest +accident had yet occurred. +</p> + +<p> +But in spite of this skilful progress, the people seemed +discontented at the rapid course of the cabriolet, which +certainly required some care on their part to avoid, and +the lady, perhaps half frightened at the murmurs, and +knowing the present excited state of the people, only urged +on her horse the faster to escape from them. +</p> + +<p> +Thus they proceeded until they reached the Rue du +Coq St. Honoré, and here had been raised one of the most +beautiful of those monuments in snow of which we have +spoken. +</p> + +<p> +Round this a great crowd had collected, and they were +obliged to stop until the people would make an opening +for them to pass, which they did at last, but with great +grumbling and discontent. +</p> + +<p> +The next obstacle was at the gates of the Palais Royal, +where, in a courtyard, which had been thrown open, +were a host of beggars crowding round fires which had +been lighted there, and receiving soup, which the servants +of M. le Duc d’Orleans were distributing to them +in earthen basins; and as in Paris a crowd collects to +see everything, the number of the spectators of this +scene far exceeded that of the actors. +</p> + +<p> +Here, then, they were again obliged to stop, and to +their dismay, began to hear distinctly from behind loud +cries of “Down with the cabriolet! down with those +that crush the poor!” +</p> + +<p> +“Can it be that those cries are addressed to us?” said +the elder lady to her companion. +</p> + +<p> +“Indeed, madame, I fear so,” she replied. +</p> + +<p> +“Have we, do you think, run over any one?” +</p> + +<p> +“I am sure you have not.” +</p> + +<p> +But still the cries seemed to increase. A crowd soon +gathered round them, and some even seized Bélus by the +reins, who thereupon began to stamp and foam most +furiously. +</p> + +<p> +“To the magistrate! to the magistrate!” cried several +voices. +</p> + +<p> +The two ladies looked at each other in terror. Curious +heads began to peep under the apron of the cabriolet. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, they are women,” cried some; “Opera girls, +doubtless,” said others, “who think they have a right +to crush the poor because they receive ten thousand +francs a month.” +</p> + +<p> +A general shout hailed these words, and they began +again to cry, “To the magistrate!” +</p> + +<p> +The younger lady shrank back trembling with fear; +the other looked around her with wonderful resolution, +though with frowning brows and compressed lips. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, madame,” cried her companione, “for heaven’s +sake, take care!” +</p> + +<p> +“Courage, Andrée, courage!” she replied. +</p> + +<p> +“But they will recognize you, madame.” +</p> + +<p> +“Look through the windows, if Weber is still behind +the cabriolet.” +</p> + +<p> +“He is trying to get down, but the mob surrounds +him. Ah! here he comes.” +</p> + +<p> +“Weber,” said the lady in German, “we will get out.” +</p> + +<p> +The man vigorously pushed aside those nearest the +carriage, and opened the door. The ladies jumped out, +and the crowd instantly seized on the horse and cabriolet, +which would evidently soon be in pieces. +</p> + +<p> +“What in heaven’s name does it all mean? Do you +understand it, Weber?” said the lady, still in German. +</p> + +<p> +“Ma foi, no, madame,” he replied, struggling to free +a passage for them to pass. +</p> + +<p> +“But they are not men, they are wild beasts,” continued +the lady; “with what do they possibly reproach +me?” +</p> + +<p> +She was answered by a voice, whose polite and gentlemanly +tone contrasted strangely with the savage murmurs +of the people, and which said in excellent German, +“They reproach you, madame, with having braved the +police order, which appeared this morning, and which +prohibited all cabriolets, which are always dangerous, +and fifty times more so in this frost, when people can +hardly escape fast enough, from driving through the +streets until the spring.” +</p> + +<p> +The lady turned, and saw she was addressed by a young +officer, whose distinguished and pleasing air, and fine +figure, could not but make a favorable impression. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, mon Dieu, monsieur,” she said, “I was perfectly +ignorant of this order.” +</p> + +<p> +“You are a foreigner, madame?” inquired the young +officer. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, sir; but tell me what I must do? they are +destroying my cabriolet.” +</p> + +<p> +“You must let them destroy it, and take advantage of +that time to escape. The people are furious just now +against all the rich, and on the pretext of your breaking +this regulation would conduct you before the magistrate.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, never!” cried Andrée. +</p> + +<p> +“Then,” said the officer, laughing, “profit by the +space which I shall make in the crowd, and vanish.” +</p> + +<p> +The ladies gathered from his manner that he shared the +opinion of the people as to their station, but it was no +time for explanations. +</p> + +<p> +“Give us your arm to a cab-stand,” said the elder lady, +in a voice full of authority. +</p> + +<p> +“I was going to make your horse rear, and thereby clear +you a passage,” said the young man, who did not much +wish to take the charge of escorting them through the +crowd; “the people will become yet more enraged, if +they hear us speaking in a language unknown to them.” +</p> + +<p> +“Weber,” cried the lady, in a firm voice, “make Bélus +rear to disperse the crowd.” +</p> + +<p> +“And then, madame?” +</p> + +<p> +“Remain till we are gone.” +</p> + +<p> +“But they will destroy the carriage.” +</p> + +<p> +“Let them; what does that matter? save Bélus if you +can, but yourself above all.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, madame;” and a slight touch to the horse soon +produced the desired effect of dispersing the nearest part +of the crowd, and throwing down those who held by his +reins. +</p> + +<p> +“Your arm, sir!” again said the lady to the officer; +“come on, petite,” turning to Andrée. +</p> + +<p> +“Let us go then, courageous woman,” said the young +man, giving his arm, with real admiration, to her who +asked for it. +</p> + +<p> +In a few minutes he had conducted them to a cab-stand, +but the men were all asleep on their seats. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2>CHAPTER V.<br/> +THE ROAD TO VERSAILLES.</h2> + +<p> +The ladies were free from the crowd for the present, +but there was some danger that they might be followed +and recognized, when the same tumult would doubtless +be renewed and escape a second time be more difficult. +The young officer knew this, and therefore hastened to +awaken one of the half-frozen and sleepy men. So stupefied, +however, did they seem, that he had great difficulty +in rousing one of them. At last he took him by the collar +and shook him roughly. +</p> + +<p> +“Gently, gently!” cried the man, sitting up. +</p> + +<p> +“Where do you wish to go, ladies?” asked the officer. +</p> + +<p> +“To Versailles,” said the elder lady, still speaking +German. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, to Versailles!” repeated the coachman; “four +miles and a half over this ice. No, I would rather not.” +</p> + +<p> +“We will pay well,” said the lady. +</p> + +<p> +This was repeated to the coachman in French by the +young officer. +</p> + +<p> +“But how much?” said the coachman; “you see it is +not only going, I must come back again.” +</p> + +<p> +“A louis; is that enough?” asked the lady of the officer, +who, turning to the coachman, said,— +</p> + +<p> +“These ladies offer you a louis.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, that will do, though I risk breaking my horses’ +legs.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why, you rascal, you know that if you were paid all +the way there and back, it would be but twelve francs, +and we offer you twenty-four.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, do not stay to bargain,” cried the lady; “he +shall have twenty louis if he will only set off at once.” +</p> + +<p> +“One is enough, madame.” +</p> + +<p> +“Come down, sir, and open the door.” +</p> + +<p> +“I will be paid first,” said the man. +</p> + +<p> +“You will!” said the officer fiercely. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! let us pay,” said the lady, putting her hand in +her pocket. She turned pale. “Oh! mon Dieu, I have +lost my purse! Feel for yours, Andrée.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! madame, it is gone too.” +</p> + +<p> +They looked at each other in dismay, while the young +officer watched their proceedings, and the coachman sat +grinning, and priding himself on his caution. +</p> + +<p> +The lady was about to offer her gold chain as a pledge, +when the young officer drew out a louis, and offered it to +the man, who thereupon got down and opened the door. +</p> + +<p> +The ladies thanked him warmly and got in. +</p> + +<p> +“And now, sir, drive these ladies carefully and honestly.” +</p> + +<p> +The ladies looked at each other in terror; they could +not bear to see their protector leave them. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! madame,” said Andrée, “do not let him go +away.” +</p> + +<p> +“But why not? we will ask for his address, and return +him his louis to-morrow, with a little note of thanks, +which you shall write.” +</p> + +<p> +“But, madame, suppose the coachman should not keep +faith with us, and should turn us out half way, what +would become of us?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! we will take his number.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, madame, I do not deny that you could have him +punished afterwards; but meanwhile, you would not +reach Versailles, and what would they think?” +</p> + +<p> +“True,” replied her companion. +</p> + +<p> +The officer advanced to take leave. +</p> + +<p> +“Monsieur,” said Andrée, “one word more, if you +please.” +</p> + +<p> +“At your orders, madame,” he said politely, but somewhat +stiffly. +</p> + +<p> +“Monsieur, you cannot refuse us one more favor, after +serving us so much?” +</p> + +<p> +“What is it, madame?” +</p> + +<p> +“We are afraid of the coachman, who seems so unwilling +to go.” +</p> + +<p> +“You need not fear,” replied he; “I have his number, +and if he does not behave well, apply to me.” +</p> + +<p> +“To you, sir?” said Andrée in French, forgetting +herself; “we do not even know your name.” +</p> + +<p> +“You speak French,” exclaimed the young man, “and +you have been condemning me all this time to blunder on +in German!” +</p> + +<p> +“Excuse us, sir,” said the elder lady, coming to Andrée’s +rescue, “but you must see, that though not perhaps +foreigners, we are strangers in Paris, and above all, +out of our places in a hackney coach. You are sufficiently +a man of the world to see that we are placed in an awkward +position. I feel assured you are generous enough +to believe the best of us, and to complete the service you +have rendered, and above all, to ask us no questions.” +</p> + +<p> +“Madame,” replied the officer, charmed with her +noble, yet pleasing manner, “dispose of me as you will.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then, sir, have the kindness to get in, and accompany +us to Versailles.” +</p> + +<p> +The officer instantly placed himself opposite to them, +and directed the man to drive on. +</p> + +<p> +After proceeding in silence for some little time, he began +to feel himself surrounded with delicate and delicious +perfumes, and gradually began to think better of the +ladies’ position. “They are,” thought he, “ladies who +have been detained late at some rendezvous, and are now +anxious to regain Versailles, much frightened, and a +little ashamed; still, two ladies, driving themselves in a +cabriolet! However,” recollected he, “there was a servant +behind; but then again, no money on either of them, +but probably the footman carried the purse; and the carriage +was certainly a very elegant one, and the horse could +not have been worth less than one hundred and fifty +louis; therefore they must be rich, so that the accidental +want of money proves nothing. But why speak a foreign +language when they must be French? However, that at +least shows a good education, and they speak both languages +with perfect purity; besides, there is an air of +distinction about them. The supplication of the younger +one was touching, and the request of the other was noble +and imposing; indeed, I begin to feel it dangerous to +pass two or three hours in a carriage with two such pretty +women, pretty and discreet also; for they do not speak, +but wait for me to begin.” +</p> + +<p> +On their parts, the ladies were doubtless thinking of +him, for just as he had arrived at these conclusions, the +elder lady said to her companion, but this time in English: +</p> + +<p> +“Really, this coachman crawls along; we shall never +reach Versailles; I fear our poor companion must be terribly +ennuyé.” +</p> + +<p> +“Particularly,” answered Andrée, smiling, “as our +conversation has not been very amusing.” +</p> + +<p> +“Do you not think he has a most distinguished air?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, certainly.” +</p> + +<p> +“Besides, he wears the uniform of a naval officer, and +all naval officers are of good family. He looks well in it, +too, for he is very handsome.” +</p> + +<p> +Here the young man interrupted them. “Your pardon, +ladies,” said he, in excellent English, “but I must +tell you that I understand English perfectly; I do not, +however, know Spanish; therefore, if you can and like to +speak in that language, you are safe from my understanding +you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, monsieur,” replied the lady, laughing, “we had +no harm to say of you, as you must have heard; therefore +we will content ourselves with French for the remainder +of the time.” +</p> + +<p> +“Thanks, madame, but if my presence be irksome to +you——” +</p> + +<p> +“You cannot suppose that, sir, as it was we who begged +you to accompany us.” +</p> + +<p> +“Exacted it, even,” said Andrée. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, madame, you overwhelm me; pray pardon me +my momentary hesitation; but Paris is so full of snares +and deceptions.” +</p> + +<p> +“You then took us for——” +</p> + +<p> +“Monsieur took us for snares, that is all.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! ladies,” said the young man, quite humiliated, +“I assure you, I did not.” +</p> + +<p> +“But what is the matter? The coach stops.” +</p> + +<p> +“I will see, madame.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! I think we are overturning; pray take care, +sir.” +</p> + +<p> +And Andrée, in her terror, laid her hand on the young +man’s shoulder. +</p> + +<p> +He, yielding to an impulse, attempted to seize her +little hand; but she had in a moment thrown herself +back again in the carriage. He therefore got out, and +found the coachman engaged in raising one of his horses, +which had fallen on the ice. +</p> + +<p> +The horse, with his aid, was soon on its legs again, and +they pursued their way. +</p> + +<p> +It seemed, however, that this little interruption had +destroyed the intimacy which had begun to spring up, +for after the ladies had asked and been told the cause of +their detention, all relapsed into silence. +</p> + +<p> +The young man, however, who had derived some +pleasure from the touch of that little hand, thought he +would at least have a foot in exchange; he therefore +stretched out his, and endeavored to touch hers, which, +was, however, quickly withdrawn; and when he did just +touch that of the elder lady, she said, with great sang-froid,—— +</p> + +<p> +“I fear, sir, I am dreadfully in your way.” +</p> + +<p> +He colored up to the ears, and felt thankful to the darkness, +which prevented it from being seen. After this, he +desisted, and remained perfectly still, fearing even to +renew the conversation, lest he should seem impertinent +to these ladies, to whom, at first, he had thought himself +rather condescending in his politeness. +</p> + +<p> +Still, in spite of himself, he felt more and more strongly +attracted towards them, and an increasing interest in +them. From time to time he heard them speak softly to +each other, and he caught these words: +</p> + +<p> +“So late an hour! what excuse for being out?” +</p> + +<p> +At last the coach stopped again, but this time it was +no accident, but simply that they had arrived at Versailles. +</p> + +<p> +The young man thought the time had passed with +marvelous quickness. +</p> + +<p> +“We are at Versailles,” said the coachman. +</p> + +<p> +“Where must he stop, ladies?” asked the officer. +</p> + +<p> +“At the Place d’Armes.” +</p> + +<p> +“At the Place d’Armes, coachman,” said the officer; +“go on.—I must say something to them,” thought he, +“or they will now think me a stupid, as they must before +have thought me impertinent.” +</p> + +<p> +“Mesdames,” said he, “you are at length arrived.” +</p> + +<p> +“Thanks to your generous assistance.” +</p> + +<p> +“What trouble we have given you,” added Andrée. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, madame, do not speak of it!” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, sir, we shall not forget; will you tell us your +name?” +</p> + +<p> +“My name?” +</p> + +<p> +“Certainly, sir; you do not wish to make us a present +of a louis, I hope.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, madame, if that is it,” said the young man, +rather piqued, “I yield; I am the Comte de Charney, +and as madame has already remarked, a naval officer.” +</p> + +<p> +“Charney,” repeated the elder lady, “I shall not +forget.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, madame, Georges de Charney.” +</p> + +<p> +“And you live——?” +</p> + +<p> +“Hôtel des Princes, Rue de Richelieu.” +</p> + +<p> +The coach stopped. The elder lady opened the door +and jumped out quickly, holding out a hand to her +companion. +</p> + +<p> +“But pray, ladies,” said he, preparing to follow them, +“take my arm; you are not yet at your own home.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, sir, do not move.” +</p> + +<p> +“Not move?” +</p> + +<p> +“No; pray remain in the coach.” +</p> + +<p> +“You cannot walk alone at this time of night; it is +impossible.” +</p> + +<p> +“Now, you see,” said the elder lady, gaily, “after almost +refusing to oblige us, you wish to be too obliging.” +</p> + +<p> +“But, madame——” +</p> + +<p> +“Sir, remain to the end a loyal and gallant cavalier; +we thank you, M. de Charney, with all our hearts, and +will not even ask your word——” +</p> + +<p> +“To do what, madame?” +</p> + +<p> +“To shut the door, and order the man to drive back +to Paris, without even looking where we go, which you +will do, will you not?” +</p> + +<p> +“I will obey you, madame; coachman, back again.” +And he put a second louis into the man’s hand, who joyfully +set off on his return. +</p> + +<p> +The young man sighed, as he took his place on the +cushions which the unknown ladies had just occupied. +</p> + +<p> +They remained motionless till the coach was out of +sight, and then took their way towards the castle. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2>CHAPTER VI.<br/> +LAURENT.</h2> + +<p> +At this moment our heroines heard the clock strike +from the church of St. Louis. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, mon Dieu! a quarter to twelve,” they cried, in +terror. +</p> + +<p> +“See, all the doors are shut,” said Andrée. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, that is nothing; for, if they were open, we would +not go in here. Let us go round by the reservoirs.” +And they turned to the right, where there was a private +entrance. +</p> + +<p> +When they arrived there, “The door is shut, Andrée,” +said the elder lady, rather uneasily. +</p> + +<p> +“Let us knock, madame.” +</p> + +<p> +“No, we will call; Laurent must be waiting for me, +for I told him perhaps I should return late.” +</p> + +<p> +“I will call,” said Andrée, approaching the door. +</p> + +<p> +“Who is there?” said a voice from inside. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, it is not Laurent!” said she, terrified. +</p> + +<p> +“Is it not?” and the other lady advanced, and called +softly, “Laurent.” +</p> + +<p> +No answer. +</p> + +<p> +“Laurent?” again she called, louder. +</p> + +<p> +“There is no Laurent here,” replied the voice, rudely. +</p> + +<p> +“But,” said Andrée, “whether he be here or not, open +the door.” +</p> + +<p> +“I cannot open it.” +</p> + +<p> +“But Laurent would have opened it immediately.” +</p> + +<p> +“I have my orders,” was all the reply. +</p> + +<p> +“Who are you, then?” +</p> + +<p> +“Rather, who are you?” +</p> + +<p> +Rude as the question was, it was no time to find fault, +so they answered, “We are ladies of her majesty’s suite, +we lodge in the castle, and we wish to get home.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, I, mesdames, am a Suisse of the Salischamade +company, and I shall do just the contrary of Laurent, for +I shall leave you at the door.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh!” murmured the ladies, in terror and anger. +</p> + +<p> +Then, making an effort over herself, the elder lady +said, “My friend, I understand that you are obeying +orders, and I do not quarrel with you for that—it is a +soldier’s duty; only do me the favor to call Laurent—he +cannot be far distant.” +</p> + +<p> +“I cannot quit my post.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then send some one.” +</p> + +<p> +“I have no one to send.” +</p> + +<p> +“For pity’s sake!” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, mon Dieu, sleep in the town, that is no great +thing; if I were shut out of the barracks, I would soon +find a bed.” +</p> + +<p> +“Listen,” said the lady again; “you shall have twenty +louis, if you open this door.” +</p> + +<p> +“And twelve years at the galleys: no, thank you. +Forty-eight francs a year is not sufficient pay for that.” +</p> + +<p> +“I will get you made a sergeant.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, and he who gave me the order will have me +shot.” +</p> + +<p> +“And who did give you the order?” +</p> + +<p> +“The king.” +</p> + +<p> +“The king!” cried they; “oh, we are lost!” +</p> + +<p> +“Is there no other door?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! madame, if this one is closed, be sure all the +others will be so also,” said Andrée. +</p> + +<p> +“You are right, Andrée. ’Tis a horrible trick of the +king,” she said, with a contempt almost menacing. +</p> + +<p> +There was a sort of bank outside the door, which they +sank down upon in despair. They could see the light +under the door, and could hear the steps of the sentinel +as he paced to and fro. +</p> + +<p> +Within this little door was salvation; without, shame +and scandal. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! to-morrow, to-morrow, when they will find out,” +murmured the elder lady. +</p> + +<p> +“You will tell the truth, madame.” +</p> + +<p> +“But shall I be believed?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! we can prove it; besides, the soldier will not +stay all night; he will be relieved, and perhaps his successor +will be more complacent.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, but the patrol will pass directly, and will find +me here, waiting outside. It is infamous; I am suffocated +with rage.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, take courage, madame! you, who are always so +brave.” +</p> + +<p> +“It is a plot, Andrée, in order to ruin me. This door +is never closed. Oh, I shall die!” +</p> + +<p> +At this moment they heard a step approaching, and +then the voice of a young man, singing gaily as he went +along. +</p> + +<p> +“That voice,” cried the lady, “I know it, I am sure.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, yes, madame, he will save us.” +</p> + +<p> +A young man, wrapped up in a fur riding-coat, came +quickly up, and without noticing them, knocked at the +door, and called, “Laurent.” +</p> + +<p> +“Brother,” said the elder lady, touching him on the +shoulder. +</p> + +<p> +“The queen,” cried he, taking off his hat. +</p> + +<p> +“Hush,” said she. +</p> + +<p> +“You are not alone?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, I am with Mademoiselle Andrée de Taverney.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, good evening, mademoiselle.” +</p> + +<p> +“Good evening, monseigneur.” +</p> + +<p> +“Are you going out, madame?” asked he. +</p> + +<p> +“No.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then you are going in.” +</p> + +<p> +“We wished to do so.” +</p> + +<p> +“Have you not called Laurent?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, we have, but——” +</p> + +<p> +“But what?” +</p> + +<p> +“You call Laurent, and you will see.” +</p> + +<p> +The young man, whom the reader has, perhaps, already +recognized as the Comte d’Artois, approached and again +called “Laurent.” +</p> + +<p> +“I warn you,” answered from within the voice of the +Suisse, “that if you torment me any more I will go and +fetch my commanding officer.” +</p> + +<p> +“Who is this?” asked the count, turning round in +astonishment to the queen. +</p> + +<p> +“A Swiss who has been substituted for Laurent.” +</p> + +<p> +“By whom?” +</p> + +<p> +“By the king.” +</p> + +<p> +“The king?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, he told us so himself.” +</p> + +<p> +“And with orders?” +</p> + +<p> +“Most strict, apparently.” +</p> + +<p> +“Diable! we must capitulate.” +</p> + +<p> +“What do you mean?” she asked. +</p> + +<p> +“Offer him money.” +</p> + +<p> +“I have already done so, and he has refused it.” +</p> + +<p> +“Offer him promotion.” +</p> + +<p> +“I have offered that also, but he would not listen.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then there is but one way.” +</p> + +<p> +“What?” +</p> + +<p> +“To make a noise.” +</p> + +<p> +“My dear Charles, you will compromise us.” +</p> + +<p> +“Not the least in the world; you keep in the background, +I will knock like thunder, and shout like a +madman; they will open at last, and you can slide in +with me.” +</p> + +<p> +“Try, then.” +</p> + +<p> +The young prince began calling Laurent, knocking at +the door and striking with his sword, till at last the +Swiss said, “Ah, well! I will call my officer.” +</p> + +<p> +“Go and call him, that is just what I want.” +</p> + +<p> +They soon heard other steps approaching. The queen +and Andrée kept close, ready to slip in if the door +should open; then they heard the Swiss say, “It is a +gentleman, lieutenant, who insists on coming in.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, I suppose that is not astonishing, as we belong +to the castle,” said the count. +</p> + +<p> +“It is no doubt a natural wish, but a forbidden one,” +replied the officer. +</p> + +<p> +“Forbidden—by whom? morbleu!” +</p> + +<p> +“By the king.” +</p> + +<p> +“But the king would not wish an officer of the castle +to sleep outside.” +</p> + +<p> +“Sir, I am not the judge of that; I have only to obey +orders.” +</p> + +<p> +“Come, lieutenant, open the door; we cannot talk +through this oak.” +</p> + +<p> +“Sir, I repeat to you that my orders are to keep it +shut; and if you are an officer, as you say, you know that +I must obey.” +</p> + +<p> +“Lieutenant, you speak to the colonel of a regiment.” +</p> + +<p> +“Excuse me, then, colonel, but my orders are positive.” +</p> + +<p> +“But they cannot concern a prince. Come, sir, a +prince cannot be kept out.” +</p> + +<p> +“My prince, I am in despair, but the king has +ordered——” +</p> + +<p> +“The king has ordered you to turn away his brother +like a beggar or a robber? I am the Comte d’Artois, sir. +Mordieu! you keep me here freezing at the door.” +</p> + +<p> +“Monseigneur, God is my witness that I would shed +my blood for your royal highness. But the king gave +me his orders in person, and confiding to me the charge +of this door, ordered me not to open to any one, should +it be even himself, after eleven o’clock. Therefore, monseigneur, +I ask your pardon humbly for disobeying you, +but I am a soldier, and were it her majesty the queen who +asked admittance, I should be forced most unwillingly to +refuse.” +</p> + +<p> +Having said this, the officer turned away and left the +place. +</p> + +<p> +“We are lost,” said the queen. +</p> + +<p> +“Do they know that you are out?” asked the count. +</p> + +<p> +“Alas, I know not!” +</p> + +<p> +“Perhaps, then, this order is leveled against me; the +king knows I often go out at night, and stay late. +Madame la Comtesse d’Artois must have heard something, +and complained to him, and hence this tyrannical order.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, no, brother, I thank you for trying to reassure +me, but I feel that it is against me these precautions are +taken.” +</p> + +<p> +“Impossible, sister! the king has too much esteem——” +</p> + +<p> +“Meanwhile, I am left at the door, and to-morrow a +frightful scandal will be the result. I know well I have +an enemy near the king.” +</p> + +<p> +“It is possible; however, I have an idea.” +</p> + +<p> +“What? only be quick. If you can but save us from +the ridicule of this position, it is all I care for.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, I will save you; I am not more foolish than he, +for all his learning.” +</p> + +<p> +“Than whom?” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, pardieu, the Comte de Provence.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, then, you also know my enemy.” +</p> + +<p> +“Is he not the enemy of all that are young and beautiful, +of all who are better than himself?” +</p> + +<p> +“Count, I believe you know something about this +order.” +</p> + +<p> +“Perhaps, but do not let us stop here. Come with me, +dear sister.” +</p> + +<p> +“Where?” +</p> + +<p> +“You shall see, somewhere where at least you will be +warm, and en route I will tell you all I know about this. +Take my arm, sister, and you the other, Madlle. de +Taverney, and let us turn to the right.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, but now go on,” said the queen. +</p> + +<p> +“This evening after the king’s supper, he came to his +cabinet. He had been talking all day to Count Haga, +you had not been seen——” +</p> + +<p> +“No, at two o’clock I left to go to Paris.” +</p> + +<p> +“I know it. The king, allow me to tell you, dear sister, +was thinking no more about you than about Haroun-al-Raschid, +or his Vizier Giaffar, and was talking geography. +I listened with some impatience, for I also wanted to go +out; probably not with the same object as you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Where are we going?” interrupted the queen. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, close by; take care, there is a snow-heap. +Madlle. de Taverney, if you leave my arm you will certainly +fall. But to return to the king: he was thinking +of nothing but latitude and longitude, when M. de Provence +said to him, ‘I should like to pay my respects to +the queen.’ +</p> + +<p> +“‘The queen sups at home,’ replied the king. +</p> + +<p> +“‘Oh, I believed her at Paris.’ +</p> + +<p> +“‘No, she is at home,’ said the king, quietly. +</p> + +<p> +“‘I have just come from there, and been denied to +her,’ said M. de Provence. +</p> + +<p> +“Then I saw the king frown. He dismissed us, and +doubtless went to make inquiries. Louis is jealous by +fits, you know; he must have asked to see you, and +being refused, become suspicious.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, Madame de Misery had orders to do so.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then, to know whether you were out or not, he has +given these strict orders.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, it is shameful treatment. Confess, is it not?” +</p> + +<p> +“Indeed, I think so; but here we are.” +</p> + +<p> +“This house?” +</p> + +<p> +“Does it displease you?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, I do not say that—it is charming. But your +servants?” +</p> + +<p> +“Well!” +</p> + +<p> +“If they see me.” +</p> + +<p> +“Come in, sister, and I will guarantee that no one sees +you, not even whoever opens the door.” +</p> + +<p> +“Impossible!” +</p> + +<p> +“We will try,” said he, laughing; and laying his hand +on one of the panels, the door flew open. +</p> + +<p> +“Enter, I pray you,” said he, “there is no one near.” +</p> + +<p> +The queen looked at Andrée, then, making up her +mind, went in, and the door shut behind them. +</p> + +<p> +She found herself in a vestibule, small, but ornamented +in perfect taste. The floor was mosaic work, representing +bouquets of flowers, while numerous rose-trees on +marble brackets scented the air with a perfume equally +delicious as rare at that time of the year. +</p> + +<p> +It looked all so charming, that the ladies began to forget +their fears and scruples. +</p> + +<p> +“So far well,” said the queen; “we have a shelter, +at all events, and seemingly a very charming one; but +you had better see to one thing—that is, to keep off your +servants.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, nothing more easy;” and the prince, seizing a +little bell which hung on one of the pillars, rang one +clear stroke. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh!” cried the queen, frightened, “is that the way +to keep them off? I should have thought it would bring +them.” +</p> + +<p> +“If I had rung again, it would have done so, but when +I only ring once, they know they are not wanted.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, you are a man of precaution!” said the queen +laughing. +</p> + +<p> +“Now, dear sister, take the trouble to go up-stairs.” +</p> + +<p> +“Let us obey,” said the queen, “the genius of this +place appears not disagreeable;” and they went up, their +steps making no sound on the thick Aubusson carpet. +</p> + +<p> +At the top, the prince rang another bell, which gave +them a fresh start of surprise, and their astonishment increased +when they saw the doors open of themselves. +</p> + +<p> +“Really, Andrée,” said the queen, “I begin to tremble, +do not you?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, madame, I shall follow fearlessly wherever your +majesty goes.” +</p> + +<p> +“Enter,” said the prince, “for here is your apartment;” +and he ushered them into a charming little +room, furnished ‘en buhl,’ with a painted ceiling and +walls, and a rosewood floor. It opened into a boudoir, +fitted up with white cashmere, beautifully embroidered +with groups of flowers, and hung with tapestry of exquisite +workmanship. Beyond the boudoir was a bedroom, +painted blue, hung with curtains of silk and lace, +and with a sumptuous bed in an alcove. A fire burned +on the hearth, and a dozen perfumed wax-lights in candelabra. +</p> + +<p> +Such were the marvels which presented themselves to +the eyes of the wondering ladies. No living being was to +be seen; fire and lights seemed to have come without hands. +</p> + +<p> +The queen stopped on the threshold of the bedroom, +looking half afraid to enter. +</p> + +<p> +“Sister,” said the count, “these are my bachelor +apartments; here I come alone.” +</p> + +<p> +“Always?” asked the queen. +</p> + +<p> +“Doubtless,” answered he. +</p> + +<p> +“I understand now,” said the queen, “why Madame +la Comtesse is sometimes unquiet.” +</p> + +<p> +“Confess, however, that if she is unquiet to-night, it +Will be without reason.” +</p> + +<p> +“To-night, I do not say, but other nights.” Then, +sitting down; “I am dreadfully tired,” she said; “are +not you, Andrée?” +</p> + +<p> +“I can scarcely stand, and if your majesty permits——” +</p> + +<p> +“Indeed you look ill, mademoiselle,” said the count. +</p> + +<p> +“You must go to bed,” said the queen. “M. le +Comte gives us up this room; do you not, Charles?” +</p> + +<p> +“Entirely, madame.” +</p> + +<p> +“One moment, count. If you go away, how can we +recall you?” +</p> + +<p> +“You will not need me; you are mistress of this +house.” +</p> + +<p> +“But there are other rooms.” +</p> + +<p> +“Certainly, there is a dining-room, which I advise you +to visit.” +</p> + +<p> +“With a table ready spread, no doubt.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, yes, and Mademoiselle de Taverney, who seems +to me to need it much, will find there jellies or chicken, +and wine, and you, sister, plenty of those fruits you are +so fond of.” +</p> + +<p> +“And no servants?” +</p> + +<p> +“None.” +</p> + +<p> +“We will see; but how to return?” +</p> + +<p> +“You must not think of returning to-night. At six +o’clock the gates will be opened, go out a quarter before, +you will find in these drawers mantles of all colors and +all shapes, if you wish to disguise yourselves. Go therefore +to the château, regain your rooms, go to bed, and all +will be right.” +</p> + +<p> +“But you, what will you do?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, I am going away.” +</p> + +<p> +“We turn you out, my poor brother!” +</p> + +<p> +“It is better for me not to remain in the same house +with you.” +</p> + +<p> +“But you must sleep somewhere.” +</p> + +<p> +“Do not fear; I have three other houses like this.” +</p> + +<p> +The queen laughed. “And he pretends Madame la +Comtesse has no cause to be anxious; oh, I will tell +her!” +</p> + +<p> +“You dare not.” +</p> + +<p> +“It is true, we are dependent upon you. Then, to go +away to-morrow morning without seeing any one?” +</p> + +<p> +“You must ring once, as I did below, and the door +will open.” +</p> + +<p> +“By itself?” +</p> + +<p> +“By itself.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then good night, brother.” +</p> + +<p> +“Good night, sister.” He bowed and disappeared. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2>CHAPTER VII.<br/> +THE QUEEN’S BED-CHAMBER.</h2> + +<p> +The next day, or rather the same morning, for our last +chapter brought us to two o’clock, the King Louis XVI., +in a violet-colored morning dress, in some disorder, and +with no powder in his hair, knocked at the door of the +queen’s ante-chamber. +</p> + +<p> +It was opened by one of her women. +</p> + +<p> +“The queen?” asked Louis, in a brusque manner. +</p> + +<p> +“Her majesty is asleep, sire.” +</p> + +<p> +The king made a movement, as though to pass in but +the woman did not move. +</p> + +<p> +“Do you not see,” he said, “that I wish to come in.” +</p> + +<p> +“But the queen is asleep, sire,” again she said timidly. +</p> + +<p> +“I told you to let me pass,” answered the king, going +in as he spoke. +</p> + +<p> +When he reached the door of the bedroom, the king +saw Madame de Misery, the first lady-in-waiting, who was +sitting reading from her mass book. +</p> + +<p> +She rose on seeing him. “Sire,” she said, in a low voice, +and with a profound reverence, “her majesty has not +yet called for me.” +</p> + +<p> +“Really?” said the king, in an ironical tone. +</p> + +<p> +“But, sire, it is only half-past six, and her majesty +never rings before seven.” +</p> + +<p> +“And you are sure that her majesty is asleep in bed?” +</p> + +<p> +“I cannot affirm that she is asleep, sire, but I can that +she is in bed.” +</p> + +<p> +The king could contain himself no longer, but went +straight to the door, which he opened with some noise. +The room was in complete darkness, the shutters closed, +and the curtains drawn. A night lamp burned on a +bracket, but it only gave a dim and feeble light. +</p> + +<p> +The king walked rapidly towards the bed. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, Madame de Misery,” said the queen, “how +noisy you are—you have disturbed me!” +</p> + +<p> +The king remained stupefied. “It is not Madame de +Misery,” he murmured. +</p> + +<p> +“What, is it you, sire?” said Marie Antoinette, raising +herself up. +</p> + +<p> +“Good morning, madame,” said the king, in a surly +tone. +</p> + +<p> +“What good wind blows you here, sire? Madame de +Misery, come and open the shutters.” +</p> + +<p> +She came in instantly, as usual, opened all the doors +and windows, to let in light and fresh air. +</p> + +<p> +“You sleep well, madame,” said the king, seating +himself, and casting scrutinizing glances round the +room. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, sire, I read late, and had your majesty not disturbed +me, might have slept for some time longer.” +</p> + +<p> +“How was it that you did not receive visitors yesterday?” +asked the king. +</p> + +<p> +“Whom do you mean?—M. de Provence,” said the +queen, with great presence of mind. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, exactly; he wished to pay his respects to you, +and was refused.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well!” +</p> + +<p> +“They said you were out.” +</p> + +<p> +“Did they say that?” asked the queen carelessly. +“Madame de Misery——” +</p> + +<p> +The lady appeared, bringing in with her a number of +letters on a gold salver. “Did your majesty call?” she +asked. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes. Did they tell M. de Provence yesterday that I +was out? Will you tell the king, for really I forget.” +</p> + +<p> +“Sire,” said Madame de Misery, while the queen took +her letters and began to read, “I told Monseigneur le +Comte de Provence that her majesty did not receive.” +</p> + +<p> +“And by whose orders?” +</p> + +<p> +“By the queen’s, sire.” +</p> + +<p> +Meanwhile, the queen had opened one of the letters, +and read these lines: “You returned from Paris yesterday, +and entered the château at eight o’clock in the evening; +Laurent saw you.” +</p> + +<p> +Madame de Misery left the room. +</p> + +<p> +“Pardon, sire,” said the queen, “but will you answer +me one question?” +</p> + +<p> +“What, madame?” +</p> + +<p> +“Am I, or am I not, at liberty to see M. de Provence +only when it pleases me?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, perfectly at liberty, madame, but——” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, his conversation wearies me; besides, he does +not love me, and I like him no better. I expected his +visit, and went to bed at eight o’clock to avoid it. But +you look disturbed, sire.” +</p> + +<p> +“I believed you to be in Paris yesterday.” +</p> + +<p> +“At what time?” +</p> + +<p> +“At the time at which you pretend to have gone to +bed.” +</p> + +<p> +“Doubtless, I went to Paris; but what of that?” +</p> + +<p> +“All, madame, depends on what time you returned.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, you wish to know at what time exactly I returned?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes.” +</p> + +<p> +“It is easy. Madame de Misery——” +</p> + +<p> +The Lady reappeared. +</p> + +<p> +“What time was it when I returned from Paris yesterday?” +</p> + +<p> +“About eight o’clock, your majesty.” +</p> + +<p> +“I do not believe it,” said the king, “you make a +mistake, Madame de Misery.” +</p> + +<p> +The lady walked to the door, and called, “Madame +Dural!” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, madame,” replied a voice. +</p> + +<p> +“At what time did her majesty return from Paris yesterday?” +</p> + +<p> +“About eight o’clock, madame,” replied the other. +</p> + +<p> +“The king thinks we are mistaken.” +</p> + +<p> +Madame Dural put her head out of the window, and +cried, “Laurent!” +</p> + +<p> +“Who is Laurent?” asked the king. +</p> + +<p> +“The porter at the gate where her majesty entered,” +said Madame de Misery. +</p> + +<p> +“Laurent,” said Madame Dural, “what time was it +when her majesty came home last evening?” +</p> + +<p> +“About eight o’clock,” answered Laurent. +</p> + +<p> +Madame de Misery then left the room, and the king and +queen remained alone. +</p> + +<p> +He felt ashamed of his suspicions. +</p> + +<p> +The queen, however, only said coldly, “Well, sire, is +there anything else you wish to know?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, nothing!” cried he, taking her hands in his; +“forgive me; I do not know what came into my head—my +joy is as great as my repentance. You will not be +angry, will you? I am in despair at having annoyed +you.” +</p> + +<p> +The queen withdrew her hand, and said; “Sire, a +queen of France must not tell a falsehood.” +</p> + +<p> +“What do you mean?” +</p> + +<p> +“I mean that I did not return at eight o’clock last +evening.” +</p> + +<p> +The king drew back in surprise. +</p> + +<p> +“I mean,” continued the queen in the same cold +manner, “that I only returned at six o’clock this +morning.” +</p> + +<p> +“Madame!” +</p> + +<p> +“And that, but for the kindness of M. le Comte +d’Artois, who gave me an asylum, and lodged me out of +pity in one of his houses, I should have been left all night +at the door of the château like a beggar.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah! you had not then returned?” said the king, +gloomily; “then I was right.” +</p> + +<p> +“Sire, you have not behaved towards me as a gentleman +should.” +</p> + +<p> +“In what, madame?” +</p> + +<p> +“In this—that if you wish to know whether I return +late or early, you have no need to close the gates, with +orders not to open them, but simply to come to me and +ask, ‘Madame, at what time did you return?’ You have +no more reason to doubt, sire. Your spies have been deceived, +your precautions nullified, and your suspicions +dissipated. I saw you ashamed of the part you had played, +and I might have continued to triumph in my victory, but +I think your proceedings shameful for a king, and unworthy +of a gentleman; and I would not refuse myself the +satisfaction of telling you so. +</p> + +<p> +“It is useless, sire,” she continued, seeing the king +about to speak; “nothing can excuse your conduct +towards me.” +</p> + +<p> +“On the contrary, madame,” replied he, “nothing is +more easy. Not a single person in the château suspected +that you had not already returned; therefore no one could +think that my orders referred to you. Probably they were +attributed to the dissipations of M. le Comte d’Artois—for +that I care nothing. Therefore, madame, appearances +were saved, as far as you were concerned. I wished simply +to give you a secret lesson, from which the amount of irritation +you show leads me to hope you will profit. Therefore, +I still think I was in the right, and do not repent +what I have done.” +</p> + +<p> +The queen listened, and seemed to calm herself, by an +effort, to prepare for the approaching contest. “Then, +sire,” she said, “you think you need no excuse for +keeping at the door of your castle the daughter of Maria +Theresa, your wife, and the mother of your children? No! +it is in your eyes a pleasantry worthy of a king, and of +which the morality doubles the value. It is nothing to +you, to have forced the Queen of France to pass the night +in this ‘petite maison,’ where the Comte d’Artois receives +the ladies of the Opera and the ‘femmes galantes’ +of your court. Oh no! that is nothing. A philosopher +king is above all such considerations. Only, on this occasion, +I have reason to thank heaven that my brother-in-law +is a dissipated man, as his dissipation has saved me +from disgrace, and his vices have sheltered my honor.” +</p> + +<p> +The king colored, and moved uneasily on his chair. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh yes!” continued the queen, with a bitter laugh, +“I know that you are a moral king, but your morality +produces strange effects. You say that no one knew that +I was out. Will you tell me that M. de Provence, your +instigator, did not know it; or M. le Comte d’Artois—or +my women? who, by my orders, told you falsehoods this +morning; or Laurent—bought by M. d’Artois and by me? +Let us continue this habit, sire; you, to set spies and +Swiss guards; and I, to buy them over and cheat you; +and in a month we will calculate together how much the +dignity of the throne and our marriage has gained by it.” +</p> + +<p> +It was evident that her words had made a great impression +on him to whom they were addressed. +</p> + +<p> +“You know,” said he, in an altered voice, “that I am +always sincere, and willing to acknowledge if I have been +wrong. Will you prove to me that you were right to go +into Paris in sledges, accompanied by a gay party, which, +in the present unhappy state of things, is likely to give +offense? Will you prove to me, that you were right to +disappear in Paris, like maskers at a ball, and only to reappear +scandalously late at night, when every one else +was asleep? You have spoken of the dignity of the +throne, and of marriage; think you that it befits a +queen, a wife, and a mother, to act thus?” +</p> + +<p> +“I will reply in a few words, sire; for it seems to me, +that such accusations merit nothing but contempt. I left +Versailles in a sledge, because it is the quickest way of +getting to Paris at present. I went with Madlle. de +Taverney, whose reputation is certainly one of the purest +in our court. I went to Paris, I repeat, to verify the fact +that the King of France, the great upholder of morality—he +who takes care of poor strangers, warms the beggars, +and earns the gratitude of the people by his charities, +leaves dying of hunger, exposed to every attack of vice +and misery, one of his own family—one who is as much +as himself a descendant of the kings who have reigned in +France.” +</p> + +<p> +“What!” cried the king in surprise. +</p> + +<p> +“I mounted,” continued the queen, “into a garret, +and there saw, without fire, almost without light, and +without money, the granddaughter of a great prince, and +I gave one hundred louis to this victim of royal forgetfulness +and neglect. Then, as I was detained late there, +and as the frost was severe, and horses go slowly over +ice, particularly hackney-coach horses——” +</p> + +<p> +“Hackney-coach horses!” cried the king. “You returned +in a hackney-coach?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, sire—No. 107.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, oh!” said the king, with every sign of vexation. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, and only too happy to get it,” said the queen. +</p> + +<p> +“Madame!” interrupted he, “you are full of noble +feelings; but this impetuous generosity becomes a fault. +Remember,” continued he, “that I never suspected you +of anything that was not perfectly pure and honest: it is +only your mode of acting and adventurous spirit that displease +me. You have, as usual, been doing good, but +the way you set about it makes it injurious to yourself. +This is what I reproach you with. You say that I have +faults to repair—that I have failed in my duty to a +member of my own family. Tell me who the unfortunate +is, and he shall no longer have reason to complain.” +</p> + +<p> +“The name of Valois, sire, is sufficiently illustrious not +to have escaped your memory.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah!” cried Louis, with a shout of laughter, “I know +now whom you mean. La petite Valois, is it not?—a +countess of something or other.” +</p> + +<p> +“De la Motte, sire.” +</p> + +<p> +“Precisely, De la Motte; her husband is a gendarme.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, sire.” +</p> + +<p> +“And his wife is an intrigante. Oh! you need not +trouble yourself about her: she is moving heaven and +earth; she worries my ministers, she teases my aunts, and +overwhelms me with supplications, memorials, and +genealogies.” +</p> + +<p> +“And all this uselessly, sire.” +</p> + +<p> +“I must confess it.” +</p> + +<p> +“Is she, or is she not, a Valois?” +</p> + +<p> +“I believe she is.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, then, I ask an honorable pension for her and +a regiment for her husband. In fact, a decent position +for this branch of the royal family.” +</p> + +<p> +“An honorable pension? Mon Dieu! how you run on, +madame. Do you know what a terrible hole this winter +has made in my funds? A regiment for this little gendarme, +who speculated in marrying a Valois? Why, I +have no regiments to give, even to those who deserve +them, or who can pay for them. An income befitting a +Valois for these people? when we, monarch as we are, +have not one befitting a rich gentleman. Why, M. +d’Orleans has sent his horses and mules to England for +sale, and has cut off a third of his establishment. I have +put down my wolf-hounds, and given up many other +things. We are all on the privation list, great and small.” +</p> + +<p> +“But these Valois must not die of hunger.” +</p> + +<p> +“Have you not just given them one hundred louis?” +</p> + +<p> +“And what is that?” +</p> + +<p> +“A royal gift.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then give such another.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yours will do for us both.” +</p> + +<p> +“No, I want a pension for them.” +</p> + +<p> +“No, I will not bind myself to anything fixed; they +will not let me forget them, and I will give when I have +money to spare. I do not think much of this little Valois.” +</p> + +<p> +Saying these words, Louis held out his hand to the +queen, who, however, turned from him and said, “No, you +are not good to me, and I am angry.” +</p> + +<p> +“You bear malice,” said the king “and I——” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, you shut the gates against me; you come at +half-past six to my room, and force open the door in a +passion.” +</p> + +<p> +“I was not in a passion,” said the king. +</p> + +<p> +“You are not now, you mean.” +</p> + +<p> +“What will you give me if I prove that I was not, even +when I came in?” +</p> + +<p> +“Let me see the proof.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, it is very easy; I have it in my pocket.” +</p> + +<p> +“Bah!” said the queen; but adding, with curiosity, +“You have brought something to give me, but I warn +you I shall not believe you, unless you show it me at +once.” +</p> + +<p> +Then, with a smile full of kindness, the king began +searching in his pockets, with that slowness which makes +the child doubly impatient for his toy, the animal for his +food, and the woman for her present: at last he drew +out a box of red morocco leather, artistically ornamented +in gold. +</p> + +<p> +“A jewel box!” cried the queen. +</p> + +<p> +The king laid it on the bed. +</p> + +<p> +She opened it impatiently, and then called out, “Oh, +mon Dieu! how beautiful!” +</p> + +<p> +The king smiled with delight. “Do you think so?” +said he. +</p> + +<p> +The queen could not answer—she was breathless with +admiration. Then she drew out of the box a necklace of +diamonds, so large, so pure, so glittering, and so even, +that, with sparkling eyes, she cried again, “Oh! it is +magnificent.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then you are content?” said the king. +</p> + +<p> +“Enchanted, sire; you make me too happy.” +</p> + +<p> +“Really?” +</p> + +<p> +“See this first row; the diamonds are as large as filberts, +and so even, you could not tell one from the other; +then how beautifully the gradation of the rows is managed; +the jeweler who made this necklace is an artist.” +</p> + +<p> +“They are two.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then I wager it is Bœhmer and Bossange.” +</p> + +<p> +“You have guessed right.” +</p> + +<p> +“Indeed, no one but they would risk making such a +thing.” +</p> + +<p> +“Madame, take care,” said the king; “you will have +to pay too dear for this necklace.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, sire!” cried the queen, all the delight fading +from her countenance. +</p> + +<p> +“You must pay the price of letting me be the first to +put it on:” and he approached her, holding in his hands +the two ends of the magnificent necklace, of which the +clasp was one great diamond. +</p> + +<p> +She stopped him, saying, “But, sire, is it very dear?” +</p> + +<p> +“Have I not told you the price?” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, Louis, we must not jest. Put the necklace back +again.” +</p> + +<p> +“You refuse to allow me to put it on?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh no, sire, if I were going to wear it.” +</p> + +<p> +“What?” said the king, surprised. +</p> + +<p> +“No,” she said; “no one shall see a necklace of this +price round my neck.” +</p> + +<p> +“You will not wear it?” +</p> + +<p> +“Never.” +</p> + +<p> +“You refuse me.” +</p> + +<p> +“I refuse to wear a million or a million and a half of +francs round my neck, for this necklace must cost that.” +</p> + +<p> +“I do not deny it,” said the king. +</p> + +<p> +“Then I do refuse to wear such a necklace while the +king’s coffers are empty, when he is forced to stint his +charities, and to say to the poor, ‘God help you, for I have +no more to give.’” +</p> + +<p> +“Are you serious in saying this?” +</p> + +<p> +“Listen, sire; M. de Sartines told me a short time since +that with that sum we could build a ship of the line; and +in truth, sire, the king has more need of a ship than the +queen of a necklace.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh!” cried the king, joyfully, and with his eyes full +of tears, “what you do is sublime. Thanks, Antoinette; +you are a good wife!” and he threw his arms round her +neck and kissed her. “Oh! how France will bless you,” +continued he; “and it shall hear what you have done.” +</p> + +<p> +The queen sighed. +</p> + +<p> +“You regret,” said he: “it is not too late.” +</p> + +<p> +“No, sire; shut this case, and return it to the jewelers.” +</p> + +<p> +“But listen, first; I have arranged the terms of payment, +and I have the money.” +</p> + +<p> +“No, I have decided. I will not have the necklace; +but I want something else.” +</p> + +<p> +“Diable! then my 1,600,000 francs are gone, after all.” +</p> + +<p> +“What! it would have cost that?” +</p> + +<p> +“Indeed it would.” +</p> + +<p> +“Reassure yourself; what I ask is much cheaper.” +</p> + +<p> +“What do you wish for?” +</p> + +<p> +“To go to Paris once more.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! that is easy enough, and not dear.” +</p> + +<p> +“But wait——” +</p> + +<p> +“Diable!” +</p> + +<p> +“To the Place Vendôme, to see M. Mesmer.” +</p> + +<p> +“Diable!” again said the king; but added: “Well, as +you have denied yourself the necklace, I suppose I must +let you go; but, on one condition.” +</p> + +<p> +“What?” +</p> + +<p> +“You must be accompanied by a princess of the blood.” +</p> + +<p> +“Shall it be Madame de Lamballe?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, if you like.” +</p> + +<p> +“I promise.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then I consent.” +</p> + +<p> +“Thanks, sire.” +</p> + +<p> +“And, now,” said the king, “I shall order my ship of +the line, and call it the ‘Queen’s Necklace.’ You shall +stand godmother, and then I will send it out to La Pérouse;” +and, kissing his wife’s hand, he went away quite +joyful. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2>CHAPTER VIII.<br/> +THE QUEEN’S PETITE LEVEE.</h2> + +<p> +No sooner was the king gone than the queen rose, and +went to the window. The morning was lovely, and had +the charming feeling of the commencement of spring, +while the sun seemed almost warm. The wind had gone +round to the west, and if it remained in that quarter this +terrible winter was probably at an end. +</p> + +<p> +The snow was beginning to drip from the trees, under +the influence of this genial morning. +</p> + +<p> +“If we wish to profit by the ice,” cried the queen, “I +believe we must make haste; for look, Madame de Misery, +the spring seems to have begun. I much wish to make +up a party on the Swiss lake, and will go to-day, for to-morrow +it may be too late.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then at what hour will your majesty wish to dress?” +</p> + +<p> +“Immediately; I will breakfast and then go.” +</p> + +<p> +“Are there any other orders, madame?” +</p> + +<p> +“See if Madlle. de Taverney has risen, and tell her I +wish to speak to her.” +</p> + +<p> +“She is already waiting for you in the boudoir, madame.” +</p> + +<p> +“Already?” said the queen, who knew at what time +she had gone to bed. +</p> + +<p> +“She has been there for twenty minutes, madame.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ask her to come in.” +</p> + +<p> +Andrée soon entered, dressed with her usual care, and +smiling, though rather unquiet. +</p> + +<p> +The queen’s answering smile quite reassured her. +</p> + +<p> +“Go, my good Misery, and send me Leonard.” +</p> + +<p> +When she was gone, “The king has been charming,” +said the queen to Andrée; “he has laughed, and is quite +disarmed.” +</p> + +<p> +“But does he know, madame?” +</p> + +<p> +“You understand, Andrée, that a woman does not tell +falsehoods when she has done no wrong and is the Queen +of France.” +</p> + +<p> +“Certainly, madame.” +</p> + +<p> +“Still, my dear Andrée, it seems we have been +wrong——” +</p> + +<p> +“Doubtless, madame, but how?” +</p> + +<p> +“Why, in pitying Madame de la Motte; the king dislikes +her, but I confess she pleased me.” +</p> + +<p> +“Here is Leonard,” said Madame de Misery, returning. +</p> + +<p> +The queen seated herself before her silver-gilt toilet-table, +and the celebrated hair-dresser commenced his +operations. +</p> + +<p> +She had the most beautiful hair in the world, and was +fond of looking at it; Leonard knew this, and therefore +with her was always tardy in his movements, that she +might have time to admire it. +</p> + +<p> +Marie Antoinette was looking beautiful that morning: +she was pleased and happy. +</p> + +<p> +Her hair finished, she turned again to Andrée. +</p> + +<p> +“You have not been scolded,” she said; “you are +free: besides, they say every one is afraid of you, because, +like Minerva, you are too wise.” +</p> + +<p> +“I, madame?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, you; but, oh, mon Dieu! how happy you are to +be unmarried, and, above all, to be content to be so.” +</p> + +<p> +Andrée blushed, and tried to smile. +</p> + +<p> +“It is a vow that I have made,” said she. +</p> + +<p> +“And which you will keep, beautiful vestal?” +</p> + +<p> +“I hope so.” +</p> + +<p> +“Apropos,” said the queen, “I remember, that although +unmarried, you have a master since yesterday morning.” +</p> + +<p> +“A master, madame?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, your dear brother; what do you call him?—Philippe, +is it not?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, madame.” +</p> + +<p> +“Has he arrived?” +</p> + +<p> +“He came yesterday.” +</p> + +<p> +“And you have not yet seen him? I took you away +to Paris, selfish that I was; it was unpardonable.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, madame! I pardon you willingly, and Philippe +also.” +</p> + +<p> +“Are you sure?” +</p> + +<p> +“I answer for both of us.” +</p> + +<p> +“How is he?” +</p> + +<p> +“As usual, beautiful and good, madame.” +</p> + +<p> +“How old is he now?” +</p> + +<p> +“Thirty-two.” +</p> + +<p> +“Poor Philippe! do you know that it is fourteen years +since I first met him! But I have not seen him now for +nine or ten.” +</p> + +<p> +“Whenever your majesty pleases to receive him he +will be but too happy to assure you that this long absence +has not altered the sentiment of respectful devotion which +he has ever felt for his queen.” +</p> + +<p> +“I will see him at once.” +</p> + +<p> +“In a quarter of an hour he will be at your majesty’s +feet.” +</p> + +<p> +Scarcely was Andrée gone, when the queen saw reflected +in the glass an arch and laughing face. “My +brother D’Artois,” cried the queen; “how you frightened +me!” +</p> + +<p> +“Good morning, your majesty,” said the young prince; +“how did your majesty pass the night?” +</p> + +<p> +“Very badly, brother.” +</p> + +<p> +“And the morning?” +</p> + +<p> +“Very well.” +</p> + +<p> +“That is the most important; I guessed that all had +gone right, for I have just met the king, and he was +smiling most graciously.” +</p> + +<p> +The queen laughed, and he echoed it. +</p> + +<p> +The queen had just cast off her dressing-gown of India +muslin, and put on her morning dress, when the door +opened and Andrée entered, leading by the hand a handsome +man with a brown complexion, noble black eyes, +profoundly imbued with melancholy, and a soldier-like +carriage. He looked like one of Coypel’s or Gainsborough’s +beautiful portraits. +</p> + +<p> +He was dressed in a dark gray coat, embroidered in +silver, a white cravat, and a dark waistcoat; and this +rather somber style of dress seemed to suit the manly +character of his beauty. +</p> + +<p> +“Your majesty,” said Andrée, “here is my brother.” +</p> + +<p> +Philippe bowed gravely. +</p> + +<p> +The queen, who had until now been looking at his +figure reflected in her mirror, turned round and saluted +him. She was beautiful, with that royal beauty which +made all around her not only partisans of the throne, but +adorers of the woman. She possessed the power of +beauty; and, if we may make use of the inversion, the +beauty of power. Philippe, seeing her smile, and feeling +those limpid eyes, at once soft and proud, fixed upon +him, turned pale, and could hardly restrain his emotion. +</p> + +<p> +“It appears, M. de Taverney,” said she, “that you +pay me your first visit; I thank you for it.” +</p> + +<p> +“Your majesty deigns to forget that it is I who should +give thanks.” +</p> + +<p> +“How many years have passed since we last met, monsieur? +Alas! the most beautiful part of our lives.” +</p> + +<p> +“For me, madame, but not for your majesty, to whom +all days are alike charming.” +</p> + +<p> +“You were then pleased with America, M. de Taverney, +as you remained there so long?” +</p> + +<p> +“Madame,” answered Philippe, “M. de la Fayette, +when he left the New World, had need of an officer in +whom he could place confidence to take the command of +the French auxiliaries. He proposed me, therefore, to +General Washington, who accepted me.” +</p> + +<p> +“It seems,” said the queen, “that this new country +sends us home many heroes.” +</p> + +<p> +“Your majesty does not mean that for me?” asked +Philippe, laughing. +</p> + +<p> +“Why not?” Then turning to the Comte d’Artois, +“See, brother,” she said; “has not M. de Taverney the +look of a hero?” +</p> + +<p> +Philippe, seeing himself thus introduced to the young +prince, bowed low. He returned it, and said, “I am +most happy to make the acquaintance of such a gentleman. +What are your intentions in returning to France, sir?” +</p> + +<p> +“Monseigneur,” answered Philippe, “my sister is my +first consideration; whatever she wishes, I shall do.” +</p> + +<p> +“But she has a father, I believe,” said the count. +</p> + +<p> +“Never mind him,” said the queen, quickly, “I prefer +Andrée under her brother’s protection, and he under +yours, count. You will take charge of M. de Taverney, +will you not?” +</p> + +<p> +The count bowed an assent. +</p> + +<p> +“For, do you know,” continued she, “that a very strong +link binds me to M. de Taverney?” +</p> + +<p> +“What do you mean, sister?” +</p> + +<p> +“That he was the first Frenchman who presented +himself to my eyes when I arrived in this country; and I +had taken a very sincere vow to promote the happiness of +the first Frenchman I should meet.” +</p> + +<p> +Philippe felt the blood rush to his face, and Andrée +looked at him rather sadly. +</p> + +<p> +The queen observed these looks of the brother and +sister, and fancied she divined the cause. “Why,” she +thought, “should not Monsieur de Taverney have partaken +the epidemic passion which pervaded all France for +the dauphiness in 1774?” Marie Antoinette therefore +attributed these looks to some confidence of this kind +which the brother had made to the sister; and in consequence, +she smiled still more upon him, and redoubled +her kindness towards Andrée. +</p> + +<p> +The queen was a true woman, and gloried in being +loved. +</p> + +<p> +It was an innocent coquetry, and the most generous +souls have the most strongly these aspirations for the +love of all who surround them. +</p> + +<p> +Alas! a time is coming for thee, poor queen, when +those smiles towards those who love thee, with which +thou hast been reproached, thou shalt vainly bestow on +those that love thee not! +</p> + +<p> +The Comte d’Artois approached Philippe while the +queen was talking to Andrée, and said, “Do you think +Washington so very great a general?” +</p> + +<p> +“Certainly a great man, monseigneur.” +</p> + +<p> +“And what effect did our French produce out there?” +</p> + +<p> +“As much good as the English did harm.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, you are a partisan of the new ideas, my dear M. +Philippe de Taverney; but have you reflected on one +thing?” +</p> + +<p> +“What, monseigneur? I assure you that out there, +encamped in the fields, and in the savannahs on the borders +of the great lakes, I had plenty of time for reflection.” +</p> + +<p> +“On this, that in making war out there, it was neither +on the Indians nor on the English, but on us.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, monseigneur, I do not deny that that is possible.” +</p> + +<p> +“Therefore I do not admire so much these victories of +M. de la Fayette and Washington. It is egotism, perhaps, +but it is not egotism for myself alone.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, monseigneur!” +</p> + +<p> +“But do you know why I will still support you with all +my power?” +</p> + +<p> +“Whatever be the reason, I shall be truly grateful.” +</p> + +<p> +“It is, because you are not one of those whose names +have been blazoned forth. You have done your duty +bravely, but you have not thrust yourself forward; you +are not known in Paris.” +</p> + +<p> +The young prince then kissed the queen’s hand, and +bowing to Andrée, left the room. +</p> + +<p> +Then the queen turned again to Philippe, saying, +“Have you seen your father, sir?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, madame.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why did you not go to see him first?” +</p> + +<p> +“I had sent home my valet, and my luggage, but my +father sent the servant back again, with orders to present +myself first to you, or the king.” +</p> + +<p> +“It is a lovely morning,” said the queen; “to-morrow +the ice will begin to melt. Madame de Misery, order my +sledge and send my chocolate in here.” +</p> + +<p> +“Will not your majesty take something to eat? You +had no supper last night.” +</p> + +<p> +“You mistake, my good Misery, we had supper. Had +we not, Andrée?” +</p> + +<p> +“A very good one, madame.” +</p> + +<p> +“So I will only have my chocolate. Quick, Madame +de Misery; this fine weather tempts me, and the Swiss +lake will be full of company.” +</p> + +<p> +“Your majesty is going to skate?” asked Philippe. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, you will laugh at us, M. l’Américain; you, who +have traversed lakes where there are more miles than we +have feet here.” +</p> + +<p> +“Madame,” replied Philippe, “here you amuse yourself +with the cold, but there they die of it.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, here is my chocolate; Andrée, take a cup with me.” +</p> + +<p> +Andrée bowed, coloring with pleasure. +</p> + +<p> +“You see, M. de Taverney, I am always the same, +hating all etiquette, as in old times. Do you remember +those old days? Are you changed since then, M. Philippe?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, madame,” replied the young man, “I am not +changed—at least, not in heart.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, I am glad to hear that, for it was a good one. +A cup for M. de Taverney, Madame de Misery.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, madame!” cried Philippe, “you cannot mean it; +such an honor for a poor obscure soldier like me.” +</p> + +<p> +“An old friend,” said the queen; “this day seems to +remind me of my youth; I seem again happy, free, proud +and yet foolish. This day recalls to me that happy time +at my dear Trianon, and all our frolics there, Andrée and +I together. This day brings back to my memory my +roses, my strawberries, and my birds, that I was so fond +of, all, even to my good gardeners, whose happy faces +often announced to me a new flower or a delicious fruit; +and M. de Jussieu and that original old Rousseau, who is +since dead. But come,” continued she, herself pouring +the chocolate into his cup, “you are a soldier, and accustomed +to fire, so burn yourself gloriously with this +chocolate, for I am in a hurry.” +</p> + +<p> +She laughed, but Philippe, taking it seriously, drank it +off most heroically. +</p> + +<p> +The queen saw him, and laughing still more, said, +“You are indeed a perfect hero, M. de Taverney.” She +then rose, and her woman brought her bonnet, ermine +mantle, and gloves. +</p> + +<p> +Philippe took his hat under his arm, and followed her +and Andrée out. +</p> + +<p> +“M. de Taverney, I do not mean you to leave me,” +said the queen. “Come round to my right.” +</p> + +<p> +They went down the great staircase; the drums were +beating, the clarions of the body-guard were playing, and +this whole scene, and the enthusiasm everywhere shown +towards that beautiful queen by whose side he was walking, +completed the intoxication of the young man. The +change was too sudden, after so many years of exile and +regret, to such great joy and honor. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2>CHAPTER IX.<br/> +THE SWISS LAKE.</h2> + +<p> +Every one knows this piece of water, which still goes +by the same name. An avenue of linden trees skirts each +bank, and these avenues were on this day thronged with +pedestrians, of all ranks and ages, who had come to enjoy +the sight of the sledges and the skating. The toilets of +the ladies presented a brilliant spectacle of luxury and +gaiety, their high coiffures, gay bonnets with the veils +half down, fur mantles, and brilliant silks with deep +flounces, were mingled with the orange or blue coats of +the gentlemen. +</p> + +<p> +Gay lackeys also, in blue and red, passed among the +crowd, looking like poppies and cornflowers blown about +by the wind. +</p> + +<p> +Now and then a cry of admiration burst from the +crowd, as St. George, the celebrated skater, executed +some circle so perfect, that a mathematician could scarcely +have found a fault in it. +</p> + +<p> +While the banks of the lake were thus crowded, the ice +itself presented a scene not less gay, and still more animated: +sledges flew about in all directions. Several +dogs, clothed in embroidered velvet, and with plumes of +feathers on their heads, looking like fabulous animals, +drew a sledge in which sat M. de Lauzun, who was +wrapped up in a tiger skin. Here you might see a lady +masked, doubtless on account of the cold, in some sledge +of a quieter character, while a handsome skater, in a +velvet riding-coat, hangs over the back, to assist and +direct her progress; whatever they may be saying to +each other is quite inaudible, amidst this busy hum of +voices; but who can blame a rendezvous which takes +place in the open air, and under the eyes of all Versailles? +and whatever they may be saying matters to no one else: +it is evident that in the midst of this crowd their life is +an isolated one; they think only of each other. +</p> + +<p> +All at once a general movement in the crowd announces +that they have recognized the queen, who is approaching +the lake. A general cry of “Vive la reine!” is heard, +and all endeavor to approach as nearly as possible to the +place where she has stationed herself. One person alone +does not appear to share this feeling, for on her approach +he disappears with all his suite as fast as possible in the +opposite direction. +</p> + +<p> +“Do you see,” said the Comte d’Artois to the queen, +whom he had hastened to join, “how my brother Provence +flies from you?” +</p> + +<p> +“He fears that I should reproach him.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, no; it is not that that makes him fly.” +</p> + +<p> +“It is his conscience, then.” +</p> + +<p> +“Not even that, sister.” +</p> + +<p> +“What then?” +</p> + +<p> +“I will tell you. He had just heard that M. de Suffren, +our glorious commander, will arrive this evening; and +as the news is important, he wishes to leave you in ignorance +of it.” +</p> + +<p> +“But is the Minister of Marine ignorant of this +arrival?” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, mon Dieu, sister, have you not learned enough +of ministers, during the fourteen years you have passed +here, as dauphiness and queen, to know that they are +always ignorant of precisely what they ought to know? +However, I have told him about this, and he is deeply +grateful.” +</p> + +<p> +“I should think so,” said the queen. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, and I have need of his gratitude, for I want a +loan.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh,” cried the queen, laughing, “how disinterested +you are.” +</p> + +<p> +“Sister,” said he, “you must want money; I offer you +half of what I am going to receive.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh no, brother, keep it for yourself; I thank you, +but I want nothing just now.” +</p> + +<p> +“Diable! do not wait too long to claim my promise, +because if you do, I may not be in a condition to fulfil +it.” +</p> + +<p> +“In that case I must endeavor to find out some state +secret for myself.” +</p> + +<p> +“Sister, you begin to look cold.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, here is M. de Taverney returning with my +sledge.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then you do not want me any longer?” +</p> + +<p> +“No.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then send me away, I beg.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why? do you imagine you will be in my way?” +</p> + +<p> +“No; it is I who want my liberty.” +</p> + +<p> +“Adieu, then.” +</p> + +<p> +“Au revoir, dear sister.” +</p> + +<p> +“Till when?” +</p> + +<p> +“Till this evening.” +</p> + +<p> +“Is there anything to take place to-night, then?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes; this evening the minister will bring M. de +Suffren to the jeu du roi.” +</p> + +<p> +“Very well, then, till this evening.” +</p> + +<p> +And the young prince, bowing with his habitual elegance, +disappeared among the crowd. +</p> + +<p> +Old Taverney, who was one of the nearest spectators +of all this, had been watching his son eagerly, and felt +almost chagrined at this conversation between the queen +and her brother-in-law, as it interrupted the familiar +intercourse which his son had before been enjoying; +therefore, when the young man returned with the queen’s +sledge, and, seeing his father, whom he had not met for ten +years, advanced towards him, he motioned him away, +saying, “We will talk afterwards, when you have left +the queen.” +</p> + +<p> +Philippe, therefore, returned to the queen, who was +getting into the sledge with Andrée. Two attendants +approached to push it, but she said, “No; I do not +wish to go like that; you skate, M. de Taverney? +Does he not, Andrée?” +</p> + +<p> +“Philippe used to skate remarkably well,” replied she. +</p> + +<p> +“And now I dare say he rivals St. George,” said the +queen. +</p> + +<p> +“I will do my best to justify your majesty’s opinion,” +said he; and putting on his skates, he placed himself +behind her sledge, and they commenced their course. +</p> + +<p> +St. George, seeing the queen on the ice, began to execute +his most skilful maneuvers, and finished off by going +in circles round her sledge, making the most elegant +bows each time he passed her. +</p> + +<p> +Then Philippe, moved to emulation, began to push +along the sledge with such wonderful rapidity that St. +George found no little difficulty in keeping pace with it. +</p> + +<p> +Several people, however, seeing the queen move at this +marvelous rate, uttered cries of terror. +</p> + +<p> +“If your majesty desires,” said Philippe, “I will stop, +or go slower.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh no!” said she, with that enthusiasm which she +carried into everything; “oh no! I am not at all afraid; +quicker still, chevalier, if you can.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh yes, madame, and you are quite safe; you may +trust to me;” and his vigorous arm propelled them at a +still increased pace. He emulated the circles of St. +George, and flew round as fast with the sledge as could +even that experienced skater without it. +</p> + +<p> +Then, leaving these evolutions, he pushed the sledge +straight before him, and with such force that he himself +remained behind. +</p> + +<p> +St. George, seeing this, made a tremendous effort to +gain the sledge before him, but was distanced by Philippe, +who once more seized it, turned it, and flew in a new +direction. +</p> + +<p> +The air now rang with such acclamations, that Philippe +began to feel ashamed. +</p> + +<p> +Then the queen, who had joined the applause with +her hands, turned round and said to him, “And now, +M. de Taverney, that you have gained the victory, stop, +I beg, or you will kill me.” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2>CHAPTER X.<br/> +THE TEMPTER.</h2> + +<p> +Philippe, at this request of the queen, made a strong +effort, and stopped the sledge abruptly. +</p> + +<p> +“And now, rest yourself,” said she, coming out of it +all trembling. “Indeed, I never could have believed the +delight of going so fast, but you have made me quite +tremble;” and she took Philippe’s arm to support herself, +until a general murmur reminded her that she was +once more committing a breach of etiquette. +</p> + +<p> +As for Philippe, overwhelmed by this great honor, he +felt more ashamed than if his sovereign had insulted him +publicly; he lowered his eyes, and his heart beat as though +it would burst. +</p> + +<p> +The queen, however, withdrew her arm almost immediately, +and asked for a seat. They brought her one. +</p> + +<p> +“Thanks, M. de Taverney,” said she; then, in a lower +tone, “Mon Dieu, how disagreeable it is to be always +surrounded by spying fools!” +</p> + +<p> +A number of ladies and gentlemen soon crowded round +her, and all looked with no little curiosity at Philippe, +who, to hide his confusion, stooped to take off his skates, +and then fell into the background. +</p> + +<p> +After a short time, however, the queen said, “I shall +take cold if I sit here, I must take another turn;” and +she remounted her sledge. +</p> + +<p> +Philippe waited, but in vain, for another order. +</p> + +<p> +Twenty gentlemen soon presented themselves, but she +said, “No, I thank you, I have my attendants;” and +she moved slowly off, while Philippe remained alone. +</p> + +<p> +He looked about for St. George, to console him for his +defeat by some compliment, but he had received a message +from his patron, the duke d’Orleans, and had left +the place. +</p> + +<p> +Philippe, therefore, rather tired, and half frightened +at all that had passed, remained stationary, following with +his eyes the queen’s sledge, which was now at some distance, +when he felt some one touch him; he turned round +and saw his father. +</p> + +<p> +The little old man, more shrunk than ever, enveloped +in furs like a Laplander, had touched his son with his +elbow, that he might not be obliged to take his hands out +of the muff that hung from his neck. +</p> + +<p> +“You do not embrace me, my son,” said he. +</p> + +<p> +“My dear father, I do it with all my heart.” +</p> + +<p> +“And now,” said the old man, “go quickly;” and he +pushed him away. +</p> + +<p> +“Where do you wish me to go, sir?” +</p> + +<p> +“Why, morbleu, over there.” +</p> + +<p> +“Where?” +</p> + +<p> +“To the queen.” +</p> + +<p> +“No, I thank you, father.” +</p> + +<p> +“How? No, I thank you! are you mad? You will +not go after the queen?” +</p> + +<p> +“My dear father, it is impossible!” +</p> + +<p> +“Impossible to join the queen, who is expecting you?” +</p> + +<p> +“Who is expecting me!” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, who wishes for you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Wishes for me? Indeed, father,” added he, coldly, +“I think you forget yourself.” +</p> + +<p> +“It is astonishing!” said the old man, stamping his +foot. “Where on earth do you spring from?” +</p> + +<p> +“Monsieur,” said his son, sadly, “you will make me +conclude one of two things.” +</p> + +<p> +“What?” +</p> + +<p> +“Either that you are laughing at me, or else, excuse +me, that you are losing your senses.” +</p> + +<p> +The old man seized his son by the arm so energetically +that he made him start. “Listen, M. Philippe,” said he; +“America is, I know, a country a long way from this, +and where there is neither king nor queen.” +</p> + +<p> +“Nor subjects.” +</p> + +<p> +“Nor subjects, M. Philosopher; I do not deny it; +that point does not interest me; but what does so is that +I fear also to have to come to a conclusion——” +</p> + +<p> +“What, father?” +</p> + +<p> +“That you are a simpleton, my son; just trouble yourself +to look over there.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, sir!” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, the queen looks back, and it is the third time +she has done so; there! she turns again, and who do you +think she is looking for but for you, M. Puritan?” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, sir,” said the young man; “if it were true, +which it probably is not, that the queen was looking +for——” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh!” interrupted the old man, angrily, “this fellow +is not of my blood; he cannot be a Taverney. Sir, I repeat +to you that the queen is looking for you.” +</p> + +<p> +“You have good sight, sir,” said his son, dryly. +</p> + +<p> +“Come,” said the old man, more gently, and trying to +moderate his impatience, “trust my experience: are you, +or are you not, a man?” +</p> + +<p> +Philippe made no reply. +</p> + +<p> +His father ground his teeth with anger, to see himself +opposed by this steadfast will; but making one more +effort, “Philippe, my son,” said he, still more gently, +“listen to me.” +</p> + +<p> +“It seems to me, sir, that I have been doing nothing +else for the last quarter of an hour.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh,” thought the old man, “I will draw you down +from your stilts. I will find out your weak side.” Then +aloud, “You have overlooked one thing, Philippe.” +</p> + +<p> +“What, sir?” +</p> + +<p> +“When you left for America, there was a king, but no +queen, if it were not the Dubarry; hardly a respectable +sovereign. You come back and see a queen, and you +think you must be very respectful.” +</p> + +<p> +“Doubtless.” +</p> + +<p> +“Poor child!” said his father, laughing. +</p> + +<p> +“How, sir? You blame me for respecting the monarchy—you, +a Taverney Maison-Rouge, one of the best names +in France.” +</p> + +<p> +“I do not speak of the monarchy, but only of the +queen.” +</p> + +<p> +“And you make a difference?” +</p> + +<p> +“Pardieu, I should think so. What is royalty? a crown +that is unapproachable. But what is a queen? a woman, +and she, on the contrary, is very approachable.” +</p> + +<p> +Philippe made a gesture of disgust. +</p> + +<p> +“You do not believe me,” continued the old man, almost +fiercely; “well, ask M. de Coigny, ask M. de Lauzun, or +M. de Vaudreuil.” +</p> + +<p> +“Silence, father!” cried Philippe; “or for these three +blasphemies, not being able to strike you three blows with +my sword, I shall strike them on myself.” +</p> + +<p> +The old man stepped back, murmuring, “Mon Dieu, +what a stupid animal! Good evening, son; you rejoice +me; I thought I was the father, the old man, but now I +think it is I who must be the young Apollo, and you the +old man;” and he turned away. +</p> + +<p> +Philippe stopped him: “You did not speak seriously, +did you, father? It is impossible that a gentleman of +good blood like you should give ear to these calumnies, +spread by the enemies, not only of the queen, but of the +throne.” +</p> + +<p> +“He will not believe, the double mule!” said the old +man. +</p> + +<p> +“You speak to me as you would speak before God?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, truly.” +</p> + +<p> +“Before God, whom you approach every day?” +</p> + +<p> +“It seems to me, my son,” replied he, “that I am a +gentleman, and that you may believe my word.” +</p> + +<p> +“It is, then, your opinion that the queen has had +lovers?” +</p> + +<p> +“Certainly.” +</p> + +<p> +“Those whom you have named?” +</p> + +<p> +“And others, for what I know. Ask all the town and +the court. One must be just returned from America to +be ignorant of all they say.” +</p> + +<p> +“And who say this, sir? some vile pamphleteers!” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! do you, then, take me for an editor?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, and there is the mischief, when men like you repeat +such calumnies, which, without that, would melt +away like the unwholesome vapors which sometimes obscure +the most brilliant sunshine; but people like you, +repeating them, give them a terrible stability. Oh! +monsieur, for mercy’s sake do not repeat such things.” +</p> + +<p> +“I do repeat them, however.” +</p> + +<p> +“And why do you repeat them?” cried Philippe, +fiercely. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh!” said the old man with his satanic laugh, “to +prove to you that I was not wrong when I said, ‘Philippe, +the queen looks back; she is looking for you. Philippe, +the queen wishes for you; run to her.’” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! father, hold your tongue, or you will drive me +mad.” +</p> + +<p> +“Really, Philippe, I do not understand you. Is it a +crime to love? It shows that one has a heart; and in +the eyes of this woman, in her voice, in everything, can +you not read her heart? She loves; is it you? or is it +another? I know not, but believe in my own experience: +at this moment she loves, or is beginning to love, some +one. But you are a philosopher, a Puritan, a Quaker, +an American; you do not love; well, then, let her look; +let her turn again and again; despise her, Philippe, I +should say Joseph de Taverney.” +</p> + +<p> +The old man hurried away, satisfied with the effect he +had produced, and fled like the serpent who was the first +tempter into crime. +</p> + +<p> +Philippe remained alone, his heart swelling and his +blood boiling. He remained fixed in his place for about +half an hour, when the queen, having finished her +tour, returned to where he stood, and called out to +him: +</p> + +<p> +“You must be rested now, M. de Taverney; come, +then, for there is no one like you to guide a queen +royally.” +</p> + +<p> +Philippe ran to her, giddy, and hardly knowing what +he did. He placed his hand on the back of the sledge, +but started as though he had burned his fingers; the +queen had thrown herself negligently back in the sledge, +and the fingers of the young man touched the locks of +Marie Antoinette. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2>CHAPTER XI.<br/> +M. DE SUFFREN.</h2> + +<p> +Contrary to the usual habits of a court, the secret +had been faithfully confined to Louis XVI. and the +Comte d’Artois. No one knew at what time or hour M. +de Suffren would arrive. +</p> + +<p> +The king had announced his jeu du roi for the evening; +and at seven o’clock he entered, with ten princes +and princesses of his family. The queen came holding +the princess royal, now about seven years old, by the +hand. The assembly was numerous and brilliant. The +Comte d’Artois approached the queen, and said, “Look +around you, madame.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well?” +</p> + +<p> +“What do you see?” +</p> + +<p> +The queen looked all around, and then said, “I see +nothing but happy and friendly faces.” +</p> + +<p> +“Rather, then, whom do you not see?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! I understand; I wonder if he is always going +to run away from me.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh no! only this is a good joke; M. de Provence +has gone to wait at the barrier for M. de Suffren.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, I do not see why you laugh at that; he has +been the most cunning, after all, and will be the first to +receive and pay his compliments to this gentleman.” +</p> + +<p> +“Come, dear sister,” replied the young prince, laughing, +“you have a very mean opinion of our diplomacy. +M. de Provence has gone to meet him at Fontainebleau; +but we have sent some one to meet him at Villejuif, so +that my brother will wait by himself at Fontainebleau, +while our messenger will conduct M. de Suffren straight +to Versailles, without passing through Paris at all.” +</p> + +<p> +“That is excellently imagined.” +</p> + +<p> +“It is not bad, I flatter myself; but it is your turn to +play.” +</p> + +<p> +The king had noticed that M. d’Artois was making +the queen laugh, and guessing what it was about, gave +them a significant glance, to show that he shared their +amusement. +</p> + +<p> +The saloon where they played was full of persons of +the highest rank—M. de Condé, M. de Penthièvre, M. +de Tremouille, etc. The news of the arrival of M. de +Suffren had, as we have said, been kept quiet, but there +had been a kind of vague rumor that some one was expected, +and all were somewhat preoccupied and watchful. +Even the king, who was in the habit of playing six-franc +pieces in order to moderate the play of the court, played +gold without thinking of it. +</p> + +<p> +The queen, however, to all appearances entered, as +usual, eagerly into the game. +</p> + +<p> +Philippe, who, with his sister, was admitted to the +party, in vain endeavored to shake from his mind his +father’s words. He asked himself if indeed this old man, +who had seen so much of courts, was not right; and if +his own ideas were indeed those of a Puritan, and belonging +to another land. This queen, so charming, so +beautiful, and so friendly towards him, was she indeed +only a terrible coquette, anxious to add one lover more +to her list, as the entomologist transfixes a new insect +or butterfly, without thinking of the tortures of the poor +creature whose heart he is piercing? “Coigny, Vaudreuil,” +repeated he to himself, “they loved the queen, and +were loved by her. Oh, why does this calumny haunt +me so, or why will not some ray of light discover to me +the heart of this woman?” +</p> + +<p> +Then Philippe turned his eyes to the other end of the +table, where, by a strange chance, these gentlemen were +sitting side by side, and both seemingly equally forgetful +of, and insensible to, the queen; and he thought that it +was impossible that these men could have loved and be +so calm, or that they could have been loved and seem so +forgetful. From them he turned to look at Marie Antoinette +herself and interrogated that pure forehead, that +haughty mouth, and beautiful face; and the answer they +all seemed to give him was: calumnies, all calumnies, +these rumors, originating only in the hates and jealousies +of a court. +</p> + +<p> +While he was coming to these conclusions the clock +struck a quarter to eight, and at that moment a great +noise of footsteps and the sound of many voices were +heard on the staircase. The king, hearing it, signed to +the queen, and they both rose and broke up the game. +She then passed into the great reception-hall, and the +king followed her. +</p> + +<p> +An aide-de-camp of M. de Castries, Minister of Marine, +approached the king and said something in a low tone, +when M. de Castries himself entered, and said aloud, +“Will your majesty receive M. de Suffren, who has +arrived from Toulon?” +</p> + +<p> +At this name a general movement took place in the +assembly. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, sir,” said the king, “with great pleasure;” and +M. de Castries left the room. +</p> + +<p> +To explain this interest for M. de Suffren, and why +king, queen, princes, and ministers contended who should +be the first to receive him, a few words will suffice. +</p> + +<p> +Suffren is a name essentially French, like Turenne or +Jean Bart. Since the last war with England, M. de +Suffren had fought seven great naval battles without sustaining +a defeat. He had taken Trincomalee and Gondeleur, +scoured the seas, and taught the Nabob Hyder +Ali that France was the first Power in Europe. He had +carried into his profession all the skill of an able diplomatist, +all the bravery and all the tactics of a soldier, +and all the prudence of a wise ruler. Hardy, indefatigable, +and proud when the honor of the French nation was +in question, he had harassed the English, by land and by +sea, till even these fierce islanders were afraid of him. +</p> + +<p> +But after the battle, in which he risked his life like +the meanest sailor, he ever showed himself humane, generous, +and compassionate. He was now about fifty-six +years of age, stout and short, but with an eye of fire +and a noble carriage, and, like a man accustomed to surmount +all difficulties, he had dressed in his traveling-carriage. +</p> + +<p> +He wore a blue coat embroidered with gold, a red waistcoat, +and blue trousers. +</p> + +<p> +All the guards through whom he had passed, when he +was named to them by M. de Castries, had saluted him +as they would have done a king. +</p> + +<p> +“M. de Suffren,” said the king when he entered, +“welcome to Versailles; you bring glory with you.” +</p> + +<p> +M. de Suffren bent his knee to the king, who, however, +raised him and embraced him cordially; then, turning to +the queen, “Madame,” said he, “here is M. de Suffren, +the victor of Trincomalee and Gondeleur, and the terror +of the English.” +</p> + +<p> +“Monsieur,” said the queen, “I wish you to know that +you have not fired a shot for the glory of France but my +heart has beaten with admiration and gratitude.” +</p> + +<p> +When she ceased, the Comte d’Artois approached with +his son, the Duc d’Angoulême. +</p> + +<p> +“My son,” said he, “you see a hero; look at him +well, for it is a rare sight.” +</p> + +<p> +“Monseigneur,” replied the young prince, “I have +read about the great men in Plutarch, but I could not +see them; I thank you for showing me M. de Suffren.” +</p> + +<p> +The king now took the arm of M. de Suffren, in order +to lead him to his study, and talk to him of his travels; +but he made a respectful resistance. +</p> + +<p> +“Sire,” said he, “will your majesty permit me——” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! whatever you wish, sir.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then, sire, one of my officers has committed so grave +a fault against discipline, that I thought your majesty +ought to be sole judge of the offense.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, M. de Suffren, I had hoped your first request +would have been a favor, and not a punishment.” +</p> + +<p> +“Your majesty, as I have had the honor to say, shall +judge what ought to be done. In the last battle the officer +of whom I speak was on board <i>La Sévère</i>.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, the ship that struck her flag!” cried the king, +frowning. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, sire. The captain of <i>La Sévère</i> had indeed +struck his flag, and already Sir Hugh, the English admiral, +had despatched a boat to take possession of his +prize, when the lieutenant in command of the guns of +the middle deck, perceiving that the firing above had +ceased, and having received orders to stop his own fire, +went on deck, saw the flag lowered, and the captain ready +to surrender. At this sight, sir, all his French blood revolted, +he took the flag which lay there, and, seizing a +hammer, ordered the men to recommence the fire, while +he nailed it to the mast. It was by this action, sire, that +<i>La Sévère</i> was preserved to your majesty.” +</p> + +<p> +“A splendid action!” cried the king and queen simultaneously. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, sire—yes, madame, but a grave fault against +discipline. The order had been given by the captain, and +the lieutenant ought to have obeyed. I, however, ask +for the pardon of the officer, and the more so as he is my +own nephew.” +</p> + +<p> +“Your nephew!” cried the king; “and you have +never mentioned him!” +</p> + +<p> +“Not to you, sire; but I made my report to the ministers, +begging them to say nothing about it until I had +obtained his pardon from your majesty.” +</p> + +<p> +“It is granted,” said the king. “I promise beforehand +my protection to all who may violate discipline in +such a cause. You must present this officer to me, M. +de Suffren.” +</p> + +<p> +M. de Suffren turned. “Approach, M. de Charny,” +he said. +</p> + +<p> +The queen started at the sound of this name, which she +had so recently heard. A young officer advanced from +the crowd, and presented himself before the king. +</p> + +<p> +The queen and Andrée looked anxiously at each other; +but M. de Charny bowed before the king almost without +raising his eyes, and, after kissing his hand, retired again, +without seeming to have observed the queen. +</p> + +<p> +“Come now, M. de Suffren,” said the king, “and let +us converse; I am impatient to hear all your adventures.” +But before leaving the room he turned to the queen and +said. “Apropos, madame, I am going to have built, as +you know, a ship of one hundred guns, and I think of +changing the name we had destined for it, and of calling +it instead——” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh yes!” cried Marie Antoinette, catching his +thought, “we will call it <i>Le Suffren</i>, and I will still stand +sponsor.” +</p> + +<p> +“Vive le roi! vive la reine!” cried all. +</p> + +<p> +“And vive M. de Suffren!” added the king, and then +left the room with him. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2>CHAPTER XII.<br/> +M. DE CHARNY.</h2> + +<p> +M. de Suffren had requested his nephew to wait his +return, and he therefore remained in the group as before. +</p> + +<p> +The queen, speaking low to Andrée, and glancing towards +him, said: “It is he, there is no doubt.” +</p> + +<p> +“Mon Dieu! yes, madame, it is he indeed.” +</p> + +<p> +At this moment the door opened, and a gentleman +dressed in the robes of a cardinal, and followed by a long +train of officers and prelates, entered the room. +</p> + +<p> +The queen immediately recognized M. de Rohan, and +turned away her head, without taking the trouble to hide +the frown which overspread her face. +</p> + +<p> +He crossed the room without stopping to speak to any +one, and, coming straight up to her, bowed to her more +as a man of the world bows to a lady than as a subject to +a queen, and then addressed some rather high-flown compliments +to her; but she scarcely looked at him, and, +after murmuring a few cold words in reply, began to talk +to Madame de Lamballe. +</p> + +<p> +The cardinal did not seem to notice this chilling reception, +but bowed again, and retired without appearing +in the least disconcerted. +</p> + +<p> +He then turned to the king’s aunts, from whom he met +with a reception as cordial as the queen’s had been the +reverse. The Cardinal Louis de Rohan was a man in the +prime of life, and of an imposing figure and noble bearing; +his eyes shone with intelligence, his mouth was well +cut and handsome, and his hands were beautiful. A +premature baldness indicated either a man of pleasure or +a studious one—and he was both. He was a man no +little sought after by the ladies, and was noted for his +magnificent style of living; indeed, he had found the +way to feel himself poor with an income of 1,600,000 +francs. +</p> + +<p> +The king liked him for his learning, but the queen +hated him. The reasons for this hate were twofold: +first, when ambassador to Vienna, he had written to +Louis XV. letters so full of sarcasm on Maria Theresa, +that her daughter had never forgiven him; and he had +also written letters opposing her marriage, which had +been read aloud by Louis XV. at a supper at Madame +Dubarry’s. The embassy at Vienna had been taken from +M. de Breteuil and given to M. de Rohan; the former +gentleman, not strong enough to revenge himself alone, +had procured copies of these letters, which he had +laid before the dauphiness, thus making her the eternal +enemy of M. de Rohan. +</p> + +<p> +This hatred rendered the cardinal’s position at court +not a little uncomfortable. Every time he presented +himself before the queen, he met with the same discouraging +reception. In spite of this, he neglected no +occasion of being near her, for which he had frequent +opportunities, as he was chaplain to the court; and he +never complained of the treatment he received. A circle +of friends, among whom the Baron de Planta was the +most intimate, helped to console him for these royal +rebuffs; not to speak of the ladies of the court, who +by no means imitated the severity of the queen towards +him. +</p> + +<p> +When he was gone, Marie Antoinette recovered her +serenity, and said to Madame de Lamballe: +</p> + +<p> +“Do you not think that this action of the nephew of +M. de Suffren is one of the most remarkable of the war? +What is his name, by the bye?” +</p> + +<p> +“M. de Charny, I believe,” replied the princess. +“Was it not?” she said, turning to Andrée. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, your highness.” +</p> + +<p> +“M. de Charny shall describe it to us himself,” said +the queen. “Is he still here? Let him be sought for.” +</p> + +<p> +An officer who stood near hastened to obey her, and +immediately returned with M. de Charny, and the circle +round the queen made way for him to approach. +</p> + +<p> +He was a young man, about eight-and-twenty, tall and +well made; his face, animated and yet sweet, took a +character of singular energy when he spoke, and dilated +his large blue eyes; and he was, strange to say, for one +who had been fighting in India, as fair as Philippe was +dark. +</p> + +<p> +When he had approached the place where the queen +sat, with Madlle. de Taverney standing near her, he did +not betray his surprise in any way, although it must +have been great, in recognizing the ladies of the evening +before. He did not look up until she addressed him, +saying: +</p> + +<p> +“M. de Charny, these ladies experience the natural +desire, which I share with them, to hear from yourself all +the details of this action of your ship.” +</p> + +<p> +“Madame,” replied the young officer, “I beg your +majesty to spare me the recital, not from modesty, but +from humanity. What I did as lieutenant, a dozen other +officers doubtless wished to do, only I was the first to put +it in execution; and it is not worthy being made the +subject of a narration to your majesty. Besides, the +captain of <i>La Sévère</i> is a brave officer, who on that day +lost his presence of mind. Alas, madame, we all know +that the most courageous are not always equally brave. +He wanted but ten minutes to recover himself; my determination +not to surrender gave him the breathing +time, his natural courage returned to him, and he showed +himself the bravest of us all. Therefore I beg your +majesty not to exaggerate the merit of my action, and +thereby crush this deserving officer, who deplores incessantly +the failing of a few moments.” +</p> + +<p> +“Right!” said the queen, touched by these generous +words; “you are a true gentleman, M. de Charny, and +such I already know you to be.” +</p> + +<p> +The young man colored crimson, and looked almost +frightened at Andrée, fearing what the queen’s rash +generosity might lead her to say. +</p> + +<p> +“For,” continued the intrepid queen, “I must tell you +all, that this is not the first time I have heard of M. de +Charny, who deserves to be known and admired by all +ladies; and to show you that he is as indulgent to our +sex as he is merciless to his enemies, I will relate a little +history of him which does him the greatest honor.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, madame!” stammered the young man, who felt +as if he would have given a year of his life to be back in +the West Indies. +</p> + +<p> +“This, then, is it,” continued the queen, to her eager +listeners: “two ladies, whom I know, were detained out +late and became embarrassed in a crowd; they ran a +great risk, a real danger awaited them; M. de Charny +happily passed by at the moment: he dispersed the +crowd, and, although they were unknown to him, and it +was impossible to recognize their rank, took them under +his protection, and escorted them a long way, ten miles +from Paris, I believe.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! your majesty exaggerates,” said M. de Charny, +laughing, and now quite reassured. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, we will call it five,” said the Count d’Artois, +suddenly joining in the conversation. +</p> + +<p> +“Let it be five, then, brother,” said the queen; “but +the most admirable part of the story is, that M. de Charny +did not seek even to know the names of these ladies whom +he had served, but left them at the place where they +wished to stop, and went away without even looking back, +so that they escaped from his protection without even a +moment’s disquietude.” +</p> + +<p> +All expressed their admiration. +</p> + +<p> +“A knight of the round table could not have acted +better,” her majesty went on; “and so, M. de Charny, as +the king will doubtless take upon himself to reward M. +de Suffren, I, for my part, wish to do something for the +nephew of this great man.” +</p> + +<p> +As she spoke, she held out her hand to him, and +Charny, pale with joy, pressed his lips to this beautiful +hand, while Philippe looked on from an obscure corner, +pale with an opposite emotion. +</p> + +<p> +The voice of M. d’Artois interrupted this scene, saying +loudly, “Ah, Provence! you come too late! you have +missed a fine sight, the reception of M. de Suffren. +Really, it was one that a Frenchman can never forget. +How the devil did it happen that you were not here—you +who are generally the punctual man par excellence?” +</p> + +<p> +M. de Provence bit his lips with vexation, and whispered +to M. de Favras, his captain of the guards, “How does it +come to pass that he is here?” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah! monseigneur, I have been asking myself that +question for the last hour, and have not yet found an +answer.” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2>CHAPTER XIII.<br/> +THE ONE HUNDRED LOUIS OF THE QUEEN.</h2> + +<p> +Now we have introduced the principal characters of +this history to our readers, and have taken them both into +the “petite maison” of the Comte d’Artois and into +the king’s palace at Versailles, we will return to that +house in the Rue St. Claude where we saw the queen +enter incognito with Mademoiselle Andrée de Taverney. +</p> + +<p> +We left Madame de la Motte counting over and delighted +with her fifty double louis; next to the pleasure +of having them, she knew no greater than that of displaying +them, and having no one else, she called Dame +Clotilde, who was still in the ante-chamber. +</p> + +<p> +When she entered, “Come and look here!” said her +mistress. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, madame!” cried the old woman, clasping her +hands in astonishment. +</p> + +<p> +“You were uneasy about your wages,” said the countess. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, madame! I never said that; I only asked +madame if she could pay me, as I had received nothing +for three months.” +</p> + +<p> +“Do you think there is enough there to pay you?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! madame, if I had all that, I should be rich for +the rest of my life. But in what will madame spend all that?” +</p> + +<p> +“In everything.” +</p> + +<p> +“The first thing, I think, madame, will be to furnish +the kitchen, for you will have good dinners cooked now.” +</p> + +<p> +“Listen!” said Madame de la Motte; “someone +knocks.” +</p> + +<p> +“I did not hear it,” said the old woman. +</p> + +<p> +“But I tell you that I did; so go at once.” She hastily +gathered up her money, and put it into a drawer, murmuring, +“Oh! if Providence will but send me another +such a visitor.” Then she heard the steps of a man below, +but could not distinguish what he said. Soon however, +the door opened, and Clotilde came in with a letter. +</p> + +<p> +The countess examined it attentively, and asked, “Was +this brought by a servant?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, madame.” +</p> + +<p> +“In livery?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, madame.” +</p> + +<p> +“I know these arms, surely,” said Jeanne to herself. +“Who can it be from? but the letter will soon show for +itself;” and opening it, she read: “Madame, the person +to whom you wrote will see you to-morrow evening, if it +be agreeable to you to remain at home for that purpose;” +and that was all. “I have written to so many people,” +thought the countess. “Is this a man or a woman? The +writing is no guide, nor is the style; it might come from +either. Who is it that uses these arms? Oh! I remember +now—the arms of the Rohans. Yes, I wrote to M. +de Guémenée, and to M. de Rohan; it is one of them: +but the shield is not quartered—it is therefore the cardinal. +Ah! Monsieur de Rohan, the man of gallantry, the +fine gentleman, and the ambitious one; he will come to +see Jeanne de la Motte, if it be agreeable to her. Oh, +yes! M. de Rohan, it is very agreeable. A charitable +lady who gives a hundred louis may be received in a garret, +freeze in my cold room, and suffer on my hard chair; +but a clerical prince, a lady’s man, that is quite another +thing. We must have luxury to greet him.” +</p> + +<p> +Then, turning to Clotilde, who was getting her bed +ready, she said: “Be sure to call me early to-morrow +morning;” and when she did retire to rest, so absorbed +was she in her expectations and plans, that it was nearly +three o’clock before she fell asleep; nevertheless, she was +quite ready when Dame Clotilde called her according to +her directions early in the morning, and had finished her +toilet by eight o’clock, although this day it consisted of +an elegant silk dress, and her hair was elaborately dressed. +</p> + +<p> +She sent Clotilde for a coach, and ordered the man to +drive to the Place Royale, where, under one of the arcades, +was the shop of M. Fingret, an upholsterer and +decorator, and who had furniture always ready for sale or +hire. +</p> + +<p> +She entered his immense show-rooms, of which the walls +were hung with different tapestries, and the ceiling completely +hidden by the number of chandeliers and lamps +that hung from it. On the ground were furniture, carpets, +and cornices of every fashion and description. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2>CHAPTER XIV.<br/> +M. FINGRET.</h2> + +<p> +Madame de la Motte, looking at all this, began to +perceive how much she wanted. She wanted a drawing-room +to hold sofas and lounging-chairs; a dining-room +for tables and sideboards; and a boudoir for Persian +curtains, screens, and knick-knacks; above all, she +wanted the money to buy all these things. But in Paris, +whatever you cannot afford to buy, you can hire; and +Madame de la Motte set her heart on a set of furniture +covered in yellow silk, with gilt nails, which she thought +would be very becoming to her dark complexion. But +this furniture she felt sure would never go into her rooms +on the fifth story; it would be necessary to hire the third, +which was composed of an ante-chamber, a dining-room, +small drawing-room, and bedroom, so that she might, she +thought, receive on this third story the visits of the cardinal, +and on the fifth those of ladies of charity—that is +to say, receive in luxury those who give from ostentation, +and in poverty those who only desire to give when it is +needed. +</p> + +<p> +The countess, having made all these reflections, turned +to where M. Fingret himself stood, with his hat in his +hand, waiting for her commands. +</p> + +<p> +“Madame?” said he in a tone of interrogation, advancing +towards her. +</p> + +<p> +“Madame la Comtesse de la Motte Valois,” said Jeanne. +</p> + +<p> +At this high-sounding name M. Fingret bowed low, +and said: “But there is nothing in this room worthy +Madame la Comtesse’s inspection. If madame will take +the trouble to step into the next one, she will see what +is new and beautiful.” +</p> + +<p> +Jeanne colored. All this had seemed so splendid to +her, too splendid even to hope to possess it; and this +high opinion of M. Fingret’s concerning her perplexed +her not a little. She regretted that she had not announced +herself as a simple bourgeoise; but it was necessary +to speak, so she said, “I do not wish for new furniture.” +</p> + +<p> +“Madame has doubtless some friend’s apartments to +furnish?” +</p> + +<p> +“Just so,” she replied. +</p> + +<p> +“Will madame, then, choose?” said M. Fingret, who +did not care whether he sold new or old, as he gained +equally by both. +</p> + +<p> +“This set,” said Jeanne, pointing to the yellow silk one. +</p> + +<p> +“That is such a small set, madame.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, the rooms are small.” +</p> + +<p> +“It is nearly new, as madame may see.” +</p> + +<p> +“But the price?” +</p> + +<p> +“Eight hundred francs.” +</p> + +<p> +The price made the countess tremble; and how was +she to confess that a countess was content with second-hand +things, and then could not afford to pay eight hundred +francs for them? She therefore thought the best +thing was to appear angry, and said: “Who thinks of +buying, sir? Who do you think would buy such old +things? I only want to hire.” +</p> + +<p> +Fingret made a grimace; his customer began gradually +to lose her value in his eyes. She did not want to buy +new things, only to hire old ones, “You wish it for a +year?” he asked. +</p> + +<p> +“No, only for a month. It is for some one coming +from the country.” +</p> + +<p> +“It will be one hundred francs a month.” +</p> + +<p> +“You jest, surely, monsieur; why, in eight months I +should have paid the full price of it.” +</p> + +<p> +“Granted, Madame la Comtesse.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, is not that too bad?” +</p> + +<p> +“I shall have the expense of doing it up again when +you return it.” +</p> + +<p> +Madame de la Motte reflected. “One hundred francs a +month is very dear, certainly; but either I can return it at +the end of that time and say it is too dear, or I shall then +perhaps be in a situation to buy.” +</p> + +<p> +“I will take it,” she said, “with curtains to match.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, madame.” +</p> + +<p> +“And carpets.” +</p> + +<p> +“Here they are.” +</p> + +<p> +“What can you give me for another room?” +</p> + +<p> +“These oak chairs, this table with twisted legs, and +green damask curtains.” +</p> + +<p> +“And for a bedroom?” +</p> + +<p> +“A large and handsome bed, a counterpane of velvet +embroidered in rose-color and silver, an excellent couch, +and blue curtains.” +</p> + +<p> +“And for my dressing-room?” +</p> + +<p> +“A toilet-table hung with Mechlin lace; chest of +drawers with marqueterie; sofa and chairs of tapestry. +The whole came from the bedroom of Madame de Pompadour +at Choisy.” +</p> + +<p> +“All this for what price?” +</p> + +<p> +“For a month?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes.” +</p> + +<p> +“Four hundred francs.” +</p> + +<p> +“Come, Monsieur Fingret, do not take me for a grisette +who is dazzled by your fine descriptions. Please to +reflect that you are asking at the rate of four thousand +eight hundred francs a year, and for that I can take a +whole furnished house. You disgust me with the Place +Royale.” +</p> + +<p> +“I am very sorry, madame.” +</p> + +<p> +“Prove it, then; I will only give half that price.” +Jeanne pronounced these words with so much authority +that the merchant began again to think she might be +worth conciliating. +</p> + +<p> +“So be it, then, madame.” +</p> + +<p> +“And on one condition, M. Fingret.” +</p> + +<p> +“What, madame?” +</p> + +<p> +“That everything be arranged in its proper place by +three o’clock.” +</p> + +<p> +“But consider, madame, it is now ten.” +</p> + +<p> +“Can you do it or not?” +</p> + +<p> +“Where must they go to?” +</p> + +<p> +“Rue St. Claude.” +</p> + +<p> +“Close by?” +</p> + +<p> +“Precisely.” +</p> + +<p> +The upholsterer opened a door, and called, “Sylvain! +Landry! Rémy!” +</p> + +<p> +Three men answered to the call. +</p> + +<p> +“The carts and the trucks instantly. Rémy, you +shall take this yellow furniture; Sylvain, you take that +for the dining-room; and you, Landry, that for the +bedroom. Here is the bill, madame; shall I receipt +it?” +</p> + +<p> +“Here are six double louis,” she said, “and you can +give the change to these men if the order is completed in +time;” and, having given her address, she reentered her +coach. +</p> + +<p> +On her return she engaged the third floor, and in a +few hours all was in order. +</p> + +<p> +The lodgings thus transformed, the windows cleaned, +and the fires lighted, Jeanne went again to her toilet, which +she made as recherché as possible, and then took a last +look at all the delights around her. Nothing had been +forgotten: there were gilded branches from the walls for +wax-lights, and glass lusters on each side of the mirror; +Jeanne had also added flowers, to complete the embellishment +of the paradise in which she intended to receive his +eminence. She took care even to leave the door of the +bedroom a little open, through which the light of a bright +fire gave a glimpse of the luxuries within. +</p> + +<p> +All these preparations completed, she seated herself in +a chair by the fire, with a book in her hand, listening +eagerly to the sound of every carriage that passed; but +nine, ten, and eleven o’clock struck, and no one came. +Still she did not despair; it was not too late for a gallant +prelate, who had probably been first to some supper, +and would come to her from there. But at last twelve +struck; no one appeared, the lights were burning low, +and the old servant, after many lamentations over her +new cap, had fallen asleep in her chair. +</p> + +<p> +At half-past twelve Jeanne rose furious from her chair, +looked out of window for the hundredth time, and, seeing +no one near, undressed herself and went to bed, refusing +supper, or to answer any of the remarks made to +her by Clotilde; and on her sumptuous bed, under her +beautiful curtains, she experienced no better rest than +she had on the previous night. At last, however, her +anger began a little to abate, and she commenced framing +excuses for the cardinal. He had so much to occupy +him, he must have been detained, and, most potent of all, +he had not yet seen her. She would not have been so +easily consoled if he had broken the promise of a second +visit. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2>CHAPTER XV.<br/> +THE CARDINAL DE ROHAN.</h2> + +<p> +The next evening Jeanne, not discouraged, renewed all +her preparations of the night before; and on this occasion +she had no time to grow impatient, for at seven +o’clock a carriage drove up to the door, from which a +gentleman got out. At the sound of the door-bell +Jeanne’s heart beat so loud that you might almost have +heard it; however, she composed herself as well as she +could, and in a few minutes Clotilde opened the door, and +announced the person who had written the day before +yesterday. +</p> + +<p> +“Let him come in,” said Jeanne; and a gentleman +dressed in silk and velvet, and with a lofty carriage, entered +the room. +</p> + +<p> +Jeanne made a step forward, and said: “To whom +have I the honor of speaking?” +</p> + +<p> +“I am the Cardinal de Rohan,” he replied; at which +Madame de la Motte, feigning to be overwhelmed with the +honor, courtesied, as though he were a king. Then she +advanced an armchair for him, and placed herself in another. +</p> + +<p> +The cardinal laid his hat on the table, and, looking at +Jeanne, began: “It is, then, true, mademoiselle——” +</p> + +<p> +“Madame,” interrupted Jeanne. +</p> + +<p> +“Pardon me; I forgot.” +</p> + +<p> +“My husband is called De la Motte, monseigneur.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, yes; a gendarme, is he not?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, sir.” +</p> + +<p> +“And you, madame, are a Valois?” +</p> + +<p> +“I am, monseigneur.” +</p> + +<p> +“A great name,” said the cardinal, “but rare—believed +extinct.” +</p> + +<p> +“Not extinct, sir, since I bear it, and as I have a +brother, Baron de Valois.” +</p> + +<p> +“Recognized?” +</p> + +<p> +“That has nothing to do with it. Recognized or unrecognized, +rich or poor, he is still Baron de Valois.” +</p> + +<p> +“Madame, explain to me this descent; it interests me; +I love heraldry.” +</p> + +<p> +Jeanne repeated all that the reader already knows. +</p> + +<p> +The cardinal listened and looked. He did not believe +either her story or her merit; but she was poor and pretty. +</p> + +<p> +“So that,” he said carelessly, when she had finished, +“you have really been unfortunate.” +</p> + +<p> +“I do not complain, monseigneur.” +</p> + +<p> +“Indeed, I had heard a most exaggerated account of the +difficulties of your position; this lodging is commodious +and well furnished.” +</p> + +<p> +“For a grisette, no doubt,” replied Jeanne. +</p> + +<p> +“What! do you call these rooms fit for a grisette?” +</p> + +<p> +“I do not think you can call them fit for a princess,” replied +Jeanne. +</p> + +<p> +“And you are a princess?” said he, in an ironical tone. +</p> + +<p> +“I was born a Valois, monseigneur, as you were a +Rohan,” said Jeanne, with so much dignity that he felt a +little touched by it. +</p> + +<p> +“Madame,” said he, “I forgot that my first words should +have been an apology. I wrote to you that I would come +yesterday, but I had to go to Versailles to assist at the +reception of M. de Suffren.” +</p> + +<p> +“Monseigneur does me too much honor in remembering +me to-day; and my husband will more than ever regret +the exile to which poverty compels him, since it prevents +him from sharing this favor with me.” +</p> + +<p> +“You live alone, madame?” asked the cardinal. +</p> + +<p> +“Absolutely alone. I should be out of place in all +society but that from which my poverty debars me.” +</p> + +<p> +“The genealogists do not contest your claim?” +</p> + +<p> +“No; but what good does it do me?” +</p> + +<p> +“Madame,” continued the cardinal, “I shall be glad to +know in what I can serve you.” +</p> + +<p> +“In nothing, monseigneur,” she said. +</p> + +<p> +“How! in nothing? Pray be frank.” +</p> + +<p> +“I cannot be more frank than I am.” +</p> + +<p> +“You were complaining just now.” +</p> + +<p> +“Certainly, I complain.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, then?” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, then, monseigneur, I see that you wish to bestow +charity on me.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, madame!” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, sir, I have taken charity, but I will do so no +more. I have borne great humiliation.” +</p> + +<p> +“Madame, you are wrong, there is no humiliation in +misfortune.” +</p> + +<p> +“Not even with the name I bear? Would you beg, M. +de Rohan?” +</p> + +<p> +“I do not speak of myself,” said he, with an embarrassment +mingled with hauteur. +</p> + +<p> +“Monseigneur, I only know two ways of begging: in a +carriage, or at a church door in velvet or in rags. Well, +just now, I did not expect the honor of this visit; I +thought you had forgotten me.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, you knew, then, that it was I who wrote?” +</p> + +<p> +“Were not your arms on the seal?” +</p> + +<p> +“However, you feigned not to know me.” +</p> + +<p> +“Because you did not do me the honor to announce +yourself.” +</p> + +<p> +“This pride pleases me,” said the cardinal. +</p> + +<p> +“I had then,” continued Jeanne, “despairing of seeing +you, taken the resolution of throwing off all this flimsy +parade, which covers my real poverty, and of going in +rags, like other mendicants, to beg my bread from the +passers-by.” +</p> + +<p> +“You are not at the end of your resources, I trust, +madame?” +</p> + +<p> +Jeanne did not reply. +</p> + +<p> +“You have some property, even if it be mortgaged? +Some family jewels? This, for example,” and he pointed +to a box, with which the delicate fingers of the lady had +been playing. “A singular box, upon my word! Will +you permit me to look? Oh, a portrait!” he continued, +with a look of great surprise. “Do you know the original +of this portrait?” asked Jeanne. +</p> + +<p> +“It is that of Maria Theresa.” +</p> + +<p> +“Of Maria Theresa?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, the Empress of Austria.” +</p> + +<p> +“Really!” cried Jeanne. “Are you sure, monseigneur?” +</p> + +<p> +“Where did you get it?” he asked. +</p> + +<p> +“From a lady who came the day before yesterday.” +</p> + +<p> +“To see you?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes.” +</p> + +<p> +The cardinal examined the box with minute attention. +</p> + +<p> +“There were two ladies,” continued Jeanne. +</p> + +<p> +“And one of them gave you this box?” said he, with +evident suspicion. +</p> + +<p> +“No; she dropped it here.” +</p> + +<p> +The cardinal remained thoughtful for some time, and +then said, “What was the name of this lady? I beg +pardon for being inquisitive.” +</p> + +<p> +“Indeed, it is a somewhat strange question.” +</p> + +<p> +“Indiscreet, perhaps, but not strange.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, very strange; for if I had known her name, I +should have returned it long before this.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then, you know not who she is?” +</p> + +<p> +“I only know she is the head of some charitable house.” +</p> + +<p> +“In Paris?” +</p> + +<p> +“No; in Versailles.” +</p> + +<p> +“From Versailles; the head of a charitable house!” +</p> + +<p> +“Monseigneur, I accept charity from ladies; that does +not so much humiliate a poor woman; and this lady, who +had heard of my wants, left a hundred louis on my table +when she went away.” +</p> + +<p> +“A hundred louis!” said the cardinal in surprise; +then, fearing to offend, he added, “I am not astonished, +madame, that they should give you such a sum. You +merit, on the contrary, all the solicitude of charitable +people, and your name makes it a duty to help you. It +is only the title of the Sister of Charity that surprised me, +they are not in the habit of giving such donations. Could +you describe this lady to me?” +</p> + +<p> +“Not easily, sir.” +</p> + +<p> +“How so, since she came here?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, but she probably did not wish to be recognized, +for she hid her face as much as possible in her hood, and +was besides, enveloped in furs.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, but you saw something?” +</p> + +<p> +“My impressions were, that she had blue eyes, and a +small mouth, though the lips were rather thick.” +</p> + +<p> +“Tall or short?” +</p> + +<p> +“Of middle height.” +</p> + +<p> +“Her hands?” +</p> + +<p> +“Perfect.” +</p> + +<p> +“Her throat?” +</p> + +<p> +“Long and slender.” +</p> + +<p> +“Her expression?” +</p> + +<p> +“Severe and noble. But you, perhaps, know this lady, +monseigneur?” +</p> + +<p> +“Why should you think so, madame?” +</p> + +<p> +“From the manner in which you question me; besides, +there is a sympathy between the doers of good works.” +</p> + +<p> +“No, madame, I do not know her.” +</p> + +<p> +“But, sir, if you had some suspicion.” +</p> + +<p> +“How should I?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, from this portrait, perhaps.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, certainly, the portrait,” said the cardinal, +rather uneasily. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, sir, this portrait you still believe to be that of +Maria Theresa?” +</p> + +<p> +“I believe so, certainly.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then you think——?” +</p> + +<p> +“That you have received a visit from some German +lady who has founded one of these houses!” But it was +evident that the cardinal doubted, and he was pondering +how this box, which he had seen a hundred times in the +hands of the queen, came into the possession of this +woman. Had the queen really been to see her? If she +had been, was she indeed unknown to Jeanne? Or, if +not, why did she try to hide the knowledge from him. +If the queen had really been there, it was no longer a +poor woman he had to deal with, but a princess succored +by a queen, who bestowed her gifts in person. +</p> + +<p> +Jeanne saw that the cardinal was thoughtful, and even +suspicious of her. She felt uneasy, and knew not what +to say. +</p> + +<p> +At last, however, he broke the silence by saying, “And +the other lady?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, I could see her perfectly; she is tall and beautiful, +with a determined expression, and a brilliant complexion.” +</p> + +<p> +“And the other lady did not name her?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, once; but by her Christian name.” +</p> + +<p> +“What was it?” +</p> + +<p> +“Andrée.” +</p> + +<p> +“Andrée!” repeated the cardinal, with a start. +</p> + +<p> +This name put an end to all his doubts. It was known +that the queen had gone to Paris on that day with +Mademoiselle de Taverney. It was evident, also, that +Jeanne had no intention of deceiving him; she was telling +all she knew. Still, he would try one more proof. +</p> + +<p> +“Countess,” he said, “one thing astonishes me, that +you have not addressed yourself to the king.” +</p> + +<p> +“But, sir, I have sent him twenty petitions.” +</p> + +<p> +“Without result?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, then, the princes of the blood; M. le Duc +d’Orleans is charitable, and often likes to do what the +king refuses.” +</p> + +<p> +“I have tried him, equally fruitlessly.” +</p> + +<p> +“That astonishes me.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, when one is poor, and not supported by any +one——” +</p> + +<p> +“There is still the Comte d’Artois; sometimes dissipated +men do more generous actions than charitable +ones.” +</p> + +<p> +“It is the same story with him.” +</p> + +<p> +“But the princesses, the aunts of the king, Madame +Elizabeth particularly, would refuse assistance to no one.” +</p> + +<p> +“It is true, monseigneur, her royal highness, to whom +I wrote, promised to receive me; but, I know not why, +after having received my husband, I could never get any +more notice from her.” +</p> + +<p> +“It is strange, certainly,” said the cardinal; then, as +if the thought had just struck him, he cried, “Ah! +mon Dieu! but we are forgetting the person to whom +you should have addressed yourself first of all.” +</p> + +<p> +“Whom do you mean?” +</p> + +<p> +“To the dispenser of all favors, she who never refuses +help where it is deserved—to the queen. Have you seen +her?” +</p> + +<p> +“No,” answered Jeanne. +</p> + +<p> +“You have never presented your petition to the +queen?” +</p> + +<p> +“Never.” +</p> + +<p> +“You have not tried to obtain an audience of her?” +</p> + +<p> +“I have tried, but failed.” +</p> + +<p> +“Have you tried to throw yourself in her way, that she +might remark you?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, monseigneur.” +</p> + +<p> +“But that is very strange.” +</p> + +<p> +“I have only been twice to Versailles, and then saw but +two persons there; one was Doctor Louis, who had +attended my poor father at the Hôtel Dieu, and the +other was M. le Baron de Taverney, to whom I had an +introduction.” +</p> + +<p> +“What did M. de Taverney say to you? He might +have brought you to the queen.” +</p> + +<p> +“He told me that I was very foolish to bring forward +as a claim to the benevolence of the king a relationship +which would be sure to displease him, as nobody likes +poor relations.” +</p> + +<p> +“I recognize the egotistical and rude old baron. Well,” +continued he, “I will conduct you myself to Versailles, +and will open the doors for you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, monseigneur, how good you are,” cried Jeanne, +overwhelmed with joy. +</p> + +<p> +The cardinal approached her, and said, “It is impossible +but that before long all must interest themselves in +you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Alas! monseigneur,” said Jeanne, with a sigh, “do +you think so?” +</p> + +<p> +“I am sure of it.” +</p> + +<p> +“I fear you flatter me,” she said, looking earnestly at +him, for she could hardly believe in his sudden change +of manner, he had been so cold and suspicious at first. +</p> + +<p> +This look had no small effect on the cardinal; he began +to think he had never met a woman prettier or more +attractive. “Ah, ma foi!” said he to himself, with the +eternally scheming spirit of a man used to diplomacy, +“it would be too extraordinary and too fortunate if I +have met at once an honest woman with the attractions of +a scheming one, and found in this poverty an able coadjutrix +to my desires.” +</p> + +<p> +“Monseigneur, the silence you keep every now and +then disquiets me.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why so, countess?” +</p> + +<p> +“Because a man like you only fails in politeness to two +kinds of women.” +</p> + +<p> +“Mon Dieu! countess, you frighten me. What are +you about to say?” and he took her hand. +</p> + +<p> +“I repeat it,” said she, “with women that you love +too much, or with women whom you do not esteem +enough to be polite to.” +</p> + +<p> +“Countess, you make me blush. Have I, then, failed +in politeness towards you?” +</p> + +<p> +“Rather so, monseigneur; and yet you cannot love +me too much, and I have given you no cause to despise +me.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, countess, you speak as if you were angry with +me.” +</p> + +<p> +“No, monseigneur; you have not yet merited my +anger.” +</p> + +<p> +“And I never will, madame. From this day, in which +I have had the pleasure of making your acquaintance, +my solicitude for you will not cease.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, sir, do not speak to me of your protection.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, mon Dieu! I should humiliate myself, not you, +in mentioning such a thing;” and he pressed her hand, +which he continued to hold, to his lips. +</p> + +<p> +She tried to withdraw it; but he said, “Only politeness, +madame,” and she let it remain. +</p> + +<p> +“To know,” said she, “that I shall occupy a place, +however small, in the mind of a man so eminent and so +busy, would console me for a year.” +</p> + +<p> +“Let us hope the consolation will last longer than +that, countess.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, perhaps so, monseigneur; I have confidence in +you, because I feel that you are capable of appreciating +a mind like mine, adventurous, brave, and pure, in spite +of my poverty, and of the enemies which my position has +made me. Your eminence will, I am sure, discover all +the good that is in me, and be indulgent to all the rest.” +</p> + +<p> +“We, are, then, warm friends, madame;” and he advanced +towards her, but his arms were a little more extended +than the occasion required. She avoided him, +and said, laughing: +</p> + +<p> +“It must be a friendship among three, cardinal.” +</p> + +<p> +“Among three?” +</p> + +<p> +“Doubtless, for there exists an exile, a poor gendarme, +who is called M. de la Motte.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, countess, what a deplorably good memory you +have!” +</p> + +<p> +“I must speak to you of him, that you may not forget +him.” +</p> + +<p> +“Do you know why I do not speak of him, countess?” +</p> + +<p> +“No; pray tell me.” +</p> + +<p> +“Because he will speak enough for himself: husbands +never let themselves be forgotten. We shall hear +that M. le Comte de la Motte found it good, or found it +bad, that the Cardinal de Rohan came two, three, or +four times a week to visit his wife.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah! but will you come so often, monseigneur?” +</p> + +<p> +“Without that, where would be our friendship? +Four times! I should have said six or seven.” +</p> + +<p> +Jeanne laughed, “I should not indeed wonder in +that case if people did talk of it.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! but we can easily prevent them.” +</p> + +<p> +“How?” +</p> + +<p> +“Quite easily. The people know me——” +</p> + +<p> +“Certainly, monseigneur.” +</p> + +<p> +“But you they have the misfortune not to know.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well?” +</p> + +<p> +“Therefore, if you would——” +</p> + +<p> +“What, sir?” +</p> + +<p> +“Come out instead of me.” +</p> + +<p> +“Come to your hotel, monseigneur?” +</p> + +<p> +“You would go to see a minister.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! a minister is not a man.” +</p> + +<p> +“You are adorable, countess. But I did not speak of +my hotel; I have a house——” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! a petite maison?” +</p> + +<p> +“No; a house of yours.” +</p> + +<p> +“A house of mine, cardinal! Indeed, I did not know +it.” +</p> + +<p> +“To-morrow, at ten o’clock, you shall have the +address.” +</p> + +<p> +The countess blushed; the cardinal took her hand +again, and imprinted another kiss upon it, at once bold, +respectful, and tender. They then bowed to each other. +</p> + +<p> +“Light monseigneur down,” said the countess; and +he went away. +</p> + +<p> +“Well,” thought she, “I have made a great step in +the world.” +</p> + +<p> +“Come,” said the cardinal to himself as he drove off, +“I think I have killed two birds with one stone; this +woman has too much talent not to catch the queen as she +has caught me?” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2>CHAPTER XVI.<br/> +MESMER AND ST. MARTIN.</h2> + +<p> +The fashionable study in Paris at this time, and that +which engrossed most of those who had no business to +attend to, was Mesmerism—a mysterious science, badly +defined by its discoverers, who did not wish to render it +too plain to the eyes of the people. Dr. Mesmer, who +had given to it his own name, was then in Paris, as we +have already heard from Marie Antoinette. +</p> + +<p> +This Doctor Mesmer deserves a few words from us, as +his name was then in all mouths. +</p> + +<p> +He had brought this science from Germany, the land +of mysteries, in 1777. He had previously made his début +there, by a theory on the influence of the planets. He +had endeavored to establish that these celestial bodies, +through the same power by which they attract each +other, exercised an influence over living bodies, and particularly +over the nervous system, by means of a subtle +fluid with which the air is impregnated. But this first +theory was too abstract: one must, to understand it, be +initiated into all the sciences of Galileo or Newton; and it +would have been necessary, for this to have become +popular, that the nobility should have been transformed +into a body of savants. He therefore abandoned this +system, and took up that of the loadstone, which was +then attracting great attention, people fancying that this +wonderful power was efficacious in curing illnesses. +</p> + +<p> +Unhappily for him, however, he found a rival in this +already established in Vienna; therefore he once more +announced that he abandoned mineral magnetism, and +intended to effect his cures through animal magnetism. +</p> + +<p> +This, although a new name, was not in reality a new +science; it was as old as the Greeks and Egyptians, and +had been preserved in traditions, and revived every now +and then by the sorcerers of the thirteenth, fourteenth, +and fifteenth centuries, many of whom had paid for their +knowledge with their lives. Urbain Grandier was nothing +but an animal magnetizer; and Joseph Balsamo we +have seen practising it. Mesmer only condensed this +knowledge into a science, and gave it a name. He then +communicated his system to the scientific academies of +Paris, London, and Berlin. The two first did not answer +him, and the third said that he was mad. He came to +France, and took out of the hands of Dr. Storck, and +of the oculist Wenzel, a young girl seventeen years old, +who had a complaint of the liver and gutta serena, and +after three months of his treatment, restored her health +and her sight. +</p> + +<p> +This cure convinced many people, and among them a doctor called Deslon, who, +from his enemy, became his pupil. From this time his reputation gradually +increased; the academy declared itself against him, but the court for him. At +last the government offered him, in the king’s name, an income for life +of twenty thousand francs to give lectures in public, and ten thousand more to +instruct three persons, who should be chosen by them, in his system. +</p> + +<p> +Mesmer, however, indignant at the royal parsimony, refused, +and set out for the Spa waters with one of his +patients; but while he was gone, Deslon, his pupil, possessor +of the secret which he had refused to sell for thirty +thousand francs a year, opened a public establishment +for the treatment of patients. Mesmer was furious, and +exhausted himself in complaints and menaces. One of +his patients, however, M. de Bergasse, conceived the idea +of forming a company. They raised a capital of 340,000 +francs, on the condition that the secret should be revealed +to the shareholders. It was a fortunate time: the +people, having no great public events to interest them, +entered eagerly into every new amusement and occupation; +and this mysterious theory possessed no little attraction, +professing, as it did, to cure invalids, restore +mind to the fools, and amuse the wise. +</p> + +<p> +Everywhere Mesmer was talked of. What had he done? +On whom had he performed these miracles? To what +great lord had he restored sight? To what lady worn +out with dissipation had he renovated the nerves? To +what young girl had he shown the future in a magnetic +trance? The future! that word of ever-entrancing interest +and curiosity. +</p> + +<p> +Voltaire was dead; there was no one left to make +France laugh, except perhaps Beaumarchais, who was +still more bitter than his master; Rousseau was dead, and +with him the sect of religious philosophers. War had +generally occupied strongly the minds of the French +people, but now the only war in which they were engaged +was in America, where the people fought for what they +called independence, and what the French called liberty; +and even this distant war in another land, and affecting +another people, was on the point of termination. Therefore +they felt more interest just now in M. Mesmer, who +was near, than in Washington or Lord Cornwallis, who +were so far off. Mesmer’s only rival in the public interest +was St. Martin, the professor of spiritualism, as Mesmer +was of materialism, and who professed to cure souls, +as he did bodies. +</p> + +<p> +Imagine an atheist with a religion more attractive than +religion itself; a republican full of politeness and interest +for kings; a gentleman of the privileged classes tender +and solicitous for the people, endowed with the most +startling eloquence, attacking all the received religions +of the earth. +</p> + +<p> +Imagine Epicurus in white powder, embroidered coat, +and silk stockings, not content with endeavoring to +overturn a religion in which he did not believe, but also +attacking all existing governments, and promulgating +the theory that all men are equal, or, to use his own +words, that all intelligent beings are kings. +</p> + +<p> +Imagine the effect of all this in society as it then was, +without fixed principles or steady guides, and how it was +all assisting to light the fire with which France not long +after began to consume herself. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2>CHAPTER XVII.<br/> +THE BUCKET.</h2> + +<p> +We have endeavored to give an idea in the last chapter +of the interest and enthusiasm which drew such +crowds of the people to see M. Mesmer perform publicly +his wonderful experiments. +</p> + +<p> +The king, as we know, had given permission to the +queen to go and see what all Paris was talking of, accompanied +by one of the princesses. It was two days after +the visit of M. de Rohan to the countess. The weather +was fine, and the thaw was complete, and hundreds of +sweepers were employed in cleaning away the snow from +the streets. The clear blue sky was just beginning to be +illumined by its first stars, when Madame de la Motte, +elegantly dressed, and presenting every appearance of +opulence, arrived in a coach, which Clotilde had carefully +chosen as the best looking at the Place Vendôme, and +stopped before a brilliantly-lighted house. +</p> + +<p> +It was that of Doctor Mesmer. Numbers of other carriages +were waiting at the door, and a crowd of people had +collected to see the patients arrive and depart, who seemed +to derive much pleasure when they saw some rich invalid, +enveloped in furs and satins, carried in by footmen, from +the evident proof it afforded that God made men healthy +or unhealthy, without reference to their purses or their +genealogies. A universal murmur would arise when they +recognized some duke paralyzed in an arm or leg; or +some marshal whose feet refused their office, less in consequence +of military fatigues and marches than from +halts made with the ladies of the Opera, or of the Comédie +Italienne. Sometimes it was a lady carried in by her servants +with drooping head and languid eye, who, weakened +by late hours and an irregular life, came to demand from +Doctor Mesmer the health she had vainly sought to regain +elsewhere. +</p> + +<p> +Many of these ladies were as well known as the gentlemen, +but a great many escaped the public gaze, especially +on this evening, by wearing masks; for there was a ball +at the Opera that night, and many of them intended to +drive straight there when they left the doctor’s house. +</p> + +<p> +Through this crowd Madame de la Motte walked erect +and firm, also with a mask on, and elicited only the exclamation, +“This one does not look ill, at all events.” +</p> + +<p> +Ever since the cardinal’s visit, the attention with which +he had examined the box and portrait had been on Jeanne’s +mind; and she could not but feel that all his graciousness +commenced after seeing it, and she therefore felt +proportionate curiosity to learn more about it. +</p> + +<p> +First she had gone to Versailles to inquire at all the houses +of charity about German ladies; but there were there, +perhaps, a hundred and fifty or two hundred, and all +Jeanne’s inquiries about the two ladies who had visited +her had proved fruitless. In vain she repeated that one +of them was called Andrée; no one knew a German lady +of that name, which indeed was not German. Baffled in +this, she determined to try elsewhere, and having heard +much of M. Mesmer, and the wonderful secrets revealed +through him, determined upon going there. Many were +the stories of this kind in circulation. Madame de Duras +had recovered a child who had been lost; Madame de +Chantoué, an English dog, not much bigger than her fist, +for which she would have given all the children in the +world; and M. de Vaudreuil a lock of hair, which he +would have bought back with half his fortune. All these +revelations had been made by clairvoyants after the +magnetic operations of Doctor Mesmer. +</p> + +<p> +Those who came to see him, after traversing the ante-chambers, +were admitted into a large room, from which +the darkened and hermetically closed windows excluded +light and air. In the middle of this room, under a luster +which gave but a feeble light, was a vast unornamented +tank, filled with water impregnated with sulphur, and to +the cover of which was fastened an iron ring; attached +to this ring was a long chain, the object of which we shall +presently see. +</p> + +<p> +All the patients were seated round the room, men and +women indiscriminately; then a valet, taking the chain, +wound it round the limbs of the patients, so that they +might all feel, at the same time, the effects of the electricity +contained in the tank; they were then directed to touch +each other in some way, either by the shoulder, the elbow, +or the feet, and each was to take in his hand a bar of iron, +which was also connected with the tank, and to place it +to the heart, head, or whatever was the seat of the malady. +When they were all ready, a soft and pleasing strain of +music, executed by invisible performers, was heard. +Among the most eager of the crowd, on the evening of +which we speak, was a young, distinguished-looking, and +beautiful woman, with a graceful figure, and rather +showily dressed, who pressed the iron to her heart with +wonderful energy, rolling her beautiful eyes, and beginning +to show, in the trembling of her hands, the first +effects of the electric fluid. +</p> + +<p> +As she constantly threw back her head, resting it on +the cushions of her chair, all around could see perfectly +her pale but beautiful face, and her white throat. Many +seemed to look at her with great astonishment, and a +general whispering commenced among those who surrounded +her. +</p> + +<p> +Madame de la Motte was one of the most curious of the +party; and of all she saw around her, nothing attracted +her attention so much as this young lady, and after gazing +earnestly at her for some time, she at last murmured, +“Oh! it is she, there is no doubt. It is the lady who came +to see me the other day.” And convinced that she was not +mistaken, she advanced towards her, congratulating herself +that chance had effected for her what she had so +long been vainly trying to accomplish; but at this moment +the young lady closed her eyes, contracted her +mouth, and began to beat the air feebly with her hands, +which hands, however, did not seem to Jeanne the white +and beautiful ones she had seen in her room a few days +before. +</p> + +<p> +The patients now began to grow excited under the influence +of the fluid. Men and women began to utter sighs, +and even cries, moving convulsively their heads, arms, and +legs. Then a man suddenly made his appearance; no +one had seen him enter; you might have fancied he came +out of the tank. He was dressed in a lilac robe, and held +in his hand a long wand, which he several times dipped +into the mysterious tank; then he made a sign, the doors +opened, and twenty robust servants entered, and seizing +such of the patients as began to totter on their seats, +carried them into an adjoining room. +</p> + +<p> +While this was going on Madame de la Motte heard a +man who had approached near to the young lady before-mentioned, +and who was in a perfect paroxysm of excitement, +say in a loud voice, “It is surely she!” Jeanne +was about to ask him who she was, when her attention +was drawn to two ladies who were just entering, followed +by a man, who, though disguised as a bourgeois, had still +the appearance of a servant. +</p> + +<p> +The tournure of one of these ladies struck Jeanne so forcibly +that she made a step towards them, when a cry from +the young woman near her startled every one. The same +man whom Jeanne had heard speak before now called out, +“But look, gentlemen, it is the queen.” +</p> + +<p> +“The queen!” cried many voices, in surprise. “The +queen here! The queen in that state! Impossible!” +</p> + +<p> +“But look,” said he again; “do you know the queen, +or not?” +</p> + +<p> +“Indeed,” said many, “the resemblance is incredible.” +</p> + +<p> +“Monsieur,” said Jeanne to the speaker, who was a stout +man, with quick observant eyes, “did you say the queen?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! madame, there is no doubt of it.” +</p> + +<p> +“And where is she?” +</p> + +<p> +“Why, that young lady that you see there, on the violet +cushions, and in such a state that she cannot moderate +her transports, is the queen.” +</p> + +<p> +“But on what do you found such an idea, monsieur?” +</p> + +<p> +“Simply because it is the queen.” And he left Jeanne +to go and spread his news among the rest. +</p> + +<p> +She turned from the almost revolting spectacle, and +going near to the door, found herself face to face with the +two ladies she had seen enter. Scarcely had she seen +the elder one than she uttered a cry of surprise. +</p> + +<p> +“What is the matter?” asked the lady. +</p> + +<p> +Jeanne took off her mask, and asked, “Do you recognize +me, madame?” +</p> + +<p> +The lady made, but quickly suppressed, a movement +of surprise, and said, “No, madame.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, madame, I recognize you, and will give you a +proof;” and she drew the box from her pocket, saying, +“you left this at my house.” +</p> + +<p> +“But supposing this to be true, what makes you so +agitated?” +</p> + +<p> +“I am agitated by the danger that your majesty is incurring +here.” +</p> + +<p> +“Explain yourself.” +</p> + +<p> +“Not before you have put on this mask;” and she +offered hers to the queen, who, however, did not take it. +</p> + +<p> +“I beg your majesty; there is not an instant to lose.” +</p> + +<p> +The queen put on the mask. “And now, pray come +away,” added Jeanne. +</p> + +<p> +“But why?” said the queen. +</p> + +<p> +“Your majesty has not been seen by any one?” +</p> + +<p> +“I believe not.” +</p> + +<p> +“So much the better.” +</p> + +<p> +The queen mechanically moved to the door, but said +again, “Will you explain yourself?” +</p> + +<p> +“Will not your majesty believe your humble servant for +the present, that you were running a great risk?” +</p> + +<p> +“But what risk?” +</p> + +<p> +“I will have the honor to tell your majesty whenever +you will grant me an hour’s audience; but it would take +too long now;” and seeing that the queen looked displeased, +“Pray, madame,” said she, turning to the Princess +Lamballe, “join your petitions to mine that the queen +should leave this place immediately.” +</p> + +<p> +“I think we had better, madame,” said the princess. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, then, I will,” answered the queen; then, turning +to Madame de la Motte, “You ask for an audience?” +she said. +</p> + +<p> +“I beg for that honor, that I may explain this conduct +to your majesty.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, bring this box with you, and you shall be admitted; +Laurent, the porter, shall have orders to do so.” +Then going into the street, she called in German, “Kommen +sie da, Weber.” +</p> + +<p> +A carriage immediately drove up, they got in, and were +immediately out of sight. +</p> + +<p> +When they were gone, Madame de la Motte said to herself, +“I have done right in this—for the rest, I must consider.” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2>CHAPTER XVIII.<br/> +MADEMOISELLE OLIVA.</h2> + +<p> +During this time, the man who had pointed out the +fictitious queen to the people touched on the shoulder +another man who stood near him, in a shabby dress, and +said. “For you, who are a journalist, here is a fine subject +for an article.” +</p> + +<p> +“How so?” replied the man. +</p> + +<p> +“Shall I tell you?” +</p> + +<p> +“Certainly.” +</p> + +<p> +“The danger of being governed by a king who is governed +by a queen who indulges in such paroxysms as +these.” +</p> + +<p> +The journalist laughed. “But the Bastile?” he said. +</p> + +<p> +“Pooh, nonsense! I do not mean you to write it out +plainly. Who can interfere with you if you relate the +history of Prince Silou and the Princess Etteniotna, +Queen of Narfec? What do you say to that?” +</p> + +<p> +“It is an admirable idea!” said the journalist. +</p> + +<p> +“And I do not doubt that a pamphlet called ‘The Paroxysms +of the Princess Etteniotna at the house of the +Fakeer Remsem’ would have a great success.” +</p> + +<p> +“I believe it also.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then go and do it.” +</p> + +<p> +The journalist pressed the hand of the unknown. +“Shall I send you some copies, sir? I will with pleasure +if you will give me your name.” +</p> + +<p> +“Certainly; the idea pleases me. What is the usual +circulation of your journal?” +</p> + +<p> +“Two thousand.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then do me a favor: take these fifty louis, and publish +six thousand.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, sir, you overwhelm me. May I not know the +name of such a generous patron of literature?” +</p> + +<p> +“You shall know, when I call for one thousand copies—at +two francs each, are they not? Will they be ready +in a week?” +</p> + +<p> +“I will work night and day, monsieur.” +</p> + +<p> +“Let it be amusing.” +</p> + +<p> +“It shall make all Paris die with laughing, except one +person.” +</p> + +<p> +“Who will weep over it. Apropos, date the publication +from London.” +</p> + +<p> +“Sir, I am your humble servant.” And the journalist +took his leave, with his fifty louis in his pocket, highly +delighted. +</p> + +<p> +The unknown again turned to look at the young woman, +who had now subsided into a state of exhaustion, and +looked beautiful as she lay there. “Really,” he said to +himself, “the resemblance is frightful. God had his +motives in creating it, and has no doubt condemned her +to whom the resemblance is so strong.” +</p> + +<p> +While he made these reflections, she rose slowly from +the midst of the cushions, assisting herself with the arm +of an attendant, and began to arrange her somewhat disordered +toilet, and then traversed the rooms, confronting +boldly the looks of the people. She was somewhat astonished, +however, when she found herself saluted with +deep and respectful bows by a group which had already +been assembled by the indefatigable stranger, who kept +whispering, “Never mind, gentlemen, never mind, she is +still the Queen of France; let us salute her.” She next +entered the courtyard, and looked about for a coach or +chair, but, seeing none, was about to set off on foot, when +a footman approached and said, “Shall I call madame’s +carriage?” +</p> + +<p> +“I have none,” she replied. +</p> + +<p> +“Madame came in a coach?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes.” +</p> + +<p> +“From the Rue Dauphine?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes.” +</p> + +<p> +“I will take madame home.” +</p> + +<p> +“Do so, then,” said she, although somewhat surprised +at the offer. +</p> + +<p> +The man made a sign, and a carriage drove up. He +opened the door for her, and then said to the coachman, +“To the Rue Dauphine.” They set off, and the young +woman, who much approved of this mode of transit, regretted +she had not further to go. They soon stopped, +however; the footman handed her out, and immediately +drove off again. +</p> + +<p> +“Really,” said she to herself, “this is an agreeable adventure; +it is very gallant of M. Mesmer. Oh, I am +very tired, and he must have foreseen that. He is a +great doctor.” +</p> + +<p> +Saying these words, she mounted to the second story, +and knocked at a door, which was quickly opened by an +old woman. +</p> + +<p> +“Is supper ready, mother?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, and growing cold.” +</p> + +<p> +“Has he come?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, not yet, but the gentleman has.” +</p> + +<p> +“What gentleman?” +</p> + +<p> +“He who was to speak to you this evening.” +</p> + +<p> +“To me?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes.” +</p> + +<p> +This colloquy took place in a kind of ante-chamber +opening into her room, which was furnished with old +curtains of yellow silk, chairs of green Utrecht velvet, +not very new, and an old yellow sofa. +</p> + +<p> +She opened the door, and, going in, saw a man seated +on the sofa whom she did not know in the least, although +we do, for it was the same man whom we have seen taking +so much interest in her at Mesmer’s. +</p> + +<p> +She had not time to question him, for he began immediately: +“I know all that you are going to ask, and +will tell you without asking. You are Mademoiselle +Oliva, are you not?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, sir.” +</p> + +<p> +“A charming person, highly nervous, and much taken +by the system of M. Mesmer.” +</p> + +<p> +“I have just left there.” +</p> + +<p> +“All this, however, your beautiful eyes are saying +plainly, does not explain what brings me here.” +</p> + +<p> +“You are right, sir.” +</p> + +<p> +“Will you not do me the favor to sit down, or I shall be +obliged to get up also, and that is an uncomfortable way +of talking.” +</p> + +<p> +“Really, sir, you have very extraordinary manners.” +</p> + +<p> +“Mademoiselle, I saw you just now at M. Mesmer’s, +and found you to be all I could wish.” +</p> + +<p> +“Sir!” +</p> + +<p> +“Do not alarm yourself, mademoiselle. I do not tell +you that I found you charming—that would seem like +a declaration of love, and I have no such intention. I +know that you are accustomed to have yourself called +beautiful, but I, who also think so, have other things to +talk to you about.” +</p> + +<p> +“Really, sir, the manner in which you speak to +me——” +</p> + +<p> +“Do not get angry before you have heard me. Is +there any one that can overhear us?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, sir, no one. But still——” +</p> + +<p> +“Then, if no one can hear, we can converse at our ease. +What do you say to a little partnership between us?” +</p> + +<p> +“Really, sir——” +</p> + +<p> +“Do not misunderstand; I do not say ‘liaison’—I say +partnership; I am not talking of love, but of business.” +</p> + +<p> +“What kind of business?” said Oliva, with growing +curiosity. +</p> + +<p> +“What do you do all day?” +</p> + +<p> +“Why, I do nothing, or, at least, as little as possible.” +</p> + +<p> +“You have no occupation—so much the better. Do +you like walking?” +</p> + +<p> +“Very much.” +</p> + +<p> +“To see sights, and go to balls?” +</p> + +<p> +“Excessively.” +</p> + +<p> +“To live well?” +</p> + +<p> +“Above all things.” +</p> + +<p> +“If I gave you twenty-five louis a month, would you +refuse me?” +</p> + +<p> +“Sir!” +</p> + +<p> +“My dear Mademoiselle Oliva, now you are beginning +to doubt me again, and it was agreed that you were to +listen quietly. I will say fifty louis if you like.” +</p> + +<p> +“I like fifty louis better than twenty-five, but what I +like better than either is to be able to choose my own +lover.” +</p> + +<p> +“Morbleu! but I have already told you that I do not +desire to be your lover. Set your mind at ease about +that.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then what am I to do to earn my fifty louis?” +</p> + +<p> +“You must receive me at your house, and always be +glad to see me. Walk out with me whenever I desire it, +and come to me whenever I send for you.” +</p> + +<p> +“But I have a lover, sir.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, dismiss him.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, Beausire cannot be sent away like that!” +</p> + +<p> +“I will help you.” +</p> + +<p> +“No; I love him.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh!” +</p> + +<p> +“A little.” +</p> + +<p> +“That is just a little too much.” +</p> + +<p> +“I cannot help it.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then he may stop.” +</p> + +<p> +“You are very obliging.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well—but do my conditions suit you?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, if you have told me all.” +</p> + +<p> +“I believe I have said all I wish to say now.” +</p> + +<p> +“On your honor?” +</p> + +<p> +“On my honor.” +</p> + +<p> +“Very well.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then that is settled; and here is the first month in +advance.” +</p> + +<p> +He held out the money, and, as she still seemed to hesitate +a little, slipped it himself into her pocket. +</p> + +<p> +Scarcely had he done so, when a knock at the door +made Oliva run to the window. “Good God!” she +cried; “escape quickly; here he is!” +</p> + +<p> +“Who?” +</p> + +<p> +“Beausire, my lover. Be quick, sir!” +</p> + +<p> +“Nonsense!” +</p> + +<p> +“He will half murder you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Bah!” +</p> + +<p> +“Do you hear how he knocks?” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, open the door.” And he sat down again on the +sofa, saying to himself, “I must see this fellow, and +judge what he is like.” +</p> + +<p> +The knocks became louder, and mingled with oaths. +</p> + +<p> +“Go, mother, and open the door,” cried Oliva. “As +for you, sir, if any harm happens to you, it is your own +fault.” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2>CHAPTER XIX.<br/> +MONSIEUR BEAUSIRE.</h2> + +<p> +Oliva ran to meet a man, who came in swearing furiously, +and in a frightful passion. +</p> + +<p> +“Come, Beausire,” said she, apparently not at all +frightened. +</p> + +<p> +“Let me alone!” cried he, shaking her off brutally. +“Ah! I see, it was because there is a man here that the +door was not opened!” And as the visitor remained perfectly +still, he advanced furiously towards him, saying, +“Will you answer me, sir?” +</p> + +<p> +“What do you want to know, my dear M. Beausire?” +</p> + +<p> +“What are you doing here, and who are you?” +</p> + +<p> +“I am a very quiet man, and I was simply talking to +madame.” +</p> + +<p> +“That was all,” said Oliva. +</p> + +<p> +“Will you hold your tongue?” bawled Beausire. +</p> + +<p> +“Now,” said the visitor, “do not be so rude to madame, +who has done nothing to deserve it; and if you are +in a bad temper——” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, I am.” +</p> + +<p> +“He must have lost at cards,” murmured Oliva. +</p> + +<p> +“I am cleaned out, mort de diable!” cried Beausire. +“But you, sir, will do me the favor to leave this room.” +</p> + +<p> +“But, M. Beausire——” +</p> + +<p> +“Diable! if you do not go immediately it will be the +worse for you.” +</p> + +<p> +“You did not tell me, mademoiselle, that he was +troubled with these fits. Good heavens! what ferocity!” +</p> + +<p> +Beausire, exasperated, drew his sword, and roared, “If +you do not move, I will pin you to the sofa!” +</p> + +<p> +“Really, it is impossible to be more disagreeable,” said +the visitor, also drawing a small sword, which they had +not before seen. +</p> + +<p> +Oliva uttered piercing shrieks. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, mademoiselle, pray be quiet,” said he, “or two +things will happen: first, you will stun M. Beausire, and +he will get killed; secondly, the watch will come up and +carry you straight off to St. Lazare.” +</p> + +<p> +Oliva ceased her cries. +</p> + +<p> +The scene that ensued was curious. Beausire, furious +with rage, was making wild and unskilful passes at his +adversary, who, still seated on the sofa, parried them +with the utmost ease, laughing immoderately all the +time. +</p> + +<p> +Beausire began to grow tired and also frightened, for +he felt that if this man, who was now content to stand on +the defensive, were to attack him in his turn, he should +be done for in a moment. Suddenly, however, by a skilful +movement, the stranger sent Beausire’s sword flying +across the room; it went through an open window, and +fell into the street. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, M. Beausire,” said he, “you should take more +care; if your sword falls on any one, it will kill him.” +</p> + +<p> +Beausire ran down at his utmost speed to fetch his +sword, and meanwhile, Oliva, seizing the hand of the +victor, said: +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, sir, you are very brave; but as soon as you are +gone, Beausire will beat me.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then I will remain.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, no; when he beats me, I beat him in return, and +I always get the best of it, because I am not obliged to +take any care; so if you would but go, sir——” +</p> + +<p> +“But, my dear, if I go now, I shall meet M. Beausire +on the stairs; probably the combat will recommence, and +as I shall not feel inclined to stand on the staircase, I +shall have to kill M. Beausire.” +</p> + +<p> +“Mon Dieu! it is true.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, then, to avoid that I will remain here.” +</p> + +<p> +“No, sir, I entreat; go up to the next story, and as +soon as he returns to this room I will lock the door and +take the key, and you can walk away while we fight it out.” +</p> + +<p> +“You are a charming girl. Au revoir!” +</p> + +<p> +“Till when?” +</p> + +<p> +“To-night, if you please.” +</p> + +<p> +“To-night! are you mad?” +</p> + +<p> +“Not at all; but there is a ball at the Opera to-night.” +</p> + +<p> +“But it is now midnight.” +</p> + +<p> +“That does not matter.” +</p> + +<p> +“I should want a domino.” +</p> + +<p> +“Beausire will fetch it when you have beaten him.” +</p> + +<p> +“You are right,” said Oliva, laughing. +</p> + +<p> +“And here are ten louis to buy it with.” +</p> + +<p> +“Adieu! and thanks.” And she pushed him out, saying, +“Quick! he is coming back.” +</p> + +<p> +“But if by chance he should beat you, how will you +let me know?” +</p> + +<p> +She reflected a moment. “You have a servant?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes.” +</p> + +<p> +“Send him here, and let him wait under the window +till I let a note fall.” +</p> + +<p> +“I will. Adieu!” And he went up-stairs. +</p> + +<p> +Oliva drowned the sound of his footsteps by calling +loudly to Beausire, “Are you coming back, madman?” +for he did not seem in much hurry to reencounter his +formidable adversary. At last, however, he came up. +Oliva was standing outside the door; she pushed him in, +locked it, and put the key in her pocket. +</p> + +<p> +Before the stranger left the house, he heard the noise +of the combat begin, and both voices loud and furious. +“There is no doubt,” said he to himself, “that this +woman knows how to take care of herself.” His carriage +was waiting for him at the corner of the street, but before +getting in he spoke to the footman, who thereupon +stationed himself within view of Mademoiselle Oliva’s +windows. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2>CHAPTER XX.<br/> +GOLD.</h2> + +<p> +We must now return to the interior of the room. +Beausire was much surprised to see Oliva lock the door, +and still more so not to see his adversary. He began to +feel triumphant, for if he was hiding from him he must, +he thought, be afraid of him. He therefore began to +search for him; but Oliva talked so loud and fast that he +advanced towards her to try and stop her, but was received +with a box on the ear, which he returned in kind. +Oliva replied by throwing a china vase at his head, and +his answer was a blow with a cane. She, furious, flew at +him and seized him by the throat, and he, trying to free +himself, tore her dress. +</p> + +<p> +Then, with a cry, she pushed him from her with such +force that he fell in the middle of the room. +</p> + +<p> +He began to get tired of this, so he said, without commencing +another attack, “You are a wicked creature; +you ruin me.” +</p> + +<p> +“On the contrary, it is you who ruin me.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, I ruin her!—she who has nothing!” +</p> + +<p> +“Say that I have nothing now, say that you have +eaten, and drank, and played away all that I had.” +</p> + +<p> +“You reproach me with my poverty.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, for it comes from your vices.” +</p> + +<p> +“Do not talk of vices; it only remained for you to +take a lover.” +</p> + +<p> +“And what do you call all those wretches who sit by +you in the tennis-court, where you play?” +</p> + +<p> +“I play to live.” +</p> + +<p> +“And nicely you succeed; we should die of hunger +from your industry.” +</p> + +<p> +“And you, with yours, are obliged to cry if you get +your dress torn, because you have nothing to buy another +with.” +</p> + +<p> +“I do better than you, at all events;” and, putting +her hand in her pocket, she drew out some gold and +threw it across the room. +</p> + +<p> +When Beausire saw this, he remained stupefied. +</p> + +<p> +“Louis!” cried he at last. +</p> + +<p> +She took out some more, and threw them in his +face. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh!” cried he, “Oliva has become rich!” +</p> + +<p> +“This is what my industry brings in,” said she, pushing +him with her foot as he kneeled down to pick up +the gold. +</p> + +<p> +“Sixteen, seventeen, eighteen,” counted he, joyfully. +</p> + +<p> +“Miserable wretch!” said Oliva. +</p> + +<p> +“Nineteen, twenty, twenty-one, twenty-two.” +</p> + +<p> +“Coward!” +</p> + +<p> +“Twenty-three, twenty-four, twenty-five.” +</p> + +<p> +“Infamous wretch!” +</p> + +<p> +He got up. “And so, mademoiselle, you have been +saving money when you kept me without necessaries. +You let me go about in an old hat, darned stockings, +and patched clothes, while you had all this money! +Where does it come from! From the sale of my +things?” +</p> + +<p> +“Scoundrel!” murmured Oliva, looking at him with +contempt. +</p> + +<p> +“But I pardon your avarice,” continued he. +</p> + +<p> +“You would have killed me just now,” said Oliva. +</p> + +<p> +“Then I should have been right; now I should be +wrong to do it.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why, if you please?” +</p> + +<p> +“Because now you contribute to our ménage.” +</p> + +<p> +“You are a base wretch.’” +</p> + +<p> +“My little Oliva!” +</p> + +<p> +“Give me back my money.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, my darling!” +</p> + +<p> +“If you do not, I will pass your own sword through +your body!” +</p> + +<p> +“Oliva!” +</p> + +<p> +“Will you give it?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, you would not take it away?” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, coward! you beg, you solicit for the fruits of my +bad conduct—that is what they call a man! I have +always despised you.” +</p> + +<p> +“I gave to you when I could, Nicole.” +</p> + +<p> +“Do not call me Nicole.” +</p> + +<p> +“Pardon, then, Oliva. But is it not true?” +</p> + +<p> +“Fine presents, certainly: some silver buckles, six +louis d’or, two silk dresses, and three embroidered +handkerchiefs.” +</p> + +<p> +“It is a great deal for a soldier.” +</p> + +<p> +“Hold your tongue! The buckles you stole from +some one else, the louis d’or you borrowed and never +returned, the silk dresses——” +</p> + +<p> +“Oliva! Oliva!” +</p> + +<p> +“Give me back my money.” +</p> + +<p> +“What shall I give you instead?” +</p> + +<p> +“Double the quantity.” +</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 592px;"> +<img src="images/illus-002.jpg" width="592" height="862" alt="THE QUEEN’S NECKLACE +Dumas. Vol. Eight" title="THE QUEEN’S NECKLACE +Dumas. Vol. Eight" /> +</div> + +<p> +“Well,” said the rogue, gravely, “I will go to the Rue +de Bussy and play with it, and bring you back, not the +double, but the quintuple;” and he made two steps to +the door. +</p> + +<p> +She caught him by the coat. +</p> + +<p> +“There,” said he, “you have torn my coat.” +</p> + +<p> +“Never mind; you shall have a new one.” +</p> + +<p> +“That will be six louis, Oliva. Luckily, at the Rue de +Bussy they are not particular about dress.” +</p> + +<p> +Oliva seized hold of the other tail, and tore it right off. +</p> + +<p> +Beausire became furious. +</p> + +<p> +“Mort de tous les diables!” cried he, “you will make +me kill you at last! You are tearing me to bits! Now +I cannot go out.” +</p> + +<p> +“On the contrary, you must go out immediately.” +</p> + +<p> +“Without a coat?” +</p> + +<p> +“Put on your great-coat.” +</p> + +<p> +“It is all in holes.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then do not put it on; but you must go out.” +</p> + +<p> +“I will not.” +</p> + +<p> +She took out of her pocket another handful of gold, +and put it into his hands. +</p> + +<p> +Beausire kneeled at her feet and cried, “Order, and I +will obey!” +</p> + +<p> +“Go quickly to the Capucin, Rue de Seine, where they +sell dominoes for the bal masque, and buy me one complete, +mask and all.” +</p> + +<p> +“Good.” +</p> + +<p> +“And one for yourself—black, but mine white; and I +only give you twenty minutes to do it in.” +</p> + +<p> +“Are we going to the ball?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, if you are obedient.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, always.” +</p> + +<p> +“Go, then, and show your zeal.” +</p> + +<p> +“I run; but the money?” +</p> + +<p> +“You have twenty-five louis, that you picked up.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, Oliva, I thought you meant to give me those.” +</p> + +<p> +“You shall have more another time, but if I give you +them now, you will stop and play.” +</p> + +<p> +“She is right,” said he to himself; “that is just what +I intended to do;” and he set off. +</p> + +<p> +As soon as he was gone, Oliva wrote rapidly these +words: “The peace is signed, and the ball decided on; +at two o’clock we shall be at the Opera. I shall wear a +white domino, with a blue ribbon on my left shoulder.” +Then, rolling this round a bit of the broken vase, she +went to the window and threw it out. +</p> + +<p> +The valet picked it up, and made off immediately. +</p> + +<p> +In less than half an hour M. Beausire returned, followed +by two men, bringing, at the cost of eighteen louis, two +beautiful dominoes, such as were only turned out at the +Capucin, makers to her majesty and the maids of honor. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2>CHAPTER XXI.<br/> +LA PETITE MAISON.</h2> + +<p> +We left Madame de la Motte at M. Mesmer’s door, +watching the queen’s carriage as it drove off. Then she +went home; for she also intended to put on a domino, +and indulge herself by going to the Opera. But a contretemps +awaited her: a man was waiting at her door +with a note from the Cardinal de Rohan. She opened it, +and read as follows: +</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p> +“Madame la Comtesse, you have doubtless not forgotten +that we have business together; even if you have +a short memory, I never forget what has pleased me. I +shall have the honor to wait for you where my messenger +will conduct you, if you please to come.” +</p></div> + +<p> +Jeanne, although rather vexed, immediately reentered +the coach, and told the footman to get on the box with +the coachman. Ten minutes sufficed to bring her to the +entrance of the Faubourg St. Antoine, where, in a hollow +and completely hidden by great trees, was one of those +pretty houses built in the time of Louis XV., with all the +taste of the sixteenth, with the comfort of the eighteenth, +century. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, oh! a petite maison!” said she to herself. “It +is very natural on the part of M. de Rohan, but very +humiliating for Valois. But, patience.” +</p> + +<p> +She was led from room to room till she came to a small +dining-room, fitted up with exquisite taste. There she +found the cardinal waiting for her. He was looking over +some pamphlets, but rose immediately on seeing her. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, here you are. Thanks, Madame la Comtesse,” +and he approached to kiss her hand; but she drew back +with a reproachful and indignant air. +</p> + +<p> +“What is the matter, madame?” he asked. +</p> + +<p> +“You are, doubtless, not accustomed, monseigneur, to +receive such a greeting from the women whom your eminence +is in the habit of summoning here.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! madame.” +</p> + +<p> +“We are in your petite maison, are we not, sir?” continued +she, looking disdainfully around her. +</p> + +<p> +“But, madame——” +</p> + +<p> +“I had hoped that your eminence would have deigned +to remember in what rank I was born. I had hoped that +you would have been pleased to consider, that if God has +made me poor, He has at least left me the pride of my +race.” +</p> + +<p> +“Come, come, countess, I took you for a woman of +intellect.” +</p> + +<p> +“You call a woman of intellect, it appears, monseigneur, +every one who is indifferent to, and laughs at, +everything, even dishonor. To these women, pardon me, +your eminence, I have been in the habit of giving a +different name.” +</p> + +<p> +“No, countess, you deceive yourself; I call a woman +of intellect one who listens when you speak to her, and +does not speak before having listened.” +</p> + +<p> +“I listen, then.” +</p> + +<p> +“I had to speak to you of serious matters, countess.” +</p> + +<p> +“Therefore you receive me in a dining-room.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why, would you have preferred my receiving you in a +boudoir?” +</p> + +<p> +“The distinction is nice,” said she. +</p> + +<p> +“I think so, countess.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then I am simply to sup with you?” +</p> + +<p> +“Nothing else.” +</p> + +<p> +“I trust your eminence is persuaded that I feel the +honor as I ought.” +</p> + +<p> +“You are quizzing, countess.” +</p> + +<p> +“No, I only laugh; would you rather I were angry? +You are difficult to please, monseigneur.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh; you are charming when you laugh, and I ask +nothing better than to see you always doing so; but at +this moment you are not laughing; oh, no! there is anger +in that smile which shows your beautiful teeth.” +</p> + +<p> +“Not the least in the world, monseigneur.” +</p> + +<p> +“That is good.” +</p> + +<p> +“And I hope you will sup well.” +</p> + +<p> +“I shall sup well, and you?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, I am not hungry.” +</p> + +<p> +“How, madame, you refuse to sup with me—you send +me away?” +</p> + +<p> +“I do not understand you, monseigneur.” +</p> + +<p> +“Listen, dear countess; if you were less in a passion, +I would tell you that it is useless to behave like this—you +are always equally charming; but as at each compliment +I fear to be dismissed, I abstain.” +</p> + +<p> +“You fear to be dismissed? Really, I beg pardon of +your eminence, but you become unintelligible.” +</p> + +<p> +“It is, however, quite clear, what I say. The other +day, when I came to see you, you complained that you +were lodged unsuitably to your rank. I thought, therefore, +that to restore you to your proper place would be +like restoring air to the bird whom the experimenter +has placed under his air-pump. Consequently, beautiful +countess, that you might receive me with pleasure, and +that I, on my part, might visit you without compromising +either you or myself——” He stopped and looked at her. +</p> + +<p> +“Well!” she said. +</p> + +<p> +“I hoped that you would deign to accept this small +residence; you observe, I do not call it ‘petite maison.’” +</p> + +<p> +“Accept! you give me this house, monseigneur?” +said Jeanne, her heart beating with eagerness. +</p> + +<p> +“A very small gift, countess; but if I had offered you +more, you would have refused.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, monseigneur, it is impossible for me to accept +this.” +</p> + +<p> +“Impossible, why? Do not say that word to me, for I +do not believe in it. The house belongs to you, the keys +are here on this silver plate; do you find out another +humiliation in this?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, but——” +</p> + +<p> +“Then accept.” +</p> + +<p> +“Monseigneur, I have told you.” +</p> + +<p> +“How, madame? you write to the ministers for a +pension, you accept a hundred louis from an unknown +lady——” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, monseigneur, it is different.” +</p> + +<p> +“Come, I have waited for you in your dining-room. I +have not yet seen the boudoir, nor the drawing-room, nor +the bedrooms, for I suppose there are all these.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, monseigneur, forgive me; you force me to confess +that you the most delicate of men,” and she blushed +with the pleasure she had been so long restraining. +But checking herself, she sat down and said, “Now, will +your eminence give me my supper?” +</p> + +<p> +The cardinal took off his cloak, and sat down also. +</p> + +<p> +Supper was served in a few moments. Jeanne put on +her mask before the servants came in. +</p> + +<p> +“It is I who ought to wear a mask,” said the cardinal, +“for you are at home, among your own people.” +</p> + +<p> +Jeanne laughed, but did not take hers off. In spite of +her pleasure and surprise, she made a good supper. The +cardinal was a man of much talent, and from his great +knowledge of the world and of women, he was a man difficult +to contend with, and he thought that this country +girl, full of pretension, but who, in spite of her pride, +could not conceal her greediness, would be an easy conquest, +worth undertaking on account of her beauty, and +of a something piquant about her, very pleasing to a man +“blasé” like him. He therefore never took pains to be +much on his guard with her; and she, more cunning than +he thought, saw through his opinion of her, and tried to +strengthen it by playing the provincial coquette, and appearing +silly, that her adversary might be in reality weak +in his over-confidence. +</p> + +<p> +The cardinal thought her completely dazzled by the +present he had made her—and so, indeed, she was; but +he forgot that he himself was below the mark of the ambition +of a woman like Jeanne. +</p> + +<p> +“Come,” said he, pouring out for her a glass of cyprus +wine, “as you have signed your contract with me, you +will not be unfriendly any more, countess.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh no!” +</p> + +<p> +“You will receive me here sometimes without repugnance?” +</p> + +<p> +“I shall never be so ungrateful as to forget whose house +this really is.” +</p> + +<p> +“Not mine.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh yes, monseigneur.” +</p> + +<p> +“Do not contradict me, I advise you, or I shall begin +to impose conditions.” +</p> + +<p> +“You take care on your part——” +</p> + +<p> +“Of what?” +</p> + +<p> +“Why, I am at home here, you know, and if your +conditions are unreasonable, I shall call my servants——” +</p> + +<p> +The cardinal laughed. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, you laugh, sir; you think if I call they will not +come.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, you quite mistake, countess. I am nothing here, +only your guest. Apropos,” continued he, as if it had +just entered his head, “have you heard anything more +of the ladies who came to see you?” +</p> + +<p> +“The ladies of the portrait?” said Jeanne, who, now +knowing the queen, saw through the artifice. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, the ladies of the portrait.” +</p> + +<p> +“Monseigneur, you know them as well and even better +than I do, I feel sure.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, countess, you do me wrong. Did you not express +a wish to learn who they were?” +</p> + +<p> +“Certainly; it is natural to desire to know your benefactors.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, if knew, I should have told you.” +</p> + +<p> +“M. le Cardinal, you do know them.” +</p> + +<p> +“No.” +</p> + +<p> +“If you repeat that ‘no,’ I shall have to call you a liar.” +</p> + +<p> +“I shall know how to avenge that insult.” +</p> + +<p> +“How?” +</p> + +<p> +“With a kiss.” +</p> + +<p> +“You know the portrait of Maria Theresa?” +</p> + +<p> +“Certainly, but what of that?” +</p> + +<p> +“That, having recognized this portrait, you must +have had some suspicion of the person to whom it +belonged.” +</p> + +<p> +“And why?” +</p> + +<p> +“Because it was natural to think that the portrait of +a mother would only be in the hands of her daughter.” +</p> + +<p> +“The queen!” cried the cardinal, with so truthful a +tone of surprise that it duped even Jeanne. “Do you +really think the queen came to see you?” +</p> + +<p> +“And you did not suspect it?” +</p> + +<p> +“Mon Dieu, no! how should I? I, who speak to +you, am neither son, daughter, nor even relation of +Maria Theresa, yet I have a portrait of her about me at +this moment. Look,” said he—and he drew out a snuff-box +and showed it to her; “therefore you see that if I, +who am in no way related to the imperial house, carry +about such a portrait, another might do the same, and +yet be a stranger.” +</p> + +<p> +Jeanne was silent—she had nothing to answer. +</p> + +<p> +“Then it is your opinion,” he went on, “that you +have had a visit from the queen, Marie Antoinette.” +</p> + +<p> +“The queen and another lady.” +</p> + +<p> +“Madame de Polignac?” +</p> + +<p> +“I do not know.” +</p> + +<p> +“Perhaps Madame de Lamballe?” +</p> + +<p> +“A young lady, very beautiful and very serious.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, perhaps Mademoiselle de Taverney.” +</p> + +<p> +“It is possible; I do not know her.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, if her majesty has really come to visit you, you +are sure of her protection. It is a great step towards +your fortune.” +</p> + +<p> +“I believe it, monseigneur.” +</p> + +<p> +“And her majesty was generous to you?” +</p> + +<p> +“She gave me a hundred louis.” +</p> + +<p> +“And she is not rich, particularly now.” +</p> + +<p> +“That doubles my gratitude.” +</p> + +<p> +“Did she show much interest in you?” +</p> + +<p> +“Very great.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then all goes well,” said the prelate; “there only +remains one thing now—to penetrate to Versailles.” +</p> + +<p> +The countess smiled. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, countess, it is not so easy.” +</p> + +<p> +She smiled again, more significantly than before. +</p> + +<p> +“Really, you provincials,” said he, “doubt nothing; +because you have seen Versailles with the doors open, and +stairs to go up, you think any one may open these doors +and ascend these stairs. Have you seen the monsters of +brass, of marble, and of lead, which adorn the park and the +terraces?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes.” +</p> + +<p> +“Griffins, gorgons, ghouls, and other ferocious beasts. +Well, you will find ten times as many, and more wicked, +living animals between you and the favor of sovereigns.” +</p> + +<p> +“Your eminence will aid me to pass through the ranks +of these monsters.” +</p> + +<p> +“I will try, but it will be difficult. And if you pronounce +my name, if you discover your talisman, it will lose +all its power.” +</p> + +<p> +“Happily, then, I am guarded by the immediate protection +of the queen, and I shall enter Versailles with a +good key.” +</p> + +<p> +“What key, countess?” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, Monsieur le Cardinal, that is my secret—or +rather it is not, for if it were mine, I should feel bound +to tell it to my generous protector.” +</p> + +<p> +“There is, then, an obstacle, countess?” +</p> + +<p> +“Alas! yes, monseigneur. It is not my secret, and I +must keep it. Let it suffice you to know that to-morrow +I shall go to Versailles; that I shall be received, and, +I have every reason to hope, well received.” +</p> + +<p> +The cardinal looked at her with wonder. “Ah, countess,” +said he, laughing, “I shall see if you will get in.” +</p> + +<p> +“You will push your curiosity so far as to follow me?” +</p> + +<p> +“Exactly.” +</p> + +<p> +“Very well.” +</p> + +<p> +“Really, countess, you are a living enigma.” +</p> + +<p> +“One of those monsters who inhabit Versailles.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, you believe me a man of taste, do you not?” +</p> + +<p> +“Certainly, monseigneur.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, here I am at your knees, and I take your hand +and kiss it. Should I do that if I thought you a monster?” +</p> + +<p> +“I beg you, sir, to remember,” said Jeanne coldly, +“that I am neither a grisette nor an opera girl; that I +am my own mistress, feeling myself the equal of any man +in this kingdom. Therefore I shall take freely and spontaneously, +when it shall please me, the man who will have +gained my affections. Therefore, monseigneur, respect +me a little, and, in me, the nobility to which we both +belong.” +</p> + +<p> +The cardinal rose. “I see,” said he, “you wish me +to love you seriously.” +</p> + +<p> +“I do not say that; but I wish to be able to love you. +When that day comes—if it does comes—you will easily +find it out, believe me. If you do not, I will let you +know it; for I feel young enough and attractive enough +not to mind making the first advances, nor to fear a repulse.” +</p> + +<p> +“Countess, if it depends upon me, you shall love me.” +</p> + +<p> +“We shall see.” +</p> + +<p> +“You have already a friendship for me, have you +not?” +</p> + +<p> +“More than that.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! then we are at least half way. And you are a +woman that I should adore, if——” He stopped and sighed. +</p> + +<p> +“Well,” said she, “if——” +</p> + +<p> +“If you would permit it.” +</p> + +<p> +“Perhaps I shall, when I shall be independent of your +assistance, and you can no longer suspect that I encourage +you from interested motives.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then you forbid me to pay my court now?” +</p> + +<p> +“Not at all; but there are other ways besides kneeling +and kissing hands.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, countess, let us hear; what will you permit?” +</p> + +<p> +“All that is compatible with my tastes and duties.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, that is vague indeed.” +</p> + +<p> +“Stop! I was going to add—my caprices.” +</p> + +<p> +“I am lost!” +</p> + +<p> +“You draw back?” +</p> + +<p> +“No,” said the cardinal, “I do not.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, then, I want a proof.” +</p> + +<p> +“Speak.” +</p> + +<p> +“I want to go to the ball at the Opera.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, countess, that only concerns yourself. Are +you not free as air to go where you wish?” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, but you have not heard all. I want you to go +with me.” +</p> + +<p> +“I to the Opera, countess!” said he, with a start of +horror. +</p> + +<p> +“See already how much your desire to please me is +worth.” +</p> + +<p> +“A cardinal cannot go to a ball at the Opera, countess. +It is as if I proposed to you to go into a public-house.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then a cardinal does not dance, I suppose?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh no!” +</p> + +<p> +“But I have read that M. le Cardinal de Richelieu +danced a saraband.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, before Anne of Austria.” +</p> + +<p> +“Before a queen,” repeated Jeanne. “Perhaps you +would do as much for a queen?” +</p> + +<p> +The cardinal could not help blushing, dissembler as he +was. +</p> + +<p> +“Is it not natural,” she continued, “that I should feel +hurt when, after all your protestations, you will not do +as much for me as you would for a queen?—especially +when I only ask you to go concealed in a domino and a +mask; besides, a man like you, who may do anything +with impunity!” +</p> + +<p> +The cardinal yielded to her flattery and her blandishments. +Taking her hand, he said, “For you I will do +anything, even the impossible.” +</p> + +<p> +“Thanks, monseigneur; you are really amiable. But +now you have consented, I will let you off.” +</p> + +<p> +“No, no! he who does the work can alone claim the +reward. Countess, I will attend you, but in a domino.” +</p> + +<p> +“We shall pass through the Rue St. Denis, close to +the Opera,” said the countess. “I will go in masked, +buy a domino and a mask for you, and you can put them +on in the carriage.” +</p> + +<p> +“That will do delightfully.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, monseigneur, you are very good! But, now I +think of it, perhaps at the Hôtel Rohan you might find a +domino more to your taste than the one I should buy.” +</p> + +<p> +“Now, countess, that is unpardonable malice. Believe +me if I go to the Opera, I shall be as surprised to +find myself there as you were to find yourself supping +tête-à-tête with a man not your husband.” +</p> + +<p> +Jeanne had nothing to reply to this. Soon a carriage +without arms drove up; they both got in, and drove off +at a rapid pace. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2>CHAPTER XXII.<br/> +SOME WORDS ABOUT THE OPERA.</h2> + +<p> +The Opera, that temple of pleasure at Paris, was burned +in the month of June, 1781. Twenty persons had perished +in the ruins; and as it was the second time within +eighteen years that this had happened, it created a prejudice +against the place where it then stood, in the Palais +Royal, and the king had ordered its removal to a less +central spot. The place chosen was La Porte St. Martin. +</p> + +<p> +The king, vexed to see Paris deprived for so long of its +Opera, became as sorrowful as if the arrivals of grain had +ceased, or bread had risen to more than seven sous the +quartern loaf. It was melancholy to see the nobility, the +army, and the citizens without their after-dinner amusement; +and to see the promenades thronged with the unemployed +divinities, from the chorus-singers to the prima +donnas. +</p> + +<p> +An architect was then introduced to the king, full of +new plans, who promised so perfect a ventilation, that +even in case of fire no one could be smothered. He would +make eight doors for exit, besides five large windows +placed so low that any one could jump out of them. In +the place of the beautiful hall of Moreau he was to erect +a building with ninety-six feet of frontage towards the +boulevard, ornamented with eight caryatides on pillars +forming three entrance-doors, a bas-relief above the +capitals, and a gallery with three windows. The stage +was to be thirty-six feet wide, the theater seventy-two feet +deep and eighty across, from one wall to the other. He +asked only seventy-five days and nights before he opened +it to the public. +</p> + +<p> +This appeared to all a mere gasconade, and was much +laughed at. The king, however, concluded the agreement +with him. Lenoir set to work, and kept his word. But +the public feared that a building so quickly erected could +not be safe, and when it opened no one would go. +</p> + +<p> +Even the few courageous ones who did go to the first +representation of “Adéle de Ponthieu” made their wills +first. The architect was in despair. He came to the king +to consult him as to what was to be done. +</p> + +<p> +It was just after the birth of the dauphin; all Paris was +full of joy. The king advised him to announce a gratuitous +performance in honor of the event, and give a ball +after. Doubtless plenty would come, and if the theater +stood, its safety was established. +</p> + +<p> +“Thanks, sire,” said the architect. +</p> + +<p> +“But reflect, first,” said the king, “if there be a crowd, +are you sure of your building?” +</p> + +<p> +“Sire, I am sure, and shall go there myself.” +</p> + +<p> +“I will go to the second representation,” said the king. +</p> + +<p> +The architect followed this advice. They played +“Adéle de Ponthieu” to three thousand spectators, who +afterwards danced. After this there could be no more +fear. It was three years afterwards that Madame de la +Motte and the cardinal went to the ball. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2>CHAPTER XXIII.<br/> +THE BALL AT THE OPERA.</h2> + +<p> +The ball was at its height when they glided in quietly, +and were soon lost in the crowd. A couple had taken refuge +from the pressure under the queen’s box; one of them +wore a white domino and the other a black one. They +were talking with great animation. “I tell you, Oliva,” +said the black domino, “that I am sure you are expecting +some one. Your head is no longer a head, but a weather +cock, and turns round to look after every newcomer.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, is it astonishing that I should look at the people, +when that is what I came here for?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, that is what you came for!” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, sir, and for what do people generally come?” +</p> + +<p> +“A thousand things.” +</p> + +<p> +“Men perhaps, but women only for one—to see and be +seen by as many people as possible.” +</p> + +<p> +“Mademoiselle Oliva!” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, do not speak in that big voice, it does so frighten +me; and above all, do not call me by name; it is bad +taste to let every one here know who you are.” +</p> + +<p> +The black domino made an angry gesture; it was interrupted +by a blue domino who approached them. +</p> + +<p> +“Come, monsieur,” said he, “let madame amuse herself; +it is not every night one comes to a ball at the +Opera.” +</p> + +<p> +“Meddle with your own affairs,” replied Beausire, +rudely. +</p> + +<p> +“Monsieur, learn once for all that a little courtesy is +never out of place.” +</p> + +<p> +“I do not know you,” he replied, “and do not want to +have anything to do with you.” +</p> + +<p> +“No, you do not know me; but I know you, M. Beausire.” +</p> + +<p> +At hearing his name thus pronounced, Beausire visibly +trembled. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, do not be afraid, M. Beausire; I am not what +you take me for.” +</p> + +<p> +“Pardieu! sir, do you guess thoughts, as well as +names?” +</p> + +<p> +“Why not?” +</p> + +<p> +“Then tell me what I thought. I have never seen a +sorcerer, and should find it amusing.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, what you ask is not difficult enough to entitle me +to that name.” +</p> + +<p> +“Never mind—tell.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, then! you took me for an agent of M. de +Crosne.” +</p> + +<p> +“M. de Crosne!” he repeated. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes; the lieutenant of police.” +</p> + +<p> +“Sir!” +</p> + +<p> +“Softly, M. de Beausire, you really look as if you were +feeling for your sword.” +</p> + +<p> +“And so I was, sir.” +</p> + +<p> +“Good heavens! what a warlike disposition; but I +think, dear M. Beausire, you left your sword at home, +and you did well. But to speak of something else, will +you relinquish to me madame for a time?” +</p> + +<p> +“Give you up madame?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, sir; that is not uncommon, I believe, at a ball +at the Opera.” +</p> + +<p> +“Certainly not, when it suits the gentleman.” +</p> + +<p> +“It suffices sometimes that it should please the lady.” +</p> + +<p> +“Do you ask it for a long time?” +</p> + +<p> +“Really, M. Beausire, you are too curious. Perhaps +for ten minutes—perhaps for an hour—perhaps for all the +evening.” +</p> + +<p> +“You are laughing at me, sir.” +</p> + +<p> +“Come, reply; will you or not?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, sir.” +</p> + +<p> +“Come, come, do not be ill-tempered, you who were so +gentle just now.” +</p> + +<p> +“Just now?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes; at the Rue Dauphine.” +</p> + +<p> +Oliva laughed. +</p> + +<p> +“Hold your tongue, madame,” said Beausire. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” continued the blue domino, “where you were +on the point of killing this poor lady, but stopped at the +sight of some louis.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, I see; you and she have an understanding together.” +</p> + +<p> +“How can you say such a thing?” cried Oliva. +</p> + +<p> +“And if it were so,” said the stranger, “it is all for +your benefit.” +</p> + +<p> +“For my benefit! that would be curious.” +</p> + +<p> +“I will prove to you that your presence here is as hurtful +as your absence would be profitable. You are a +member of a certain academy, not the Académie Française, +but in the Rue du Pôt au Fer, in the second story, is it not, +my dear M. Beausire?” +</p> + +<p> +“Hush!” said Beausire. +</p> + +<p> +The blue domino drew out his watch, which was studded +with diamonds that made Beausire’s eyes water to look at +them. “Well!” continued he, “in a quarter of an hour +they are going to discuss there a little project, by which, +they hope to secure 2,000,000 francs among the twelve +members, of whom you are one, M. Beausire.” +</p> + +<p> +“And you must be another; if you are not——” +</p> + +<p> +“Pray go on.” +</p> + +<p> +“A member of the police.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, M. Beausire, I thought you had more sense. If +I were of the police, I should have taken you long ago, +for some little affairs less honorable than this speculation.” +</p> + +<p> +“So, sir, you wish to send me to the Rue du Pôt au +Fer: but I know why—that I may be arrested there: I +am not such a fool.” +</p> + +<p> +“Now, you are one. If I wanted to arrest you, I had +only to do it, and I am rid of you at once; but gentleness +and persuasion are my maxims.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, I know now,” said Beausire, “you are the man +that was on the sofa two hours ago.” +</p> + +<p> +“What sofa?” +</p> + +<p> +“Never mind; you have induced me to go, and if you +are sending a gallant man into harm, you will pay for it +some day.” +</p> + +<p> +“Be tranquil,” said the blue domino, laughing; “by +sending you there, I give you 100,000 francs at least, +for you know the rule of this society is, that whoever is +absent loses his share.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, then, good-by!” said Beausire, and vanished. +</p> + +<p> +The blue domino took possession of Oliva’s arm, left at +liberty by Beausire. +</p> + +<p> +“Now!” said she, “I have let you manage poor +Beausire at your ease, but I warn you, you will find me +not so easy to talk over; therefore, find something pretty +to say to me, or——” +</p> + +<p> +“I know nothing prettier than your own history, dear +Mademoiselle Nicole,” said he, pressing the pretty round +arm of the little woman, who uttered a cry at hearing +herself so addressed; but, recovering herself with marvelous +quickness, said: +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, mon Dieu! what a name! Is it I whom you call +Nicole? If so, you are wrong, for that is not my +name.” +</p> + +<p> +“At present I know that you call yourself Oliva, but +we will talk afterwards of Oliva; at present I want to +speak of Nicole. Have you forgotten the time when you +bore that name? I do not believe it, my dear child, for +the name that one bears as a young girl is ever the one enshrined +in the heart, although one may have been forced +to take another to hide the first. Poor Oliva, happy +Nicole!” +</p> + +<p> +“Why do you say ‘Poor Oliva’? do you not think me +happy?” +</p> + +<p> +“It would be difficult to be happy with a man like +Beausire.” +</p> + +<p> +Oliva sighed and said, “Indeed I am not.” +</p> + +<p> +“You love him, however.” +</p> + +<p> +“A little.” +</p> + +<p> +“If you do not love him much, leave him.” +</p> + +<p> +“No.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why not?” +</p> + +<p> +“Because I should no sooner have done so than I +should regret it.” +</p> + +<p> +“Do you think so?” +</p> + +<p> +“I am afraid I should.” +</p> + +<p> +“What could you have to regret in a drunkard; a gambler, +a man who beats you, and a black-leg, who will one +day come to the gallows?” +</p> + +<p> +“You would not understand me if I told you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Try.” +</p> + +<p> +“I should regret the excitement he keeps me in.” +</p> + +<p> +“I ought to have guessed it; that comes of passing +your youth with such silent people.” +</p> + +<p> +“You know about my youth?” +</p> + +<p> +“Perfectly.” +</p> + +<p> +Oliva laughed and shook her head. +</p> + +<p> +“You doubt it?” +</p> + +<p> +“Really I do.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then we will talk a little about it, Mademoiselle +Nicole.” +</p> + +<p> +“Very well; but I warn you, I will tell nothing.” +</p> + +<p> +“I do not wish it. I do not mean your childhood. I +begin from the time when you first perceived that you +had a heart capable of love.” +</p> + +<p> +“Love for whom?” +</p> + +<p> +“For Gilbert.” +</p> + +<p> +At this name Oliva trembled. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, mon Dieu!” she cried. “How do you know?” +Then with, a sigh said, “Oh, sir! you have pronounced a +name indeed fertile in remembrances. You knew Gilbert?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes; since I speak to you of him.” +</p> + +<p> +“Alas!” +</p> + +<p> +“A charming lad, upon my word. You loved him?” +</p> + +<p> +“He was handsome. No, perhaps not; but I thought +him so; he was full of mind, my equal in birth, but Gilbert +thought no woman his equal.” +</p> + +<p> +“Not even Mademoiselle de Ta——” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, I know whom you mean, sir. You are well instructed. +Yes, Gilbert loved higher than the poor Nicole: +you are possessed of terrible secrets, sir; tell me, +if you can,” she continued, looking earnestly at him, +“what has become of him?” +</p> + +<p> +“You should know best.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why, in heaven’s name?” +</p> + +<p> +“Because if he followed you from Taverney to Paris, +you followed him from Paris to Trianon.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, that is true, but that is ten years ago; and I +wished to know what had passed since the time I ran away, +and since he disappeared. When Gilbert loved Mademoiselle +de——” +</p> + +<p> +“Do not pronounce names aloud,” said he. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, then, when he loved her so much that each tree +at Trianon was witness to his love——” +</p> + +<p> +“You loved him no more.” +</p> + +<p> +“On the contrary, I loved him more than ever; and +this love was my ruin. I am beautiful, proud, and, when +I please, insolent; and would lay my head on the scaffold +rather than confess myself despised.” +</p> + +<p> +“You have a heart, Nicole?” +</p> + +<p> +“I had then,” she said, sighing. +</p> + +<p> +“This conversation makes you sad.” +</p> + +<p> +“No, it does me good to speak of my youth. But tell +me why Gilbert fled from Trianon.” +</p> + +<p> +“Do you wish me to confirm a suspicion, or to tell you +something you do not know.” +</p> + +<p> +“Something I do not know.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, I cannot tell you this. Have you not heard +that he is dead?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, I have, but——” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, he is dead.” +</p> + +<p> +“Dead!” said Nicole, with an air of doubt. Then, +with a sudden start, “Grant me one favor!” she cried. +</p> + +<p> +“As many as you like.” +</p> + +<p> +“I saw you two hours ago; for it was you, was it not?” +</p> + +<p> +“Certainly.” +</p> + +<p> +“You did not, then, try to disguise yourself?” +</p> + +<p> +“Not at all.” +</p> + +<p> +“But I was stupid; I saw you, but I did not observe +you.” +</p> + +<p> +“I do not understand.” +</p> + +<p> +“Do you know what I want?” +</p> + +<p> +“No.” +</p> + +<p> +“Take off your mask.” +</p> + +<p> +“Here! impossible!” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, you cannot fear other people seeing you. Here, +behind this column, you will be quite hidden. You fear +that I should recognize you.” +</p> + +<p> +“You!” +</p> + +<p> +“And that I should cry, ‘It is you—it is Gilbert!’” +</p> + +<p> +“What folly!” +</p> + +<p> +“Take off your mask.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, on one condition—that you will take off yours, +if I ask it.” +</p> + +<p> +“Agreed.” The unknown took off his immediately. +</p> + +<p> +Oliva looked earnestly at him, then sighed, and said: +</p> + +<p> +“Alas! no, it is not Gilbert.” +</p> + +<p> +“And who am I?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, I do not care, as you are not he.” +</p> + +<p> +“And if it had been Gilbert?” said he, as he put on +his mask again. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah! if it had been,” cried she passionately, “and +he had said to me, ‘Nicole, do you remember Taverney +Maison-Rouge?’ then there would have been no longer a +Beausire in the world for me.” +</p> + +<p> +“But I have told you, my dear child, that Gilbert is +dead.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah! perhaps, then, it is for the best,” said Oliva, +with a sigh. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes; he would never have loved you, beautiful as +you are.” +</p> + +<p> +“Do you, then, think he despised me?” +</p> + +<p> +“No; he rather feared you.” +</p> + +<p> +“That is possible.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then you think it better he is dead?” +</p> + +<p> +“Do not repeat my words; in your mouth they wound +me.” +</p> + +<p> +“But it is better for Mademoiselle Oliva. You observe, +I abandon Nicole, and speak to Oliva. You have +before you a future, happy, rich, and brilliant.” +</p> + +<p> +“Do you think so?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, if you make up your mind to do anything to +arrive at this end.” +</p> + +<p> +“I promise you.” +</p> + +<p> +“But you must give up sighing, as you were doing +just now.” +</p> + +<p> +“Very well. I sighed for Gilbert, and as he is dead, +and there are not two Gilberts in the world, I shall sigh +no more. But enough of him.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes; we will speak of yourself. Why did you run +away with Beausire?” +</p> + +<p> +“Because I wished to quit Trianon, and I was obliged +to go with some one; I could no longer remain a ‘pis +aller,’ rejected by Gilbert.” +</p> + +<p> +“You have, then, been faithful for ten years through +pride? You have paid dearly for it.” +</p> + +<p> +Oliva laughed. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, I know what you are laughing at. To hear a +man, who pretends to know everything, accuse you of +having been ten years faithful, when you think you have +not rendered yourself worthy of such a ridiculous reproach. +However, I know all about you. I know that +you went to Portugal with Beausire, where you remained +two years; that you then left him, and went to the Indies +with the captain of a frigate, who hid you in his cabin, +and who left you at Chandernagor when he returned to +Europe. I know that you had two millions of rupees to +spend in the house of a nabob who kept you shut up; +that you escaped through the window on the shoulders +of a slave. Then, rich—for you had carried away two +beautiful pearl bracelets, two diamonds, and three large +rubies—you came back to France. When landing at +Brest, your evil genius made you encounter Beausire on +the quay, who recognized you immediately, bronzed and +altered as you were, while you almost fainted at the +sight of him.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, mon Dieu!” cried Oliva, “who are you, then, +who know all this?” +</p> + +<p> +“I know, further, that Beausire carried you off again, +persuaded you that he loved you, sold your jewels, and +reduced you to poverty. Still, you say you love him, +and, as love is the root of all happiness, of course you +ought to be happy.” +</p> + +<p> +Oliva hung her head, and covered her eyes with her +hands, but two large tears might be seen forcing their +way through her fingers—liquid pearls, more precious, +though not so marketable, as those Beausire had sold. +</p> + +<p> +“And this woman,” at last she said, “whom you +describe as so proud and so happy, you have bought to-day +for fifty louis.” +</p> + +<p> +“I am aware it is too little, mademoiselle.” +</p> + +<p> +“No, sir; on the contrary, I am surprised that a +woman like me should be worth so much.” +</p> + +<p> +“You are worth more than that, as I will show you; +but just now I want all your attention.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then I will be silent.” +</p> + +<p> +“No; talk, on the contrary, of anything, it does not +matter what, so that we seem occupied.” +</p> + +<p> +“You are very odd.” +</p> + +<p> +“Take hold of my arm, and let us walk.” +</p> + +<p> +They walked on among the various groups. In a +minute or two, Oliva asked a question. +</p> + +<p> +“Talk as much as you like, only do not ask questions +at present,” said her companion, “for I cannot answer +now; only, as you speak, disguise your voice, hold your +head up, and scratch your neck with your fan.” +</p> + +<p> +She obeyed. +</p> + +<p> +In a minute, they passed a highly perfumed group, in +the center of which a very elegant-looking man was +talking fast to three companions, who were listening +respectfully. +</p> + +<p> +“Who is that young man in that beautiful gray +domino?” asked Oliva. +</p> + +<p> +“M. le Comte d’Artois; but pray do not speak just +now!” At this moment two other dominoes passed +them, and stood in a place near, which was rather free +from people. +</p> + +<p> +“Lean on this pillar, countess,” said one of them in a +low voice, but which was overheard by the blue domino, +who started at its sound. +</p> + +<p> +Then a yellow domino, passing through the crowd, came +up to the blue one, and said, “It is he.” +</p> + +<p> +“Very good,” replied the other, and the yellow domino +vanished. +</p> + +<p> +“Now, then,” said Oliva’s companion, turning to her, +“we will begin to enjoy ourselves a little.” +</p> + +<p> +“I hope so, for you have twice made me sad: first by +taking away Beausire, and then by speaking of Gilbert.” +</p> + +<p> +“I will be both Gilbert and Beausire to you,” said the +unknown. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh!” sighed Oliva. +</p> + +<p> +“I do not ask you to love me, remember; I only ask +you to accept the life I offer you—that is, the accomplishment +of all your desires, provided occasionally you give +way to mine. Just now I have one.” +</p> + +<p> +“What?” +</p> + +<p> +“That black domino that you see there is a German of +my acquaintance, who refused to come to the ball with +me, saying he was not well; and now he is here, and a +lady with him.” +</p> + +<p> +“Who is she?” +</p> + +<p> +“I do not know. We will approach them; I will pretend +that you are a German, and you must not speak, for +fear of being found out. Now, pretend to point him out +to me with the end of your fan.” +</p> + +<p> +“Like that?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes; very well. Now whisper to me.” +</p> + +<p> +Oliva obeyed with a docility which charmed her companion. +</p> + +<p> +The black domino, who had his back turned to them, +did not see all this; but his companion did. “Take care, +monseigneur,” said she; “there are two masks watching +us.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, do not be afraid, countess; they cannot recognize +us. Do not mind them; but let me assure you that +never form was so enchanting as yours, never eyes so brilliant, +never——” +</p> + +<p> +“Hush! the spies approach.” +</p> + +<p> +“Spies!” said the cardinal, uneasily. “Disguise your +voice if they make you speak, and I will do the same.” +</p> + +<p> +Oliva and her blue domino indeed approached; he came +up to the cardinal, and said, “Mask——” +</p> + +<p> +“What do you want?” said the cardinal, in a voice as +unlike his natural one as he could make it. +</p> + +<p> +“The lady who accompanies me desires me to ask you +some questions.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ask,” said M. de Rohan. +</p> + +<p> +“Are they very indiscreet?” said Madame de la Motte. +</p> + +<p> +“So indiscreet that you shall not hear them;” and he +pretended to whisper to Oliva, who made a sign in answer. +Then, in irreproachable German, he said to the cardinal, +“Monseigneur, are you in love with the lady who accompanies +you?” +</p> + +<p> +The cardinal trembled. +</p> + +<p> +“Did you say monseigneur?” he asked. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes.” +</p> + +<p> +“You deceive yourself; I am not the person you think.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, M. le Cardinal, do not deny it; it is useless. If +even I did not know you, the lady who accompanies me +assures me she knows you perfectly.” And he again +whispered to Oliva, “Make a sign for ‘yes.’ Do so each +time I press your arm.” +</p> + +<p> +She did so. +</p> + +<p> +“You astonish me!” said the cardinal. “Who is this +lady?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, monseigneur, I thought you would have known; +she soon knew you. It is true that jealousy——” +</p> + +<p> +“Madame is jealous of me!” cried the cardinal. +</p> + +<p> +“We do not say that,” replied the unknown, rather +haughtily. +</p> + +<p> +“What are you talking about?” asked Madame de la +Motte, who did not like this conversation in German. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, nothing, nothing!” +</p> + +<p> +“Madame,” said the cardinal to Oliva, “one word from +you, and I promise to recognize you instantly.” +</p> + +<p> +Oliva, who saw him speaking to her, but did not understand +a word, whispered to her companion. +</p> + +<p> +All this mystery piqued the cardinal. +</p> + +<p> +“One single German word,” he said, “could not much +compromise madame.” +</p> + +<p> +The blue domino again pretended to take her orders, +and then said: “M. le Cardinal, these are the words of +madame, ‘He whose thoughts are not ever on the alert, he +whose imagination does not perpetually suggest the presence +of the loved one, does not love, however much he +may pretend it.’” +</p> + +<p> +The cardinal appeared struck with these words; all his +attitude expressed surprise, respect and devotion. +</p> + +<p> +“It is impossible!” he murmured in French. +</p> + +<p> +“What is impossible?” asked Madame de la Motte, who +seized eagerly on these few words she could understand. +</p> + +<p> +“Nothing, madame, nothing!” +</p> + +<p> +“Really, cardinal, you are making me play but a sorry +part,” said she, withdrawing her arm angrily. +</p> + +<p> +He did not even seem to notice it, so great was his +preoccupation with the German lady. +</p> + +<p> +“Madame,” said he to her, “these words that your +companion has repeated to me in your name are some +German lines which I read in a house which is perhaps +known to you.” +</p> + +<p> +The blue domino pressed Oliva’s arm, who thereupon +bowed an assent. +</p> + +<p> +“That house,” said the cardinal, hesitatingly, “is it +not called Schoenbrunn?” +</p> + +<p> +She again made a gesture of assent. +</p> + +<p> +“They were written on a table of cherry-wood, with a +gold bodkin, by an august hand.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” bowed Oliva again. +</p> + +<p> +The cardinal stopped, he tottered, and leaned against +a pillar for support. Madame de la Motte stood by, +watching this strange scene. Then the cardinal, touching +the blue domino, said: “This is the conclusion of +the quotation—‘But he who sees everywhere the loved +object, who recognizes her by a flower, by a perfume, +through the thickest veils, he can still be silent—his +voice is in his heart—and if one other understands him, +he is happy.’” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, they are speaking German here,” said a young +voice from an approaching group; “let us listen. Do +you speak German, marshal?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, monseigneur.” +</p> + +<p> +“You, Charny?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, your highness.” +</p> + +<p> +“Here is M. le Comte d’Artois,” said Oliva softly to +her companion. +</p> + +<p> +A crowd followed them, and many were passing round. +</p> + +<p> +“Take care, gentlemen!” said the blue domino. +</p> + +<p> +“Monsieur,” replied the prince, “the people are +pushing us.” +</p> + +<p> +At this moment some invisible hand pulled Oliva’s +hood from behind, and her mask fell. She replaced +it as quickly as possible, with a half-terrified cry, which +was echoed by one of affected disquiet from her companion. +</p> + +<p> +Several others around looked no little bewildered. +</p> + +<p> +The cardinal nearly fainted, and Madame de la Motte +supported him. The pressure of the crowd separated the +Comte d’Artois and his party from them. Then the blue +domino approached the cardinal, and said: +</p> + +<p> +“This is indeed an irreparable misfortune; this lady’s +honor is at your mercy.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, monsieur!” murmured the cardinal, who was +much agitated. +</p> + +<p> +“Let us go quickly,” said the blue domino to Oliva; +and they moved away. +</p> + +<p> +“Now I know,” said Madame de la Motte to herself, +“what the cardinal meant was impossible: he took this +woman for the queen. But what an effect it has had on +him?” +</p> + +<p> +“Would you like to leave the ball?” asked M. de +Rohan, in a feeble voice. +</p> + +<p> +“As you please, monseigneur,” replied Jeanne. +</p> + +<p> +“I do not find much interest here, do you?” +</p> + +<p> +“None at all.” +</p> + +<p> +They pushed their way through the crowd. The cardinal, +who was tall, looked all around him, to try and see +again the vision which had disappeared; but blue, white, +and gray dominoes were everywhere, and he could distinguish +no one. They had been some time in the carriage, +and he had not yet spoken to Jeanne. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2>CHAPTER XXIV.<br/> +THE EXAMINATION.</h2> + +<p> +At last Jeanne said, “Where is this carriage taking me +to, cardinal?” +</p> + +<p> +“Back to your own house, countess.” +</p> + +<p> +“My house—in the faubourg?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, countess. A very small house to contain so many +charms.” +</p> + +<p> +They soon stopped. Jeanne alighted, and he was preparing +to follow her, but she stopped him, and said, “It is +very late, cardinal.” +</p> + +<p> +“Adieu, then,” said he; and he drove away, absorbed +with the scene at the ball. +</p> + +<p> +Jeanne entered alone into her new house. Six lackeys +waited for her in the hall, and she looked at them as +calmly as though she had been used to it all her life. +</p> + +<p> +“Where are my femmes de chambre?” said she. +</p> + +<p> +One of the men advanced respectfully. +</p> + +<p> +“Two women wait for madame in her room.” +</p> + +<p> +“Call them.” The valet obeyed. +</p> + +<p> +“Where do you usually sleep?” said Jeanne to them, +when they entered. +</p> + +<p> +“We have no place as yet,” said one of them; “we can +sleep wherever madame pleases.” +</p> + +<p> +“Where are the keys?” +</p> + +<p> +“Here, madame.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, for this night you shall sleep out of the house.” +</p> + +<p> +The women looked at her in surprise. +</p> + +<p> +“You have some place to go to?” said Jeanne. +</p> + +<p> +“Certainly, madame; but it is late. Still, if madame +wishes——” +</p> + +<p> +“And these men can accompany you,” she continued, +dismissing the valets also, who seemed rather pleased. +</p> + +<p> +“When shall we return?” asked one of them. +</p> + +<p> +“To-morrow at noon.” +</p> + +<p> +They seemed more astonished than ever, but Jeanne +looked so imperious that they did not speak. +</p> + +<p> +“Is there any one else here?” she asked. +</p> + +<p> +“No one, madame. It is impossible for madame to +remain like this; surely you must have some one here.” +</p> + +<p> +“I want no one.” +</p> + +<p> +“The house might take fire; madame might be ill.” +</p> + +<p> +“Go, all of you,” said Jeanne; “and take this,” added +she, giving them money from her purse. +</p> + +<p> +They all thanked her, and disappeared, saying to each +other that they had found a strange mistress. +</p> + +<p> +Jeanne then locked the doors and said triumphantly, +“Now I am alone here, in my own house.” She now +commenced an examination, admiring each thing individually. +The ground-floor contained a bath-room, dining-room, +three drawing-rooms, and two morning-rooms. The +furniture of these rooms was handsome, though not new. +It pleased Jeanne better than if it had been furnished +expressly for her. All the rich antiques disdained by +fashionable ladies, the marvelous pieces of carved ebony, +the glass lusters, the gothic clocks; chefs-d’œuvre of carving +and enamel, the screens with embroidered Chinese +figures, and the immense vases, threw Jeanne into indescribable +raptures. Here on a chimney-piece two gilded +tritons were bearing branches of coral, upon which were +hung jeweled fruits. In another place, on a gilded console +table, was an enormous elephant, with sapphires +hanging from his ears, supporting a tower filled with little +bottles of scent. Books in gilt bindings were on rosewood +shelves. One room was hung with Gobelin tapestry, and +furnished in gray and gold; another, paneled in paintings +by Vernet. The small rooms contained pictures. The +whole was evidently the collection of years. +</p> + +<p> +Jeanne examined it all with delight. Then, as her +domino was inconvenient, she went into her room to put +on a dressing-gown of wadded silk; and, secure of meeting +no one, she wandered from room to room, continuing +her examination, till at last, her light nearly exhausted, +she returned to her bedroom, which was hung with embroidered +blue satin. +</p> + +<p> +She had seen everything, and admired everything: there +only remained herself to be admired; and she thought, as +she undressed before the long mirror, that she was not the +object least worthy of admiration in the place. At last, +wearied out with pleasurable excitement, she went to +bed, and soon sank to sleep. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2>CHAPTER XXV.<br/> +THE ACADEMY OF M. BEAUSIRE.</h2> + +<p> +Beausire had followed the advice of the blue domino, +and repaired to the place of meeting in the Rue du Pôt +au Fer. He was frightened by the apparent exclusion +which his companions had seemed to meditate, in not +communicating their plans to him; and he knew none of +them to be particularly scrupulous. He had acquired the +reputation among them of a man to be feared; it was not +wonderful, as he had been a soldier, and worn a uniform. +He knew how to draw his sword, and he had a habit of +looking very fierce at the slightest word that displeased +him—all things which appear rather terrifying to those of +doubtful courage, especially when they have reason to +shun the éclat of a duel and the curiosity of the police. +</p> + +<p> +Beausire counted, therefore, on revenging himself by +frightening them a little. It was a long way, but Beausire +had money in his pocket; so he took a coach, promised +the driver an extra franc to go fast, and, to make up for +the absence of his sword, he assumed as fierce a look as +he could on entering the room. +</p> + +<p> +It was a large hall, full of tables, at which were seated +about twenty players, drinking beer or syrups, and smiling +now and then on some highly rouged women who sat near +them. They were playing faro at the principal table, but +the stakes were low, and the excitement small in proportion. +</p> + +<p> +On the entrance of the domino, all the women smiled +on him, half in raillery, and half in coquetry, for M. +Beausire was a favorite among them. However, he advanced +in silence to the table without noticing any one. +</p> + +<p> +One of the players, who was a good-humored looking +fellow, said to him, “Corbleu, chevalier, you come from +the ball looking out of sorts.” +</p> + +<p> +“Is your domino uncomfortable?” said another. +</p> + +<p> +“No, it is not my domino,” replied Beausire, gruffly. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh!” said the banker, “he has been unfaithful to +us; he has been playing somewhere else and lost.” +</p> + +<p> +“It is not I who am unfaithful to my friends; I am +incapable of it. I leave that to others.” +</p> + +<p> +“What do you mean, dear chevalier?” +</p> + +<p> +“I know what I mean,” replied he; “I thought I had +friends here.” +</p> + +<p> +“Certainly,” replied several voices. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, I was deceived.” +</p> + +<p> +“How?” +</p> + +<p> +“You plan things without me.” +</p> + +<p> +Several of the members began to protest it was not +true. +</p> + +<p> +“I know better,” said Beausire; “and these false +friends shall be punished.” He put his hand to his side +to feel for his sword, but, as it was not there, he only +shook his pocket, and the gold rattled. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, oh!” said the banker, “M. Beausire has not +lost. Come, will you not play?” +</p> + +<p> +“Thanks,” said Beausire; “I will keep what I have +got.” +</p> + +<p> +“Only one louis,” said one of the women, caressingly. +</p> + +<p> +“I do not play for miserable louis,” said he. “We play +for millions here to-night—yes, gentlemen, millions.” +</p> + +<p> +He had worked himself up into a great state of excitement, +and was losing sight of all prudence, when a blow +from behind made him turn, and he saw by him a great +dark figure, stiff and upright, and with two shining black +eyes. He met Beausire’s furious glance with a ceremonious +bow. +</p> + +<p> +“The Portuguese!” said Beausire. +</p> + +<p> +“The Portuguese!” echoed the ladies, who abandoned +Beausire to crowd round the newcomer, he being their +especial pet, as he was in the habit of bringing them +sweetmeats, sometimes wrapped up in notes of forty or +fifty francs. This man was one of the twelve associates. +</p> + +<p> +He was used as a bait at their society. It was agreed +that he should lose a hundred louis a week as an inducement +to allure strangers to play. He was, therefore, +considered a useful man. He was also an agreeable one, +and was held in much consideration. +</p> + +<p> +Beausire became silent on seeing him. +</p> + +<p> +The Portuguese took his place at the table, and put +down twenty louis, which he soon lost, thereby making +some of those who had been stripped before forget their +losses. +</p> + +<p> +All the money received by the banker was dropped +into a well under the table, and he was forbidden to wear +long sleeves, lest he should conceal any within them, +although the other members generally took the liberty of +searching both sleeves and pockets before they left. +</p> + +<p> +Several now put on their great-coats and took leave—some +happy enough to escort the ladies. +</p> + +<p> +A few, however, after making a feint to go, returned +into another room; and here the twelve associates soon +found themselves united. +</p> + +<p> +“Now we will have an explanation,” said Beausire. +</p> + +<p> +“Do not speak so loud,” said the Portuguese in good +French. Then they examined the doors and windows to +make certain that all was secure, drew the curtain close, +and seated themselves. +</p> + +<p> +“I have a communication to make,” said the Portuguese; +“it was lucky, however, I arrived when I did, for +M. Beausire was seized this evening with a most imprudent +flow of eloquence.” +</p> + +<p> +Beausire tried to speak. +</p> + +<p> +“Silence,” said the Portuguese; “let us not waste +words: you know my ideas beforehand very well; you +are a man of talent, and may have guessed it, but I +think ‘amour propre’ should never overcome self-interest.” +</p> + +<p> +“I do not understand.” +</p> + +<p> +“M. Beausire hoped to be the first to make this proposition.” +</p> + +<p> +“What proposition?” cried the rest. +</p> + +<p> +“Concerning the two million francs,” said Beausire. +</p> + +<p> +“Two million francs!” cried they. +</p> + +<p> +“First,” said the Portuguese, “you exaggerate; it is +not as much as that.” +</p> + +<p> +“We do not know what you are talking of,” said the +banker. +</p> + +<p> +“But are not the less all ears,” said another. +</p> + +<p> +The Portuguese drank off a large glass of Orgeat, and +then began: “The necklace is not worth more than +1,500,000 francs.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, then it concerns a necklace?” said Beausire. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, did you not mean the same thing?” +</p> + +<p> +“Perhaps.” +</p> + +<p> +“Now he is going to be discreet after his former +folly,” said the Portuguese; “but time presses, for the +ambassador will arrive in eight days.” +</p> + +<p> +“This matter becomes complicated,” said the banker; +“a necklace! 1,500,000 francs! and an ambassador! +Pray explain.” +</p> + +<p> +“In a few words,” said the Portuguese; “MM. +Bœhmer and Bossange offered to the queen a necklace +worth that sum. She refused it, and now they do not +know what to do with it, for none but a royal fortune +could buy it. Well, I have found the royal personage +who will buy this necklace, and obtain the custody of it +from MM. Bœhmer and Bossange; and that is my gracious +sovereign the Queen of Portugal.” +</p> + +<p> +“We understand it less than ever,” said the associates. +</p> + +<p> +“And I not at all,” thought Beausire; then he said +aloud, “Explain yourself clearly, dear M. Manoël; our +private differences should give place to the public interests. +I acknowledge you the author of the idea, and renounce +all right to its paternity. Therefore speak on.” +</p> + +<p> +“Willingly,” said Manoël, drinking a second glass of +Orgeat; “the embassy is vacant just now; the new ambassador, +M. de Souza, will not arrive for a week. Well, +he may arrive sooner.” +</p> + +<p> +They all looked stupefied but Beausire, who said, “Do +you not see some ambassador, whether true or false?” +</p> + +<p> +“Exactly,” said Manoël; “and the ambassador who +arrives may desire to buy this necklace for the Queen of +Portugal, and treat accordingly with MM. Bœhmer and +Bossange; that is all.” +</p> + +<p> +“But,” said the banker, “they would not allow such a +necklace to pass into the hands of M. de Souza himself +without good security.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, I have thought of all that; the ambassador’s +house is vacant, with the exception of the chancellor, +who is a Frenchman, and speaks bad Portuguese, and +who is therefore delighted when the Portuguese speak +French to him, as he does not then betray himself; but +who likes to speak Portuguese to the French, as it sounds +grand. Well, we will present ourselves to this chancellor +with all the appearances of a new legation.” +</p> + +<p> +“Appearances are something,” said Beausire: “but +the credentials are much more.” +</p> + +<p> +“We will have them,” replied Manoël. +</p> + +<p> +“No one can deny that Don Manoël is an invaluable +man,” said Beausire. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, our appearances, and the credentials having +convinced the chancellor of our identity, we will establish +ourselves at the house.” +</p> + +<p> +“That is pretty bold,” said Beausire. +</p> + +<p> +“It is necessary, and quite easy,” said Manoël; “the +chancellor will be convinced, and if he should afterwards +become less credulous, we will dismiss him. I believe an +ambassador has the right to change his chancellor.” +</p> + +<p> +“Certainly.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then, when we are masters of the hotel, our first +operation will be to wait on MM. Bœhmer and Bossange.” +</p> + +<p> +“But you forget one thing,” said Beausire; “our first +act should be to ask an audience of the king, and then we +should break down. The famous Riza Bey, who was presented +to Louis XIV. as ambassador from the Shah of +Persia, spoke Persian at least, and there were no savants +here capable of knowing how well; but we should be +found out at once. We should be told directly that our +Portuguese was remarkably French, and we should be +sent to the Bastile.” +</p> + +<p> +“We will escape this danger by remaining quietly at +home.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then M. Bœhmer will not believe in our ambassadorship.” +</p> + +<p> +“M. Bœhmer will be told that we are sent merely to +buy the necklace. We will show him our order to do this, +as we shall before have shown it to the chancellor, only +we must try to avoid showing it to the ministers, for they +are suspicious, and might find a host of little flaws.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh yes,” cried they all, “let us avoid the ministers.” +</p> + +<p> +“But if MM. Bœhmer and Bossange require money on +account?” asked Beausire. +</p> + +<p> +“That would complicate the affair, certainly.” +</p> + +<p> +“For,” continued Beausire, “it is usual for an ambassador +to have letters of credit, at least, if not ready +money; and here we should fail.” +</p> + +<p> +“You find plenty of reasons why it should fail,” said +Manoël, “but nothing to make it succeed.” +</p> + +<p> +“It is because I wish it to succeed that I speak of the +difficulties. But stop—a thought strikes me: in every +ambassador’s house there is a strong box.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes; but it may be empty.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well! if it be, we must ask MM. Bœhmer and Bossange +who are their correspondents at Lisbon, and we will +sign and stamp for them letters of credit for the sum demanded.” +</p> + +<p> +“That will do,” said Manoël, “I was engrossed with +the grand idea, but had not sufficiently considered the +details.” +</p> + +<p> +“Now, let us think of arranging the parts,” said +Beausire. “Don Manoël will be ambassador.” +</p> + +<p> +“Certainly,” they all said. +</p> + +<p> +“And M. Beausire my secretary and interpreter,” said +Manoël. +</p> + +<p> +“Why so?” said Beausire, rather uneasily. +</p> + +<p> +“I am M. de Souza, and must not speak a word of +French; for I know that that gentleman speaks nothing +but Portuguese, and very little of that. You, on the contrary, +M. Beausire, who have traveled, and have acquired +French habits, who speak Portuguese also——” +</p> + +<p> +“Very badly,” said Beausire. +</p> + +<p> +“Quite enough to deceive a Parisian; and then, you +know, the most useful agents will have the largest +shares.” +</p> + +<p> +“Assuredly,” said the others. +</p> + +<p> +“Well! it is agreed; I am secretary and interpreter. +Then as to the money?” +</p> + +<p> +“It shall be divided into twelve parts; but I as ambassador +and author of the scheme shall have a share and +a half; M. Beausire the same, as interpreter, and because +he partly shared my idea; and also a share and a half to +him who sells the jewels.” +</p> + +<p> +“So far, then, it is settled! we will arrange the minor +details to-morrow, for it is very late,” said Beausire, who +was thinking of Oliva, left at the ball with the blue +domino, towards whom, in spite of his readiness in giving +away louis d’or, he did not feel very friendly. +</p> + +<p> +“No, no; we will finish at once,” said the others. +“What is to be prepared?” +</p> + +<p> +“A traveling carriage, with the arms of M. de Souza,” +said Beausire. +</p> + +<p> +“That would take too long to paint and to dry,” said +Manoël. +</p> + +<p> +“Then we must say that the ambassador’s carriage +broke down on the way, and he was forced to use that of +the secretary: I must have a carriage, and my arms will +do for that. Besides, we will have plenty of bruises and +injuries on the carriage, and especially round the arms, +and no one will think of them.” +</p> + +<p> +“But the rest of the embassy?” +</p> + +<p> +“We will arrive in the evening; it is the best time to +make a début, and you shall all follow next day, when we +have prepared the way.” +</p> + +<p> +“Very well.” +</p> + +<p> +“But every ambassador, besides a secretary, must have +a valet de chambre. You, captain,” said Don Manoël, +addressing one of the gang, “shall take this part.” +</p> + +<p> +The captain bowed. +</p> + +<p> +“And the money for the purchases?” said Manoël. +“I have nothing.” +</p> + +<p> +“I have a little,” said Beausire, “but it belongs to my +mistress. What have we in our fund?” +</p> + +<p> +“Your keys, gentlemen,” said the banker. +</p> + +<p> +Each drew out a key, which opened one of twelve locks +in the table; so that none of these honest associates +could open it without all the others. They went to +look. +</p> + +<p> +“One hundred and ninety-eight louis, besides the reserve +fund,” said the banker. +</p> + +<p> +“Give them to M. Beausire and me. It is not too +much,” said Manoël. +</p> + +<p> +“Give us two-thirds, and leave the rest,” said Beausire, +with a generosity which won all their hearts. +</p> + +<p> +Don Manoël and Beausire received, therefore, one hundred +and thirty-two louis and sixty-six remained for the +others. +</p> + +<p> +They then separated, having fixed a rendezvous for the +next day. +</p> + +<p> +Beausire rolled up his domino under his arm, and +hastened to the Rue Dauphine, where he hoped to find +Oliva in possession of some new louis d’or. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2>CHAPTER XXVI.<br/> +THE AMBASSADOR.</h2> + +<p> +On the evening of the next day a traveling-carriage +passed through the Barrière d’Enfer, so covered with +dust and scratches that no one could discern the arms. +The four horses that drew it went at a rapid pace, until +it arrived before an hotel of handsome appearance, in the +Rue de la Jussienne, at the door of which two men, one of +whom was in full dress, were waiting. The carriage entered +the courtyard of the hotel, and one of the persons +waiting approached the door, and commenced speaking +in bad Portuguese. +</p> + +<p> +“Who are you?” said a voice from the inside, speaking +the language perfectly. +</p> + +<p> +“The unworthy chancellor of the embassy, your excellency.” +</p> + +<p> +“Very well. Mon Dieu! how badly you speak our language, +my dear chancellor! But where are we to go?” +</p> + +<p> +“This way, monseigneur.” +</p> + +<p> +“This is a poor reception,” said Don Manoël, as he got +out of the carriage, leaning on the arms of his secretary +and valet. +</p> + +<p> +“Your excellency must pardon me,” said the chancellor, +“but the courier announcing your arrival only +reached the hotel at two o’clock to-day. I was absent on +some business, and when I returned, found your excellency’s +letter; I have only had time to have the rooms +opened and lighted.” +</p> + +<p> +“Very good.” +</p> + +<p> +“It gives me great pleasure to see the illustrious person +of our ambassador.” +</p> + +<p> +“We desire to keep as quiet as possible,” said Don +Manoël, “until we receive further orders, from Lisbon. +But pray show me to my room, for I am dying with +fatigue; my secretary will give you all necessary directions.” +</p> + +<p> +The chancellor bowed respectfully to Beausire, who returned +it, and then said, “We will speak French, sir; I +think it will be better for both of us.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” murmured the chancellor, “I shall be more at +my ease; for I confess that my pronunciation——” +</p> + +<p> +“So I hear,” interrupted Beausire. +</p> + +<p> +“I will take the liberty to say to you, sir, as you seem +so amiable, that I trust M. de Souza will not be annoyed +at my speaking such bad Portuguese.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, not at all, as you speak French.” +</p> + +<p> +“French!” cried the chancellor; “I was born in the +Rue St. Honoré.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, that will do,” said Beausire. “Your name is +Ducorneau, is it not?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, monsieur; rather a lucky one, as it has a Spanish +termination. It is very flattering to me that monsieur +knew my name.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, you are well known; so well that we did not +bring a chancellor from Lisbon with us.” +</p> + +<p> +“I am very grateful, monsieur; but I think M. de +Souza is ringing.” +</p> + +<p> +“Let us go and see.” +</p> + +<p> +They found Manoël attired in a magnificent dressing-gown. +Several boxes and dressing-cases, of rich appearance, +were already unpacked and lying about. +</p> + +<p> +“Enter,” said he to the chancellor. +</p> + +<p> +“Will his excellency be angry if I answer in French?” +said Ducorneau, in a low voice, to Beausire. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, no; I am sure of it.” +</p> + +<p> +M. Ducorneau, therefore, paid the compliments in +French. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, it is very convenient that you speak French so +well, M. Ducorno,” said the ambassador. +</p> + +<p> +“He takes me for a Portuguese,” thought the chancellor, +with joy. +</p> + +<p> +“Now,” said Manoël, “can I have supper?” +</p> + +<p> +“Certainly, your excellency. The Palais Royal is only +two steps from here, and I know an excellent restaurant, +from which your excellency can have a good supper in a +very short time.” +</p> + +<p> +“Order it in your own name, if you please, M. Ducorno.” +</p> + +<p> +“And if your excellency will permit me, I will add to +it some bottles of capital wine.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, our chancellor keeps a good cellar, then?” said +Beausire, jokingly. +</p> + +<p> +“It is my only luxury,” replied he. And now, by the +wax-lights, they could remark his rather red nose and +puffed cheeks. +</p> + +<p> +“Very well, M. Ducorno; bring your wine, and sup +with us.” +</p> + +<p> +“Such an honor——” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, no etiquette to-night; I am only a traveler. I +shall not begin to be ambassador till to-morrow; then we +will talk of business.” +</p> + +<p> +“Monseigneur will permit me to arrange my toilet.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, you are superb already,” said Beausire. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, but this is a reception dress, and not a gala +one.” +</p> + +<p> +“Remain as you are, monsieur, and give the time to +expediting our supper.” +</p> + +<p> +Ducorneau, delighted, left the room to fulfil his orders. +Then the three rogues, left together, began to discuss +their affairs. +</p> + +<p> +“Does this chancellor sleep here?” said Manoël. +</p> + +<p> +“No; the fellow has a good cellar, and, I doubt not, a +snug lodging somewhere or other. He is an old bachelor.” +</p> + +<p> +“There is a Suisse.” +</p> + +<p> +“We must get rid of him; and there are a few valets, +whom we must replace to-morrow with our own friends.” +</p> + +<p> +“Who is in the kitchen department?” +</p> + +<p> +“No one. The old ambassador did not live here; he +had a house in the town.” +</p> + +<p> +“What about the strong-box?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, on that point we must consult the chancellor; +it is a delicate matter.” +</p> + +<p> +“I charge myself with it,” said Beausire; “we are +already capital friends.” +</p> + +<p> +“Hush! here he comes.” +</p> + +<p> +Ducorneau entered, quite out of breath. He had +ordered the supper, and fetched six bottles of wine from +his cellar, and was looking quite radiant at the thoughts +of the coming repast. +</p> + +<p> +“Will your excellency descend to the dining-room?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, we will sup up here.” +</p> + +<p> +“Here is the wine, then,” said Ducorneau. +</p> + +<p> +“It sparkles like rubies,” said Beausire, holding it to +the light. +</p> + +<p> +“Sit down, M. Ducorneau; my valet will wait upon +us. What day did the last despatches arrive?” +</p> + +<p> +“Immediately after the departure of your excellency’s +predecessor.” +</p> + +<p> +“Are the affairs of the embassy in good order?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh yes, monseigneur.” +</p> + +<p> +“No money difficulties? no debts?” +</p> + +<p> +“Not that I know of.” +</p> + +<p> +“Because, if there are, we must begin by paying them.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, your excellency will have nothing of that sort to +do. All the accounts were paid up three weeks ago; and +the day after the departure of the late ambassador one +hundred thousand francs arrived here.” +</p> + +<p> +“One hundred thousand francs?” said Beausire. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, in gold.” +</p> + +<p> +“So,” said Beausire, “the box contains——” +</p> + +<p> +“100,380 francs, monsieur.” +</p> + +<p> +“It is not much,” said Manoël, coldly; “but, happily, +her majesty has placed funds at my disposal. I told you,” +continued he, turning to Beausire, “that I thought we +should need it at Paris.” +</p> + +<p> +“Your excellency took wise precautions,” said Beausire, +respectfully. +</p> + +<p> +From the time of this important communication the +hilarity of the party went on increasing. A good supper, +consisting of salmon, crabs, and sweets, contributed to +their satisfaction. Ducorneau, quite at his ease, ate +enough for ten, and did not fail, either, in demonstrating +that a Parisian could do honor to port and sherry. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2>CHAPTER XXVII.<br/> +MESSRS. BŒHMER AND BOSSANGE.</h2> + +<p> +M. Ducorneau blessed heaven repeatedly for sending +an ambassador who preferred his speaking French to Portuguese, +and liked Portuguese wines better than French +ones. At last, Manoël expressed a wish to go to bed; +Ducorneau rose and left the room, although, it must be +confessed, he found some difficulty in the operation. +</p> + +<p> +It was now the turn of the valet to have supper, which +he did with great good-will. +</p> + +<p> +The next day the hotel assumed an air of business; +all the bureaux were opened, and everything indicated +life in the recently deserted place. +</p> + +<p> +The report soon spread in the neighborhood that some +great personages had arrived from Portugal during the +night. This, although what was wanted to give them +credit, could not but inspire the conspirators with some +alarm; for the police had quick ears and Argus eyes. +Still, they thought that by audacity, combined with prudence, +they might easily keep them from becoming suspicious, +until they had had time to complete their business. +</p> + +<p> +Two carriages containing the other nine associates +arrived, as agreed upon, and they were soon installed in +their different departments. +</p> + +<p> +Beausire induced Ducorneau himself to dismiss the +porter, on the ground that he did not speak Portuguese. +They were, therefore, in a good situation to keep off all +unwelcome visitors. +</p> + +<p> +About noon, Don Manoël, gaily dressed, got into a carriage, +which they had hired for five hundred francs a +month, and set out, with his secretary, for the residence +of MM. Bœhmer and Bossange. +</p> + +<p> +Their servant knocked at the door, which was secured +with immense locks, and studded with great nails, like +that of a prison. A servant opened it. “His Excellency +the Ambassador of Portugal desires to speak to MM. +Bœhmer and Bossange.” +</p> + +<p> +They got out, and M. Bœhmer came to them in a few +moments, and received them with a profusion of polite +speeches, but, seeing that the ambassador did not deign +even a smile in reply, looked somewhat disconcerted. +</p> + +<p> +“His excellency does not speak or understand French, +sir, and you must communicate to him through me, if +you do not speak Portuguese,” said Beausire. +</p> + +<p> +“No, monsieur, I do not.” +</p> + +<p> +Manoël then spoke in Portuguese to Beausire, who, +turning to M. Bœhmer, said: +</p> + +<p> +“His excellency M. le Comte de Souza, ambassador +from the Queen of Portugal, desires me to ask you if you +have not in your possession a beautiful diamond necklace?” +</p> + +<p> +Bœhmer looked at him scrutinizingly. +</p> + +<p> +“A beautiful diamond necklace!” repeated he. +</p> + +<p> +“The one which you offered to the Queen of France, +and which our gracious queen has heard of.” +</p> + +<p> +“Monsieur,” said Bœhmer, “is an officer of the ambassador’s?” +</p> + +<p> +“His secretary, monsieur.” +</p> + +<p> +Don Manoël was seated with the air of a great man, +looking carelessly at the pictures which hung round the +room. +</p> + +<p> +“M. Bœhmer,” said Beausire abruptly, “do you not +understand what I am saying to you?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, sir,” answered Bœhmer, rather startled by the +manner of the secretary. +</p> + +<p> +“Because I see his excellency is becoming impatient.” +</p> + +<p> +“Excuse me, sir,” said Bœhmer, coloring, “but I +dare not show the necklace, except in my partner’s presence.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, sir, call your partner.” +</p> + +<p> +Don Manoël approached Beausire, and began again +talking to him in Portuguese. +</p> + +<p> +“His excellency says,” interpreted he, “that he has +already waited ten minutes, and that he is not accustomed +to be kept waiting.” +</p> + +<p> +Bœhmer bowed, and rang the bell. A minute afterwards +M. Bossange entered. +</p> + +<p> +Bœhmer explained the matter to him, who, after looking +scrutinizingly at the Portuguese, left the room with +a key given him by his partner, and soon returned with +a case in one hand; the other was hidden under his +coat, but they distinctly saw the shining barrel of a +pistol. +</p> + +<p> +“However well we may look,” said Manoël gravely, in +Portuguese, to his companion, “these gentlemen seem +to take us for pickpockets rather than ambassadors.” +</p> + +<p> +M. Bossange advanced, and put the case into the hands +of Manoël. He opened it, and then cried angrily to his +secretary: +</p> + +<p> +“Monsieur, tell these gentlemen that they tire my patience! +I ask for a diamond necklace, and they bring me +paste. Tell them I will complain to the ministers, and +will have them thrown into the Bastile, impertinent people, +who play tricks upon an ambassador.” And he threw +down the case in such a passion that they did not need an +interpretation of his speech, but began explaining most +humbly that in France it was usual to show only the +models of diamonds, so as not to tempt people to robbery, +were they so inclined. +</p> + +<p> +Manoël, with an indignant gesture, walked towards the +door. +</p> + +<p> +“His excellency desires me to tell you,” said Beausire, +“that he is sorry that people like MM. Bœhmer and Bossange, +jewelers to the queen, should not know better how +to distinguish an ambassador from a rogue, and that he +will return to his hotel.” +</p> + +<p> +The jewelers began to utter most respectful protestations, +but Manoël walked on, and Beausire followed him. +</p> + +<p> +“To the ambassador’s hotel, Rue de la Jussienne,” +said Beausire to the footman. +</p> + +<p> +“A lost business,” groaned the valet, as they set off. +</p> + +<p> +“On the contrary, a safe one; in an hour these men +will follow us.” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2>CHAPTER XXVIII.<br/> +THE AMBASSADOR’S HOTEL.</h2> + +<p> +On returning to their hotel, these gentlemen found +Ducorneau dining quietly in his bureau. Beausire +desired him, when he had finished, to go up and see the +ambassador, and added: +</p> + +<p> +“You will see, my dear chancellor, that M. de Souza +is not an ordinary man.” +</p> + +<p> +“I see that already.” +</p> + +<p> +“His excellency,” continued Beausire, “wishes to take +a distinguished position in Paris, and this residence will +be insupportable to him. He will require a private +house.” +</p> + +<p> +“That will complicate the diplomatic business,” said +Ducorneau; “we shall have to go so often to obtain his +signature.” +</p> + +<p> +“His excellency will give you a carriage, M. Ducorneau.” +</p> + +<p> +“A carriage for me!” +</p> + +<p> +“Certainly; every chancellor of a great ambassador +should have a carriage. But we will talk of that afterwards. +His excellency wishes to know where the strong-box +is.” +</p> + +<p> +“Up-stairs, close to his own room.” +</p> + +<p> +“So far from you?” +</p> + +<p> +“For greater safety, sir. Robbers would find greater +difficulty in penetrating there, than here on the ground-floor.” +</p> + +<p> +“Robbers!” said Beausire, disdainfully, “for such a +little sum?” +</p> + +<p> +“One hundred thousand francs!” said Ducorneau. +“It is easy to see M. de Souza is rich, but there is not +more kept in any ambassador’s house in Europe.” +</p> + +<p> +“Shall we examine it now?” said Beausire. “I am +rather in a hurry to attend to my own business.” +</p> + +<p> +“Immediately, monsieur.” +</p> + +<p> +They went up and the money was found all right. +</p> + +<p> +Ducorneau gave his key to Beausire, who kept it for +some time, pretending to admire its ingenious construction, +while he cleverly took the impression of it in wax. +Then he gave it back, saying, “Keep it, M. Ducorneau; +it is better in your hands than in mine. Let us now go +to the ambassador.” +</p> + +<p> +They found Don Manoël drinking chocolate, and apparently +much occupied with a paper covered with ciphers. +</p> + +<p> +“Do you understand the ciphers used in the late correspondence?” +said he to the chancellor. +</p> + +<p> +“No, your excellency.” +</p> + +<p> +“I should wish you to learn it; it will save me a great +deal of trouble. What about the box?” said he to +Beausire. +</p> + +<p> +“Perfectly correct, like everything else with which M. +Ducorneau has any connection.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, sit down, M. Ducorneau; I want you to give +me some information. Do you know any honest jewelers +in Paris?” +</p> + +<p> +“There are MM. Bœhmer and Bossange, jewelers to +the queen.” +</p> + +<p> +“But they are precisely the people I do not wish to +employ. I have just quitted them, never to return.” +</p> + +<p> +“Have they had the misfortune to displease your +excellency?” +</p> + +<p> +“Seriously, M. Ducorneau.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, if I dared speak.” +</p> + +<p> +“You may.” +</p> + +<p> +“I would ask how these people, who bear so high a +name——” +</p> + +<p> +“They are perfect Jews, M. Ducorneau, and their +bad behavior will make them lose a million or two. I +was sent by her gracious majesty to make an offer to +them for a diamond necklace.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! the famous necklace which had been ordered +by the late king for Madame Dubarry?” +</p> + +<p> +“You are a valuable man, sir—you know everything. +Well, now, I shall not buy it.” +</p> + +<p> +“Shall I interfere?” +</p> + +<p> +“M. Ducorneau!” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, only as a diplomatic affair.” +</p> + +<p> +“If you knew them at all.” +</p> + +<p> +“Bossange is a distant relation of mine.” +</p> + +<p> +At this moment a valet opened the door, and announced +MM. Bœhmer and Bossange. Don Manoël rose +quickly, and said in any angry tone, “Send those people +away!” +</p> + +<p> +The valet made a step forward. “No; you do it,” +said he to his secretary. +</p> + +<p> +“I beg you to allow me,” said Ducorneau; and he +advanced to meet them. +</p> + +<p> +“There! this affair is destined to fail,” said Manoël. +</p> + +<p> +“No; Ducorneau will arrange it.” +</p> + +<p> +“I am convinced he will embroil it. You said at the +jewelers that I did not understand French, and Ducorneau +will let out that I do.” +</p> + +<p> +“I will go,” said Beausire. +</p> + +<p> +“Perhaps that is equally dangerous.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, no; only leave me to act.” +</p> + +<p> +Beausire went down. Ducorneau had found the jewelers +much more disposed to politeness and confidence +since entering the hotel; also, on seeing an old friend, +Bossange was delighted. +</p> + +<p> +“You here!” said he; and he approached to embrace +him. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah! you are very amiable to-day, my rich cousin,” +said Ducorneau. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh,” said Bossange, “if we have been a little separated, +forgive, and render me a service.” +</p> + +<p> +“I came to do it.” +</p> + +<p> +“Thanks. You are, then, attached to the embassy?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes.” +</p> + +<p> +“I want advice.” +</p> + +<p> +“On what?” +</p> + +<p> +“On this embassy.” +</p> + +<p> +“I am the chancellor.” +</p> + +<p> +“That is well; but about the ambassador?” +</p> + +<p> +“I come to you, on his behalf, to tell you that he begs +you to leave his hotel as quickly as possible.” +</p> + +<p> +The two jewelers looked at each other, disconcerted. +</p> + +<p> +“Because,” continued Ducorneau, “it seems you have +been uncivil to him.” +</p> + +<p> +“But listen——” +</p> + +<p> +“It is useless,” said Beausire, who suddenly appeared; +“his excellency told you to dismiss them—do it.” +</p> + +<p> +“But, monsieur——” +</p> + +<p> +“I cannot listen,” said Beausire. +</p> + +<p> +The chancellor took his relation by the shoulder, and +pushed him out, saying, “You have spoiled your fortune.” +</p> + +<p> +“Mon Dieu! how susceptible these foreigners are!” +</p> + +<p> +“When one is called Souza, and has nine hundred thousand +francs a year, one has a right to be anything,” said +Ducorneau. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah!” sighed Bossange, “I told you, Bœhmer, you +were too stiff about it.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well,” replied the obstinate German, “at least, if we +do not get his money, he will not get our necklace.” +</p> + +<p> +Ducorneau laughed. “You do not understand either a +Portuguese or an ambassador, bourgeois that you are. I +will tell you what they are: one ambassador, M. de Potemkin, +bought every year for his queen, on the first of +January, a basket of cherries which cost one hundred +thousand crowns—one thousand francs a cherry. Well, +M. de Souza will buy up the mines of Brazil till he finds +a diamond as big as all yours put together. If it cost +him twenty years of his income, what does he care?—he +has no children.” +</p> + +<p> +And he was going to shut the door, when Bossange +said: +</p> + +<p> +“Arrange this affair, and you shall have——” +</p> + +<p> +“I am incorruptible,” said he, and closed the door. +</p> + +<p> +That evening the ambassador received this letter: +</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p> +“<span class="smcap">Monseigneur</span>,—A man who waits for your orders, +and desires to present you our respectful excuses, is at +the door of your hotel, and at a word from your excellency +he will place in the hands of one of your people the +necklace of which you did us the honor to speak. Deign +to receive, monseigneur, the assurances of our most profound +respect. +</p> + +<p> +“<span class="smcap">Bœhmer and Bossange</span>.” +</p></div> + +<p> +“Well,” said Manoël, on reading this note, “the necklace +is ours.” +</p> + +<p> +“Not so,” said Beausire; “it will only be ours when +we have bought it. We must buy it; but remember, +your excellency does not know French.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, I know; but this chancellor?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, I will send him away on some diplomatic mission.” +</p> + +<p> +“You are wrong; he will be our security with these +men.” +</p> + +<p> +“But he will say that you know French.” +</p> + +<p> +“No, he will not; I will tell him not to do so.” +</p> + +<p> +“Very well, then; we will have up the man.” +</p> + +<p> +The man was introduced: it was Bœhmer himself, who +made many bows and excuses, and offered the necklace +for examination. +</p> + +<p> +“Sit down,” said Beausire; “his excellency pardons +you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, how much trouble to sell!” sighed Bœhmer. +</p> + +<p> +“How much trouble to steal!” thought Beausire. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2>CHAPTER XXIX.<br/> +THE BARGAIN.</h2> + +<p> +Then the ambassador consented to examine the necklace +in detail. M. Bœhmer showed each individual +beauty. +</p> + +<p> +“On the whole,” said Beausire, interpreting for +Manoël, “his excellency sees nothing to complain of in +the necklace, but there are ten of the diamonds rather +spotted.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh!” said Bœhmer. +</p> + +<p> +“His excellency,” interrupted Beausire, “understands +diamonds perfectly. The Portuguese nobility play with +the diamonds of Brazil, as children do here with glass +beads.” +</p> + +<p> +“Whatever it may be, however,” said Bœhmer, “this +necklace is the finest collection of diamonds in all +Europe.” +</p> + +<p> +“That is true,” said Manoël. +</p> + +<p> +Then Beausire went on: “Well, M. Bœhmer, her +majesty the Queen of Portugal has heard of this necklace, +and has given M. de Souza a commission to buy it, if he +approved of the diamonds, which he does. Now, what +is the price?” +</p> + +<p> +“1,600,000 francs.” +</p> + +<p> +Beausire repeated this to the ambassador. +</p> + +<p> +“It is 100,000 francs too much,” replied Manoël. +</p> + +<p> +“Monseigneur,” replied the jeweler, “one cannot fix +the exact price of the diamonds on a thing like this. It +has been necessary, in making this collection, to undertake +voyages, and make searches and inquiries which no +one would believe but myself.” +</p> + +<p> +“100,000 francs too dear,” repeated Manoël. +</p> + +<p> +“And if his excellency says this,” said Beausire, “it +must be his firm conviction, for he never bargains.” +</p> + +<p> +Bœhmer was shaken. Nothing reassures a suspicious +merchant so much as a customer who beats down the +price. However, he said, after a minute’s thought, “I +cannot consent to a deduction which will make all the +difference of loss or profit to myself and my partner.” +</p> + +<p> +Don Manoël, after hearing this translated, rose, and +Beausire returned the case to the jeweler. +</p> + +<p> +“I will, however, speak to M. Bossange about it,” contained +Bœhmer. “I am to understand that his excellency +offers 1,500,000 francs for the necklace.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, he never draws back from what he has said.” +</p> + +<p> +“But, monsieur, you understand that I must consult +with my partner.” +</p> + +<p> +“Certainly, M. Bœhmer.” +</p> + +<p> +“Certainly,” repeated Don Manoël, after hearing this +translated; “but I must have a speedy answer.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, monseigneur, if my partner will accept the +price, I will.” +</p> + +<p> +“Good.” +</p> + +<p> +“It then only remains, excepting the consent of M. +Bossange, to settle the mode of payment.” +</p> + +<p> +“There will be no difficulty about that,” said Beausire. +“How do you wish to be paid?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh,” said Bœhmer, laughing, “if ready money be +possible——” +</p> + +<p> +“What do you call ready money?” said Beausire coldly. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, I know no one has a million and a half of francs +ready to pay down,” said Bœhmer, sighing. +</p> + +<p> +“Certainly not.” +</p> + +<p> +“Still, I cannot consent to dispense with some ready +money.” +</p> + +<p> +“That is but reasonable.” Then, turning to Manoël: +“How much will your excellency pay down to M. Bœhmer?” +</p> + +<p> +“100,000 francs.” Beausire repeated this. +</p> + +<p> +“And when the remainder?” asked Bœhmer. +</p> + +<p> +“When we shall have had time to send to Lisbon.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh!” said Bœhmer, “we have a correspondent there, +and by writing to him——” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” said Beausire, laughing ironically, “write to +him, and ask if M. de Souza is solvent, and if her majesty +be good for 1,400,000 francs.” +</p> + +<p> +“We cannot, sir, let this necklace leave France forever +without informing the queen; and our respect and +loyalty demand that we should once more give her the +refusal of it.” +</p> + +<p> +“It is just,” said Manoël, with dignity. “I should +wish a Portuguese merchant to act in the same way.” +</p> + +<p> +“I am very happy that monseigneur approves of my +conduct. Then all is settled, subject only to the consent +of M. Bossange, and the reiterated refusal of her majesty. +I ask three days to settle these two points.” +</p> + +<p> +“On one side,” said Beausire, “100,000 francs down, +the necklace to be placed in my hands, who will accompany +you to Lisbon, to the honor of your correspondents, +who are also our bankers. The whole of the money to be +paid in three months.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, monseigneur,” said Bœhmer, bowing. +</p> + +<p> +Manoël returned it, and the jeweler took leave. +</p> + +<p> +When they were alone, Manoël said angrily to Beausire, +“Please to explain what the devil you mean by this journey +to Portugal? Are you mad? Why not have the +jewels here in exchange for our money?” +</p> + +<p> +“You think yourself too really ambassador,” replied +Beausire; “you are not yet quite M. de Souza to this +jeweler.” +</p> + +<p> +“If he had not thought so he would not have treated.” +</p> + +<p> +“Agreed; but every man in possession of 1,500,000 +francs holds himself above all the ambassadors in the +world; and every one who gives that value in exchange +for pieces of paper wishes first to know what the papers +are worth.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then you mean to go to Portugal—you, who cannot +speak Portuguese properly? I tell you, you are +mad.” +</p> + +<p> +“Not at all; you shall go yourself, if you like.” +</p> + +<p> +“Thank you,” said Don Manoël. “There are reasons +why I would rather not return to Portugal.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, I tell you, M. Bœhmer would never give up the +diamonds for mere papers.” +</p> + +<p> +“Papers signed Souza?” +</p> + +<p> +“I said you thought yourself a real Souza.” +</p> + +<p> +“Better say at once that we have failed,” said Manoël. +</p> + +<p> +“Not at all. Come here, captain,” said Beausire to +the valet; “you know what we are talking of?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes.” +</p> + +<p> +“You have listened to everything?” +</p> + +<p> +“Certainly.” +</p> + +<p> +“Very well; do you think I have committed a folly?” +</p> + +<p> +“I think you perfectly right.” +</p> + +<p> +“Explain why.” +</p> + +<p> +“M. Bœhmer would, on the other plan, have been incessantly +watching us, and all connected with us. Now, +with the money and the diamonds both in his hands, he can +have no suspicion, but will set out quietly for Portugal, +which, however, he will never reach. Is it not so, M. +Beausire?” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, you are a lad of discernment!” +</p> + +<p> +“Explain your plan,” said Manoël. +</p> + +<p> +“About fifty leagues from here,” said Beausire, “this +clever fellow here will come and present two pistols at the +heads of our postilions, will steal from us all we have, +including the diamonds, and will leave M. Bœhmer half +dead with blows.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, I did not understand exactly that,” said the +valet. “I thought you would embark for Portugal.” +</p> + +<p> +“And then——” +</p> + +<p> +“M. Bœhmer, like all Germans, will like the sea, and +walk on the deck. One day he may slip and fall over, +and the necklace will be supposed to have perished with +him.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, I understand,” said Manoël. +</p> + +<p> +“That is lucky at last.” +</p> + +<p> +“Only,” replied Manoël, “for stealing diamonds one +is simply sent to the Bastile, but for murder one is +hanged.” +</p> + +<p> +“But for stealing diamonds one may be taken; for a +little push to M. Bœhmer we should never even be +suspected.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, we will settle all this afterwards,” said Beausire. +</p> + +<p> +“At present let us conduct our business in style, so that +they may say, ‘If he was not really ambassador, at least +he seemed like one.’” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2>CHAPTER XXX.<br/> +THE JOURNALIST’S HOUSE.</h2> + +<p> +It was the day after the agreement with M. Bœhmer, +and three days after the ball at the Opera. In the Rue +Montorgueil, at the end of a courtyard, was a high and +narrow house. The ground floor was a kind of shop, +and here lived a tolerably well-known journalist. The +other stories were occupied by quiet people, who lived +there for cheapness. M. Reteau, the journalist, published +his paper weekly. It was issued on the day of +which we speak; and when M. Reteau rose at eight +o’clock, his servant brought him a copy, still wet from +the press. He hastened to peruse it, with the care which +a tender father bestows on the virtues or failings of his +offspring. When he had finished it: +</p> + +<p> +“Aldegonde,” said he to the old woman, “this is a +capital number; have you read it?” +</p> + +<p> +“Not yet; my soup is not finished.” +</p> + +<p> +“It is excellent,” repeated the journalist. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” said she; “but do you know what they say of +it in the printing-office?” +</p> + +<p> +“What?” +</p> + +<p> +“That you will certainly be sent to the Bastile.” +</p> + +<p> +“Aldegonde,” replied Reteau, calmly, “make me a +good soup, and do not meddle with literature.” +</p> + +<p> +“Always the same,” said she, “rash and imprudent.” +</p> + +<p> +“I will buy you some buckles with what I make to-day. +Have many copies been sold yet?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, and I fear my buckles will be but poor. Do you +remember the number against M. de Broglie? We sold +one hundred before ten o’clock; therefore this cannot be +as good.” +</p> + +<p> +“Do you know the difference, Aldegonde? Now, instead +of attacking an individual, I attack a body; and +instead of a soldier, I attack a queen.” +</p> + +<p> +“The queen! Oh, then there is no fear; the numbers +will sell, and I shall have my buckles.” +</p> + +<p> +“Some one rings,” said Reteau. +</p> + +<p> +The old woman ran to the shop, and returned a minute +after, triumphant. +</p> + +<p> +“One thousand copies!” said she, “there is an order!” +</p> + +<p> +“In whose name?” asked Reteau, quickly. +</p> + +<p> +“I do not know.” +</p> + +<p> +“But I want to know; run and ask.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, there is plenty of time; they cannot count a thousand +copies in a minute.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, but be quick; ask the servant—is it a servant?” +</p> + +<p> +“It is a porter.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, ask him where he is to take them to.” +</p> + +<p> +Aldegonde went, and the man replied that he was to +take them to the Rue Neuve St. Gilles, to the house of +the Count de Cagliostro. +</p> + +<p> +The journalist jumped with delight, and ran to assist in +counting off the numbers. +</p> + +<p> +They were not long gone when there was another ring. +</p> + +<p> +“Perhaps that is for another thousand copies,” cried +Aldegonde. “As it is against the Austrian, every one +will join in the chorus.” +</p> + +<p> +“Hush, hush, Aldegonde! do not speak so loud, but go +and see who it is.” +</p> + +<p> +Aldegonde opened the door to a man, who asked if he +could speak to the editor of the paper. +</p> + +<p> +“What do you want to say to him?” asked Aldegonde, +rather suspiciously. +</p> + +<p> +The man rattled some money in his pocket, and said: +</p> + +<p> +“I come to pay for the thousand copies sent for by M. +le Comte de Cagliostro.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, come in!” +</p> + +<p> +A young and handsome man, who had advanced just +behind him, stopped him as he was about to shut the door, +and followed him in. +</p> + +<p> +Aldegonde ran to her master. “Come,” said she, +“here is the money for the thousand copies.” +</p> + +<p> +He went directly, and the man, taking out a small bag, +paid down one hundred six-franc pieces. +</p> + +<p> +Reteau counted them and gave a receipt, smiling graciously +on the man, and said, “Tell the Count de Cagliostro +that I shall always be at his orders, and that I can keep +a secret.” +</p> + +<p> +“There is no need,” replied the man; “M. de Cagliostro +is independent. He does not believe in magnetism, and +wishes to make people laugh at M. Mesmer—that is all.” +</p> + +<p> +“Good!” replied another voice; “we will see if we +cannot turn the laugh against M. de Cagliostro;” and M. +Reteau, turning, saw before him the young man we mentioned. +</p> + +<p> +His glance was menacing; he had his left hand on the +hilt of his sword, and a stick in his right. +</p> + +<p> +“What can I do for you, sir?” said Reteau, trembling. +</p> + +<p> +“You are M. Reteau?” asked the young man. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, sir.” +</p> + +<p> +“Journalist, and author of this article?” said the +visitor, drawing the new number from his pocket. +</p> + +<p> +“Not exactly the author, but the publisher,” said +Reteau. +</p> + +<p> +“Very well, that comes to the same thing; for if you +had not the audacity to write it, you have had the +baseness to give it publicity. I say baseness, for, as I am +a gentleman, I wish to keep within bounds even with +you. If I expressed all I think, I should say that he who +wrote this article is infamous, and that he who published +it is a villain!” +</p> + +<p> +“Monsieur!” said Reteau, growing pale. +</p> + +<p> +“Now listen,” continued the young man; “you have +received one payment in money, now you shall have +another in caning.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh!” cried Reteau, “we will see about that.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, we will see,” said the young man, advancing +towards him; but Reteau was used to these sort of affairs, +and knew the conveniences of his own house. Turning +quickly round, he gained a door which shut after him, +and which opened into a passage leading to a gate, +through which there was an exit into the Rue Vieux +Augustins. Once there, he was safe; for in this gate +the key was always left, and he could lock it behind +him. +</p> + +<p> +But this day was an unlucky one for the poor journalist, +for, just as he was about to turn the key, he saw coming +towards him another young man, who, in his agitation, +appeared to him like a perfect Hercules. He would +have retreated, but he was now between two fires, as his +first opponent had by this time discovered him, and was +advancing upon him. +</p> + +<p> +“Monsieur, let me pass, if you please,” said Reteau +to the young man who guarded the gate. +</p> + +<p> +“Monsieur,” cried the one who followed him, “stop +the fellow, I beg!” +</p> + +<p> +“Do not be afraid, M. de Charny; he shall not pass.” +</p> + +<p> +“M. de Taverney!” cried Charny; for it was really he +who was the first comer. +</p> + +<p> +Both these young men, on reading the article that +morning, had conceived the same idea, because they +were animated with the same sentiments, and, unknown +to each other, had hastened to put it in practise. Each, +however, felt a kind of displeasure at seeing the other, +divining a rival in the man who had the same idea as +himself. Thus it was that with a rather disturbed manner +Charny had called out, “You, M. de Taverney!” +</p> + +<p> +“Even so,” replied the other, in the same way; “but +it seems I am come too late, and can only look on, unless +you will be kind enough to open the gate.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh!” cried Reteau, “do you want to murder me, +gentlemen?” +</p> + +<p> +“No,” said Charny, “we do not want to murder you; +but first we will ask a few questions, then we will see the +end. You permit me to speak, M. de Taverney?” +</p> + +<p> +“Certainly, sir; you have the precedence, having +arrived first.” +</p> + +<p> +Charny bowed; then, turning to Reteau, said: +</p> + +<p> +“You confess, then, that you have published against +the queen the playful little tale, as you call it, which +appeared this morning in your paper?” +</p> + +<p> +“Monsieur, it is not against the queen.” +</p> + +<p> +“Good! it only wanted that.” +</p> + +<p> +“You are very patient, sir!” cried Philippe, who was +boiling with rage outside the gate. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, be easy, sir,” replied Charny; “he shall lose +nothing by waiting.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” murmured Philippe; “but I also am waiting.” +</p> + +<p> +Charny turned again to Reteau. “Etteniotna is +Antoinette transposed—oh, do not lie, sir, or instead of +beating, or simply killing you, I shall burn you alive! +But tell me if you are the sole author of this?” +</p> + +<p> +“I am not an informer,” said Reteau. +</p> + +<p> +“Very well; that means that you have an accomplice; +and, first, the man who bought a thousand copies of this +infamy, the Count de Cagliostro; but he shall pay for +his share, when you have paid for yours.” +</p> + +<p> +“Monsieur, I do not accuse him,” said Reteau, who +feared that he should encounter the anger of Cagliostro +after he had done with these two. +</p> + +<p> +Charny raised his cane. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, if I had a sword!” cried Reteau. +</p> + +<p> +“M. Philippe, will you lend your sword to this man?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, M. de Charny, I cannot lend my sword to a man +like that; but I will lend you my cane, if yours does not +suffice.” +</p> + +<p> +“Corbleu! a cane!” cried Reteau. “Do you know +that I am a gentleman?” +</p> + +<p> +“Then lend me your sword, M. de Taverney; he shall +have mine, and I will never touch it again!” cried +Charny. +</p> + +<p> +Philippe unsheathed his sword, and passed it through +the railings. +</p> + +<p> +“Now,” said Charny, throwing down his sword at the +feet of Reteau, “you call yourself a gentleman, and you +write such infamies against the Queen of France; pick +up that sword, and let us see what kind of a gentleman +you are.” +</p> + +<p> +But Reteau did not stir; he seemed as afraid of the +sword at his feet as he had been of the uplifted cane. +</p> + +<p> +“Morbleu!” cried Philippe, “open the gate to me!” +</p> + +<p> +“Pardon, monsieur,” said Charny, “but you acknowledged +my right to be first.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then be quick, for I am in a hurry to begin.” +</p> + +<p> +“I wished to try other methods before resorting to +this, for I am not much more fond of inflicting a caning +than M. Reteau is of receiving one; but as he prefers it +to fighting, he shall be satisfied;” and a cry from Reteau +soon announced that Charny had begun. +</p> + +<p> +The noise soon attracted old Aldegonde, who joined her +voice to her master’s. +</p> + +<p> +Charny minded one no more than the other; at last, +however, he stopped, tired with his work. +</p> + +<p> +“Now have you finished, sir?” said Philippe. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then pray return me my sword, and let me in.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, no, monsieur!” implored Reteau, who hoped for +a protector in the man who had finished with him. +</p> + +<p> +“I cannot leave monsieur outside the door,” said +Charny. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, it is a murder!” cried Reteau. “Kill me right +off, and have done with it!” +</p> + +<p> +“Be easy,” said Charny; “I do not think monsieur +will touch you.” +</p> + +<p> +“You are right,” said Philippe; “you have been +beaten—let it suffice; but there are the remaining numbers, +which must be destroyed.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh yes!” cried Charny. “You see, two heads are +better than one; I should have forgotten that. But how +did you happen to come to this gate, M. de Taverney?” +</p> + +<p> +“I made some inquiries in the neighborhood about +this fellow, and hearing that he had this mode of escape, +I thought by coming in here, and locking the gate after +me, I should cut off his retreat, and make sure of him. +The same idea of vengeance struck you, only more in a +hurry, you came straight to his house without any inquiries, +and he would have escaped you if I had not luckily +been here.” +</p> + +<p> +“I am rejoiced that you were, M. de Taverney. Now, +fellow, lead us to your press.” +</p> + +<p> +“It is not here,” said Reteau. +</p> + +<p> +“A lie!” said Charny. +</p> + +<p> +“No, no,” cried Philippe, “we do not want the press; +the numbers are all printed and here, except those sold to +M. de Cagliostro.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then he shall burn them before our eyes!” +</p> + +<p> +And they pushed Reteau into his shop. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2>CHAPTER XXXI.<br/> +HOW TWO FRIENDS BECAME ENEMIES.</h2> + +<p> +Aldegonde, however, had gone to fetch the guard; +but before she returned they had had time to light a fire +with the first numbers, and were throwing them in, one +after another, as quickly as possible, when the guard appeared, +followed by a crowd of ragged men, women, and +boys. +</p> + +<p> +Happily, Philippe and Charny knew Reteau’s secret +exit, so when they caught sight of the guard they made +their escape through it, carrying the key with them. +</p> + +<p> +Then Reteau began crying “Murder!” while Aldegonde, +seeing the flames through the window, cried +“Fire!” +</p> + +<p> +The soldiers arrived, but finding the young men gone, +and the house not on fire, went away again, leaving Reteau +to bathe his bruises. But the crowd lingered about all +day, hoping to see a renewal of the fun. +</p> + +<p> +When Taverney and Charny found themselves in the +Rue Vieux Augustins, “Monsieur,” said Charny, “now +we have finished that business, can I be of any use to +you?” +</p> + +<p> +“Thanks, sir, I was about to ask you the same question.” +</p> + +<p> +“Thank you, but I have private business which will +probably keep me in Paris all day.” +</p> + +<p> +“Permit me, then, to take leave of you; I am happy +to have met you.” +</p> + +<p> +“And I you, sir;” and the two young men bowed, but +it was easy to see that all this courtesy went no further +than the lips. +</p> + +<p> +Philippe went towards the boulevards, while Charny +turned to the river; each turned two or three times till he +thought himself quite out of sight, but after walking for +some time Charny entered the Rue Neuve St. Gilles, and +there once more found himself face to face with Philippe. +</p> + +<p> +Each had again the same idea of demanding satisfaction +from the Count de Cagliostro. They could not now doubt +each other’s intentions, so Philippe said: +</p> + +<p> +“I left you the seller, leave me the buyer; I left you +the cane, leave me the sword.” +</p> + +<p> +“Sir,” replied Charny, “you left it to me simply +because I came first, and for no other reason.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well,” replied Taverney, “here we arrive both together, +and I will make no concession.” +</p> + +<p> +“I did not ask you for any, sir; only I will defend my +right.” +</p> + +<p> +“And that, according to you, M. de Charny, is to make +M. de Cagliostro burn his thousand copies.” +</p> + +<p> +“Remember, sir, that it was my idea to burn the others.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then I will have these torn.” +</p> + +<p> +“Monsieur, I am sorry to tell you that I wish to have +the first turn with M. de Cagliostro.” +</p> + +<p> +“All that I can agree to, sir, is to take our chance. I +will throw up a louis, and whoever guesses right shall be +first.” +</p> + +<p> +“Thanks, sir, but I am not generally lucky, and should +probably lose,” and he stepped towards the door. +</p> + +<p> +Charny stopped him. +</p> + +<p> +“Stay, sir, we will soon understand each other.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, sir?” answered Philippe, turning back. +</p> + +<p> +“Then, before asking satisfaction of M. de Cagliostro, +suppose we take a turn in the Bois de Boulogne: it +will be out of our way, but perhaps we can settle our dispute +there. One of us will probably be left behind, and +the other be uninterrupted.” +</p> + +<p> +“Really, monsieur,” said Philippe, “you echo my own +thoughts—where shall we meet?” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, if my society be not insupportable to you, we +need not part. I ordered my carriage to wait for me in +the Place Royale, close by here.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then you will give me a seat?” said Philippe. +</p> + +<p> +“With the greatest pleasure;” and they walked together +to the carriage, and getting in, set off for the +Champs Elysées. +</p> + +<p> +First, however, Charny wrote a few words on his tablets, +and gave them to the footman to take to his hotel. +</p> + +<p> +In less than half an hour they reached the Bois de +Boulogne. The weather was lovely, and the air delightful, +although the power of the sun was already felt: the fresh +leaves were appearing on the trees, and the violets filled +the place with their perfume. +</p> + +<p> +“It is a fine day for our promenade, is it not, M. de +Taverney?” said Charny. +</p> + +<p> +“Beautiful, sir.” +</p> + +<p> +“You may go,” said Charny to his coachman. +</p> + +<p> +“Are you not wrong, sir, to send away your carriage?—one +of us may need it.” +</p> + +<p> +“No, sir,” replied Charny; “in this affair secrecy before +everything, and once in the knowledge of a servant, +we risk it being talked of all over Paris to-morrow.” +</p> + +<p> +“As you please, but do you think the fellow does not +know what he came here for? These people know well +what brings two gentlemen to the Bois de Boulogne, and +even if he did not feel sure now, he will perhaps afterwards +see one of us wounded, and will have no doubts left +then. Is it not then better to keep him here to take back +either who shall need him, than to be left, or leave me +here, wounded and alone?” +</p> + +<p> +“You are right, monsieur,” replied Charny; and, +turning to the coachman, he said, “No, stop, Dauphin; +you shall wait here.” +</p> + +<p> +Dauphin remained accordingly, and as he perfectly +guessed what was coming, he arranged his position, so +as to see through the still leafless trees all that passed. +</p> + +<p> +They walked on a little way, then Philippe said, “I +think, M. de Charny, this is a good place.” +</p> + +<p> +“Excellent, monsieur,” said Charny, and added: +“Chevalier, if it were any one but you, I would say one +word of courtesy, and we were friends again; but to you, +coming from America, where they fight so well, I cannot.” +</p> + +<p> +“And I, sir, to you, who the other evening gained +the admiration of an entire court by a glorious feat of +arms, can only say, M. le Comte, do me the honor to +draw your sword.” +</p> + +<p> +“Monsieur,” said Charny, “I believe we have neither +of us touched on the real cause of quarrel.” +</p> + +<p> +“I do not understand you, comte.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! you understand me perfectly, sir; and you +blush while you deny it.” +</p> + +<p> +“Defend yourself,” cried Philippe; their swords +crossed. Philippe soon perceived that he was superior +to his adversary, and therefore became as calm as though +he had been only fencing, and was satisfied with defending +himself without attacking. +</p> + +<p> +“You spare me, sir,” said Charny; “may I ask +why?” +</p> + +<p> +Philippe went on as before; Charny grew warm, and +wished to provoke him from this sang froid, therefore he +said: +</p> + +<p> +“I told you, sir, that we had not touched on the real +cause of the quarrel.” +</p> + +<p> +Philippe did not reply. +</p> + +<p> +“The true cause,” continued Charny, “why you sought +a quarrel, for it was you who sought it, was, that you +were jealous of me.” +</p> + +<p> +Still Philippe remained silent. +</p> + +<p> +“What is your intention?” again said Charny. “Do +you wish to tire my arm? that is a calculation unworthy +of you. Kill me if you can, but do not dally thus.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, sir,” replied Philippe at last, “your reproach +is just; the quarrel did begin with me, and I was +wrong.” +</p> + +<p> +“That is not the question now. You have your +sword in your hand; use it for something more than +mere defense.” +</p> + +<p> +“Monsieur,” said Philippe, “I have the honor to tell +you once more I was wrong, and that I apologize.” +</p> + +<p> +But Charny was by this time too excited to appreciate +the generosity of his adversary. “Oh!” said he, “I +understand; you wish to play the magnanimous with +me; that is it, is it not, chevalier? You wish to relate +to the ladies this evening how you brought me here, and +then spared my life.” +</p> + +<p> +“Count,” said Philippe, “I fear you are losing your +senses.” +</p> + +<p> +“You wish to kill M. de Cagliostro to please the +queen; and, for the same reason, you wish to turn me +into ridicule.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah! this is too much,” cried Philippe, “and proves +to me that you have not as generous a heart as I +thought.” +</p> + +<p> +“Pierce it then,” cried Charny, exposing himself as +Philippe made another pass. +</p> + +<p> +The sword glanced along his ribs, and the blood flowed +rapidly. +</p> + +<p> +“At last,” cried Charny, “I am wounded. Now I +may kill you if I can.” +</p> + +<p> +“Decidedly,” said Philippe, “you are mad. You +will not kill me—you will only be disabled without cause, +and without profit; for no one will ever know for what you +have fought;” and as Charny made another pass, he dexterously +sent his sword flying from his hand; then, seizing +it, he broke it across his foot. “M. de Charny,” +said he, “you did not require to prove to me that you +were brave; you must therefore detest me very much +when you fight with such fury.” +</p> + +<p> +Charny did not reply, but grew visibly pale, and then +tottered. +</p> + +<p> +Philippe advanced to support him, but he repulsed +him, saying, “I can reach my carriage.” +</p> + +<p> +“At least take this handkerchief to stop the blood.” +</p> + +<p> +“Willingly.” +</p> + +<p> +“And my arm, sir; at the least obstacle you met you +would fall, and give yourself unnecessary pain.” +</p> + +<p> +“The sword has only penetrated the skin. I hope soon +to be well.” +</p> + +<p> +“So much the better, sir; but I warn you, that you +will find it difficult to make me your adversary again.” +</p> + +<p> +Charny tried to reply, but the words died on his lips. +He staggered, and Philippe had but just time to catch +him in his arms, and bear him half fainting to his carriage. +</p> + +<p> +Dauphin, who had seen what had passed, advanced to +meet him, and they put Charny in. +</p> + +<p> +“Drive slowly,” said Philippe, who then took his way +back to Paris, murmuring to himself, with a sigh, “She +will pity him.” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2>CHAPTER XXXII.<br/> +THE HOUSE IN THE RUE ST. GILLES.</h2> + +<p> +Philippe jumped into the first coach he saw, and told +the man to drive to the Rue St. Gilles, where he stopped +at the house of M. de Cagliostro. +</p> + +<p> +A large carriage, with two good horses, was standing in +the courtyard; the coachman was asleep, wrapped in a +greatcoat of fox-skins, and two footmen walked up and +down before the door. +</p> + +<p> +“Does the Count Cagliostro live here?” asked Philippe. +</p> + +<p> +“He is just going out.” +</p> + +<p> +“The more reason to be quick, for I wish to speak to him +first. Announce the Chevalier Philippe de Taverney;” +and he followed the men up-stairs. +</p> + +<p> +“Ask him to walk in,” said, from within, a voice at +once manly and gentle. +</p> + +<p> +“Excuse me, sir,” said the chevalier to a man whom we +have already seen, first at the table of M. de Richelieu, +then at the exhibition of M. Mesmer, in Oliva’s room, and +with her at the Opera ball. +</p> + +<p> +“For what, sir?” replied he. +</p> + +<p> +“Because I prevent you from going out.” +</p> + +<p> +“You would have needed an excuse had you been much +later, for I was waiting for you.” +</p> + +<p> +“For me?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, I was forewarned of your visit.” +</p> + +<p> +“Of my visit?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes; two hours ago. It is about that time, is it not, +since you were coming here before, when an interruption +caused you to postpone the execution of your project?” +</p> + +<p> +Philippe began to experience the same strange sensation +with which this man inspired every one. +</p> + +<p> +“Sit down, M. de Taverney,” continued he; “this armchair +was placed for you.” +</p> + +<p> +“A truce to pleasantry, sir,” said Philippe, in a voice +which he vainly tried to render calm. +</p> + +<p> +“I do not jest, sir.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then a truce to charlatanism. If you are a sorcerer, +I did not come to make trial of your skill; but if you are, +so much the better, for you must know what I am come +to say to you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, yes, you are come to seek a quarrel.” +</p> + +<p> +“You know that? perhaps you also know why?” +</p> + +<p> +“On account of the queen. Now, sir, I am ready to +listen;” and these last words were no longer pronounced +in the courteous tones of a host, but in the hard and dry +ones of an adversary. +</p> + +<p> +“Sir, there exists a certain publication.” +</p> + +<p> +“There are many publications,” said Cagliostro. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, this publication to-day was written against the +queen.” +</p> + +<p> +Cagliostro did not reply. +</p> + +<p> +“You know what I refer to, count?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, sir.” +</p> + +<p> +“You have bought one thousand copies of it?” +</p> + +<p> +“I do not deny it.” +</p> + +<p> +“Luckily, they have not reached your hands.” +</p> + +<p> +“What makes you think so, sir?” +</p> + +<p> +“Because I met the porter, paid him, and sent him +with them to my house; and my servant, instructed by +me, will destroy them.” +</p> + +<p> +“You should always finish yourself the work you commence, +sir. Are you sure these thousand copies are at +your house?” +</p> + +<p> +“Certainly.” +</p> + +<p> +“You deceive yourself, sir; they are here. Ah, you +thought that I, sorcerer that I am, would let myself be +foiled in that way. You thought it a brilliant idea to buy +off my messenger. Well, I have a steward, and you see +it is natural for the steward of a sorcerer to be one also. +He divined that you would go to the journalist, and that +you would meet my messenger, whom he afterwards followed, +and threatened to make him give back the gold +you had given him, if he did not follow his original instructions, +instead of taking them to you. But I see you +doubt.” +</p> + +<p> +“I do.” +</p> + +<p> +“Look, then, and you will believe;” and, opening an +oak cabinet, he showed the astonished chevalier the thousand +copies lying there. +</p> + +<p> +Philippe approached the count in a menacing attitude, +but he did not stir. “Sir,” said Philippe, “you appear +a man of courage; I call upon you to give me immediate +satisfaction.” +</p> + +<p> +“Satisfaction for what?” +</p> + +<p> +“For the insult to the queen, of which you render yourself +an accomplice while you keep one number of this vile +paper.” +</p> + +<p> +“Monsieur,” said Cagliostro, “you are in error; I like +novelties, scandalous reports, and other amusing things, +and collect them, that I may remember at a later day +what I should otherwise forget.” +</p> + +<p> +“A man of honor, sir, does not collect infamies.” +</p> + +<p> +“But, if I do not think this an infamy?” +</p> + +<p> +“You will allow at least that it is a lie.” +</p> + +<p> +“You deceive yourself, sir. The queen was at M. +Mesmer’s.” +</p> + +<p> +“It is false, sir.” +</p> + +<p> +“You mean to tell me I lie?” +</p> + +<p> +“I do.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, I will reply in a few words—I saw her there.” +</p> + +<p> +“You saw her!” +</p> + +<p> +“As plainly as I now see you.” +</p> + +<p> +Philippe looked full at Cagliostro. “I still say, sir, +that you lie.” +</p> + +<p> +Cagliostro shrugged his shoulders, as though he were +talking to a madman. +</p> + +<p> +“Do you not hear me, sir?” said Philippe. +</p> + +<p> +“Every word.” +</p> + +<p> +“And do you not know what giving the lie deserves?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, sir; there is a French proverb which says it +merits a box on the ears.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, sir, I am astonished that your hand has not been +already raised to give it, as you are a French gentleman, +and know the proverb.” +</p> + +<p> +“Although a French gentleman, I am a man, and love +my brother.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then you refuse me satisfaction?” +</p> + +<p> +“I only pay what I owe.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then you will compel me to take satisfaction in +another manner.” +</p> + +<p> +“How?” +</p> + +<p> +“I exact that you burn the numbers before my eyes, or +I will proceed with you as with the journalist.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! a beating,” said Cagliostro, laughing. +</p> + +<p> +“Neither more nor less, sir. Doubtless you can call +your servants.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, I shall not call my servants; it is my own business. +I am stronger than you, and if you approach me +with your cane, I shall take you in my arms and throw +you across the room, and shall repeat this as often as you +repeat your attempt.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, M. Hercules, I accept the challenge,” said +Philippe, throwing himself furiously upon Cagliostro, +who, seizing him round the neck and waist with a grasp +of iron, threw him on a pile of cushions, which lay some +way off, and then remained standing as coolly as ever. +</p> + +<p> +Philippe rose as pale as death. “Sir,” said he, in a +hoarse voice, “you are in fact stronger than I am, but +your logic is not as strong as your arm; and you forgot, +when you treated me thus, that you gave me the right to +say, ‘Defend yourself, count, or I will kill you.’” +</p> + +<p> +Cagliostro did not move. +</p> + +<p> +“Draw your sword, I tell you, sir, or you are a dead +man.” +</p> + +<p> +“You are not yet sufficiently near for me to treat you +as before, and I will not expose myself to be killed by you, +like poor Gilbert.” +</p> + +<p> +“Gilbert!” cried Philippe, reeling back. “Did you +say Gilbert?” +</p> + +<p> +“Happily you have no gun this time, only a sword.” +</p> + +<p> +“Monsieur,” cried Philippe, “you have pronounced a +name——” +</p> + +<p> +“Which has awakened a terrible echo in your remembrance, +has it not? A name that you never thought to +hear again, for you were alone with the poor boy, in the +grotto of Açores, when you assassinated him.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh!” said Philippe, “will you not draw?” +</p> + +<p> +“If you knew,” said Cagliostro, “how easily I could +make your sword fly from your hand!” +</p> + +<p> +“With your sword?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, with my sword, if I wished.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then try.” +</p> + +<p> +“No, I have a still surer method.” +</p> + +<p> +“For the last time, defend yourself,” said Philippe, +advancing towards him. +</p> + +<p> +Then the count took from his pocket a little bottle, +which he uncorked, and threw the contents in Philippe’s +face. Scarcely had it touched him, when he reeled, let +his sword drop, and fell senseless. +</p> + +<p> +Cagliostro picked him up, put him on a sofa, waited +for his senses to return, and then said, “At your age, +chevalier, we should have done with follies; cease, therefore, +to act like a foolish boy, and listen to me.” +</p> + +<p> +Philippe made an effort to shake off the torpor which +still held possession of him, and murmured, “Oh, sir, do +you call these the weapons of a gentleman?” +</p> + +<p> +Cagliostro shrugged his shoulders. “You repeat forever +the same word,” he said; “when we of the nobility +have opened our mouths wide enough to utter the word +gentleman, we think we have said everything. What do +you call the weapons of a gentleman? Is it your sword, +which served you so badly against me, or is it your gun, +which served you so well against Gilbert? What makes +some men superior to others? Do you think that it is +that high-sounding word gentleman? No; it is first +reason, then strength, most of all, science. Well, I have +used all these against you. With my reason I braved +your insults, with my strength I conquered yours, and +with my science I extinguished at once your moral and +physical powers. Now I wish to show you that you have +committed two faults in coming here with menaces in your +mouth. Will you listen to me?” +</p> + +<p> +“You have overpowered me,” replied Philippe; “I +can scarcely move. You have made yourself master of +my muscles and of my mind, and then you ask me if I +will listen!” +</p> + +<p> +Then Cagliostro took down from the chimney-piece +another little gold phial. “Smell this, chevalier,” said he. +</p> + +<p> +Philippe obeyed, and it seemed to him that the cloud +which hung over him dispersed. “Oh, I revive!” he +cried. +</p> + +<p> +“And you feel free and strong?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes.” +</p> + +<p> +“With your full powers and memory of the past?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then this memory gives me an advantage over you.” +</p> + +<p> +“No,” said Philippe, “for I acted in defense of a vital +and sacred principle.” +</p> + +<p> +“What do you mean?” +</p> + +<p> +“I defended the monarchy.” +</p> + +<p> +“You defended the monarchy!—you, who went to +America to defend a republic. Ah, mon Dieu! be frank; +it is not the monarchy you defend.” +</p> + +<p> +Philippe colored. +</p> + +<p> +“To love those who disdain you,” continued Cagliostro, +“who deceive and forget you, is the attribute of great +souls. It is the law of the Scriptures to return good for +evil. You are a Christian, M. de Taverney.” +</p> + +<p> +“Monsieur,” cried Philippe, “not a word more; if I +did not defend the monarchy, I defended the queen, that +is to say, an innocent woman, and to be respected even +if she were not so, for it is a divine law not to attack the +weak.” +</p> + +<p> +“The weak! the queen—you call a feeble being her +to whom twenty-eight million human beings bow the +knee!” +</p> + +<p> +“Monsieur, they calumniate her.” +</p> + +<p> +“How do you know?” +</p> + +<p> +“I believe it.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, I believe the contrary; we have each the right +to think as we please.” +</p> + +<p> +“But you act like an evil genius.” +</p> + +<p> +“Who tells you so?” cried Cagliostro, with sparkling +eyes. “How, have you the temerity to assume that you +are right, and that I am wrong? You defend royalty; +well, I defend the people. You say, render to Cæsar the +things which are Cæsar’s; and I say, render to God the +things that are God’s. Republican of America, I recall +you to the love of the people, to the love of equality. +You trample on the people to kiss the hands of a queen; +I would throw down a queen to elevate a people. I do +not disturb you in your adoration; leave me in peace at +my work. You say to me, die, for you have offended the +object of my worship; and I say to you, who combat +mine, live, for I feel myself so strong in my principles, +that neither you nor any one else can retard my progress +for an instant.” +</p> + +<p> +“Sir, you frighten me,” said Philippe; “you show me +the danger in which our monarchy is.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then be prudent, and shun the opening gulf.” +</p> + +<p> +“You know,” replied Philippe, “that I would sooner +entomb myself in it, than see those whom I defend in +danger.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, I have warned you.” +</p> + +<p> +“And I,” said Philippe, “I, who am but a feeble individual, +will use against you the arms of the weak. I +implore you, with tearful eyes and joined hands, to be +merciful towards those whom you pursue. I ask you to +spare me the remorse of knowing you were acting against +this poor queen, and not preventing you. I beg you to +destroy this publication, which would make a woman shed +tears. I ask you, by the love which you have guessed, or +I swear that with this sword, which has proved so powerless +against you, I will pierce myself before your eyes!” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah!” murmured Cagliostro, “why are they not all +like you? Then I would join them, and they should not +perish.” +</p> + +<p> +“Monsieur, monsieur, I pray you to reply to me!” +</p> + +<p> +“See, then,” said Cagliostro, “if all the thousand +numbers be there, and burn them yourself.” +</p> + +<p> +Philippe ran to the cabinet, took them out, and threw +them on the fire. “Adieu, monsieur!” then he said; +“a hundred thanks for the favor you have granted me.” +</p> + +<p> +“I owed the brother,” said Cagliostro, when he had +gone, “some compensation for all I made the sister endure.” +</p> + +<p> +Then he called for his carriage. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2>CHAPTER XXXIII.<br/> +THE HEAD OF THE TAVERNEY FAMILY.</h2> + +<p> +While this was passing in the Rue St. Gilles, the elder +M. Taverney was walking in his garden, followed by two +footmen, who carried a chair, with which they approached +him every five minutes, that he might rest. While doing +so, a servant came to announce the chevalier. +</p> + +<p> +“My son,” said the old man, “come, Philippe, you +arrive àpropos—my heart is full of happy thoughts; but +how solemn you look!” +</p> + +<p> +“Do I, sir?” +</p> + +<p> +“You know already the results of that affair?” +</p> + +<p> +“What affair?” +</p> + +<p> +The old man looked to see that no one was listening, +then said, “I speak of the ball.” +</p> + +<p> +“I do not understand.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, the ball at the Opera.” +</p> + +<p> +Philippe colored. +</p> + +<p> +“Sit down,” continued his father; “I want to talk to +you. It seems that you, so timid and delicate at first, +now compromise her too much.” +</p> + +<p> +“Whom do you mean, sir?” +</p> + +<p> +“Pardieu! do you think I am ignorant of your escapade, +both together at the Opera ball? It was pretty.” +</p> + +<p> +“Sir, I protest——” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, do not be angry; I only mean to warn you for +your good. You are not careful enough; you were seen +there with her.” +</p> + +<p> +“I was seen?” +</p> + +<p> +“Pardieu! had you, or not, a blue domino?” +</p> + +<p> +Philippe was about to explain that he had not, and +did not know what his father meant, but he thought to +himself, “It is of no use to explain to him; he never +believes me. Besides, I wish to learn more.” +</p> + +<p> +“You see,” continued the old man, triumphantly, +“you were recognized. Indeed, M. de Richelieu, who +was at the ball in spite of his eighty-four years, wondered +who the blue domino could be with whom the queen was +walking, and he could only suspect you, for he knew all +the others.” +</p> + +<p> +“And pray how does he say he recognized the queen?” +</p> + +<p> +“Not very difficult, when she took her mask off. +Such audacity as that surpasses all imagination; she +must really be mad about you. But take care, chevalier; +you have jealous rivals to fear; it is an envied post to be +favorite of the queen, when the queen is the real king. +Pardon my moralizing, but I do not wish that the breath +of chance should blow down what you have reared so +skilfully.” +</p> + +<p> +Philippe rose; the conversation was hateful to him, +but a kind of savage curiosity impelled him to hear +everything. +</p> + +<p> +“We are already envied,” continued the old man; +“that is natural, but we have not yet attained the height +to which we shall rise. To you will belong the glory of +raising our name; and now you are progressing so well, +only be prudent, or you will fail after all. Soon, however, +you must ask for some high post, and obtain for me +a lord-lieutenancy not too far from Paris. Then you can +have a peerage, and become a duke and lieutenant-general. +In two years, if I am still alive——” +</p> + +<p> +“Enough, enough!” groaned Philippe. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, if you are satisfied with that, I am not. You +have a whole life before you; I, perhaps, only a few +months. However, I do not complain; God gave me two +children, and if my daughter has been useless in repairing +our fortunes, you will make up for it. I see in you the +great Taverney, and you inspire me with respect, for +your conduct has been admirable; you show no jealousy, +but leave the field apparently open to every one, while +you really hold it alone.” +</p> + +<p> +“I do not understand you,” replied Philippe. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, no modesty; it was exactly the conduct of +M. Potemkin, who astonished the world with his fortunes. +He saw that Catherine loved variety in her amours; +that, if left free, she would fly from flower to flower, returning +always to the sweetest and most beautiful; but +that, if pursued, she would fly right away. He took his +part, therefore; he even introduced new favorites to his +sovereign, to weary her out with their number; but +through and after the quickly succeeding reigns of the +twelve Cæsars, as they were ironically called, Potemkin in +reality was supreme.” +</p> + +<p> +“What incomprehensible infamies!” murmured poor +Philippe. But the old man went on: +</p> + +<p> +“According to his system, however, you have been +still a little wrong. He never abandoned his surveillance, +and you are too lax in this.” +</p> + +<p> +Philippe replied only by shrugging his shoulders. He +really began to think his father was crazy. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah! you thought I did not see your game. You are +already providing a successor, for you have divined that +there is no stability in the queen’s amours, and in the +event of her changing, you wish not to be quite thrown +aside; therefore you make friends with M. de Charny, +who might otherwise, when his turn comes, exile you, as +you now might MM. de Coigny, Vaudreuil, and others.” +</p> + +<p> +Philippe, with an angry flush, said: +</p> + +<p> +“Once more, enough; I am ashamed to have listened +so long. Those who say that the Queen of France is a +Messalina are criminal calumniators.” +</p> + +<p> +“I tell you,” said the old man, “no one can hear, and +I approve your plan. M. de Charny will repay your +kindness some day.” +</p> + +<p> +“Your logic is admirable, sir; and M. de Charny is so +much my favorite that I have just passed my sword +through his ribs.” +</p> + +<p> +“What!” cried the old man, somewhat frightened at +his son’s flashing eyes, “you have not been fighting?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, sir; that is my method of conciliating my successors. +And he turned to go away. +</p> + +<p> +“Philippe, you jest.” +</p> + +<p> +“I do not, sir.” +</p> + +<p> +The old man rose, and tottered off to the house. +</p> + +<p> +“Quick,” said he to the servant; “let a man on +horseback go at once and ask after M. de Charny, who +has been wounded, and let him be sure to say he comes +from me.” Then he murmured to himself, “Mine is +still the only head in the family.” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2>CHAPTER XXXIV.<br/> +THE STANZAS OF M. DE PROVENCE.</h2> + +<p> +While these events were passing in Paris and in Versailles, +the king, tranquil as usual, sat in his study, surrounded +by maps and plans, and traced new paths for the +vessels of La Pérouse. +</p> + +<p> +A slight knock at his door roused him from his study, +and a voice said, “May I come in, brother?” +</p> + +<p> +“The Comte de Provence,” growled the king, discontentedly. +“Enter.” +</p> + +<p> +A short person came in. +</p> + +<p> +“You did not expect me, brother?” he said. +</p> + +<p> +“No, indeed.” +</p> + +<p> +“Do I disturb you?” +</p> + +<p> +“Have you anything particular to say?” +</p> + +<p> +“Such a strange report——” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, some scandal?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, brother.” +</p> + +<p> +“Which has amused you?” +</p> + +<p> +“Because it is so strange.” +</p> + +<p> +“Something against me?” +</p> + +<p> +“Should I laugh if it were?” +</p> + +<p> +“Then against the queen?” +</p> + +<p> +“Sire, imagine that I was told quite seriously that the +queen slept out the other night.” +</p> + +<p> +“That would be very sad if it were true,” replied the +king. +</p> + +<p> +“But it is not true, is it?” +</p> + +<p> +“No.” +</p> + +<p> +“Nor that the queen was seen waiting outside the gate +at the reservoirs?” +</p> + +<p> +“No.” +</p> + +<p> +“The day, you know, that you ordered the gates to be +shut at eleven o’clock?” +</p> + +<p> +“I do not remember.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, brother, they pretend that the queen was seen +arm-in-arm with M. d’Artois at half-past twelve that +night.” +</p> + +<p> +“Where?” +</p> + +<p> +“Going to a house which he possesses behind the stables. +Has not your majesty heard this report?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, you took care of that.” +</p> + +<p> +“How, sire?—what have I done?” +</p> + +<p> +“Some verses which were printed in the <i>Mercury</i>.” +</p> + +<p> +“Some verses!” said the count, growing red. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, yes; you are a favorite of the Muses.” +</p> + +<p> +“Not I, sire.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, do not deny it; I have the manuscript in your +writing! Now, if you had informed yourself of what the +queen really did that day, instead of writing these lines +against her, and consequently against me, you would have +written an ode in her favor. Perhaps the subject does +not inspire you; but I should have liked a bad ode better +than a good satire.” +</p> + +<p> +“Sire, you overwhelm me; but I trust you will believe +I was deceived, and did not mean harm.” +</p> + +<p> +“Perhaps.” +</p> + +<p> +“Besides, I did not say I believed it; and then, a few +verses are nothing. Now, a pamphlet like one I have just +seen——” +</p> + +<p> +“A pamphlet?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, sire; and I want an order for the Bastile for the +author of it.” +</p> + +<p> +The king rose. “Let me see it,” he said. +</p> + +<p> +“I do not know if I ought.” +</p> + +<p> +“Certainly you ought. Have you got it with you?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, sire;” and he drew from his pocket “The History +of the Queen Etteniotna,” one of the fatal numbers +which had escaped from Philippe and Charny. +</p> + +<p> +The king glanced over it rapidly. “Infamous!” he +cried. +</p> + +<p> +“You see, sire, they pretend the queen went to M. Mesmer’s.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, she did go.” +</p> + +<p> +“She went?” +</p> + +<p> +“Authorized by me.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, sire!” +</p> + +<p> +“That is nothing against her; I gave my consent.” +</p> + +<p> +“Did your majesty intend that she should experimentalize +on herself?” +</p> + +<p> +The king stamped with rage as the count said this; he +was reading one of the most insulting passages—the +history of her contortions, voluptuous disorder, and the +attention she had excited. +</p> + +<p> +“Impossible!” he cried, growing pale; and he rang +the bell. “Oh, the police shall deal with this! Fetch +M. de Crosne.” +</p> + +<p> +“Sire, it is his day for coming here, and he is now +waiting.” +</p> + +<p> +“Let him come in.” +</p> + +<p> +“Shall I go, brother?” said the count. +</p> + +<p> +“No; remain. If the queen be guilty, you are one of +the family, and must know it; if innocent, you, who +have suspected her, must hear it.” +</p> + +<p> +M. de Crosne entered, and bowed, saying, “The report +is ready, sire.” +</p> + +<p> +“First, sir,” said the king, “explain how you allow +such infamous publications against the queen.” +</p> + +<p> +“Etteniotna?” asked M. de Crosne. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, sire, it is a man called Reteau.” +</p> + +<p> +“You know his name, and have not arrested him!” +</p> + +<p> +“Sire, nothing is more easy. I have an order already +prepared in my portfolio.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then why is it not done?” +</p> + +<p> +M. de Crosne looked at the count. +</p> + +<p> +“I see, M. de Crosne wishes me to leave,” said he. +</p> + +<p> +“No,” replied the king, “remain. And you, M. de +Crosne, speak freely.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, sire, I wished first to consult your majesty +whether you would not rather give him some money, and +send him away to be hanged elsewhere.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why?” +</p> + +<p> +“Because, sire, if these men tell lies, the people are +glad enough to see them whipped, or even hanged; but +if they chance upon a truth——” +</p> + +<p> +“A truth! It is true that the queen went to M. +Mesmer’s, but I gave her permission.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, sire!” cried M. de Crosne. +</p> + +<p> +His tone of sincerity struck the king more than anything +M. de Provence had said; and he answered, “I +suppose, sir, that was no harm.” +</p> + +<p> +“No, sire; but her majesty has compromised herself.” +</p> + +<p> +“M. de Crosne, what have your police told you?” +</p> + +<p> +“Sire, many things, which, with all possible respect +for her majesty, agree in many points with this pamphlet.” +</p> + +<p> +“Let me hear.” +</p> + +<p> +“That the queen went in a common dress, in the middle +of this crowd, and alone.” +</p> + +<p> +“Alone!” cried the king. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, sire.” +</p> + +<p> +“You are deceived, M. de Crosne.” +</p> + +<p> +“I do not think so, sire.” +</p> + +<p> +“You have bad reporters, sir.” +</p> + +<p> +“So exact, that I can give your majesty a description +of her dress, of all her movements, of her cries——” +</p> + +<p> +“Her cries!” +</p> + +<p> +“Even her sighs were observed, sire.” +</p> + +<p> +“It is impossible she could have so far forgotten what +is due to me and to herself.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, yes,” said the Comte de Provence; “her +majesty is surely incapable——” +</p> + +<p> +Louis XVI. interrupted him. “Sir,” said he, to M. +de Crosne, “you maintain what you have said?” +</p> + +<p> +“Unhappily, yes, sire.” +</p> + +<p> +“I will examine into it further,” said the king, passing +his handkerchief over his forehead, on which the drops +hung from anxiety and vexation. “I did permit the +queen to go, but I ordered her to take with her a person +safe, irreproachable, and even holy.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah,” said M. de Crosne, “if she had but done so——” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” said the count; “if a lady like Madame de +Lamballe for instance——” +</p> + +<p> +“It was precisely she whom the queen promised to +take.” +</p> + +<p> +“Unhappily, sire, she did not do so.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well,” said the king, with agitation; “if she has +disobeyed me so openly I ought to punish, and I will +punish; only some doubts still remain on my mind; +these doubts you do not share; that is natural; you are +not the king, husband, and friend of her whom they +accuse. However, I will proceed to clear the affair up.” +He rang. “Let some one see,” said he to the person +who came, “where Madame de Lamballe is.” +</p> + +<p> +“Sire, she is walking in the garden with her majesty +and another lady.” +</p> + +<p> +“Beg her to come to me. Now, gentlemen, in ten +minutes we shall know the truth.” +</p> + +<p> +All were silent. +</p> + +<p> +M. de Crosne was really sad, and the count put on an +affectation of it which might have solemnized Momus +himself. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2>CHAPTER XXXV.<br/> +THE PRINCESS DE LAMBALLE.</h2> + +<p> +The Princesse de Lamballe entered beautiful and calm. +Her hair drawn back from her noble forehead, her dark +penciled eyebrows, her clear blue eyes and beautiful lips, +and her unrivaled figure, formed a lovely tout ensemble. +She seemed always surrounded by an atmosphere of virtue +and grace. +</p> + +<p> +The king looked at her with a troubled expression, +dreading what he was about to hear; then bowing, said, +“Sit down, princess.” +</p> + +<p> +“What does your majesty desire?” asked she, in a sweet +voice. +</p> + +<p> +“Some information, princess: what day did you last go +with the queen to Paris?” +</p> + +<p> +“Wednesday, sire.” +</p> + +<p> +“Pardon me, cousin,” said Louis XVI.; “but I wish +to know the exact truth.” +</p> + +<p> +“You will never hear anything else from me, sire.” +</p> + +<p> +“What did you go there for?” +</p> + +<p> +“I went to M. Mesmer’s, Place Vendôme.” +</p> + +<p> +The two witnesses trembled. The king colored with +delight. +</p> + +<p> +“Alone?” asked the king. +</p> + +<p> +“No, sire; with the queen.” +</p> + +<p> +“With the queen?” cried Louis, seizing her hand. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, sire.” +</p> + +<p> +M. de Provence and M. de Crosne looked stupefied. +</p> + +<p> +“Your majesty had authorized the queen to go; at +least, so she told me,” continued the princess. +</p> + +<p> +“It was true, cousin: gentlemen, I breathe again; +Madame de Lamballe never tells a falsehood.” +</p> + +<p> +“Never, sire.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, never, sire,” said M. de Crosne, with perfect +sincerity. “But will you permit me, sire?” +</p> + +<p> +“Certainly, monsieur; question, search as much as you +please; I place the princess at your disposal.” +</p> + +<p> +Madame de Lamballe smiled. “I am ready,” she said. +</p> + +<p> +“Madame,” said the lieutenant of police, “have the +goodness to tell his majesty what you did there, and how +the queen was dressed.” +</p> + +<p> +“She had on a dress of gray taffeta, a mantle of embroidered +muslin, an ermine muff, and a rose-colored +velvet bonnet, trimmed with black.” +</p> + +<p> +M. de Crosne looked astonished. It was a totally different +dress from that which he had had described to him. +The Comte de Provence bit his lips with vexation, and +the king rubbed his hands. +</p> + +<p> +“What did you do on entering?” asked he. +</p> + +<p> +“Sire, you are right to say on entering, for we had +hardly entered the room——” +</p> + +<p> +“Together?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, sire; and we could scarcely have been seen, for +every one was occupied with the experiments going on, +when a lady approached the queen, and, offering her a +mask, implored her to turn back.” +</p> + +<p> +“And you stopped?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, sire.” +</p> + +<p> +“You never went through the rooms?” asked M. de +Crosne. +</p> + +<p> +“No, monsieur.” +</p> + +<p> +“And you never quitted the queen?” asked the +king. +</p> + +<p> +“Not for a moment, sire. Her majesty never left my +arm.” +</p> + +<p> +“Now!” cried the king, “what do you say, M. de +Crosne? and you, brother?” +</p> + +<p> +“It is extraordinary, quite supernatural,” said the +count, who affected a gaiety which could not conceal his +disappointment. +</p> + +<p> +“There is nothing supernatural,” said M. de Crosne, +who felt real remorse: “what Madame de Lamballe says +is undoubtedly true; therefore my informants must have +been mistaken.” +</p> + +<p> +“Do you speak seriously, sir?” asked the count. +</p> + +<p> +“Perfectly, monseigneur. Her majesty did what Madame +de Lamballe states, and nothing more, I feel convinced; +my agents were, somehow or other, deceived. +As for this journalist, I will immediately send the order +for his imprisonment.” +</p> + +<p> +Madame de Lamballe looked from one to the other with +an expression of innocent curiosity. +</p> + +<p> +“One moment,” said the king; “you spoke of a lady +who came to stop you; tell us who she was?” +</p> + +<p> +“Her majesty seemed to know her, sire.” +</p> + +<p> +“Because, cousin, I must speak to this person; then +we shall learn the key to this mystery.” +</p> + +<p> +“That is my opinion also, sire,” said M. de Crosne. +</p> + +<p> +“Did the queen tell you that she knew this person?” +said the count. +</p> + +<p> +“She told me so, monseigneur.” +</p> + +<p> +“My brother means to say that you probably know her +name.” +</p> + +<p> +“Madame de la Motte Valois.” +</p> + +<p> +“That intriguer!” cried the king. +</p> + +<p> +“Diable!” said the count; “she will be difficult to +interrogate: she is cunning.” +</p> + +<p> +“We will be as cunning as she,” said M. de Crosne. +</p> + +<p> +“I do not like such people about the queen,” said +Louis; “she is so good that all the beggars crowd round +her.” +</p> + +<p> +“Madame de la Motte is a true Valois,” said the princess. +</p> + +<p> +“However that may be, I will not see her here. I +prefer depriving myself of the pleasure of hearing the +queen’s innocence confirmed, to doing that.” +</p> + +<p> +“But you must see her, sire,” said the queen, entering +at that moment, pale with anger, beautiful with a noble +indignation. “It is not now for you to say, ‘I do, or I +do not wish to see her.’ She is a witness from whom the +intelligence of my accusers,” said she, looking at her +brother-in-law, “and the justice of my judges,” turning +to the king and M. de Crosne, “must draw the truth. I, +the accused, demand that she be heard.” +</p> + +<p> +“Madame,” said the king, “we will not do Madame +de la Motte the honor of sending for her to give evidence +either for or against you. I cannot stake your honor +against the veracity of this woman.” +</p> + +<p> +“You need not send for her, she is here.” +</p> + +<p> +“Here!” cried the king. +</p> + +<p> +“Sire, you know I went to see her one day; that day +of which so many things were said,” and she looked again +at the Comte de Provence, who felt ready to sink through +the ground; “and I then dropped at her house a box, +containing a portrait, which she was to return to me +to-day, and she is here.” +</p> + +<p> +“No, no,” said the king; “I am satisfied, and do not +wish to see her.” +</p> + +<p> +“But I am not satisfied, and shall bring her in. Besides, +why this repugnance? What has she done? If +there be anything, tell me; you, M. de Crosne? you +know everything.” +</p> + +<p> +“I know nothing against this lady,” replied he. +</p> + +<p> +“Really?” +</p> + +<p> +“Certainly not; she is poor, and perhaps ambitious, +but that is all.” +</p> + +<p> +“If there be no more than that against her, the king +can surely admit her.” +</p> + +<p> +“I do not know why,” said Louis; “but I have a presentiment +that this woman will be the cause of misfortune +to me.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! sire, that is superstition; pray fetch her, Madame +de Lamballe.” +</p> + +<p> +Five minutes after, Jeanne, with a timid air, although +with a distinguished appearance, entered the room. +</p> + +<p> +Louis XVI., strong in his antipathies, had turned his +back towards her, and was leaning his head on his hands, +seeming to take no longer a part in the conversation. +The Comte de Provence cast on her a look which, had +her modesty been real, would have increased her confusion; +but it required much more than that to trouble +Jeanne. +</p> + +<p> +“Madame,” said the queen, “have the goodness to +tell the king exactly what passed the other day at M. +Mesmer’s.” +</p> + +<p> +Jeanne did not speak. +</p> + +<p> +“It requires no consideration,” continued the queen; +“we want nothing but the simple truth.” +</p> + +<p> +Jeanne understood immediately that the queen had +need of her, and knew that she could clear her in a moment +by speaking the simple truth; but she felt inclined +to keep her secret. +</p> + +<p> +“Sire,” said she, “I went to see M. Mesmer from curiosity, +like the rest of the world. The spectacle appeared +to me rather a coarse one; I turned and suddenly +saw her majesty entering, whom I had already had +the honor of seeing, but without knowing her till her +generosity revealed her rank. It seemed to me that her +majesty was out of place in this room, where much +suffering and many ridiculous exhibitions were going on. +I beg pardon for having taken it on myself to judge; it +was a woman’s instinct, but I humbly beg pardon if I +passed the bounds of proper respect.” She seemed overcome +with emotion as she concluded. +</p> + +<p> +Every one but the king was pleased. +</p> + +<p> +Madame de Lamballe thought her conduct delicate, +and herself timid, intelligent, and good. +</p> + +<p> +The queen thanked her by a look. +</p> + +<p> +“Well,” she said, “you have heard, sire.” +</p> + +<p> +He did not move, but said, “I did not need her testimony.” +</p> + +<p> +“I was told to speak,” said Jeanne timidly, “and I +obeyed.” +</p> + +<p> +“It is enough,” answered he; “when the queen says +a thing she needs no witnesses to confirm her; and when +she has my approbation, and she has it, she need care for +that of no one else.” +</p> + +<p> +He cast an overwhelming look on his brother, and kissing +the hands of the queen and the princess, and begging +pardon of the latter for having disturbed her for nothing, +made a very slight bow to Jeanne. +</p> + +<p> +The ladies then left the room. +</p> + +<p> +“Brother,” said Louis to the count, “now I will detain +you no longer; I have work to do with M. de +Crosne. You have heard your sister’s complete justification, +and it is easy to see you are as pleased as myself. +Pray sit down, M. de Crosne.” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2>CHAPTER XXXVI.<br/> +THE QUEEN.</h2> + +<p> +The queen, after leaving the king, felt deeply the +danger she had been so nearly incurring. She was therefore +pleased with Jeanne, who had been the means of +preventing it, and said to her, with a gracious smile: +</p> + +<p> +“It is really fortunate, madame, that you prevented +my prolonging my stay at M. Mesmer’s, for only think, +they have taken advantage of my being there to say that +I was under the influence of the magnetism.” +</p> + +<p> +“But,” said Madame de Lamballe, “it is very strange +that the police should have been so deceived, and have +affirmed that they saw the queen in the inner room.” +</p> + +<p> +“It is strange,” said the queen; “and M. de Crosne +is an honest man, and would not willingly injure me; +but his agents may have been bought. I have enemies, +dear Lamballe. Still there must have been some foundation +for this tale. This infamous libel represents me as +intoxicated, and overcome to such a degree by the magnetic +fluid, that I lost all control over myself, and all +womanly reserve. Did any such scene take place, +Madame la Comtesse? Was there any one who behaved +like this?” +</p> + +<p> +Jeanne colored; the secret once told, she lost all the +fatal influence which she could now exercise over the +queen’s destiny; therefore she again resolved to keep +silent on this point. +</p> + +<p> +“Madame,” said she, “there was a woman much agitated +who attracted great attention by her contortions +and cries.” +</p> + +<p> +“Probably some actress or loose character.” +</p> + +<p> +“Possibly, madame.” +</p> + +<p> +“Countess, you replied very well to the king, and I +will not forget you. How have you advanced in your +own affairs?” +</p> + +<p> +At this moment Madame de Misery came in, to say that +Mademoiselle de Taverney wished to know if her majesty +would receive her. +</p> + +<p> +“Assuredly,” said the queen. “How ceremonious you +always are, Andrée; why do you stand so much upon +etiquette?” +</p> + +<p> +“Your majesty is too good to me.” +</p> + +<p> +Madame de Lamballe now availed herself of Andrée’s +entrance to take leave. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, Andrée,” the queen then said, “here is this lady +whom we went to see the other day.” +</p> + +<p> +“I recognize madame,” said Andrée, bowing. +</p> + +<p> +“Do you know what they have been saying of me?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, madame; M. de Provence has been repeating +the story.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! no doubt; therefore we will leave that subject. +Countess, we were speaking of you—who protects you +now?” +</p> + +<p> +“You, madame,” replied Jeanne, boldly, “since you +permit me to come and kiss your hand. Few people,” +she continued, “dared to protect me when I was in obscurity; +now that I have been seen with your majesty, +every one will be anxious to do so.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then,” said the queen, “no one has been either brave +enough or corrupt enough to protect you for yourself?” +</p> + +<p> +“I had first Madame de Boulainvilliers, a brave protector; +then her husband, a corrupt one; but since my +marriage no one. Oh yes, I forget one brave man—a +generous prince.” +</p> + +<p> +“Prince, countess! who is it?” +</p> + +<p> +“Monsieur the Cardinal de Rohan.” +</p> + +<p> +“My enemy,” said the queen, smiling. +</p> + +<p> +“Your enemy! Oh, madame!” +</p> + +<p> +“It seems you are astonished that a queen should have +an enemy. It is evident you have not lived at court.” +</p> + +<p> +“But, madame, he adores you. The devotion of the +cardinal equals his respect for you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, doubtless,” said the queen, with a hearty laugh; +“that is why he is my enemy.” +</p> + +<p> +Jeanne looked surprised. +</p> + +<p> +“And you are his protégée,” continued the queen; +“tell me all about it.” +</p> + +<p> +“It is very simple; his eminence has assisted me in the +most generous, yet the most considerate, manner.” +</p> + +<p> +“Good; Prince Louis is generous; no one can deny +that. But do you not think, Andrée, that M. le Cardinal +also adores this pretty countess a little? Come, countess, +tell us.” And Marie Antoinette laughed again in her +frank, joyous manner. +</p> + +<p> +“All this gaiety must be put on,” thought Jeanne. So +she answered, in a grave tone, “Madame, I have the +honor to affirm to your majesty that M. de Rohan——” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, since you are his friend, ask him what he did +with some hair of mine which he bribed a certain hair-dresser +to steal; and which trick cost the poor man dear, +for he lost my custom.” +</p> + +<p> +“Your majesty surprises me; M. de Rohan did that?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, yes; all his adoration, you know. After having +hated me at Vienna, and having employed every means +to try and prevent my marriage, he at last began to perceive +that I was a woman, and his queen, and that he had +offended me forever. Then this dear prince began to +fear for his future, and, like all of his profession, who +seem most fond of those whom they most fear, and as he +knew me young and believed me foolish and vain, he +turned—he became a professed admirer, and began with +sighs and glances. He adores me, does he not, Andrée?” +</p> + +<p> +“Madame!” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! Andrée will not compromise herself, but I say +what I please; at least I may have that advantage from +being a queen. So it is a settled thing that the cardinal +adores me, and you may tell him, countess, that he has +my permission.” +</p> + +<p> +Jeanne, instead of seeing in all this only the angry disdain +of a noble character, which she was incapable of appreciating, +thought it all pique against M. de Rohan, +hiding another feeling for him, and therefore began to +defend him with all her eloquence. +</p> + +<p> +The queen listened. +</p> + +<p> +“Good! she listens,” thought Jeanne, and did not +again understand that she listened through generosity, +and through pleasure at anything so novel as to hear any +person defend one of whom the sovereign chose to speak ill, +and felt pleased with her, thinking she saw a heart where +none was placed. +</p> + +<p> +All at once a joyous voice was heard near, and the +queen said, “Here is the Comte d’Artois.” +</p> + +<p> +When he entered, the queen introduced the countess +to him. +</p> + +<p> +“Pray do not let me send you away, Madame la Comtesse,” +said he, as Jeanne made a move to depart. +</p> + +<p> +The queen also requested her to stay. “You have returned +from the wolf-hunt, then?” she said. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, sister, and have had good sport; I have killed +seven. I am not sure,” continued he, laughing, “but +they say so. However, do you know I have gained seven +hundred francs?” +</p> + +<p> +“How?” +</p> + +<p> +“Why, they pay a hundred francs a head for these +beasts. It is dear, but I would give two hundred of them +just now for the head of a certain journalist.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah! you know the story?” +</p> + +<p> +“M. de Provence told me.” +</p> + +<p> +“He is indefatigable. But tell me how he related +it.” +</p> + +<p> +“So as to make you whiter than snow, or Venus Aphroditus. +It seems you came out of it gloriously; you are +fortunate.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, you call that fortunate. Do you hear him, +Andrée?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, for you might have gone alone, without Madame +de Lamballe; and you might not have had Madame de la +Motte there to stop your entrance.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah! you know that too?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh yes; the count told everything. Then you might +not have had Madame de la Motte at hand to give her +testimony. You will tell me, doubtless, that virtue and +innocence are like the violet which does not require to +be seen in order to be recognized; but still I say you are +fortunate.” +</p> + +<p> +“Badly proved.” +</p> + +<p> +“I will prove it still better. Saved so well from the +unlucky scrape of the cabriolet, saved from this affair, +and then the ball,” whispered he in her ear. +</p> + +<p> +“What ball?” +</p> + +<p> +“The ball at the Opera.” +</p> + +<p> +“What do you mean?” +</p> + +<p> +“I mean the ball at the Opera; but I beg pardon, I +should not have mentioned it.” +</p> + +<p> +“Really, brother, you puzzle me; I know nothing +about the ball at the Opera.” +</p> + +<p> +The words “ball” and “Opera” caught Jeanne’s ear, +and she listened intently. +</p> + +<p> +“I am dumb,” said the prince. +</p> + +<p> +“But, count, I insist on knowing what it means.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, pray allow me to let it drop.” +</p> + +<p> +“Do you want to disoblige me?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, sister; but I have said quite enough for you to +understand.” +</p> + +<p> +“You have told me nothing.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, sister, it is needless with me.” +</p> + +<p> +“But really I am in earnest.” +</p> + +<p> +“You wish me to speak?” +</p> + +<p> +“Immediately.” +</p> + +<p> +“Not here,” said he, looking at the others. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, here; there cannot be too many at such an explanation.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then you mean to say you were not at the last ball?” +</p> + +<p> +“I!” cried the queen, “at the ball at the Opera?” +</p> + +<p> +“Hush, I beg.” +</p> + +<p> +“No, I will not hush; I will speak it aloud. You say +I was at the ball?” +</p> + +<p> +“Certainly I do.” +</p> + +<p> +“Perhaps you saw me?” she said ironically. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, I did.” +</p> + +<p> +“Me?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, it is too much! Why did you not speak to me?” +</p> + +<p> +“Ma foi! I was just going to do so, when the crowd +separated us.” +</p> + +<p> +“You are mad!” +</p> + +<p> +“I should not have spoken of it. I have been very +foolish.” +</p> + +<p> +The queen rose, and walked up and down the room in +great agitation. +</p> + +<p> +Andrée trembled with fear and disquietude, and Jeanne +could hardly keep from laughing. +</p> + +<p> +Then the queen stopped, and said: +</p> + +<p> +“My friend, do not jest any more; you see, I am so +passionate that I have lost my temper already. Tell me +at once that you were joking with me.” +</p> + +<p> +“I will, if you please, sister.” +</p> + +<p> +“Be serious, Charles. You have invented all this, +have you not?” +</p> + +<p> +He winked at the ladies, and said, “Oh, yes, of +course.” +</p> + +<p> +“You do not understand me, brother!” cried the +queen vehemently. “Say yes or no. Do not tell falsehoods; +I only want the truth!” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, then, sister,” said he, in a low voice, “I have +told the truth, but I am sorry I spoke.” +</p> + +<p> +“You saw me there?” +</p> + +<p> +“As plain as I see you now; and you saw me.” +</p> + +<p> +The queen uttered a cry, and, running up to Andrée +and Jeanne, cried, “Ladies, M. le Comte d’Artois affirms +that he saw me at the ball at the Opera; let him prove it.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well,” said he, “I was with M. de Richelieu and +others, when your mask fell off.” +</p> + +<p> +“My mask!” +</p> + +<p> +“I was about to say, ‘This is too rash, sister,’ but +the gentleman with you drew you away so quickly.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, mon Dieu! you will drive me mad! What +gentleman?” +</p> + +<p> +“The blue domino.” +</p> + +<p> +The queen passed her hand over her eyes. +</p> + +<p> +“What day was this?” she asked. +</p> + +<p> +“Saturday. The next day I set off to hunt, before +you were up.” +</p> + +<p> +“What time do you say you saw me?” +</p> + +<p> +“Between two and three.” +</p> + +<p> +“Decidedly one of us is mad!” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, it is I. It is all a mistake. Do not be so afraid; +there is no harm done. At first I thought you were with +the king; but the blue domino spoke German, and he +does not.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, brother, on Saturday I went to bed at eleven.” +</p> + +<p> +The count bowed, with an incredulous smile. +</p> + +<p> +The queen rang. “Madame de Misery shall tell you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why do you not call Laurent also?” said he, laughing. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh!” cried the queen in a rage, “not to be believed!” +</p> + +<p> +“My dear sister, if I believed you, others would not.” +</p> + +<p> +“What others?” +</p> + +<p> +“Those who saw you as well as myself.” +</p> + +<p> +“Who were they?” +</p> + +<p> +“M. Philippe de Taverney, for instance.” +</p> + +<p> +“My brother?” cried Andrée. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes; shall we ask him?” +</p> + +<p> +“Immediately.” +</p> + +<p> +“Mon Dieu!” murmured Andrée, “my brother a +witness!” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes; I wish it;” and she went to seek him at his +father’s. +</p> + +<p> +He was just leaving, after the scene we have described +with his father, when the messenger met him. He came +quickly, and Marie Antoinette turned to him at once. +</p> + +<p> +“Sir,” said she, “are you capable of speaking the +truth?” +</p> + +<p> +“Incapable of anything else, madame.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, then, say frankly, have you seen me at any +public place within the last week?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, madame.” +</p> + +<p> +All hearts beat so that you might have heard them. +</p> + +<p> +“Where?” said the queen, in a terrible voice. +</p> + +<p> +Philippe was silent. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, no concealment, sir! My brother says you saw +me at the ball of the Opera.” +</p> + +<p> +“I did, madame.” +</p> + +<p> +The queen sank on a sofa; then, rising furiously, she +said: +</p> + +<p> +“It is impossible, for I was not there! Take care, M. +de Taverney!” +</p> + +<p> +“Your majesty,” said Andrée, pale with anger, “if +my brother says he saw you, he did see you.” +</p> + +<p> +“You also!” cried Marie Antoinette; “it only remains +now for you to have seen me. Pardieu! my enemies +overwhelm me.” +</p> + +<p> +“When I saw that the blue domino was not the king,” +said the Comte d’Artois, “I believed him to be that +nephew of M. de Suffren whom you received so well here +the other night.” +</p> + +<p> +The queen colored. +</p> + +<p> +“Did it not look something like his tournure, M. de +Taverney?” continued the count. +</p> + +<p> +“I did not remark, monseigneur,” said he, in a choking +voice. +</p> + +<p> +“But I soon found out that it was not he; for suddenly +I saw him before me, and he was close by you when your +mask fell off.” +</p> + +<p> +“So he saw me too?” +</p> + +<p> +“If he were not blind, he did.” +</p> + +<p> +The queen rang. +</p> + +<p> +“What are you about to do?” +</p> + +<p> +“Send for him also, and ask. I will drain this cup to +the dregs!” +</p> + +<p> +“I do not think he can come,” said Philippe. +</p> + +<p> +“Why?” +</p> + +<p> +“Because I believe he is not well.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, he must come, monsieur! I am not well either, +but I would go to the end of the world barefoot to +prove——” +</p> + +<p> +All at once Andrée, who was near the window, uttered +an exclamation. +</p> + +<p> +“What is it?” cried the queen. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, nothing; only here comes M. de Charny.” +</p> + +<p> +The queen, in her excitement, ran to the window, +opened it, and cried, “M. de Charny!” +</p> + +<p> +He, full of astonishment, hastened to enter. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2>CHAPTER XXXVII.<br/> +AN ALIBI.</h2> + +<p> +M. de Charny entered, a little pale, but upright, and +not apparently suffering. +</p> + +<p> +“Take care, sister,” said the Comte d’Artois; “what +is the use of asking so many people?” +</p> + +<p> +“Brother, I will ask the whole world, till I meet some +one who will tell you you are deceived.” +</p> + +<p> +Charny and Philippe bowed courteously to each other, +and Philippe said in a low voice, “You are surely mad to +come out wounded; one would say you wished to die.” +</p> + +<p> +“One does not die from the scratch of a thorn in the +Bois de Boulogne,” replied Charny. +</p> + +<p> +The queen approached, and put an end to this conversation. +“M. de Charny,” said she, “these gentlemen say +that you were at the ball at the Opera?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, your majesty.” +</p> + +<p> +“Tell us what you saw there.” +</p> + +<p> +“Does your majesty mean whom I saw there?” +</p> + +<p> +“Precisely; and no complaisant reserve, M. de Charny.” +</p> + +<p> +“Must I say, madame?” +</p> + +<p> +The cheeks of the queen assumed once more that deadly +paleness, which had many times that morning alternated +with a burning red. +</p> + +<p> +“Did you see me?” she asked. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, your majesty, at the moment when your mask +unhappily fell off.” +</p> + +<p> +Marie Antoinette clasped her hands. +</p> + +<p> +“Monsieur,” said she, almost sobbing, “look at me +well; are you sure of what you say?” +</p> + +<p> +“Madame, your features are engraved in the hearts of +your subjects; to see your majesty once is to see you forever.” +</p> + +<p> +“But, monsieur,” said she, “I assure you I was not at +the ball at the Opera.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, madame,” said the young man, bowing low, “has +not your majesty the right to go where you please?” +</p> + +<p> +“I do not ask you to find excuses for me; I only ask +you to believe.” +</p> + +<p> +“I will believe all your majesty wishes me to believe,” +cried he. +</p> + +<p> +“Sister, sister, it is too much,” murmured the count. +</p> + +<p> +“No one believes me!” cried she, throwing herself on +the sofa, with tears in her eyes. +</p> + +<p> +“Sister, pardon me,” said the count tenderly, “you are +surrounded by devoted friends; this secret, which terrifies +you so, we alone know. It is confined to our hearts, and +no one shall drag it from us while we have life.” +</p> + +<p> +“This secret! oh, I want nothing but to prove the +truth.” +</p> + +<p> +“Madame,” said Andrée, “some one approaches.” +</p> + +<p> +The king was announced. +</p> + +<p> +“The king! oh, so much the better. He is my only +friend; he would not believe me guilty even if he thought +he saw me.” +</p> + +<p> +The king entered with an air of calmness, in strange +contrast to the disturbed countenances of those present. +</p> + +<p> +“Sire,” said the queen, “you come àpropos; there is +yet another calumny, another insult to combat.” +</p> + +<p> +“What is it?” said Louis, advancing. +</p> + +<p> +“An infamous report. Aid me, sire, for now it is no +longer my enemies that accuse me, but my friends.” +</p> + +<p> +“Your friends!” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, sire; M. le Comte d’Artois, M. de Taverney, +and M. de Charny affirm that they saw me at the ball at +the Opera.” +</p> + +<p> +“At the ball at the Opera!” cried the king. +</p> + +<p> +A terrible silence ensued. +</p> + +<p> +Madame de la Motte saw the mortal paleness of the +queen, the terrible disquietude of the king and of all the +others, and with one word she could have put an end to +all this, and saved the queen, not only now, but in the +future, from much distress. But she said to herself that +it was too late; that they would see, if she spoke now, +that she had deceived them before when the simple truth +would have been of such advantage to the queen, and +she should forfeit her newly-acquired favor. So she remained +silent. +</p> + +<p> +The king repeated, with an air of anguish, “At the +ball at the Opera! Does M. de Provence know this?” +</p> + +<p> +“But, sire, it is not true. M. le Comte d’Artois is deceived; +M. de Taverney is deceived; M. de Charny, you +are deceived, one may be mistaken.” +</p> + +<p> +All bowed. +</p> + +<p> +“Come,” continued she, “call all my people, ask +every one. You say it was Saturday?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, sister.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, what did I do on Saturday? Let some one +tell me, for I think I am going mad, and shall begin at +last to believe that I did go to this infamous ball. But, +gentlemen, if I had been there I would have confessed it.” +</p> + +<p> +At this moment the king approached her, every cloud +gone from his brow. “Well, Marie,” said he, “if it was +Saturday, there is no need to call your women, or only to +ask them at what hour I came to your room. I believe +it was past eleven.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh!” cried the queen, joyfully, “you are right, +sire.” And she threw herself into his arms; then, blushing +and confused, she hid her face on his shoulder, while +he kissed her tenderly. +</p> + +<p> +“Well,” said the Comte d’Artois, full of both surprise +and joy, “I will certainly buy spectacles. But on +my word, I would not have lost this scene for a million +of money. Would you, gentlemen?” +</p> + +<p> +Philippe was leaning against the wainscot as pale as +death. Charny wiped the burning drops from his forehead. +</p> + +<p> +“Therefore, gentlemen,” said the king, turning towards +them, “I know it to be impossible that the queen was +that night at the ball at the Opera. Believe it or not, as +you please. The queen I am sure is content that I know +her to be innocent.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well,” said M. d’Artois, “Provence may say what he +pleases, but I defy his wife to prove an alibi in the +same way, if she should be accused of passing the night +out.” +</p> + +<p> +“Charles!” +</p> + +<p> +“Pardon, sire, now I will take my leave.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, I will go with you.” And once more kissing +the queen’s hand, they left the room. +</p> + +<p> +“M. de Taverney,” said the queen severely, when they +were gone, “do you not accompany M. d’Artois?” +</p> + +<p> +Philippe started, all the blood rushed to his head, and +he had hardly strength to bow and leave the room. +</p> + +<p> +Andrée was to be pitied also. She knew that Philippe +would have given the world to have taken M. de Charny +away with him, but she felt as though she could not follow +to comfort him, leaving Charny alone with the queen, or +only with Madame de la Motte, who, she instinctively +felt, was worse than no one. But why this feeling? She +could not love Charny; that, she told herself, was impossible. +So slight and recent an acquaintance, and she +who had vowed to love no one. Why then did she suffer +so much when Charny addressed words of such respectful +devotion to the queen? Was not this jealousy? “Yes,” +she thought, but only jealousy that this woman should +draw all hearts towards her, while the whole world of +gallantry and love passed her coldly by. It was no +attraction to be a living problem, ever cold and reserved +like Andrée; they felt it, turned from her beauty and +her intellect, and contented themselves with mere politeness. +Andrée felt this deeply; but on the night when +they first met Charny, he showed towards her nothing of +this coldness or reserve; she was to him as interesting as +any other beautiful woman, and she felt cheered and +warmed by it. But now the queen absorbed his every +look and thought, and left her lonely again; therefore +she did not follow her brother, although she suffered in +his sufferings, and almost idolized him. She did not, +however, attempt to mingle in the conversation, but sat +down by the fire almost with her back to the queen and +Charny, while Madame de la Motte stood in one of the +deep windows, nearly out of sight, although she could +observe all that passed. +</p> + +<p> +The Queen remained silent for some minutes, then she +said, almost to herself, “Would any one believe that +such things pass here?” Then, turning to Charny, said, +“We hear, sir, of the dangers of the sea and of the fury +of tempests, but you have doubtless encountered all their +assaults, and you are still safe and honored.” +</p> + +<p> +“Madame——” +</p> + +<p> +“Then the English, our enemies, have attacked you +with their guns and their power, but still you are safe; +and on account of the enemies you have conquered, the +king felicitates and admires you, and the people bless and +love you; therefore, blessed are such enemies who menace +us only with death. Our enemies do not endanger +existence, it is true, but they add years to our lives; they +make us bow the head, fearing, though innocent, to meet, +as I have done, the double attacks of friends and enemies. +And then, sir, if you knew how hard it is to be hated!” +</p> + +<p> +Andrée listened anxiously for his reply, but he only +leaned against the wall, and grew pale. +</p> + +<p> +The queen looked at him, and said, “It is too hot +here; Madame de la Motte, open the window; monsieur +is accustomed to the fresh sea-breezes; he would stifle in +our boudoirs.” +</p> + +<p> +“It is not that, madame; but I am on duty at two +o’clock, and unless your majesty wishes me to remain——” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! no, monsieur; we know what duty is. You are +free,” said the queen, in a tone of slight pique. +</p> + +<p> +Charny bowed, and disappeared like a man in haste; +but in a minute they heard from the ante-chamber the +sound of a groan, and people hurrying forward. The +queen, who was near the door, opened it, and uttered an +exclamation; and was going out, when Andrée rose +quickly, saying, “Oh no! madame.” +</p> + +<p> +Then they saw through the open door the guards +assisting M. de Charny, who had fainted. The queen +closed the door, and sat down again, pensive and thoughtful. +At last, she said, “It is an odd thing, but I do not +believe M. de Charny was convinced!” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, madame! in spite of the king’s word—impossible!” +</p> + +<p> +“He may have thought the king said it for his own +sake.” +</p> + +<p> +“My brother was not so incredulous,” said Andrée. +</p> + +<p> +“It would be very wrong,” continued the queen, not +heeding her; “he could not have as noble a heart as I +thought. But, after all, why should he believe? He +thought he saw me. They all thought so. There is +something in all this; something which I must clear up. +Andrée, I must find out what it all means.” +</p> + +<p> +“Your majesty is right; you must investigate it.” +</p> + +<p> +“For,” continued the queen, “people said they saw +me at M. Mesmer’s.” +</p> + +<p> +“But your majesty was there,” said Madame de la +Motte. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes; but I did not do what they insist they saw me +do. And they saw me at the Opera, and I was not there. +Oh!” cried she, “at last I guess the truth.” +</p> + +<p> +“The truth!” stammered the countess. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! I hope so,” said Andrée. +</p> + +<p> +“Send for M. de Crosne,” said the queen, joyously. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2>CHAPTER XXXVIII.<br/> +M. DE CROSNE.</h2> + +<p> +M. de Crosne had felt himself in no slight degree embarrassed +since his interview with the king and queen. +It was no light matter to have the care of the interests of +a crown and of the fame of a queen; and he feared that +he was about to encounter all the weight of a woman’s +anger and a queen’s indignation. He knew, however, +that he had but done his duty, and he entered, therefore, +tranquilly, with a smile on his face. +</p> + +<p> +“Now, M. de Crosne,” said the queen, “it is our turn +for an explanation.” +</p> + +<p> +“I am at your majesty’s orders.” +</p> + +<p> +“You ought to know the cause of all that has happened +to me, sir.” +</p> + +<p> +M. de Crosne looked round him rather frightened. +</p> + +<p> +“Never mind these ladies,” said the queen; “you +know them both; you know every one.” +</p> + +<p> +“Nearly,” said the magistrate; “and I know the +effects, but not the cause, of what has happened to your +majesty.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then I must enlighten you, although it is a disagreeable +task. I might tell you in private, but my thoughts +and words are always open as the day; all the world may +know them. I attribute the attacks that have been made +upon me to the misconduct of some one who resembles +me, and who goes everywhere; and thus your agents have +made these mistakes.” +</p> + +<p> +“A resemblance!” cried M. de Crosne, too much occupied +with the idea to observe the unquiet look which +Jeanne could not for a moment prevent appearing. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, sir, do you think this impossible; or do you +prefer to think that I am deceiving you?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh no, madame! but surely, however strong a resemblance +may be, there must be some points of difference +to prevent people being so deceived.” +</p> + +<p> +“It seems not, sir; some are deceived.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! and I remember,” said Andrée, “when we lived +at Taverney Maison Rouge, we had a servant who very +strongly——” +</p> + +<p> +“Resembled me?” +</p> + +<p> +“Most wonderfully, your majesty.” +</p> + +<p> +“And what became of her?” +</p> + +<p> +“We did not then know the great generosity of your +majesty’s mind, and my father feared that this resemblance +might be disagreeable to you; and when we were +at Trianon we kept her out of sight.” +</p> + +<p> +“You see, M. de Crosne. Ah! this interests you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Much, madame.” +</p> + +<p> +“Afterwards, dear Andrée?” +</p> + +<p> +“Madame, this girl, who was of an ambitious disposition +and troublesome temper, grew tired of this quiet life, and +had doubtless made bad acquaintances, for one night when +I went to bed I was surprised not to see her; we sought +her in vain, she had disappeared.” +</p> + +<p> +“Did she steal anything?” +</p> + +<p> +“Nothing, madame.” +</p> + +<p> +“You did not know all this, M. de Crosne?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, madame.” +</p> + +<p> +“Thus, then, there is a woman whose resemblance to +me is striking, and you do not know her. I fear your +police is badly organized.” +</p> + +<p> +“No, madame; a police magistrate is but a man, and +though the vulgar may rate his power as something almost +superhuman, your majesty is more reasonable.” +</p> + +<p> +“Still, sir, when a man has secured all possible powers +for penetrating secrets, when he pays agents and spies, +and to such an extent as to know every movement I make, +he might prevent this sort of thing.” +</p> + +<p> +“Madame, when your majesty passed the night out, I +knew it, the day you went to see madame at the Rue +St. Claude; therefore my police is not bad. When you +went to M. Mesmer’s, my agents saw you. When you +went to the Opera——” +</p> + +<p> +The queen started. +</p> + +<p> +“Pardon me, madame, if I saw you; but if your own +brother-in-law mistook you, surely an agent at a crown a +day may be pardoned for having done so. They thought +they saw you, and reported accordingly; therefore my +police is not bad. They also knew this affair of the +journalist, so well punished by M. de Charny.” +</p> + +<p> +“M. de Charny!” cried the queen and Andrée in a +breath. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, madame: his blows are yet fresh on the shoulders +of the journalist.” +</p> + +<p> +“M. de Charny committed himself with this fellow!” +</p> + +<p> +“I know it by my calumniated police, madame; and +also, which was more difficult, the duel which followed.” +</p> + +<p> +“A duel! M. de Charny fought?” +</p> + +<p> +“With the journalist?” asked Andrée. +</p> + +<p> +“No, madame; the journalist was too well beaten to +give M. de Charny the sword-thrust which made him +faint here just now.” +</p> + +<p> +“Wounded!” cried the queen; “how and when? He +was here just now.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh!” said Andrée, “I saw that he suffered.” +</p> + +<p> +“What do you say?” cried the queen, almost angrily; +“you saw that he suffered, and did not mention it!” +</p> + +<p> +Andrée did not reply. +</p> + +<p> +Jeanne, who wished to make a friend of her, came to her +aid, saying, “I also, madame, saw that M. de Charny had +difficulty in standing up while your majesty spoke to +him.” +</p> + +<p> +“Monsieur,” said the queen again to M. de Crosne, +“with whom and why did M. de Charny fight?” +</p> + +<p> +“With a gentleman who—— But really, madame, it is +useless now. The two adversaries are friends again, for +they spoke just now in your majesty’s presence.” +</p> + +<p> +“In my presence!” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, madame; the conqueror left about twenty minutes +ago.” +</p> + +<p> +“M. de Taverney!” cried the queen. +</p> + +<p> +“My brother!” murmured Andrée. +</p> + +<p> +“I believe,” said M. de Crosne, “that it was he with +whom M. de Charny fought.” +</p> + +<p> +The queen made an angry gesture. “It is not right,” +she said; “these are American manners brought to Versailles. +It is not because one has fought under M. Lafayette +and Washington that my court should be disgraced +by such proceedings. Andrée, did you know your brother +had fought?” +</p> + +<p> +“Not till this moment, madame.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why did he fight?” +</p> + +<p> +“If my brother fought,” said Andrée, “it was in your +majesty’s service.” +</p> + +<p> +“That is to say, that M. de Charny fought against me.” +</p> + +<p> +“Your majesty, I spoke only of my brother, and of +no one else.” +</p> + +<p> +The queen tried hard to remain calm. She walked +once or twice up and down the room, and then said, “M. +de Crosne, you have convinced me: I was much disturbed +by these rumors and accusations; your police is +efficient, but I beg you not to forget to investigate this +resemblance of which I have spoken. Adieu!” and she +held out her hand to him with her own peculiar grace. +</p> + +<p> +Andrée made a movement to depart. The queen gave +her a careless adieu. +</p> + +<p> +Jeanne also prepared to leave, when Madame de Misery +entered. +</p> + +<p> +“Madame,” said she to the queen, “did your majesty +appoint this hour to receive MM. Bœhmer and Bossange?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, yes, it is true; let them come in. Remain a +little longer, Madame de la Motte; I want the king to +make a full peace with you.” Perhaps she wished to +pique Andrée by this favor to a newcomer, but Andrée +did not seem to heed. +</p> + +<p> +“All these Taverneys are made of iron,” thought the +queen. “Ah, gentlemen, what do you bring me now? +you know I have no money.” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2>CHAPTER XXXIX.<br/> +THE TEMPTRESS.</h2> + +<p> +Madame de la Motte remained, therefore, as before. +</p> + +<p> +“Madame,” replied M. Bœhmer, “we do not come to +offer anything to your majesty, we should fear to be indiscreet; +but we come to fulfil a duty, and that has emboldened +us——” +</p> + +<p> +“A duty?” +</p> + +<p> +“Concerning the necklace which your majesty did not +deign to take.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! then, the necklace has come again,” said Marie +Antoinette, laughing. “It was really beautiful, M. Bœhmer.” +</p> + +<p> +“So beautiful,” said Bossange, “that your majesty +alone was worthy to wear it.” +</p> + +<p> +“My consolation is,” said the queen, with a sigh which +did not escape Jeanne, “that it cost a million and a +half. Was not that the price, M. Bœhmer?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, your majesty.” +</p> + +<p> +“And in these times,” continued the queen, “there is +no sovereign that can give such a sum for a necklace; +so that although I cannot wear it, no one else can: and +once broken up, I should care nothing about it.” +</p> + +<p> +“That is an error of your majesty’s; the necklace is +sold.” +</p> + +<p> +“Sold!” cried the queen. “To whom?” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah! madame, that is a state secret.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh!” said the queen, “I think I am safe. A state +secret means that there is nothing to tell.” +</p> + +<p> +“With your majesty,” continued Bœhmer, as gravely +as ever, “we do not act as with others. The necklace +is sold, but in the most secret manner, and an ambassador——” +</p> + +<p> +“I really think he believes it himself!” interrupted +the queen, laughing again. “Come, M. Bœhmer, tell +me at least the country he comes from, or, at all events, +the first letter of his name.” +</p> + +<p> +“Madame, it is the ambassador from Portugal,” said +Bœhmer, in a low voice, that Madame de la Motte might +not hear. +</p> + +<p> +“The ambassador from Portugal!” said the queen. +“There is none here, M. Bœhmer.” +</p> + +<p> +“He came expressly for this, madame.” +</p> + +<p> +“Do you imagine so?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, madame.” +</p> + +<p> +“What is his name?” +</p> + +<p> +“M. de Souza.” +</p> + +<p> +The queen did not reply for a few minutes, and then +said, “Well, so much the better for the Queen of Portugal. +Let us speak of it no more.” +</p> + +<p> +“But allow us one moment, madame,” said Bœhmer. +</p> + +<p> +“Have you ever seen those diamonds?” said the queen +to Jeanne. +</p> + +<p> +“No, madame.” +</p> + +<p> +“They are beautiful. It is a pity these gentlemen +have not brought them.” +</p> + +<p> +“Here they are,” said Bœhmer, opening the case. +</p> + +<p> +“Come, countess, you are a woman, and these will +please you.” +</p> + +<p> +Jeanne uttered a cry of admiration when she saw them, +and said, “They are indeed beautiful.” +</p> + +<p> +“1,500,000 francs, which you hold in the palm of your +hand,” said the queen. +</p> + +<p> +“Monsieur was right,” said Jeanne, “when he said +that no one was worthy to wear these diamonds but your +majesty.” +</p> + +<p> +“However, my majesty will not wear them.” +</p> + +<p> +“We could not let them leave France without expressing +our regret to your majesty. It is a necklace which is +now known all over Europe, and we wished to know +definitively that your majesty really refused it before we +parted with it.” +</p> + +<p> +“My refusal has been made public,” said the queen, +“and has been too much applauded for me to repent of +it.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, madame!” said Bœhmer, “if the people found +it admirable that your majesty preferred a ship of war to +a necklace, the nobility at least would not think it surprising +if you bought the necklace after all.” +</p> + +<p> +“Do not speak of it any more,” said Marie Antoinette, +casting at the same time a longing look at the casket. +</p> + +<p> +Jeanne sighed, “Ah, you sigh, countess; in my place +you would act differently.” +</p> + +<p> +“I do not know, madame.” +</p> + +<p> +“Have you looked enough?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh no! I could look forever.” +</p> + +<p> +“Let her look, gentlemen; that takes nothing from +the value. Unfortunately, they are still worth 1,500,000 +francs.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh,” thought Jeanne, “she is regretting it.” And +she said, “On your neck, madame, they would make all +women die with jealousy, were they as beautiful as Cleopatra +or Venus.” And, approaching, she clasped it +round her neck. “Ah, your majesty is beautiful so!” +</p> + +<p> +The queen turned to the mirror. It was really splendid; +every one must have admired. Marie Antoinette +forgot herself for a time in admiration; then, seized +with fear, she tried to take it off. +</p> + +<p> +“It has touched your majesty’s neck; it ought not to +belong to any one else,” said Bœhmer. +</p> + +<p> +“Impossible!” said the queen, firmly. “Gentlemen, +I have amused myself with these jewels; to do more +would be a fault.” +</p> + +<p> +“We will return to-morrow,” said Bœhmer. +</p> + +<p> +“No; I must pay sooner or later; and, besides, +doubtless you want your money. You will get it soon.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, your majesty,” said the merchant, a man of +business again. +</p> + +<p> +“Take the necklace back,” said the queen; “put it +away immediately.” +</p> + +<p> +“Your majesty forgets that such a thing is equal to +money itself.” +</p> + +<p> +“And that in a hundred years it will be worth as much +as it is now,” said Jeanne. +</p> + +<p> +“Give me 1,500,000 francs,” said the queen, “and we +shall see.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, if I had them!” +</p> + +<p> +MM. Bœhmer and Bossange took as long as possible to +put back the necklace, but the queen did not speak. +</p> + +<p> +At last they said, “Your majesty refuses them?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, oh yes!” And they quitted the room. +</p> + +<p> +Marie Antoinette remained sitting, looking rather +gloomy, and beating with her foot in an impatient manner; +at last she said, “Countess, it seems the king will +not return; we must defer our supplication till another +time.” +</p> + +<p> +Jeanne bowed respectfully. +</p> + +<p> +“But I will not forget you,” added the queen. +</p> + +<p> +“She is regretting and desiring,” thought Jeanne, as +she left; “and yet she is a queen.” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2>CHAPTER XL.<br/> +TWO AMBITIONS THAT WISH TO PASS FOR TWO LOVES.</h2> + +<p> +When Jeanne returned to her pretty little house in +the faubourg, it was still early; so she took a pen and +wrote a few rapid lines, enclosed them in a perfumed +envelope, and rang the bell. “Take this letter to Monseigneur +the Cardinal de Rohan,” said she. +</p> + +<p> +In five minutes the man returned. +</p> + +<p> +“Well,” said Madame de la Motte, impatiently, “why +are you not gone?” +</p> + +<p> +“Just as I left the house, madame, his eminence came +to the door. I told him I was about to go to his hotel +with a letter from you; he read it, and is now waiting to +come in.” +</p> + +<p> +“Let him enter,” said the countess. +</p> + +<p> +Jeanne had been thinking all the way home of the +beautiful necklace, and wishing it was hers. It would +be a fortune in itself. +</p> + +<p> +The cardinal entered. He also was full of desires +and ambitions, which he wished to hide under the mask +of love. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, dear Jeanne,” said he, “you have really become +so necessary to me that I have been gloomy all day knowing +you to be so far off. But you have returned from +Versailles?” +</p> + +<p> +“As you see, monseigneur.” +</p> + +<p> +“And content?” +</p> + +<p> +“Enchanted.” +</p> + +<p> +“The queen received you, then?” +</p> + +<p> +“I was introduced immediately on my arrival.” +</p> + +<p> +“You were fortunate. I suppose, from your triumphant air, +that she spoke to you.” +</p> + +<p> +“I passed three hours in her majesty’s cabinet.” +</p> + +<p> +“Three hours! You are really an enchantress whom +no one can resist. But perhaps you exaggerate. Three +hours!” he repeated; “how many things a clever +woman like you might say in three hours!” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, I assure you, monseigneur, that I did not waste +my time.” +</p> + +<p> +“I dare say that in the whole three hours you did not +once think of me.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ungrateful man!” +</p> + +<p> +“Really!” cried the cardinal. +</p> + +<p> +“I did more than think of you; I spoke of you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Spoke of me! to whom?” asked the prelate, in a +voice from which all his power over himself could not +banish some emotion. +</p> + +<p> +“To whom should it be but to the queen?” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, dear countess, tell me about it. I interest myself +so much in all that concerns you, that I should like +to hear the most minute details.” +</p> + +<p> +Jeanne smiled. She knew what interested the cardinal +as well as he did himself. Then she related to him all +the circumstances which had so fortunately made her, +from a stranger, almost the friend and confidant of the +queen. +</p> + +<p> +Scarcely had she finished, when the servant entered to +announce supper. +</p> + +<p> +Jeanne invited the cardinal to accompany her. +</p> + +<p> +He gave her his arm, and they went in together. +</p> + +<p> +During supper, the cardinal continued to drink in long +draughts of love and hope from the recitals which Jeanne +kept making to him from time to time. He remarked +also, with surprise, that, instead of making herself +sought like a woman that knows that you have need of her, +she had thrown off all her former pride, and only seemed +anxious to please him. She did the honors of her table as +if she had all her life mixed in the highest circles; there +was neither awkwardness nor embarrassment. +</p> + +<p> +“Countess,” said he at length, “there are two women +in you.” +</p> + +<p> +“How so?” +</p> + +<p> +“One of yesterday, and another of to-day.” +</p> + +<p> +“And which does your excellency prefer?” +</p> + +<p> +“I do not know, but at least the one of this evening is +a Circe—a something irresistible.” +</p> + +<p> +“And which you will not attempt to resist, I hope, +prince as you are.” +</p> + +<p> +The cardinal imprinted a long kiss on her hand. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2>CHAPTER XLI.<br/> +FACES UNDER THEIR MASKS.</h2> + +<p> +Two hours had elapsed, and the conversation still continued. +The cardinal was now the slave, and Jeanne was +triumphant. Two men often deceive each other as they +shake hands, a man and a woman as they kiss; but here, +each only deceived the other because they wished to be +deceived: each had an end to gain, and for that end intimacy +was necessary. +</p> + +<p> +The cardinal now did not demonstrate his impatience, +but always managed to bring back the conversation to +Versailles, and to the honors which awaited the queen’s +new favorite. +</p> + +<p> +“She is generous,” said he, “and spares nothing towards +those she loves. She has the rare talent of giving +a little to every one, and a great deal to a few.” +</p> + +<p> +“You think, then, she is rich?” +</p> + +<p> +“She makes resources with a word or a smile; no minister, +except perhaps Turgot, ever refused her anything.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well,” said Madame de la Motte, “I have seen her +poorer than you think.” +</p> + +<p> +“What do you mean?” +</p> + +<p> +“Are those rich who are obliged to impose privations +on themselves?” +</p> + +<p> +“Privations! What do you mean, dear countess?” +</p> + +<p> +“I will tell you what I saw—I saw the queen suffer. +Do you know what a woman’s desire is, my dear prince?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, countess; but I should like you to tell me.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, the queen has a desire, which she cannot satisfy.” +</p> + +<p> +“For what?” +</p> + +<p> +“For a diamond necklace.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, I know what you mean—the diamonds of MM. +Bœhmer and Bossange.” +</p> + +<p> +“Precisely.” +</p> + +<p> +“That is an old story, countess.” +</p> + +<p> +“Old or new, it is a real vexation for a queen not to be +able to buy what was intended for a simple favorite. +Fifteen more days added to the life of Louis XV., and +Jeanne Vaubernier would have had what Marie Antoinette +cannot buy.” +</p> + +<p> +“My dear countess, you mistake; the queen could +have had it, and she refused it; the king offered them to +her.” +</p> + +<p> +And he recounted the history of the ship of war. +</p> + +<p> +“Well,” said she, “after all, what does that prove?” +</p> + +<p> +“That she did not want them, it seems to me.” +</p> + +<p> +Jeanne shrugged her shoulders. +</p> + +<p> +“You know women and courts, and believe that? The +queen wanted to do a popular act, and she has done it.” +</p> + +<p> +“Good!” said the cardinal; “that is how you believe +in the royal virtues. Ah, skeptic, St. Thomas was credulous, +compared to you!” +</p> + +<p> +“Skeptic or not, I can assure you of one thing—that +the queen had no sooner refused it than she earnestly +desired to have it.” +</p> + +<p> +“You imagine all this, my dear countess; for if the +queen has one quality more than another, it is disinterestedness. +She does not care for gold or jewels, and likes +a simple flower as well as a diamond.” +</p> + +<p> +“I do not know that; I only know she wishes for this +necklace.” +</p> + +<p> +“Prove it, countess.” +</p> + +<p> +“It is easy. I saw the necklace, and touched it.” +</p> + +<p> +“Where?” +</p> + +<p> +“At Versailles, when the jewelers brought it for the +last time to try and tempt the queen.” +</p> + +<p> +“And it is beautiful?” +</p> + +<p> +“Marvelous! I, who am a woman, think that one +might lose sleep and appetite in wishing for it.” +</p> + +<p> +“Alas! why have I not a vessel to give the king?” +</p> + +<p> +“A vessel!” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, for in return he would give me the necklace, and +then you could eat and sleep in peace.” +</p> + +<p> +“You laugh.” +</p> + +<p> +“No, really.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, I will tell you something that will astonish you. +I would not have the necklace.” +</p> + +<p> +“So much the better, countess, for I could not give it +to you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Neither you nor any one—that is what the queen +feels.” +</p> + +<p> +“But I tell you that the king offered it to her.” +</p> + +<p> +“And I tell you that women like best those presents +that come from people from whom they are not forced to +accept them.” +</p> + +<p> +“I do not understand you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, never mind; and, after all, what does it matter +to you, since you cannot have it?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, if I were king and you were queen, I would force +you to have it.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, without being king, oblige the queen to have +it, and see if she is angry, as you suppose she would be.” +</p> + +<p> +The cardinal looked at her with wonder. +</p> + +<p> +“You are sure,” said he, “that you are not deceived, +and that the queen wishes for it?” +</p> + +<p> +“Intensely. Listen, dear prince. Did you tell me, or +where did I hear it, that you would like to be minister?” +</p> + +<p> +“You may have heard me say so, countess.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, I will bet that the queen would make that man +a minister who would place the necklace on her toilet +within a week.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, countess!” +</p> + +<p> +“I say what I think. Would you rather I kept silent?” +</p> + +<p> +“Certainly not.” +</p> + +<p> +“However, it does not concern you, after all. It is +absurd to suppose that you would throw away a million +and a half on a royal caprice; that would be paying too +dearly for the portfolio, which you ought to have for +nothing, so think no more of what I have said.” +</p> + +<p> +The cardinal continued silent and thoughtful. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, you despise me now!” continued she; “you +think I judge the queen by myself. So I do; I thought +she wanted these diamonds because she sighed as she +looked at them, and because in her place I should have +coveted them.” +</p> + +<p> +“You are an adorable woman, countess! You have, +by a wonderful combination, softness of mind and +strength of heart; sometimes you are so little of a woman +that I am frightened; at others, so charmingly so, that I +bless Heaven and you for it. And now we will talk of +business no more.” +</p> + +<p> +“So be it,” thought Jeanne; “but I believe the bait +has taken, nevertheless.” +</p> + +<p> +Indeed, although the cardinal said, “Speak of it no +more,” in a few minutes he asked, “Does not Bœhmer +live somewhere on the Quai de la Ferraille, near the Pont +Neuf?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, you are right; I saw the name on the door as I +drove along.” +</p> + +<p> +Jeanne was not mistaken—the fish had taken the hook; +and the next morning the cardinal drove to M. Bœhmer. +He intended to preserve his incognito, but they knew him, +and called him “Monseigneur” directly. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, gentlemen,” said he, “if you know me, keep +my secret from others.” +</p> + +<p> +“Monseigneur may rely upon us. What can we do for +your eminence?” +</p> + +<p> +“I come to buy the necklace which you showed her +majesty.” +</p> + +<p> +“Really we are in despair, but it is too late.” +</p> + +<p> +“How so?” +</p> + +<p> +“It is sold.” +</p> + +<p> +“Impossible, as you offered it only yesterday to the +queen.” +</p> + +<p> +“Who again refused it, so our other bargain held good.” +</p> + +<p> +“And with whom was this bargain?” +</p> + +<p> +“It is secret, monseigneur.” +</p> + +<p> +“Too many secrets, M. Bœhmer,” said he, rising; +“but I should have thought that a French jeweler would +prefer selling these beautiful stones in France. You prefer +Portugal—very well.” +</p> + +<p> +“Monseigneur knows that!” cried the jeweler. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, is that astonishing?” +</p> + +<p> +“No one knew it but the queen.” +</p> + +<p> +“And if that were so?” said M. de Rohan without contradicting +a supposition that flattered him. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah! that would change matters.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why so, sir?” +</p> + +<p> +“May I speak freely?” +</p> + +<p> +“Certainly.” +</p> + +<p> +“The queen wishes for the necklace.” +</p> + +<p> +“You think so?” +</p> + +<p> +“I am sure of it.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then why did she not buy it?” +</p> + +<p> +“Because she had already refused the king, and she +thought it would look capricious to buy it now.” +</p> + +<p> +“But the king wished her to have it.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, but he thanked her for refusing; therefore I +think she wishes to have it without seeming to buy it.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, you are wrong, sir.” +</p> + +<p> +“I am sorry for it, monseigneur. It would have been +our only excuse for breaking our word to the Portuguese +ambassador.” +</p> + +<p> +The cardinal reflected for a moment. “Then, sir, let +us suppose that the queen wishes for your necklace.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! in that case, monseigneur, we would break +through anything, that she should have it.” +</p> + +<p> +“What is the price?” +</p> + +<p> +“1,500,000 francs.” +</p> + +<p> +“How do you want payment?” +</p> + +<p> +“The Portuguese was to give 100,000 francs down, and +I was to take the necklace myself to Lisbon, where the +balance was to be paid.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, the 100,000 francs down you shall have; that is +reasonable. As for the rest——” +</p> + +<p> +“Your eminence wishes for time? With such a guarantee, +we should not object; only credit implies a loss. The +interest of our money must be considered.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, call it 1,600,000 francs, and divide the time of +payment into three periods, making a year.” +</p> + +<p> +“That would be a loss to us, sir.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! nonsense; if I paid you the whole amount to-morrow, +you would hardly know what to do with it.” +</p> + +<p> +“There are two of us, monseigneur.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, you will receive 500,000 francs every four +months. That ought to satisfy you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Monseigneur forgets that these diamonds do not +belong to us; if they did, we should be rich enough to +wait; they belong to a dozen different creditors. We got +some from Hamburg, some from Naples, one at Buenos +Ayres, and one at Moscow. All these people wait for the +sale of the necklace to be paid. The profit that we make +is all that will be ours; and we have already had it two +years on hand.” +</p> + +<p> +M. de Rohan interrupted him. “After all,” said he, +“I have not seen the necklace.” +</p> + +<p> +“True, monseigneur; here it is.” +</p> + +<p> +“It is really superb,” cried the cardinal; “it is a bargain?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, monseigneur. I must go to the ambassador and +excuse myself.” +</p> + +<p> +“I did not think there was a Portuguese ambassador +just now.” +</p> + +<p> +“M. de Souza arrived incognito.” +</p> + +<p> +“To buy this necklace?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, monseigneur.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! poor Souza, I know him well,” said he, laughing. +</p> + +<p> +“With whom am I to conclude the transaction?” asked +M. Bœhmer. +</p> + +<p> +“With myself; you will see no one else. To-morrow I +will bring the 100,000 francs, and will sign the agreement. +And as you are a man of secrets, M. Bœhmer, remember +that you now possess an important one.” +</p> + +<p> +“Monseigneur, I feel it, and will merit your confidence +and the queen’s.” +</p> + +<p> +M. de Rohan went away happy, like all men who ruin +themselves in a transport of passion. +</p> + +<p> +The next day M. Bœhmer went to the hotel of the Portuguese +ambassador. At the moment he knocked at the +door, M. Beausire was going through some accounts with +M. Ducorneau, while Don Manoël was taking over some +new plan with the valet, his associate. +</p> + +<p> +M. Ducorneau was charmed to find an ambassador so +free from national prejudice as to have formed his whole +establishment of Frenchmen. Thus his conversation was +full of praises of him. +</p> + +<p> +“The Souzas, you see,” replied Beausire, “are not of +the old school of Portuguese. They are great travelers, +very rich, who might be kings if they liked.” +</p> + +<p> +“And do they not?” +</p> + +<p> +“Why should they? With a certain number of millions, +and the name of a prince, one is better than a king.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, Portugal will soon become great with such men at +its head. But when is the presentation to take place? +It is most anxiously looked for. The people around begin +to talk of it, and to collect about the doors of the hotel, +as though they were of glass, and they could see through.” +</p> + +<p> +“Do you mean the people of the neighborhood?” +asked Beausire. +</p> + +<p> +“And others; for, the mission of M. de Souza being +a secret one, you may be sure the police would soon interest +themselves about it; and look,” continued Ducorneau, +leading Beausire to the window, “do you see +that man in the brown surtout, how he looks at the +house?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, he does indeed. Who do you take him to be?” +</p> + +<p> +“Probably a spy of M. de Crosne. However, between +ourselves, M. de Crosne is not equal to M. Sartines. Did +you know him?” +</p> + +<p> +“No.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah! he would have found out all about you long ago, +in spite of all your precautions.” +</p> + +<p> +A bell rang. “His excellency rings!” said Beausire, +who was beginning to feel embarrassed by the conversation, +and opening the door quickly, he nearly knocked +down two of the clerks who were listening. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2>CHAPTER XLII.<br/> +IN WHICH M. DUCORNEAU UNDERSTANDS NOTHING OF +WHAT IS PASSING.</h2> + +<p> +Don Manoël was less yellow than usual, that is to say, +he was more red. He had just been having a fierce altercation +with his valet, and they were still disputing when +Beausire entered. +</p> + +<p> +“Come, M. Beausire, and set us right,” said the valet. +</p> + +<p> +“About what?” +</p> + +<p> +“This 100,000 francs. It is the property of the association, +is it not?” +</p> + +<p> +“Certainly.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, M. Beausire agrees with me.” +</p> + +<p> +“Wait,” said Don Manoël. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, then,” continued the valet, “the chest ought +not to be kept close to the ambassador’s room.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why not?” asked Beausire. +</p> + +<p> +“M. Manoël ought to give us each a key to it.” +</p> + +<p> +“Not so,” said Manoël; “do you suspect me of wishing +to rob the association? I may equally suspect you, +when you ask for a key.” +</p> + +<p> +“But,” said the valet, “we have all equal rights.” +</p> + +<p> +“Really, monsieur, if you wish to make us all equal, +we ought to have played the ambassador in turn. It +would have been less plausible in the eyes of the public, +but it would have satisfied you.” +</p> + +<p> +“And besides,” said Beausire, “M. Manoël has the incontestable +privilege of the inventor.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh,” replied the valet, “the thing once started, there +are no more privileges. I do not speak for myself only; +all our comrades think the same.” +</p> + +<p> +“They are wrong,” said both Manoël and Beausire. +</p> + +<p> +“I was wrong myself to take the opinion of M. Beausire; +of course the secretary supports the ambassador.” +</p> + +<p> +“Monsieur,” replied Beausire, “you are a knave, whose +ears I would slit, if it had not already been done too +often. You insult me by saying that I have an understanding +with Manoël.” +</p> + +<p> +“And me also,” said Manoël. +</p> + +<p> +“And I demand satisfaction,” added Beausire. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, I am no fighter.” +</p> + +<p> +“So I see,” said Beausire, seizing hold of him. +</p> + +<p> +“Help! help!” cried the valet, attacked at once by +both of them. But just then they heard a bell ring. +</p> + +<p> +“Leave him, and let him open the door,” said Manoël. +</p> + +<p> +“Our comrades shall hear all this,” replied the valet. +</p> + +<p> +“Tell them what you please; we will answer for our +conduct.” +</p> + +<p> +“M. Bœhmer!” cried the porter from below. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, we shall have no more contests about the +100,000 francs,” said Manoël; “for they will disappear +with M. Bœhmer.” +</p> + +<p> +M. Bœhmer entered, followed by Bossange. Both +looked humble and embarrassed. Bœhmer began, and +explained that political reasons would prevent their fulfilling +their contract. +</p> + +<p> +Manoël cried out angrily; Beausire looked fierce. +</p> + +<p> +Manoël said “that the bargain was completed, and the +money ready.” +</p> + +<p> +Bœhmer persisted. +</p> + +<p> +Manoël, always through Beausire, replied, “that his +Government had been apprised of the conclusion of the +bargain, and that it was an insult to his queen to break +it off.” +</p> + +<p> +M. Bœhmer was very sorry, but it was impossible to +act otherwise. +</p> + +<p> +Beausire, in Manoël’s name, refused to accept the retractation, +and abused M. Bœhmer as a man without +faith, and ended by saying, “You have found some one +to pay more for it.” +</p> + +<p> +The jewelers colored. +</p> + +<p> +Beausire saw that he was right, and feigned to consult +his ambassador. “Well,” said he at length, “if another +will give you more for your diamonds, we would do the +same, rather than have this affront offered to our queen. +Will you take 50,000 francs more?” +</p> + +<p> +Bœhmer shook his head. +</p> + +<p> +“100,000, or even 150,000,” continued Beausire, willing +to offer anything rather than lose the booty. +</p> + +<p> +The jewelers looked dazzled for a moment, consulted +together, and then said, “No, monsieur, it is useless to +tempt us. A will more powerful than our own compels +us to decline. You understand, no doubt, that it is not +we who refuse. We only obey the orders of one greater +than any of us.” +</p> + +<p> +Beausire and Manoël saw that it was useless to say +more, and tried to look and speak indifferently on the +matter. +</p> + +<p> +Meanwhile the valet had been listening attentively, and +just then making an unlucky movement, stumbled against +the door. Beausire ran to the ante-chamber. “What on +earth are you about?” cried he. +</p> + +<p> +“Monsieur, I bring the morning despatches.” +</p> + +<p> +“Good,” said Beausire, taking them from him, “now +go.” +</p> + +<p> +They were letters from Portugal, generally very insignificant, +but which, passing through their hands before +going to Ducorneau, often gave them useful information +about the affairs of the embassy. +</p> + +<p> +The jewelers, hearing the word despatches, rose to leave +like men who had received their congé. +</p> + +<p> +“Well,” said Manoël, when they were gone, “we are +completely beaten. Only 100,000 francs, a poor spoil; +we shall have but 8,000 each.” +</p> + +<p> +“It is not worth the trouble. But it might be 50,000 +each.” +</p> + +<p> +“Good,” replied Manoël, “but the valet will never +leave us now he knows the affair has failed.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, I know how we will manage him. He will return +immediately, and claim his share and that of his comrades, +and we shall have the whole house on our hands. +Well, I will call him first to a secret conference; then +leave me to act.” +</p> + +<p> +“I think I understand,” said Manoël. +</p> + +<p> +Neither, however, would leave his friend alone with +the chest while he went to call him. +</p> + +<p> +Manoël said “that his dignity as ambassador prevented +him from taking such a step.” +</p> + +<p> +“You are not ambassador to him,” said Beausire; +“however, I will call through the window.” +</p> + +<p> +The valet, who was just beginning a conversation with +the porter, hearing himself called, came up. +</p> + +<p> +Beausire said to him, with a smiling air, “I suppose +you were telling this business to the porter?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, no.” +</p> + +<p> +“Are you sure?” +</p> + +<p> +“I swear!” +</p> + +<p> +“For if you were, you were committing a great folly, +and have lost a great deal of money.” +</p> + +<p> +“How so?” +</p> + +<p> +“Why, at present only we three know the secret, and +could divide the 100,000 francs between us, as they all +now think we have given it to M. Bœhmer.” +</p> + +<p> +“Morbleu!” cried the valet, “it is true: 33,300 francs +each.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then you accept?” +</p> + +<p> +“I should think so.” +</p> + +<p> +“I said you were a rogue,” said Beausire, in a thundering +voice; “come, Don Manoël, help me to seize this +man, and give him up to our associates.” +</p> + +<p> +“Pardon! pardon!” cried the unfortunate, “I did but +jest.” +</p> + +<p> +“Shut him up until we can devise his punishment.” +</p> + +<p> +The man began to cry out. +</p> + +<p> +“Take care,” said Beausire, “that Ducorneau does not +hear us.” +</p> + +<p> +“If you do not leave me alone,” said the valet, “I will +denounce you all.” +</p> + +<p> +“And I will strangle you,” said Don Manoël, trying to +push him into a neighboring closet. +</p> + +<p> +“Send away Ducorneau somewhere, Beausire, while I +finish this fellow.” +</p> + +<p> +When he had locked him up, he returned to the room. +Beausire was not there; Don Manoël felt tempted. He +was alone, and Beausire might be some little time; he +could open the chest, take out all the bank-notes, and be +off in two minutes. He ran to the room where it was: +the door was locked. “Ah,” thought he, “Beausire +distrusted me, and locked the door before he went.” He +forced back the lock with his sword, and then uttered a +terrible cry. The chest was opened and empty. Beausire +had got, as we know, a second key; he had forestalled +Manoël. +</p> + +<p> +Manoël ran down like a madman; the porter was singing +at the door—he asked if Beausire had passed. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, some ten minutes ago.” +</p> + +<p> +Manoël became furious, summoned them all, and ran to +release the unfortunate valet. But when he told his story, +Manoël was accused of being an accomplice of Beausire, +and they all turned against him. +</p> + +<p> +M. Ducorneau felt ready to faint, when he entered and +saw the men preparing to hang M. de Souza. “Hang +M. de Souza!” cried he. “It is high treason.” +</p> + +<p> +At last they threw him into a cellar, fearing his cries +would arouse the neighborhood. +</p> + +<p> +At that moment loud knocks at the door disturbed +them,—they looked at each other in dismay. The knocks +were repeated, and some one cried, “Open in the name +of the Portuguese ambassador.” +</p> + +<p> +On hearing this, each made his escape in terror, as +he best could, scrambling over walls and roofs. The +true ambassador could only enter by the help of the +police. +</p> + +<p> +They found and arrested M. Ducorneau, who slept that +night in the Châtelet. +</p> + +<p> +Thus ended the adventure of the sham embassy from +the Portugal. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2>CHAPTER XLIII.<br/> +ILLUSIONS AND REALITIES.</h2> + +<p> +Beausire, on leaving the house, ran as fast as possible +down the Rue Coquillière, then into the Rue St. Honoré, +and took everywhere the most intricate and improbable +turnings he could think of, and continued this until he +became quite exhausted. Then, thinking himself tolerably +safe, he sat down in the corn market, on a sack, to recover +his breath. “Ah!” thought he, “now I have made +my fortune; I will be an honest man for the future, and +I will make Oliva an honest woman. She is beautiful, +and she will not mind leading a retired life with me in +some province, where we shall live like lords. She is very +good; she has but two faults, idleness and pride, and as I +shall satisfy her on both these points, she will be perfect.” +He then began to reflect on what he should do next. +They would seek him, of course, and most likely divide +into different parties, and some would probably go first to +his own house. Here lay his great difficulty, for there +they would find Oliva, and they might ill-treat her. They +might even take her as a hostage, speculating on his love +for her. What should he do? Love carried the day; he +ran off again like lightning, took a coach, and drove to +the Pont Neuf. He then looked cautiously down the Rue +Dauphine to reconnoiter, and he saw two men, who +seemed also looking anxiously down the street. He +thought they were police spies, but that was nothing uncommon +in that part of the town; so, bending his back, +and walking lamely, for disguise, he went on till he nearly +reached his house. Suddenly he thought he saw the coat +of a gendarme in the courtyard; then he saw one at the +window of Oliva’s room. He felt ready to drop, but he +thought his best plan was to walk quietly on; he had that +courage, and passed the house. Heavens! what a sight! +the yard was full of soldiers, and among them a police +commissioner. Beausire’s rapid glance showed him what +he thought disappointed faces. He thought that M. de +Crosne had somehow begun to suspect him, and, sending +to take him, had found only Oliva. +</p> + +<p> +“I cannot help her now,” thought he; “I should only +lose my money and destroy us both. No, let me place +that in safety, and then I will see what can be done.” +He therefore ran off again, taking his way almost mechanically +towards the Luxembourg; but as he turned +the corner of the Rue St. Germain, he was almost +knocked down by a handsome carriage which was driving +towards the Rue Dauphine, and, raising his head to +swear at the coachman, he thought he saw Oliva inside, +talking with much animation to a handsome man who +sat by her. He gave a cry of surprise, and would have +run after it, but he could not again encounter the Rue +Dauphine. He felt bewildered, for he had before settled +that Oliva had been arrested in her own house, and +he fancied his brain must be turning when he believed +he saw her in the carriage. But he started off again and +took refuge in a small cabaret at the Luxembourg, where +the hostess was an old friend. There he gradually began +to recover again his courage and hope. He thought +the police would not find him, and that his money was +safe. He remembered also that Oliva had committed no +crime, and that the time was passed when people were +kept prisoners for nothing. He also thought that his +money would soon obtain her release, even if she were +sent to prison, and he would then set off with her for +Switzerland. Such were his dreams and projects as he +sat sipping his wine. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2>CHAPTER XLIV.<br/> +OLIVA BEGINS TO ASK WHAT THEY WANT OF HER.</h2> + +<p> +If M. Beausire had trusted to his eyesight, which was +excellent, instead of trusting his imagination, he would +have spared himself much regret and many mistakes. It +was, in fact, Oliva who sat in the carriage by the side of +a man, whom he would also have recognized if he had +looked a little longer. She had gone that morning, as +usual, to take a walk in the gardens of the Luxembourg, +where she had met the strange friend whose acquaintance +she had made the day of the ball at the Opera. +</p> + +<p> +It was just as she was about to return that he appeared +before her, and said, “Where are you going?” +</p> + +<p> +“Home, monsieur.” +</p> + +<p> +“Just what the people want who are there waiting +for you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Waiting for me? No one is there for me.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, yes, a dozen visitors at least.” +</p> + +<p> +“A whole regiment, perhaps?” said Oliva, laughing. +</p> + +<p> +“Perhaps, had it been possible to send a whole regiment, +they would have done so.” +</p> + +<p> +“You astonish me!” +</p> + +<p> +“You would be far more astonished if I let you go.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why?” +</p> + +<p> +“Because you would be arrested.” +</p> + +<p> +“I! arrested?” +</p> + +<p> +“Assuredly. The twelve gentlemen who wait for you +are sent by M. de Crosne.” +</p> + +<p> +Oliva trembled. Some people are always fearful on +certain points. But she said: +</p> + +<p> +“I have done nothing; why should they arrest me?” +</p> + +<p> +“For some intrigue, perhaps.” +</p> + +<p> +“I have none.” +</p> + +<p> +“But you have had.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, perhaps.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, perhaps they are wrong to wish to arrest you, +but the fact is that they do desire to do so. Will you +still go home?” +</p> + +<p> +“You deceive me,” said Oliva; “if you know anything, +tell me at once. Is it not Beausire they want?” +</p> + +<p> +“Perhaps; he may have a conscience less clear than +yours.” +</p> + +<p> +“Poor fellow!” +</p> + +<p> +“Pity him, if you like; but if he is taken, there is no +need for you to be taken too.” +</p> + +<p> +“What interest have you in protecting me?” asked +she. “It is not natural for a man like you.” +</p> + +<p> +“I would not lose time if I were you; they are very +likely to seek you here, finding you do not return.” +</p> + +<p> +“How should they know I am here?” +</p> + +<p> +“Are you not always here? My carriage is close by, +if you will come with me. But I see you doubt still.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, we will commit an imprudence to convince +you. We will drive past your house, and when you have +seen these gentlemen there, I think you will better +appreciate my good offices.” +</p> + +<p> +He led her to the carriage, and drove to the Rue +Dauphine, at the corner of which they passed Beausire. +Had Oliva seen him, doubtless she would have abandoned +everything to fly with him and share his fate, whatever +it might be; but Cagliostro, who did see him, took care +to engage her attention by showing her the crowd, which +was already in sight, and which was waiting to see what +the police would do. +</p> + +<p> +When Oliva could distinguish the soldiers who filled her +house, she threw herself into the arms of her protector in +despair. “Save me! save me!” she cried. +</p> + +<p> +He pressed her hand. “I promise you.” +</p> + +<p> +“But they will find me out anywhere.” +</p> + +<p> +“Not where I shall take you; they will not seek you at +my house.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh!” cried she, frightened, “am I to go home with +you?” +</p> + +<p> +“You are foolish,” said he; “I am not your lover, +and do not wish to become so. If you prefer a prison, +you are free to choose.” +</p> + +<p> +“No,” replied she, “I trust myself to you, take me +where you please.” +</p> + +<p> +He conducted her to the Rue Neuve St. Gilles, into a +small room on the second floor. +</p> + +<p> +“How triste!” said she; “here, without liberty, and +without even a garden to walk in.” +</p> + +<p> +“You are right,” said he; “besides, my people would +see you here at last.” +</p> + +<p> +“And would betray me, perhaps.” +</p> + +<p> +“No fear of that. But I will look out for another +abode for you; I do not mean you to remain here.” +</p> + +<p> +Oliva was consoled; besides, she found amusing books +and easy-chairs. +</p> + +<p> +He left her, saying, “If you want me, ring; I will +come directly if I am at home.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah!” cried she, “get me some news of Beausire.” +</p> + +<p> +“Before everything.” Then, as he went down, he said +to himself, “It will be a profanation to lodge her in that +house in the Rue St. Claude; but it is important that no +one should see her, and there no one will. So I will +extinguish the last spark of my old light.” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2>CHAPTER XLV.<br/> +THE DESERTED HOUSE.</h2> + +<p> +When Cagliostro arrived at the deserted house in the +Rue St. Claude, with which our readers are already +acquainted, it was getting dark, and but few people were +to be seen in the streets. +</p> + +<p> +Cagliostro drew a key from his pocket, and applied it +to the lock; but the door was swollen with the damp, and +stiff with age, and it required all his strength to open it. +The courtyard was overgrown with moss, the steps crumbling +away; all looked desolate and deserted. He entered +the hall, and lighted a lamp which he had brought with +him. He felt a strange agitation as he approached the +door which he had so often entered to visit Lorenza. A +slight noise made his heart beat quickly; he turned, and +saw an adder gliding down the staircase; it disappeared +in a hole near the bottom. +</p> + +<p> +He entered the room; it was empty, but in the grate +still lay some ashes, the remains of the furniture which +had adorned it, and which he had burned there. Among +it several pieces of gold and silver still sparkled. As he +turned, he saw something glittering on the floor; he +picked it up. It was one of those silver arrows with which +the Italian women were in the habit of confining their hair. +He pressed it to his lips, and a tear stood in his eyes as +he murmured, “Lorenza!” It was but for a moment; +then he opened the window and threw it out, saying to +himself, “Adieu! this last souvenir, which would soften +me. This house is about to be profaned—another woman +will ascend the staircase, and perhaps even into this room, +where Lorenza’s last sigh still vibrates; but to serve my +end the sacrifice shall be made. I must, however, have +some alterations made.” +</p> + +<p> +He then wrote on his tablets the following words: “To +M. Lenoir, my architect,—Clean out the court and vestibule, +restore the coach-house and stable, and demolish +the interior of the pavilion. To be done in eight days.” +</p> + +<p> +“Now, let us see,” said he to himself, “if we can perfectly +distinguish the window of the countess. It is infallible,” +said he, after looking out; “the women must +see each other.” +</p> + +<p> +The next day fifty workmen had invaded the house and +commenced the projected alterations, which were completed +within the given time. Some of the passers-by +saw a large rat hung up by the tail. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2>CHAPTER XLVI.<br/> +JEANNE THE PROTECTRESS.</h2> + +<p> +M. le Cardinal de Rohan received, two days after his +visit to M. Bœhmer, the following note: +</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p> +“His Eminence the Cardinal de Rohan knows, doubtless, +where he will sup this evening.” +</p></div> + +<p> +“From the little countess,” said he; “I will go.” +</p> + +<p> +Among the footmen given to her by the cardinal, Jeanne +had distinguished one, black-haired and dark-eyed, and, +as she thought, active and intelligent. She set this man +to watch the cardinal, and learned from him that he had +been twice to M. Bœhmer’s. Therefore she concluded +the necklace was bought, and yet he had not communicated +it to her. She frowned at the thought, and wrote +the note which we have seen. +</p> + +<p> +M. de Rohan sent before him a basket of Tokay and +other rarities, just as if he was going to sup with La +Guimard or Mademoiselle Dangeville. Jeanne determined +not to use any of it at supper. +</p> + +<p> +“When they were alone, she said to him: +</p> + +<p> +“Really, monseigneur, one thing afflicts me.” +</p> + +<p> +“What, countess?” +</p> + +<p> +“To see, not only that you no longer love me, but that +you never have loved me.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, countess! how can you say so?” +</p> + +<p> +“Do not make excuses, monseigneur; it would be lost +time.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, countess!” +</p> + +<p> +“Do not be uneasy; I am quite indifferent about it +now.” +</p> + +<p> +“Whether I love you or not?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, because I do not love you.” +</p> + +<p> +“That is not flattering.” +</p> + +<p> +“Indeed, we are not exchanging compliments, but +facts. We have never loved each other.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, as for myself, I cannot allow that; I have a great +affection for you, countess.” +</p> + +<p> +“Come, monseigneur, let us esteem each other enough +to speak the truth, and that is, that there is between us a +much stronger bond than love—that is, interest.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, countess, what a shame!” +</p> + +<p> +“Monseigneur, if you are ashamed, I am not.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, countess, supposing ourselves interested, how +can we serve each other?” +</p> + +<p> +“First, monseigneur, I wish to ask you a question. +Why have you failed in confidence towards me?” +</p> + +<p> +“I! How so, pray?” +</p> + +<p> +“Will you deny that, after skilfully drawing from me +the details—which, I confess, I was not unwilling to give +you—concerning the desire of a certain great lady for a +certain thing, you have taken means to gratify that desire +without telling me?” +</p> + +<p> +“Countess, you are a real enigma, a sphinx.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, no enigma, cardinal; I speak of the queen, and +of the diamonds which you bought yesterday of MM. +Bœhmer and Bossange.” +</p> + +<p> +“Countess!” cried he, growing pale. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, do not look so frightened,” continued she. “Did +you not conclude your bargain yesterday?” +</p> + +<p> +He did not speak, but looked uncomfortable, and half +angry. She took his hand. +</p> + +<p> +“Pardon, prince,” she said, “but I wished to show you +your mistake about me; you believe me foolish and +spiteful.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, countess, now I understand you perfectly. I expected +to find you a pretty woman and a clever one, but +you are better than this. Listen to me: you have, you +say, been willing to become my friend without loving +me?” +</p> + +<p> +“I repeat it,” replied she. +</p> + +<p> +“Then you had some object?” +</p> + +<p> +“Assuredly. Do you wish me to tell it to you?” +</p> + +<p> +“No; I understand it. You wished to make my fortune; +that once done, you are sure that my first care +would be for yours. Am I right?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, monseigneur; but I have not pursued my plans +with any repugnance—the road has been a pleasant +one.” +</p> + +<p> +“You are an amiable woman, countess, and it is a +pleasure to discuss business with you. You have guessed +rightly that I have a respectful attachment towards a certain +person.” +</p> + +<p> +“I saw it at the Opera ball,” she said. +</p> + +<p> +“I know well that this affection will never be returned.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, a queen is only a woman, and you are surely equal +to Cardinal Mazarin.” +</p> + +<p> +“He was a very handsome man,” said M. de Rohan, +laughing. +</p> + +<p> +“And an excellent minister,” said Jeanne. +</p> + +<p> +“Countess, it is superfluous trouble to talk to you; you +guess and know everything. Yes, I do wish to become +prime minister. Everything entitles me to it—my birth, +my knowledge of business, my standing with foreign +courts, and the affection which is felt for me by the +French people.” +</p> + +<p> +“There is but one obstacle,” said Jeanne. +</p> + +<p> +“An antipathy.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, of the queen’s; and the king always ends by +liking what she likes, and hating what she hates.” +</p> + +<p> +“And she hates me? Be frank, countess.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, monseigneur, she does not love you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then I am lost! Of what use is the necklace?” +</p> + +<p> +“You deceive yourself, prince.” +</p> + +<p> +“It is bought.” +</p> + +<p> +“At least, it will show the queen that you love her. +You know, monseigneur, we have agreed to call things +by their right names.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then you say you do not despair of seeing me one +day prime minister?” +</p> + +<p> +“I am sure of it.” +</p> + +<p> +“And what are your own ambitions?” +</p> + +<p> +“I will tell you, prince, when you are in a position to +satisfy them.” +</p> + +<p> +“We will hope for that day.” +</p> + +<p> +“Now let us sup.” +</p> + +<p> +“I am not hungry.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then let us talk.” +</p> + +<p> +“I have nothing more to say.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then go.” +</p> + +<p> +“How! is that what you call our alliance? Do you +send me away?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, monseigneur.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, countess, I will not deceive myself again about +you.” Before leaving, however, he turned, and said, +“What must I do now, countess?” +</p> + +<p> +“Nothing; wait for me to act. I will go to Versailles.” +</p> + +<p> +“When?” +</p> + +<p> +“To-morrow.” +</p> + +<p> +“And when shall I hear from you?” +</p> + +<p> +“Immediately.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then I abandon myself to your protection; au revoir, +countess.” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2>CHAPTER XLVII.<br/> +JEANNE PROTECTED.</h2> + +<p> +Mistress of such a secret, rich in such a future, and +supported by such a friend, Jeanne felt herself strong +against the world. To appear at court, no longer as a +suppliant, as the poor mendicant, drawn from poverty by +Madame de Boulainvilliers, but as a Valois, with an income +of 100,000 francs; to be called the favorite of the +queen, and consequently governing the king and state +through her.—Such was the panorama that floated before +the eyes of Jeanne. +</p> + +<p> +She went to Versailles. She had no audience promised, +but she trusted to her good fortune, and as the +queen had received her so well before, all the officials +were anxious to serve her. Therefore, one of the doorkeepers +said aloud, as the queen came from chapel, to +one of her gentlemen, “Monsieur, what am I to do? +Here is Madame la Comtesse de la Motte Valois asking +admission, and she has no letter of audience.” +</p> + +<p> +The queen heard and turned round. “Did you say +Madame de la Motte Valois was here?” she asked. +</p> + +<p> +“Your majesty, the doorkeeper says so.” +</p> + +<p> +“I will receive her; bring her to the bath-room.” +</p> + +<p> +The man told Jeanne what he had done. She drew +out her purse; but he said, “Will Madame la Comtesse +allow this debt to accumulate? Some day she can pay +me with interest.” +</p> + +<p> +“You are right, my friend; I thank you.” +</p> + +<p> +Marie Antoinette looked serious when Jeanne entered. +</p> + +<p> +“She supposes I am come again to beg,” thought +Jeanne. +</p> + +<p> +“Madame,” said the queen, “I have not yet had an +opportunity to speak to the king.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, your majesty has already done too much for me; +I ask nothing more. I came——” she hesitated. +</p> + +<p> +“Is it something urgent, that you did not wait to +ask for an audience?” +</p> + +<p> +“Urgent! Yes, madame; but not for myself.” +</p> + +<p> +“For me, then?” and the queen conducted her into +the bath-room, where her women were waiting for her. +Once in the bath, she sent them away. +</p> + +<p> +“Now, countess.” +</p> + +<p> +“Madame,” said Jeanne, “I am much embarrassed.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why so?” +</p> + +<p> +“Your majesty knows the kindness I have received +from M. de Rohan.” +</p> + +<p> +The queen frowned. “Well, madame?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yesterday his eminence came to see me, and spoke +to me as usual of your majesty’s goodness and kindness.” +</p> + +<p> +“What does he want?” +</p> + +<p> +“I expressed to him all my sense of your generosity, +which constantly empties your purse, and told him that +I felt almost guilty in thinking of your majesty’s gift to +myself, and remembering that were it not for such liberality +your majesty need not have been forced to deny +yourself the beautiful necklace which became you so +well. When I related this circumstance to M. de Rohan, +I saw him grow pale and the tears came into his eyes. +Indeed, madame, his fine face, full of admiration for, +and emotion caused by, your noble conduct, is ever before +my eyes.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, countess, if he has impressed you so deeply, I +advise you not to let him see it. M. de Rohan is a worldly +prelate, and gathers the sheep as much for himself as for +his Lord.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, madame!” +</p> + +<p> +“It is not I who say it: that is his reputation; he +almost glories in it; his trophies are numerous, and some +of them have made no little scandal.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, madame, I am sure he thought then of no one +but your majesty.” +</p> + +<p> +The queen laughed. +</p> + +<p> +“Your majesty’s modesty will not allow you to listen to +praises.” +</p> + +<p> +“Not from the cardinal—I suspect them all.” +</p> + +<p> +“It is not my part,” replied Jeanne, respectfully, “to +defend any one who has incurred your majesty’s displeasure.” +</p> + +<p> +“M. de Rohan has offended me, but I am a queen and +a Christian, and do not wish to dwell on offenses.” +</p> + +<p> +Jeanne was silent. +</p> + +<p> +“You think differently to me on this subject?” +</p> + +<p> +“Completely, your majesty.” +</p> + +<p> +“You would not speak so if you knew what he has +done against me; but as you have so great a friendship +for him, I will not attack him again before you. You +have not, then, forgotten the diamonds?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, madame, I have thought of them night and day. +They will look so well on your majesty.” +</p> + +<p> +“What do you mean? They are sold to the Portuguese +ambassador.” +</p> + +<p> +Jeanne shook her head. +</p> + +<p> +“Not sold!” cried the queen. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, madame, but to M. de Rohan.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh,” said the queen, becoming suddenly cold again. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! your majesty,” cried Jeanne; “do not be ungenerous +towards him. It was the impulse of a generous +heart that your majesty should understand and sympathize +with. When he heard my account he cried,—‘What! +the queen refuse herself such a thing, and perhaps see it +one day worn by one of her subjects!’ And when I told +him that it was bought for the Queen of Portugal, he +was more indignant than ever. He cried, ‘It is no longer +a simple question of pleasure for the queen, but of the +dignity of the French crown. I know the spirit of foreign +courts; they will laugh at our queen because they happen +to have more money to spare: and I will never suffer +this.’ And he left me abruptly. An hour after I heard +that he had bought the necklace.” +</p> + +<p> +“For 1,500,000 francs?” +</p> + +<p> +“1,600,000, madame.” +</p> + +<p> +“With what intention?” +</p> + +<p> +“That at least if your majesty would not have them no +one else should.” +</p> + +<p> +“Are you sure it is not for some mistress?” +</p> + +<p> +“I am sure he would rather break it to pieces than see +it on any other neck than your own.” +</p> + +<p> +Marie Antoinette reflected, and her expressive countenance +showed clearly every thought that passed through +her mind. At last she said: +</p> + +<p> +“What M. de Rohan has done is a noble trait of a +delicate devotion, and you will thank him for me.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh yes, madame.” +</p> + +<p> +“You will add, that he has proved to me his friendship, +and that I accept it, but not his gift.” +</p> + +<p> +“But, madame——” +</p> + +<p> +“No, but as a loan. He has advanced his money and +his credit to please me, and I will repay him. Bœhmer +has asked for money down?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, madame.” +</p> + +<p> +“How much?” +</p> + +<p> +“100,000 francs.” +</p> + +<p> +“That is my quarter’s allowance from the king. I +received it this morning; it is in advance, but still I have +it.” She rang the bell. Her woman came and wrapped +her in warm sheets, and then she dressed herself. Once +more alone in her bedroom with Jeanne, she said: +</p> + +<p> +“Open that drawer, and you will see a portfolio.” +</p> + +<p> +“Here it is, madame.” +</p> + +<p> +“It holds the 100,000 francs—count them.” +</p> + +<p> +Jeanne obeyed. +</p> + +<p> +“Take them to the cardinal with my thanks; each +quarter I will pay the same. In this manner I shall +have the necklace which pleased me so much, and if it +embarrasses me to pay it, at least it will not hurt the +king; and I shall have gained the knowledge that I have +a friend who has guessed my wishes.” Then, after a +pause, “You will add, countess, that M. de Rohan will be +welcome at Versailles to receive my thanks.” +</p> + +<p> +Jeanne went away full of joy and delight. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2>CHAPTER XLVIII.<br/> +THE QUEEN’S PORTFOLIO.</h2> + +<p> +The cardinal was at home when Madame de la Motte +came to his hotel. She had herself announced, and was +immediately admitted. +</p> + +<p> +“You come from Versailles?” said he. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well?” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, monseigneur, what do you expect?” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, countess, you say that with an air that frightens +me.” +</p> + +<p> +“You wished me to see the queen, and I have seen +her; and that I should speak to her of you whom she has +always so much disliked.” +</p> + +<p> +“And you did?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, and her majesty listened.” +</p> + +<p> +“Say no more, countess, I see she will not overcome +her repugnance.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! as to that, I spoke of the necklace.” +</p> + +<p> +“And did you dare to say that I wished——” +</p> + +<p> +“To buy it for her? Yes.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, countess, you are sublime; and she listened?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, but she refused.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, I am lost.” +</p> + +<p> +“Refused to accept it as a gift, but not as a loan.” +</p> + +<p> +“I lend to the queen! countess, it is impossible.” +</p> + +<p> +“It is more than giving, is it not?” +</p> + +<p> +“A thousand times.” +</p> + +<p> +“So I thought.” +</p> + +<p> +The cardinal rose and came towards her. “Do not +deceive me,” he said. +</p> + +<p> +“One does not play with the affections of a man like +you, monseigneur.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then it is true?” +</p> + +<p> +“The exact truth.” +</p> + +<p> +“I have a secret with the queen!” and he pressed +Jeanne’s hand. +</p> + +<p> +“I like that clasp of the hand,” she said, “it is like +one man to another.” +</p> + +<p> +“It is that of a happy man to a protecting angel.” +</p> + +<p> +“Monseigneur, do not exaggerate.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, my joy! my gratitude! impossible.” +</p> + +<p> +“But lending a million and a half to the queen is not +all you wish for? Buckingham would have asked for +more.” +</p> + +<p> +“Buckingham believed what I dare not even dream +of.” +</p> + +<p> +“The queen sends you word that she will see you with +pleasure at Versailles.” +</p> + +<p> +The cardinal looked as pale as a youth who gives his +first kiss of love. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah,” thought she, “it is still more serious than I +imagined. I can get what I please from him, for he acts +really not from ambition but from love.” +</p> + +<p> +He quickly recovered himself, however: “My friend,” +said he, “how does the queen mean to act about this loan +she talks of?” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, you think she has no money. But she will pay +you as she would have paid Bœhmer. Only if she had +paid him all Paris must have known it, which she would +not have liked, after the credit she has had for her refusal +of it. You are a cashier for her, and a solvent one if she +becomes embarrassed. She is happy and she pays. Ask +no more.” +</p> + +<p> +“She pays?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, she knows you have debts; and when I told her +you had advanced 100,000 francs——” +</p> + +<p> +“You told her?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes; why not?” Jeanne put her hand in her pocket, +and drew out the portfolio. “The queen sends you this +with thanks; it is all right, for I have counted it.” +</p> + +<p> +“Who cares for that? But the portfolio?” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, it is not handsome.” +</p> + +<p> +“It pleases me, nevertheless.” +</p> + +<p> +“You have good taste.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, you quiz me.” +</p> + +<p> +“You have the same taste as the queen, at all events.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then it was hers?” +</p> + +<p> +“Do you wish for it?” +</p> + +<p> +“I cannot deprive you of it.” +</p> + +<p> +“Take it.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, countess, you are a precious friend; but while +you have worked for me, I have not forgotten you.” +</p> + +<p> +Jeanne looked surprised. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” said he, “my banker came to propose to me +some plan of a marsh to drain, which must be profitable. +I took two hundred shares, and fifty of them are for +you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, monseigneur!” +</p> + +<p> +“He soon returned, he had realized already on them +cent. per cent. He gave me 100,000 francs, and here is +your share, dear countess;” and from the pocket-book she +had just given him he slid 25,000 francs into her hand. +</p> + +<p> +“Thanks, monseigneur. What gratifies me most is, +that you thought of me.” +</p> + +<p> +“I shall ever do so,” said he, kissing her hand. +</p> + +<p> +“And I of you, at Versailles.” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2>CHAPTER XLIX.<br/> +IN WHICH WE FIND DR. LOUIS.</h2> + +<p> +Perhaps our readers, remembering in what a position +we left M. de Charny, will not dislike to return with us +to that little ante-chamber at Versailles into which this +brave seaman, who feared neither men nor elements, had +fled, lest he should show his weakness to the queen. +Once arrived there, he felt it impossible to go further; +he stretched out his arms, and was only saved from falling +to the ground by the aid of those around. He then +fainted, and was totally ignorant that the queen had seen +him, and would have run to his assistance had Andrée +not prevented her, more even from a feeling of jealousy +than from regard for appearances. Immediately after +the king entered, and seeing a man lying supported by +two guards, who, unaccustomed to see men faint, scarcely +knew what to do, advanced, saying, “Some one is ill +here.” +</p> + +<p> +At his voice the men started and let their burden fall. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh!” cried the king, “it is M. de Charny. Place +him on this couch, gentlemen.” Then they brought him +restoratives, and sent for a doctor. +</p> + +<p> +The king waited to hear the result. The doctor’s first +care was to open the waistcoat and shirt of the young +man to give him air, and then he saw the wound. +</p> + +<p> +“A wound!” cried the king. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” said M. de Charny, faintly, “an old wound, +which has reopened;” and he pressed the hand of the +doctor to make him understand. +</p> + +<p> +But this was not a court doctor, who understands everything; +so, willing to show his knowledge, “Old, sir! +this wound is not twenty-four hours old.” +</p> + +<p> +Charny raised himself at this, and said, “Do you teach +me, sir, when I received my wound?” Then, turning +round, he cried, “The king!” and hastened to button +his waistcoat. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, M. de Charny, who fortunately arrived in time +to procure you assistance.” +</p> + +<p> +“A mere scratch, sire,” stammered Charny, “an old +wound.” +</p> + +<p> +“Old or new,” replied Louis, “it has shown me the +blood of a brave man.” +</p> + +<p> +“Whom a couple of hours in bed will quite restore,” +continued Charny, trying to rise; but his strength failed +him, his head swam, and he sank back again. +</p> + +<p> +“He is very ill,” said the king. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, sire,” said the doctor, with importance, “but I +can cure him.” +</p> + +<p> +The king understood well that M. de Charny wished +to hide some secret from him, and determined to respect +it. “I do not wish,” said he, “that M. de Charny should +run the risk of being moved; we will take care of him +here. Let M. de Suffren be called, this gentleman recompensed, +and my own physician, Dr. Louis, be sent +for.” +</p> + +<p> +While one officer went to execute these orders, two +others carried Charny into a room at the end of the +gallery. Dr. Louis and M. de Suffren soon arrived. The +latter understood nothing of his nephew’s illness. “It +is strange,” said he; “do you know, doctor, I never knew +my nephew ill before.” +</p> + +<p> +“That proves nothing,” replied the doctor. +</p> + +<p> +“The air of Versailles must be bad for him.” +</p> + +<p> +“It is his wound,” said one of the officers. +</p> + +<p> +“His wound!” cried M. de Suffren; “he never was +wounded in his life.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, excuse me,” said the officer, opening the shirt, +covered with blood, “but I thought——” +</p> + +<p> +“Well,” said the doctor, who began to see the state +of the case, “do not let us lose time disputing over the +cause, but see what can be done to cure him.” +</p> + +<p> +“Is it dangerous, doctor?” asked M. de Suffren, +with anxiety. +</p> + +<p> +“Not at all,” replied he. +</p> + +<p> +M. de Suffren took his leave, and left Charny with +the doctor. Fever commenced, and before long he was +delirious. Three hours after the doctor called a servant, +and told him to take Charny in his arms, who +uttered doleful cries. “Roll the sheet over his head,” +said the doctor. +</p> + +<p> +“But,” said the man, “he struggles so much that I +must ask assistance from one of the guards.” +</p> + +<p> +“Are you afraid of a sick man, sir? If he is too +heavy for you, you are not strong enough for me. I +must send you back to Auvergne.” This threat had its +effect. Charny, crying, fighting, and gesticulating, was +carried by the man through the guards. +</p> + +<p> +Some of the officers questioned the doctor. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! gentlemen,” said he, “this gallery is too far off +for me; I must have him in my own rooms.” +</p> + +<p> +“But I assure you, doctor, we would all have looked +after him here. We all love M. de Suffren.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh yes, I know your sort of care! The sick man is +thirsty, and you give him something to drink, and kill +him.” +</p> + +<p> +“Now there remains but one danger,” said the doctor +to himself, as he followed Charny, “that the king should +want to visit him, and if he hear him—— Diable! I +must speak to the queen.” The good doctor, therefore, +having bathed the head and face of his patient with cold +water, and seen him safe in bed, went out and locked the +door on him, leaving his servant to look after him. He +went towards the queen’s apartments, and met Madame +de Misery, who had just been despatched to ask after +the patient. +</p> + +<p> +“Come with me,” he said. +</p> + +<p> +“But, doctor, the queen waits for intelligence.” +</p> + +<p> +“I am going to her.” +</p> + +<p> +“The queen wishes——” +</p> + +<p> +“The queen shall know all she wishes. I will take +care of that.” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2>CHAPTER L.<br/> +ÆGRI SOMNIA.</h2> + +<p> +The queen was expecting the return of Madame de +Misery. The doctor entered with his accustomed familiarity. +“Madame,” he said, “the patient in whom +your majesty and the king are interested is as well as any +one can be who has a fever.” +</p> + +<p> +“Is it a slight wound?” asked the queen. +</p> + +<p> +“Slight or not, he is in a fever.” +</p> + +<p> +“Poor fellow!—a bad fever?” +</p> + +<p> +“Terrible!” +</p> + +<p> +“You frighten me; dear doctor; you, who are generally +so cheering. Besides, you look about you, as though +you had a secret to tell.” +</p> + +<p> +“So I have.” +</p> + +<p> +“About the fever?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes.” +</p> + +<p> +“To tell me?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes.” +</p> + +<p> +“Speak, then, for I am curious.” +</p> + +<p> +“I wait for you to question me, madame.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, how does the fever go on?” +</p> + +<p> +“No; ask me why I have taken him away from the +guard’s gallery, where the king left him, to my own +room.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, I ask. Indeed it is strange.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then, madame, I did so, because it is not an ordinary +fever.” +</p> + +<p> +The queen looked surprised. “What do you mean?” +</p> + +<p> +“M. de Charny is delirious already, and in his delirium +he says a number of things rather delicate for the gentlemen +of the guard to hear.” +</p> + +<p> +“Doctor!” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, madame! you should not question me, if you do +not wish to hear my answers.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, then, dear doctor, is he an atheist? Does he +blaspheme?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, no! he is on the contrary a devotee.” +</p> + +<p> +The queen assumed a look of sang-froid. “M. de +Charny,” she said, “interests me. He is the nephew of +M. de Suffren, and has besides rendered me personal +services. I wish to be a friend to him. Tell me, therefore, +the exact truth.” +</p> + +<p> +“But I cannot tell you, madame. If your majesty +wishes to know, the only way is to hear him yourself.” +</p> + +<p> +“But if he says such strange things?” +</p> + +<p> +“Things which your majesty ought to hear.” +</p> + +<p> +“But,” said the queen, “I cannot move a step here, +without some charitable spy watching me.” +</p> + +<p> +“I will answer for your security. Come through my +private way, and I will lock the door after us.” +</p> + +<p> +“I trust to you, then, dear doctor.” And she followed +him, burning with curiosity. +</p> + +<p> +When they reached the second door the doctor put his +ear to the keyhole. +</p> + +<p> +“Is your patient in there, doctor?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, madame, or you would have heard him at the +end of the corridor. Even here you can hear his voice.” +</p> + +<p> +“He groans.” +</p> + +<p> +“No, he speaks loud and distinct.” +</p> + +<p> +“But I cannot go in to him.” +</p> + +<p> +“I do not mean you to do so. I only wish you to +listen in the adjoining room, where you will hear without +being seen.” They went on, and the doctor entered the +sick-room alone. +</p> + +<p> +Charny, still dressed in his uniform, was making fruitless +efforts to rise, and was repeating to himself his interview +with the German lady in the coach. “German!” +he cried—“German! Queen of France!” +</p> + +<p> +“Do you hear, madame?” +</p> + +<p> +“It is frightful,” continued Charny, “to love an +angel, a woman—to love her madly—to be willing to +give your life for her; and when you come near her, to +find her only a queen—of velvet and of gold, of metal +and of silk, and no heart.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! oh!” cried the doctor again. +</p> + +<p> +“I love a married woman!” Charny went on, “and +with that wild love which, makes me forget everything +else. Well, I will say to her, there remain for us still +some happy days on this earth. Come, my beloved, and +we will live the life of the blessed, if we love each other. +Afterwards there will be death—better than a life like +this. Let us love at least.” +</p> + +<p> +“Not badly reasoned for a man in a fever,” said the +doctor. +</p> + +<p> +“But her children!” cried Charny suddenly, with +fury; “she will not leave her children. Oh! we will +carry them away also. Surely I can carry her, she is so +light, and her children too.” Then he gave a terrible +cry: “But they are the children of a king!” +</p> + +<p> +The doctor left his patient and approached the queen. +</p> + +<p> +“You are right, doctor,” said she; “this young man +would incur a terrible danger if he were overheard.” +</p> + +<p> +“Listen again,” said the doctor. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, no more.” +</p> + +<p> +But just then Charny said, in a gentler voice: +</p> + +<p> +“Marie, I feel that you love me, but I will say nothing +about it. Marie, I felt the touch of your foot in the +coach; your hand touched mine, but I will never tell; I +will keep this secret with my life. My blood may all flow +away, Marie, but my secret shall not escape with it. My +enemy steeped his sword in my blood, but if he has +guessed my secret, yours is safe. Fear nothing, Marie, I +do not even ask you if you love me; you blushed, that is +enough.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh!” thought the doctor; “this sounds less like +delirium than like memory.” +</p> + +<p> +“I have heard enough,” cried the queen, rising and +trembling violently; and she tried to go. +</p> + +<p> +The doctor stopped her. “Madame,” said he, “what +do you wish?” +</p> + +<p> +“Nothing, doctor, nothing.” +</p> + +<p> +“But if the king ask to see my patient?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! that would be dreadful!” +</p> + +<p> +“What shall I say?” +</p> + +<p> +“Doctor, I cannot think; this dreadful spectacle has +confused me.” +</p> + +<p> +“I think you have caught his fever,” said the doctor, +feeling her pulse. +</p> + +<p> +She drew away her hand, and escaped. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2>CHAPTER LI.<br/> +ANDRÉE.</h2> + +<p> +The doctor remained thoughtful, then said to himself,—“There +are other difficulties here besides those I can +contend with by science.” He bathed again the temples +of his patient, who for the time began to grow calmer. +</p> + +<p> +All at once the doctor heard the rustling of a dress outside. +“Can it be the queen returned?” thought he; +and opening the door softly, he saw before him the motionless +figure of a woman, looking like a statue of despair. +It was almost dark; he advanced suddenly along the corridor +to the place where the figure was standing. On seeing +him, she uttered a cry. +</p> + +<p> +“Who is there?” asked Doctor Louis. +</p> + +<p> +“I, doctor!” replied a sweet and sorrowful voice—a +voice that he knew but could not immediately recognize. +“I, Andrée de Taverney,” continued she. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, mon Dieu! what is the matter?” cried the +doctor; “is she ill?” +</p> + +<p> +“She! who?” +</p> + +<p> +The doctor felt that he had committed an imprudence. +</p> + +<p> +“Excuse me, but I saw a lady going away just now, +perhaps it was you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, yes, there has been a lady here before me, has +there not?” asked Andrée, in a tone of emotion. +</p> + +<p> +“My dear child,” replied the doctor, “of whom do you +speak? what do you want to know?” +</p> + +<p> +“Doctor,” answered Andrée, in a sorrowful voice, “you +always speak the truth, do not deceive me now; I am +sure there was a woman here before me.” +</p> + +<p> +“Doubtless. Why should I deceive you? Madame +de Misery was here.” +</p> + +<p> +“It was Madame de Misery who came?” +</p> + +<p> +“Certainly; what makes you doubt? What inexplicable +beings women are.” +</p> + +<p> +“Dear doctor.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, but to the point. Is she worse?” +</p> + +<p> +“Who?” +</p> + +<p> +“Pardieu, the queen.” +</p> + +<p> +“The queen!” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, the queen, for whom Madame de Misery came to +fetch me, and who was troubled with her palpitations. If +you come from her, tell me, and we will go back together.” +</p> + +<p> +“No, doctor, I do not come from the queen, and was +even ignorant that she was suffering. But pardon me, +doctor, I scarcely know what I an saying.” In fact, she +seemed on the point of fainting. +</p> + +<p> +The doctor supported her. She rallied by a strong +effort. “Doctor,” she said, “you know I am nervous in +the dark; I lost my way in these intricate passages, and +have grown frightened and foolish.” +</p> + +<p> +“And why the devil should you be wandering about +these dark passages, since you came for nothing?” +</p> + +<p> +“I did not say I came for nothing, only that no one +sent me.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, if you have anything to say to me, come away +from here, for I am tired of standing.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, I shall not be ten minutes; can any one hear us?” +</p> + +<p> +“No one.” +</p> + +<p> +“Not even your patient in there?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, no fear of his hearing anything.” +</p> + +<p> +Andrée clasped her hands. “Oh, mon Dieu!” she +cried, “he is, then, very ill?” +</p> + +<p> +“Indeed he is not well. But tell me quickly what +brings you here, for I cannot wait.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, doctor, we have spoken of it; I came to ask +after him.” +</p> + +<p> +Doctor Louis received this confession with a solemn +silence, which Andrée took for a reproach. +</p> + +<p> +“You may excuse this step, doctor,” she said, “as he +was wounded in a duel with my brother.” +</p> + +<p> +“Your brother! I was ignorant of that.” +</p> + +<p> +“But now that you know it, you understand why I inquire +after him.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, certainly, my child,” said the good doctor, enchanted +to find an excuse for being indulgent; “I could +not know this.” +</p> + +<p> +“A duel between two gentlemen is a thing of everyday +occurrence, doctor.” +</p> + +<p> +“Certainly; the only thing that could make it of importance +would be that they have fought about a lady!” +</p> + +<p> +“About a lady!” +</p> + +<p> +“About yourself, for example.” +</p> + +<p> +Andrée sighed. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, doctor! they did not fight about me.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then,” said the doctor, “is it your brother that has +sent you for news of M. de Charny?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, yes, my brother, doctor.” +</p> + +<p> +Dr. Louis looked at her scrutinizingly. +</p> + +<p> +“I will find out the truth,” thought he. Then he said, +“Well, I will tell you the truth, that your brother may +make his arrangements accordingly; you understand.” +</p> + +<p> +“No, doctor.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why, a duel is never a very agreeable thing to the +king, and if it makes a scandal, he often banishes or imprisons +the actors; but when death ensues, he is always +inflexible. Therefore counsel your brother to hide for a +time.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then,” cried Andrée, “M. de Charny is—dangerously +ill?” +</p> + +<p> +“My dear young lady, if he is not out of danger by this +time to-morrow, if before that time I cannot quell the +fever that devours him, M. de Charny is a dead man.” +</p> + +<p> +Andrée bit her lips till the blood came, and clenched +her hands till the nails stuck into the flesh, to stifle the +cry that was ready to burst from her. Having conquered +herself, she said, “My brother will not fly; he wounded +M. de Charny in fair fight, and if he has killed him, he +will take his chance.” +</p> + +<p> +The doctor was deceived. She did not come on her +own account, he thought. +</p> + +<p> +“How does the queen take it?” he asked. +</p> + +<p> +“The queen? I know not. What is it to her?” +</p> + +<p> +“But she likes your brother.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, he is safe; and perhaps she will defend him if +he is accused.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then, mademoiselle, you have learned what you +wished. Let your brother fly, or not, as he pleases; that +is your affair. Mine is to do the best to-night for the +wounded man; without which, death will infallibly carry +him off. Adieu.” +</p> + +<p> +Andrée fled back to her room, locked herself in, and +falling on her knees by the side of her bed, “My God!” +cried she, with a torrent of burning tears, “you will not +leave this young man to die who has done no wrong, and +who is so loved in this world. Oh! save him, that I may +see a God of mercy, and not of vengeance.” Her strength +gave way, and she fell senseless on the floor. When her +senses returned to her, her first muttered words were, “I +love him! oh, I love him!” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2>CHAPTER LII.<br/> +DELIRIUM.</h2> + +<p> +M. De Charny conquered the fever. The next day the +report was favorable. Once out of danger, Doctor Louis +ceased to take so much interest in him; and after the +lapse of a week, as he had not forgotten all that had +passed in his delirium, he wished to have him removed +from Versailles: but Charny, at the first hint of this, rebelled, +and said angrily, “that his majesty had given +him shelter there, and that no one had a right to disturb +him.” +</p> + +<p> +The doctor, who was not patient with intractable convalescents, +ordered four men to come in and move him; +but Charny caught hold of his bed with one hand, and +struck furiously with the other at every one who approached; +and with the effort, the wound reopened, the +fever returned, and he began to cry out that the doctor +wished to deprive him of the visions that he had in his +sleep, but that it was all in vain; for that she who sent +them to him was of too high rank to mind the doctor. +</p> + +<p> +Then the doctor, frightened, sent the men away, and +dressed the wound again; but as the delirium returned +stronger than ever, he determined to go once more to the +queen. +</p> + +<p> +Marie Antoinette received him with a smile; she expected +to hear that the patient was cured, but on hearing +that he was very ill, she cried: +</p> + +<p> +“Why, yesterday you said he was going on so well!” +</p> + +<p> +“It was not true, madame.” +</p> + +<p> +“And why did you deceive me? Is there, then, +danger?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, madame, to himself and others; but the evil is +moral, not physical. The wound in itself is nothing; but, +madame, M. de Charny is fast becoming a monomaniac, +and this I cannot cure. Madame, you will have ruined +this young man.” +</p> + +<p> +“I, doctor! Am I the cause, if he is mad?” +</p> + +<p> +“If you are not now, you soon will be.” +</p> + +<p> +“What must I do, then? Command me, doctor.” +</p> + +<p> +“This young man must be cured either with kindness +or coercion. The woman whose name he evokes every +instant must kill or cure him.” +</p> + +<p> +“Doctor, you exaggerate. Can you kill a man with a +hard word, or cure a madman with a smile?” +</p> + +<p> +“If your majesty be incredulous, I have only to pay my +respects, and take leave.” +</p> + +<p> +“No, doctor; tell me what you wish.” +</p> + +<p> +“Madame, if you desire to free this palace from his +cries, and from scandal, you must act.” +</p> + +<p> +“You wish me to come and see him?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then I will call some one—Mademoiselle de Taverney, +for example—and you have all ready to receive us. But +it is a dreadful responsibility to run the risk of kill or +cure, as you say.” +</p> + +<p> +“It is what I have to do every day. Come, madame, +all is ready.” +</p> + +<p> +The queen sighed, and followed the doctor, without +waiting for Andrée, who was not to be found. +</p> + +<p> +It was eleven o’clock in the morning, and Charny was +asleep, after the troubled night he had gone through. +The queen, attired in an elegant morning dress, entered +the corridor. The doctor advised her to present herself +suddenly, determined to produce a crisis, either for good +or ill; but at the door they found a woman standing, who +had not time to assume her usual unmoved tranquillity, +but showed an agitated countenance, and trembled before +them. +</p> + +<p> +“Andrée!” cried the queen. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, your majesty; you are here too!” +</p> + +<p> +“I sent for you, but they could not find you.” +</p> + +<p> +Andrée, anxious to hide her feelings, even at the price +of a falsehood, said, “I heard your majesty had asked for +me, and came after you.” +</p> + +<p> +“How did you know I was here?” +</p> + +<p> +“They said you were gone with Doctor Louis, so I +guessed it.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well guessed,” replied the queen, who was little suspicious, +and forgot immediately her first surprise. +</p> + +<p> +She went on, leaving Andrée with the doctor. +</p> + +<p> +Andrée, seeing her disappear, gave a look full of anger +and grief. The doctor said to her: +</p> + +<p> +“Do you think she will succeed?” +</p> + +<p> +“Succeed in what?” +</p> + +<p> +“In getting this poor fellow removed, who will die +here.” +</p> + +<p> +“Will he live elsewhere?” asked Andrée, surprised. +</p> + +<p> +“I believe so.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, then, may she succeed!” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2>CHAPTER LIII.<br/> +CONVALESCENCE.</h2> + +<p> +The queen walked straight up to where Charny lay, +dressed, on a couch. He raised his head, wakened by her +entrance. +</p> + +<p> +“The queen!” cried he, trying to rise. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, sir, the queen,” she replied, “who knows how +you strive to lose both reason and life; the queen, whom +you offend both dreaming and waking; the queen, who +cares for your honor and your safety, and therefore comes +to you. Is it possible,” continued she, “that a gentleman, +formerly renowned like you for his loyalty and honor, +should become such an enemy as you have been to the reputation +of a woman? What will my enemies do, if you +set them the example of treason?” +</p> + +<p> +“Treason!” stammered Charny. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, sir. Either you are a madman, and must be +forcibly prevented from doing harm; or you are a traitor, +and must be punished.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, madame, do not call me a traitor! From the +mouth of a king, such an accusation would precede +death; from the mouth of a woman, it is dishonor. +Queen, kill me, or spare me!” +</p> + +<p> +“Are you in your right mind, M. de Charny?” said +the queen, in a moved voice. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, madame.” +</p> + +<p> +“Do you remember your wrongs towards me, and +towards the king?” +</p> + +<p> +“Mon Dieu!” he murmured. +</p> + +<p> +“For you too easily forget, you gentlemen, that the +king is the husband of the woman whom you insult, by +raising your eyes to her—that he is the father of your +future master, the dauphin; you forget, also, that he is +a greater and better man than any of you—a man whom +I esteem and love.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh!” murmured Charny, with a groan, and seemed +ready to faint. +</p> + +<p> +This cry pierced the queen’s heart; she thought he was +about to die, and was going to call for assistance; but, +after an instant’s reflection, she went on: “Let us converse +quietly, and be a man. Doctor Louis has vainly +tried to cure you; your wound, which was nothing, has +been rendered dangerous through your own extravagances. +When will you cease to present to the good +doctor the spectacle of a scandalous folly which disquiets +him? When will you leave the castle?” +</p> + +<p> +“Madame,” replied Charny, “your majesty sends me +away; I go, I go!” And he rose with a violent effort, +as though he would have fled that instant, but, unable to +stand, fell almost into the arms of the queen, who had +risen to stop him. +</p> + +<p> +She replaced him on the sofa; a bloody foam rose to +his lips. “Ah, so much the better!” cried he; “I die, +killed by you!” The queen forgot everything but his +danger; she supported his drooping head on her shoulders, +and pressed her cold hands to his forehead and +heart. Her touch seemed to revive him as if by magic—he +lived again; then she wished to fly, but he caught +hold of her dress, saying: +</p> + +<p> +“Madame, in the name of the respect which I feel for +you——” +</p> + +<p> +“Adieu, adieu!” cried the queen. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, madame, pardon me!” +</p> + +<p> +“I do pardon you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Madame, one last look.” +</p> + +<p> +“M. de Charny,” said the queen, trembling, “if you +are not the basest of men, to-morrow you will be dead, or +have left this castle.” +</p> + +<p> +He threw himself at her feet; she opened the door, +and rushed away. +</p> + +<p> +Andrée saw for an instant the young man on his knees +before her, and felt struck with both hate and despair. +She thought, as she saw the queen return, that God had +given too much to this woman in adding to her throne +and her beauty this half-hour with M. de Charny. +</p> + +<p> +The doctor, occupied only with the success of the negotiation, +said, “Well, madame, what will he do?” +</p> + +<p> +“He will leave,” replied the queen; and, passing them +quickly, she returned to her apartment. +</p> + +<p> +The doctor went to his patient, and Andrée to her +room. +</p> + +<p> +Doctor Louis found Charny a changed man, declaring +himself perfectly strong, asking the doctor how he should +be moved, and when he should be quite well, with so +much energy that the doctor feared it was too much, and +that he must relapse after it. He was, however, so reasonable +as to feel the necessity of explaining this sudden +change. “The queen has done me more good by making +me ashamed of myself,” he said, “than you, dear +doctor, with all your science. She has vanquished me by +an appeal to my amour propre.” +</p> + +<p> +“So much the better,” said the doctor. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes. I remember that a Spaniard—they are all +boasters—told me one day, to prove the force of his will, +that it sufficed for him in a duel which he had fought, +and in which he had been wounded, to will that the blood +should not flow in the presence of his adversary in order +to retain it. I laughed at him. However, I now feel +something like it myself; I think that if my fever and +delirium wished to return, I could chase them away, saying, +Fever and delirium, I forbid you to appear!” +</p> + +<p> +“We know such things are possible,” replied the doctor. +“Allow me to congratulate you, for you are cured +morally.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh yes.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, the physical cure will soon follow. Once sound +in mind, you will be sound in body within a week.” +</p> + +<p> +“Thanks, doctor.” +</p> + +<p> +“And, to begin, you must leave this place.” +</p> + +<p> +“I am ready immediately.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, we will not be rash; we will wait till this evening. +Where will you go?” +</p> + +<p> +“Anywhere—to the end of the world if you like.” +</p> + +<p> +“That is too far for a first journey; we will content +ourselves with Versailles. I have a house there where +you shall go to-night.” +</p> + +<p> +Accordingly, that evening the four valets, who had +been so rudely repulsed before, carried him to his carriage. +The king had been hunting all day; Charny felt somewhat +uneasy at leaving without apprizing him; but the +doctor promised to make his excuses. +</p> + +<p> +Andrée, concealed behind her curtains, saw the carriage +drive off. +</p> + +<p> +“If he resumes his desire to die,” thought the doctor, +“at least it will not be in my rooms, and under my +care.” +</p> + +<p> +Charny arrived safely, however, and the next day the +doctor found him so well, that he told him he thought he +would require him no longer. +</p> + +<p> +He received a visit from his uncle, and from an officer +sent by the king to inquire after him. At the end of a +week he could ride slowly on horseback: then the doctor +advised him to go for a time to his estates in Picardy to +regain strength. He accordingly took leave of the +king, charged M. de Suffren with his adieus to the queen, +who was ill that evening, and set off for his château at +Boursonnes. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2>CHAPTER LIV.<br/> +TWO BLEEDING HEARTS.</h2> + +<p> +On the day following the queen’s visit to M. de Charny, +Madlle. de Taverney entered the royal bedroom as usual +at the hour of the petite toilette. The queen was just +laughing over a note from Madame de la Motte. Andrée, +paler than usual, looked cold and grave: the queen, however, +being occupied, did not notice it, but merely turning +her head, said in her usual friendly tone, “Bon jour, +petite.” At last, however, Andrée’s silence struck her, +and looking up she saw her sad expression and said, +“Mon Dieu! Andrée, what is the matter? Has any misfortune +happened to you?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, madame, a great one.” +</p> + +<p> +“What is it?” +</p> + +<p> +“I am going to leave your majesty.” +</p> + +<p> +“Leave me!” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, madame.” +</p> + +<p> +“Where are you going? and what is the cause of this +sudden departure?” +</p> + +<p> +“Madame, I am not happy in my affections; in my +family affections, I mean,” added Andrée, blushing. +</p> + +<p> +“I do not understand you—you seemed happy yesterday.” +</p> + +<p> +“No, madame,” replied Andrée, firmly. “Yesterday +was one of the unhappy days of my life.” +</p> + +<p> +“Explain yourself.” +</p> + +<p> +“It would but fatigue your majesty, and the details +are not worthy of your hearing. Suffice it to say, that I +have no satisfaction in my family—that I have no good to +expect in this world. I come, therefore, to beg your +majesty’s permission to retire into a convent.” +</p> + +<p> +The queen rose, and although with some effort to her +pride, took Andrée’s hand, and said: “What is the +meaning of this foolish resolution? Have you not to-day, +like yesterday, a father and a brother? and were they +different yesterday from to-day? Tell me your difficulties. +Am I no longer your protectress and mother?” +</p> + +<p> +Andrée, trembling, and bowing low, said, “Madame, +your kindness penetrates my heart, but does not shake +my resolution. I have resolved to quit the court. I have +need of solitude. Do not force me to give up the vocation +to which I feel called.” +</p> + +<p> +“Since yesterday?” +</p> + +<p> +“I beg your majesty not to make me speak on this +point.” +</p> + +<p> +“Be free, then,” said the queen, rather bitterly; “only I +have always shown you sufficient confidence for you to have +placed some in me. But it is useless to question one who +will not speak. Keep your secrets, and I trust you will +be happier away than you have been here. Remember one +thing, however, that my friendship does not expire with +people’s caprices, and that I shall ever look on you as a +friend. Now, go, Andrée; you are at liberty. But +where are you going to?” +</p> + +<p> +“To the convent of St. Denis, madame.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, mademoiselle, I consider you guilty towards +me of ingratitude and forgetfulness.” +</p> + +<p> +Andrée, however, left the room and the castle without +giving any of those explanations which the good heart of +the queen expected, and without in any way softening or +humbling herself. When she arrived at home, she found +Philippe in the garden—the brother dreamed, while the +sister acted. At the sight of Andrée, whose duties always +kept her with the queen at that hour, he advanced, surprised, +and almost frightened, which was increased when +he perceived her gloomy look. +</p> + +<p> +He questioned her, and she told him that she was +about to leave the service of the queen, and go into a +convent. +</p> + +<p> +He clasped his hands, and cried, “What! you also, +sister?” +</p> + +<p> +“I also! what do you mean?” +</p> + +<p> +“’Tis a cursed contact for us, that of the Bourbons. +You wish to take religious vows; you, at once the least +worldly of women, and the least fitted for a life of asceticism. +What have you to reproach the queen with?” +</p> + +<p> +“I have nothing to reproach her with; but you, +Philippe, who expected, and had the right to expect, so +much—why did not you remain at court? You did not +remain there three days; I have been there as many +years.” +</p> + +<p> +“She is capricious, Andrée.” +</p> + +<p> +“You, as a man, might put up with it. I, a woman, +could not, and do not wish to do so.” +</p> + +<p> +“All this, my sister, does not inform me what quarrel +you have had with her.” +</p> + +<p> +“None, Philippe, I assure you. Had you any when +you left her? Oh, she is ungrateful!” +</p> + +<p> +“We must pardon her, Andrée; she is a little spoiled +by flattery, but she has a good heart.” +</p> + +<p> +“Witness what she has done for you, Philippe.” +</p> + +<p> +“What has she done?” +</p> + +<p> +“You have already forgotten. I have a better memory, +and with one stroke pay off your debts and my own.” +</p> + +<p> +“Very dear, it seems to me, Andrée—to renounce the +world at your age, and with your beauty. Take care, +dear sister, if you renounce it young, you will regret it +old, and will return to it when the time will be passed, +and you have outlived all your friends.” +</p> + +<p> +“You do not reason thus for yourself, brother. You +are so little careful of your fortunes, that when a hundred +others would have acquired titles and gold, you have only +said—she is capricious, she is perfidious, and a coquette, +and I prefer not to serve her. Therefore, you have renounced +the world, though you have not entered into a +monastery.” +</p> + +<p> +“You are right, sister; and were it not for our +father——” +</p> + +<p> +“Our father! Ah, Philippe! do not speak of him,” +replied Andrée, bitterly. “A father should be a support +to his children, or accept their support. But what +does ours do? Could you confide a secret to M. de +Taverney, or do you believe him capable of confiding in +you? M. de Taverney is made to live alone in this +world.” +</p> + +<p> +“True, Andrée, but not to die alone.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, Philippe! you take me for a daughter without +feeling, but you know I am a fond sister; and to have +been a good daughter, required only to have had a father; +but everything seems to conspire to destroy in me every +tender feeling. It never happens in this world that hearts +respond; those whom we choose prefer others.” +</p> + +<p> +Philippe looked at her with astonishment. “What do +you mean?” said he. +</p> + +<p> +“Nothing,” replied Andrée, shrinking from a confidence. +“I think my brain is wandering; do not attend +to my words.” +</p> + +<p> +“But——” +</p> + +<p> +Andrée took his hand. “Enough on this subject, my +dearest brother. I am come to beg you to conduct me +to the convent of St. Denis; but be easy, I will take no +vows. I can do that at a later period, if I wish. Instead +of going, like most women, to seek forgetfulness, I will +go to seek memory. It seems to me that I have too often +forgotten my Creator. He is the only consolation, as +He is really the only afflictor. In approaching Him more +nearly, I shall do more for my happiness than if all the +rich and great in this world had combined to make life +pleasant to me.” +</p> + +<p> +“Still, Andrée, I oppose this desperate resolution, for +you have not confided to me the cause of your despair!” +</p> + +<p> +“Despair!” said she, with a disdainful air. “No, +thank God, I am not despairing; no, a thousand times, +no.” +</p> + +<p> +“This excess of disdain shows a state of mind which +cannot last. If you reject the word ‘despair,’ I must use +that of ‘pique.’” +</p> + +<p> +“Pique! do you believe that I am so weak as to yield +up my place in the world through pique? Judge me by +yourself, Philippe; if you were to retire to La Trappe, +what would you call the cause of your determination?” +</p> + +<p> +“I should call it an incurable grief.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, Philippe, I adopt your words, for they suit +me.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then,” he replied, “brother and sister are alike in +their lives: happy together, they have become unhappy +at the same time.” Then, thinking further remonstrance +useless, he asked, “When do you want to go?” +</p> + +<p> +“To-morrow, even to-day, if it were possible.” +</p> + +<p> +“I shall be ready whenever you require me.” +</p> + +<p> +Andrée retired to make her preparations. Soon she +received this note from Philippe: +</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p> +“You can see our father at five o’clock this evening. +You must be prepared for reproaches, but an adieu is +indispensable.” +</p></div> + +<p> +She answered: +</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p> +“At five o’clock I will be with M. de Taverney all +ready to start, and by seven we can be at St. Denis, if +you will give me up your evening.” +</p></div> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2>CHAPTER LV.<br/> +THE MINISTER OF FINANCE.</h2> + +<p> +We have seen that the queen, before receiving Andrée, +was smiling over a note from Madame de la Motte. She +was, however, rendered serious by the interview with +Mademoiselle de Taverney. Scarcely had she gone, when +Madame de Misery came to announce M. de Calonne. +He was a man of much intellect, but, foreseeing that +disaster was hanging over France, determined to think +only of the present, and enjoy it to the utmost. He was +a courtier, and a popular man. M. de Necker had shown +the impossibility of finding finances, and called for reforms +which would have struck at the estates of the nobility +and the revenues of the clergy; he exposed his +designs too openly, and was overwhelmed by a torrent of +opposition; to show the enemy your plan of attack is +half to give them the victory. Calonne, equally alive to +the danger, but seeing no way of escape, gave way to it. +He completely carried with him the king and queen, who +implicitly believed in his system, and this is, perhaps, the +only political fault which Louis XVI was guilty of towards +posterity. M. de Calonne was handsome, and had +an ingratiating manner; he knew how to please a queen, +and always arrived with a smile on his face, when others +might have worn a frown. +</p> + +<p> +The queen received him graciously, and said, “Have +we any money, M. de Calonne?” +</p> + +<p> +“Certainly, madame; we have always money.” +</p> + +<p> +“You are perfectly marvelous,” replied she, “an incomparable +financier, for you seem always ready when we +want money.” +</p> + +<p> +“How much does your majesty require?” +</p> + +<p> +“Explain to me first how you manage to find money, +when M. Necker declared that there was none.” +</p> + +<p> +“M. Necker was right, madame; for when I became +minister on the 3d of November, 1783, there were but +one thousand and two hundred francs in the public +treasury. Had M. Necker, madame, instead of crying +out, ‘There is no money,’ done as I have done, and +borrowed 100,000,000 the first year, and 125,000,000 the +second, and had he been as sure as I am of a new loan of +80,000,000 for the third, he would have been a true financier. +Every one can say there is no money, but not +that there is plenty.” +</p> + +<p> +“That is what I compliment you on, sir; but how to +pay all this?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, madame, be sure we shall pay it,” replied he, +with a strange smile. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, I trust to you,” said the queen. +</p> + +<p> +“I have now a project, madame,” replied he, bowing, +“which will put 20,000,000 into the pockets of the nation, +and 7,000,000 or 8,000,000 into your own.” +</p> + +<p> +“They will be welcome, but where are they to come +from?” +</p> + +<p> +“Your majesty is aware that money is not of the same +value in all the countries of Europe.” +</p> + +<p> +“Certainly. In Spain gold is dearer than in France.” +</p> + +<p> +“Your majesty is perfectly right. Gold in Spain has +been for the last five or six years worth considerably more +than in France; it results that the exporters gain on +eight ounces of gold, that they send from here, about +the value of fourteen ounces of silver.” +</p> + +<p> +“That is a great deal.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, madame, I mean to raise the price of gold one-fifth +of this difference, and where we have now thirty +louis we shall then have thirty-two.” +</p> + +<p> +“It is a brilliant idea!” cried the queen. +</p> + +<p> +“I believe it, and am happy that it meets your majesty’s +approbation.” +</p> + +<p> +“Always have such, and I am sure you will soon pay +our debts.” +</p> + +<p> +“But allow me, madame, to return to what you want +of me,” said the minister. +</p> + +<p> +“Would it be possible to have at present—I am afraid +it is too much——” +</p> + +<p> +Calonne smiled in an encouraging manner. +</p> + +<p> +“500,000 francs?” continued the queen. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, madame, really your majesty frightened me; I +was afraid it was something great.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then you can?” +</p> + +<p> +“Assuredly.” +</p> + +<p> +“Without the king’s knowledge?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, madame, that is impossible. Every month all +my accounts are laid before the king; however, he does +not always read them.” +</p> + +<p> +“When can I have it?” +</p> + +<p> +“What day does your majesty wish for it?” +</p> + +<p> +“On the fifth of next month.” +</p> + +<p> +“Your majesty shall have it on the third.” +</p> + +<p> +“Thanks, M. de Calonne.” +</p> + +<p> +“My greatest happiness is to please your majesty, and +I beg you never will allow yourself to be embarrassed for +want of money.” He rose, the queen gave him her hand +to kiss, and then said, “After all, this money causes me +some remorse, for it is for a caprice.” +</p> + +<p> +“Never mind; some one will gain by it.” +</p> + +<p> +“That is true; you have a charming mode of consoling +one.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, madame, if we had none of us more reasons for +remorse than you, we should all go straight to heaven.” +</p> + +<p> +“But it will be cruel to make the poor people pay for +my caprices.” +</p> + +<p> +“Have no scruples, madame; it is not the poor who +will pay.” +</p> + +<p> +“How so?” asked the queen, in some surprise. +</p> + +<p> +“Because, madame, they have nothing to pay with.” +</p> + +<p> +He bowed and retired. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2>CHAPTER LVI.<br/> +THE CARDINAL DE ROHAN.</h2> + +<p> +Hardly had M. de Calonne traversed the gallery, +when Madame de la Motte was shown in to the queen. +</p> + +<p> +“Madame,” said she, “the cardinal is here.” She then +introduced him, and took her leave. +</p> + +<p> +The cardinal, finding himself alone with the queen, +bowed respectfully, without raising his eyes. +</p> + +<p> +“Monsieur,” said the queen, “I have heard of you what +has effaced many wrongs.” +</p> + +<p> +“Permit me, madame,” said he, trembling with real +emotion, “to assure your majesty that these wrongs of +which you speak I could explain in a few words.” +</p> + +<p> +“I do not forbid you to justify yourself,” replied she, +with dignity; “but if what you are about to say throws +the smallest shade upon my family or country, you will +only wound me still more. Let us leave this subject; +and I will only see you under the fresh light, which shows +you to me obliging, respectful, and devoted.” +</p> + +<p> +“Devoted until death,” replied he. +</p> + +<p> +“But,” said Marie Antoinette, with a smile, “at present +it is a question not of death, but of ruin; and I do +not wish you devoted even so far. You shall live, and +not be ruined, at least, not by me; for they say you are +ruining yourself.” +</p> + +<p> +“Madame!” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! that is your own business; only, as a friend, I +would counsel you to be economical—the king would like +you better.” +</p> + +<p> +“I would become a miser to please your majesty.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, the king,” replied she, with an accent on the +word, “does not love misers either.” +</p> + +<p> +“I will become whatever your majesty desires,” replied +he, with a hardly-disguised passion. +</p> + +<p> +“I said, then,” continued she, “that you shall not be +ruined for me. You have advanced money on my account, +and I have the means of meeting the calls; therefore, +regard the affair for the future as in my hands.” +</p> + +<p> +“To finish it, then, it only remains for me to offer the +necklace to your majesty;” and drawing out the case, he +presented it to her. +</p> + +<p> +She took it, but did not open it, and laid it down by +her side. She received kindly all his polite speeches, but +as she was longing to be left alone with her diamonds, she +began to answer somewhat absently. +</p> + +<p> +He thought she was embarrassed, and was delighted, +thinking it showed, at least, an absence of indifference. +He then kissed her hand, and took leave, going away +full of enthusiasm and hope. +</p> + +<p> +Jeanne was waiting for him in the carriage, and received +his ardent protestations with pleasure. “Well,” said she, +“shall you be Richelieu or Mazarin? Have her lips given +you encouragement in ambition or love? Are you +launched in politics or intrigue?” +</p> + +<p> +“Do not laugh, dear countess; I am full of happiness.” +</p> + +<p> +“Already!” +</p> + +<p> +“Assist me, and in three weeks I may be a minister.” +</p> + +<p> +“Peste! that is a long time; the next payment is in a +fortnight.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah! the queen has money, and will pay, and I shall +have only the merit of the intention. It is too little; I +would willingly have paid for this reconciliation with the +whole sum.” +</p> + +<p> +“Make yourself easy,” replied the countess; “you shall +have this merit if you desire it.” +</p> + +<p> +“I should have preferred it; the queen would then +have been under an obligation to me.” +</p> + +<p> +“Monseigneur, something tells me you will have this +satisfaction. Are you prepared for it?” +</p> + +<p> +“I have mortgaged all my revenue for the ensuing +year.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then you have the money?” +</p> + +<p> +“Certainly, for this payment; after that, I do not know +what I shall do.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, this payment will give you three quiet months; +who knows what may happen in three months?” +</p> + +<p> +“That is true; but she said that the king wished me +to incur no more debt.” +</p> + +<p> +“Two months in the ministry would set all straight.” +</p> + +<p> +“Countess!” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, do not be fastidious; if you do not assist yourself, +others will.” +</p> + +<p> +“You are right. Where are you going now?” +</p> + +<p> +“Back to the queen, to hear what she says of your interview.” +</p> + +<p> +“Good! I go to Paris.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why? You should go this evening to the ‘jeu du +roi;’ it is good policy to keep your ground.” +</p> + +<p> +“No, countess; I must attend a rendezvous, for which +I received a note this morning.” +</p> + +<p> +“A rendezvous?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, and a serious one, by the contents of the note. +Look.” +</p> + +<p> +“A man’s writing,” said the countess; and, opening +the note, she read: +</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p> +“<span class="smcap">Monseigneur</span>,—Some one wishes to see you about +raising an important sum of money. This person will +wait on you this evening, at Paris, to solicit the honor of +an interview.” +</p></div> + +<p> +“Anonymous—some beggar?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, countess; no beggar would expose himself to +the risk of being beaten by my servants. Besides, I +fancy I have seen the writing before. So au revoir, +countess.” +</p> + +<p> +“Apropos, monseigneur, if you are going to get a +windfall, some large sum, I understand we are to +share.” +</p> + +<p> +“Countess, you have brought me luck; I shall not +be ungrateful.” And they separated. +</p> + +<p> +The cardinal was full of happy dreams: the queen had +received him kindly. He would place himself at the +head of her party, and make it a popular one; he would +protect her, and for her sake would abandon his slothful +life, and live an active one. +</p> + +<p> +As soon as he arrived at his hotel, he commenced +burning a box full of love-letters; then he called his +steward to order some economical reforms, and sat down +to his history of English politics. Soon he heard a ring, +and a servant entered to announce the person who had +written to him that morning. +</p> + +<p> +“Ask his name,” said the cardinal. +</p> + +<p> +The man, having inquired, returned and said: +</p> + +<p> +“M. le Comte de Cagliostro.” +</p> + +<p> +“Let him come in.” +</p> + +<p> +The count entered. +</p> + +<p> +“Mon Dieu!” cried the cardinal, “is it possible? +Joseph Balsamo, who was supposed to have perished in +the flames?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, monseigneur, more alive than ever.” +</p> + +<p> +“But, sir, you have taken a new name.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, monseigneur; the other recalled too many +painful recollections. Possibly, you yourself would not +have opened your door to Joseph Balsamo.” +</p> + +<p> +“I! oh yes, sir.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then monseigneur has a better memory and more +honesty than most men.” +</p> + +<p> +“Monsieur, you once rendered me a service.” +</p> + +<p> +“Am I not, monseigneur, a good specimen of the results +of my elixir?” +</p> + +<p> +“I confess it, sir; but you seem above humanity—you, +who distribute health and gold to all.” +</p> + +<p> +“Health perhaps, monseigneur, but not gold.” +</p> + +<p> +“You make no more gold.” +</p> + +<p> +“No, monseigneur.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why?” +</p> + +<p> +“Because I lost the parcel of an indispensable ingredient +which Althotas discovered, but of which I never +had the receipt. He has carried that secret with him to +the grave.” +</p> + +<p> +“He is dead, then? How, could you not preserve the +life of this man, so useful to you, as you have kept yourself +through so many centuries?” +</p> + +<p> +“Because I can guard against illness, but not against +such accidents as kill before I can act.” +</p> + +<p> +“He died from an accident, then?” +</p> + +<p> +“The fire in which you thought I died killed him; or +rather he, weary of life, chose to die.” +</p> + +<p> +“It is strange.” +</p> + +<p> +“No, it is natural; I have a hundred times thought +of ending my life.” +</p> + +<p> +“But you have not done so.” +</p> + +<p> +“Because I enjoy a state of youth, in which health +and pleasure kept me from ennui; but he had chosen +one of old age. He was a savant, and cared only for +science; and thus youth, with its thousand pleasures, +would have constantly drawn him from its study. An +old man meditates better than a young one. Althotas +died a victim to his love of science: I lead a worldly life, +and do nothing—I live like a planet.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, sir, your words and appearance bring to me +dreams of my youth. It is ten years since I saw you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes; but if you are no longer a fine young man, you +are a prince. Do you remember the day when, in my +cabinet, I promised you the love of the woman whose +fair locks I consulted?” +</p> + +<p> +The cardinal turned from pale to red. Terror and joy +almost stopped the beating of his heart. +</p> + +<p> +“I remember,” said he. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, let me try if I can still play the magician. This +fair child of your dreams——” +</p> + +<p> +“What is she doing now?” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, I suspect you yourself have seen her to-day; +indeed, you have not long left her.” +</p> + +<p> +The cardinal could hardly stand. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, I beg, sir——” he cried. +</p> + +<p> +“Let us speak of something else,” said Cagliostro, +sitting down. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2>CHAPTER LVII.<br/> +DEBTOR AND CREDITOR.</h2> + +<p> +“Now that we have renewed our acquaintance, let us +converse,” said Cagliostro. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” replied the cardinal, “about the money you +wrote of; it was a pretext, was it not?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, monsieur, a serious matter, as it concerns a sum +of 500,000 francs.” +</p> + +<p> +“The sum which you lent me?” cried the cardinal, +growing pale. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, monseigneur; I love to see so good a memory in +a great prince like you.” +</p> + +<p> +The cardinal felt overwhelmed by the blow. At last, +trying to smile, he said: +</p> + +<p> +“I thought that Joseph Balsamo had carried his debt +with him to the tomb, as he threw the receipt into the +fire.” +</p> + +<p> +“Monseigneur,” replied the count, “the life of Joseph +Balsamo is as indestructible as the sheet on which you +wrote. Death cannot conquer the elixir of life; fire is +powerless against asbestos.” +</p> + +<p> +“I do not understand,” said the cardinal. +</p> + +<p> +“You soon will,” replied Cagliostro, producing a folded +paper, which he offered to the prince. +</p> + +<p> +He, before opening it, cried, “My receipt!” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, monseigneur, your receipt.” +</p> + +<p> +“But I saw you burn it.” +</p> + +<p> +“True, I threw it on the fire, but by accident you had +written on a piece of asbestos, so that the receipt remained +uninjured among the cinders.” +</p> + +<p> +“Monsieur,” said the cardinal, haughtily, for he +thought this a proof that he had been suspected, “believe +me, I should not have denied my debt, even without +this paper; therefore you were wrong to deceive me.” +</p> + +<p> +“I deceived you?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes; you made me think the paper was destroyed.” +</p> + +<p> +“To leave you the calm enjoyment of 500,000 francs.” +</p> + +<p> +“But, sir, why have you left such a sum for ten years +unclaimed?” +</p> + +<p> +“I knew, monseigneur, that it was safe. Various +events have deprived me of my wealth; but, knowing +that I had this sum in reserve, I have waited patiently +until the last moment.” +</p> + +<p> +“And has that arrived?” +</p> + +<p> +“Alas! yes, monseigneur.” +</p> + +<p> +“So that you can really wait no longer?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, monseigneur.” +</p> + +<p> +“You want it at once?” +</p> + +<p> +“If it please you to pay it.” +</p> + +<p> +The cardinal was at first silent, through despair. Then +he said, in a hoarse voice: +</p> + +<p> +“M. le Comte, we unhappy princes of the earth do not +improvise fortunes as quickly as you enchanters.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, monseigneur,” said Cagliostro, “I would not have +asked you for this sum, had I not known beforehand that +you had it.” +</p> + +<p> +“I have 500,000 francs?” +</p> + +<p> +“30,000 in gold, 11,000 in silver, and the rest in notes, +which are in this buhl cabinet.” +</p> + +<p> +The cardinal turned white. “You knew this?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, monseigneur, and I know you have made great +sacrifices to obtain it. I have heard that you will pay +heavily for it.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, it is too true!” +</p> + +<p> +“But, monseigneur, during these ten years I have often +been in want and embarrassment, yet I have kept this +paper back, so as not to trouble you; therefore I do not +think you can complain.” +</p> + +<p> +“Complain! oh, no, sir; when you graciously lent me +such a sum, I must ever remain your debtor. But during +those ten years there were twenty occasions when I could +have repaid you with ease, while to-day the restitution +you demand embarrasses me dreadfully. You, who know +everything, who read even hearts, and penetrate the doors +of cabinets, doubtless, know also the purpose for which +this money was destined.” +</p> + +<p> +“You are wrong, monseigneur,” said Cagliostro, coldly. +“My knowledge has brought me so much misery and +disappointment, that I no longer seek to penetrate the +secrets of others. It concerned me to know whether you +had this money, as I wished to claim it; but once having +ascertained that, I did not trouble myself to think for +what purpose it was destined. Besides, did I know it, +it might seem so grave a matter as almost to force me to +waive my claim, which really at present I cannot afford +to do. Therefore, I prefer to be ignorant.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, monsieur,” cried the cardinal, “do not think I +wish to parade my embarrassments in order to elude my +debt! You have your own interests to look to; they are +guaranteed by this paper, which bears my signature—that +is enough. You shall have your money, although I +do not think there was any promise to pay.” +</p> + +<p> +“Your eminence is mistaken;” and opening the paper +he read these words: +</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p> +“I acknowledge the receipt of 500,000 francs from +M. Joseph Balsamo, which I will repay on demand. +</p> + +<span style="margin-left: 24em;">“<span class="smcap">Louis de Rohan</span>.”</span> + +</div> + +<p> +“You see, monseigneur, that I only ask my right; besides, +as this was a spontaneous loan by me to a man I +hardly knew, the payment might have been equally spontaneous, +without waiting for me to claim it. But you +did not think so. Well, monseigneur, I withdraw this +paper, and bid you adieu.” +</p> + +<p> +“No, count,” replied the cardinal; “a Rohan must +not receive lessons in generosity; besides, this is a mere +question of honesty. Give me the paper, sir, and I will +discharge my debt.” +</p> + +<p> +For a moment Cagliostro hesitated, for the pale face +and distressed air of the cardinal inclined him to pity; +but quickly hardening himself he handed him the paper. +M. de Rohan went to the cabinet, and took out the +money. “There,” said he, “are your 500,000 francs; +and I owe you 250,000 more for interest, which you shall +have if you will give me time.” +</p> + +<p> +“Monseigneur,” said Cagliostro, “I lent 500,000 francs +to M. de Rohan, which he has paid me; he therefore +owes me nothing more. I will take the notes with me, +and send for the money. I thank you for your compliance +with my request.” Then, bowing, he left the room. +</p> + +<p> +“Well,” sighed M. de Rohan, “it is likely, at least, +that the queen has the money, and no Joseph Balsamo +will come and take it from her.” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2>CHAPTER LVIII.<br/> +FAMILY ACCOUNTS.</h2> + +<p> +It was the day before the first payment was due, and +M. de Calonne had so much to do, that he had forgotten +his promise. The queen had up to this time waited +patiently, relying on his word; she now, however, was +beginning to grow uneasy, when she received the following +note: +</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p> +“This evening the business with which your majesty +has charged me will be settled by the Council; the +money will be with the queen to-morrow evening.” +</p></div> + +<p> +Marie Antoinette recovered all her gaiety directly. +</p> + +<p> +After dinner the king went to the Council, but in +a rather bad humor. The news from Russia was bad; a +vessel had been lost; some of the provinces refused to +pay the taxes; also a beautiful map of the world, made +by himself, had that day split into two pieces. Vainly, +therefore, M. de Calonne produced his accounts, with his +usual smiling air; the king continued out of temper. For +a long time he sat, as usual, drawing hieroglyphics on a +piece of paper, whilst the foreign correspondence was +being read, and paying little attention to what passed +around him. +</p> + +<p> +At last, however, M. de Calonne began to speak of the +loan to be raised for the ensuing year. The king became +attentive, and said, “Always borrowing; but how is it +to be repaid? That is a problem, M. de Calonne, for you +to solve.” +</p> + +<p> +“Sire, a loan is only turning a stream from one direction, +to cause it to flow more abundantly in another. In +deepening the channel, you only increase the supply; +therefore, let us not think of paying, but only of obtaining +present supplies.” M. de Calonne then explained his +plans, which were approved by his colleagues. +</p> + +<p> +The king agreed, with a sigh. +</p> + +<p> +“Now we have money,” said M. de Calonne, “let us +dispose of it;” and he handed a paper to the king, with +a list of pensions, gifts, and payments to be made. +</p> + +<p> +The king glanced at the total,—“1,900,000 francs for +this—enormous!” +</p> + +<p> +“But, sire, one item is 500,000 francs.” +</p> + +<p> +“Which?” +</p> + +<p> +“The advance to the queen.” +</p> + +<p> +“To the queen! 500,000 francs to the queen!—impossible!” +</p> + +<p> +“Pardon, sire, it is correct.” +</p> + +<p> +“But there must be a mistake; a fortnight ago her +majesty received her money.” +</p> + +<p> +“Sire, but if her majesty has need of money; and we +all know how well she employs it.” +</p> + +<p> +“No,” cried the king; “the queen does not want this +money; she said to me that she preferred a vessel to +jewels. The queen thinks but of France, and when +France is poor, we that are rich ought to lend to France; +and if she does require this money, it will be a greater +merit to wait for it; and I guarantee that she will wait.” +</p> + +<p> +The ministers applauded this patriotic speech of the +king,—only M. de Calonne insisted. +</p> + +<p> +“Really, monsieur,” said the king, “you are more interested +for us than we are for ourselves.” +</p> + +<p> +“The queen, sire, will accuse us of having been backward +when her interests were concerned.” +</p> + +<p> +“I will plead your cause.” +</p> + +<p> +“But, sire, the queen never asks without necessity.” +</p> + +<p> +“If the queen has wants, they are, I trust, less imperious +than those of the poor, and she will be the first to +acknowledge it.” +</p> + +<p> +“Sire!” +</p> + +<p> +“I am resolved,” said the king; “and I fancy I hear +the queen in her generosity thanking me for having so +well understood her heart.” +</p> + +<p> +M. de Calonne bit his lips, and Louis, content with this +personal sacrifice, signed all the rest without looking at +them. +</p> + +<p> +“Calonne, you shall tell the queen yourself.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! sire, I beg to resign to you the honor.” +</p> + +<p> +“So be it then. Ah! here she comes, let us meet her.” +</p> + +<p> +“I beg your majesty to excuse me,” he replied, and retired +quickly. +</p> + +<p> +The king approached the queen—she was leaning on +the arm of the Comte d’Artois, and seemed very gay. +</p> + +<p> +“Madame,” said the king, “have you had a pleasant +walk?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, sire. And you an agreeable council?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, madame, I have gained you 500,000 francs.” +</p> + +<p> +“M. de Calonne has kept his word,” thought the queen. +</p> + +<p> +“Only imagine, madame,” continued the king; “M. +de Calonne had put down 500,000 francs for you, and I +have struck it out,—a clear gain, therefore, of that sum.” +</p> + +<p> +“Struck it through!” cried the queen, turning pale; +“but, sire——” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! I am so hungry, I am going to supper;” and he +went away delighted with his work. +</p> + +<p> +“Brother,” said the queen, “seek M. de Calonne for +me.” +</p> + +<p> +At that moment a note from him was handed to her: +“Your majesty will have learned that the king refused +your grant. It was incomprehensible, and I retired from +the council penetrated with grief.” +</p> + +<p> +“Read,” said she, passing the note to the count. +</p> + +<p> +“And there are people,” said he, “who say that we +squander the revenue! This is an extraordinary proceeding——” +</p> + +<p> +“Quite husbandlike,” said the queen. “Adieu, +brother.” +</p> + +<p> +“I condole with you,” he replied; “and it is a lesson +for me. I was going to make a request to-morrow for +myself.” +</p> + +<p> +“Send for Madame de la Motte,” said the queen, when +she returned to her room. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2>CHAPTER LIX.<br/> +MARIE ANTOINETTE AS QUEEN, AND MADAME DE LA +MOTTE AS WOMAN.</h2> + +<p> +The courier despatched for Madame de la Motte, not +finding her at home, went to the hotel of the Cardinal de +Rohan to inquire if she were there. +</p> + +<p> +The well-tutored Swiss replied that she was not, but +that he could get any message transmitted to her. +</p> + +<p> +The courier, therefore, left word for her to come to the +queen as soon as possible. The man had hardly left the +door before the message was delivered to Jeanne as she +sat at supper with the cardinal. She set off immediately, +and was at once introduced into the queen’s chamber. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh!” cried the queen on seeing her, “I have something +to tell you. The king has refused me 500,000 +francs.” +</p> + +<p> +“Mon Dieu!” murmured the countess. +</p> + +<p> +“Incredible, is it not? He struck through the item; +but it is useless to talk of it; you must return to Paris, +and tell the cardinal that since he is so kind I accept the +500,000 francs he offered me. It is selfish, I know, but +what can I do?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! madame!” cried Jeanne, “we are lost—the +cardinal no longer has the money.” +</p> + +<p> +The queen started. +</p> + +<p> +“No money!” stammered she. +</p> + +<p> +“No, madame; an unexpected creditor claimed this +money from him. It was a debt of honor, and he paid +it.” +</p> + +<p> +“The whole 500,000 francs? +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, madame.” +</p> + +<p> +“And he has no more?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, madame, he told me this an hour and a half ago, +and confessed to me that he had no other resources.” +</p> + +<p> +The queen leaned her head on her hands; then, after +a few moments’ reflection, she said: +</p> + +<p> +“This, countess, is a terrible lesson for me, and a +punishment for having done anything, great or small, +without the king’s knowledge. It was a folly; I had no +need of this necklace.” +</p> + +<p> +“True, madame; but if the queen consulted only her +absolute wants——” +</p> + +<p> +“I must consult before everything the tranquillity and +happiness of my household. I renounce forever what +has begun with so much annoyance. I will sacrifice my +vanity on the altar of duty, as M. de Provence would say; +and beautiful as this necklace is, you shall carry it back +to MM. Bœhmer and Bossange.” +</p> + +<p> +“Carry it back?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes.” +</p> + +<p> +“But, madame, your majesty has already given 100,000 +francs for it.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, I shall gain all the rest that was to have been +paid for it.” +</p> + +<p> +“But, madame, they will not like to return your +money.” +</p> + +<p> +“I give it up on condition of their breaking the contract. +Now, countess, that I have come to this determination, +I feel at ease once more. This necklace +brought with it cares and fears; diamonds cannot compensate +for these. Take it away, countess; the jewelers +must be satisfied; they will have their necklace, and +100,000 francs into the bargain.” +</p> + +<p> +“But M. de Rohan?” +</p> + +<p> +“He only acted to give me pleasure, and when he is +told it is my pleasure, not to have the necklace, he will +understand me, I am sure; and if he is a good friend, he +will approve and strengthen me in my sacrifice.” Saying +these words, the queen held out the casket to Jeanne. +</p> + +<p> +She did not take it. “Why not ask for time, madame?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, countess, it is humiliation. One may humiliate +one’s self for a person one loves, to save a living creature, +were it only a dog; but only to keep some sparkling +stones—never, countess; take it away.” +</p> + +<p> +“But, madame, it will surely become known that your +majesty has had the jewels, and was obliged to return +them.” +</p> + +<p> +“No one will know anything about it. The jewelers +will surely hold their tongues for 100,000 francs. Take +it away, countess, and thank M. de Rohan for his good-will +towards me. There is no time to lose; go as soon as +possible, and bring me back a receipt for them.” +</p> + +<p> +“Madame, it shall be done as you wish.” +</p> + +<p> +She first drove home, and changed her dress, which +was too elegant for a visit to the jewelers. Meanwhile +she reflected much; she thought still it was a fault for M. +de Rohan to allow the queen to part with these jewels; +and should she obey her orders without consulting him, +would he not have reason to complain? Would he not +rather sell himself than let the queen return them? “I +must consult him,” she thought; “but, after all, he +never can get the money.” She then took the necklace +from the case, once more to look at and admire it. +“1,600,000 francs in my possession; true, it is but for an +hour. To carry away such a sum in gold I should want +two horses, yet how easily I hold it here! But I must +decide. Shall I go to the cardinal, or take it direct to +the jewelers, as the queen ordered? And the receipt—in +what form shall I get it, so as not to compromise the +queen, the cardinal, or myself? Shall I consult—— Ah! +if he loved me more, and could give me the diamonds.” +</p> + +<p> +She sat down again and remained nearly an hour in +deep thought. Then she rose, with a strange look in her +eyes, and rang the bell with a determined air. +</p> + +<p> +She ordered a coach, and in a few minutes she reached +the house of the journalist, M. Reteau de Villette. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2>CHAPTER LX.<br/> +THE RECEIPT OF MM. BŒHMER AND BOSSANGE, AND THE +GRATITUDE OF THE QUEEN.</h2> + +<p> +The result of Madame de la Motte’s visit to M. Reteau +de Villette appeared the next day. At seven o’clock in +the morning she sent to the queen the following paper: +</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p> +“We, the undersigned, acknowledge having received +back again the diamond necklace sold to the queen for +1,600,000 francs, the diamonds not suiting her majesty, +who has paid us for our loss and trouble 100,000 francs. +</p> + +<span style="margin-left: 24em;">“<span class="smcap">Bœhmer and Bossange</span>.”</span><br /> + +</div> + +<p> +The queen, now tranquil about the whole affair, locked +up the receipt, and thought no more of it. +</p> + +<p> +But, in strange contradiction to this receipt, the jewelers +received a visit two days after from M. de Rohan, +who felt uneasy about the payment. +</p> + +<p> +If the instalment had not been paid, he expected to find +them naturally annoyed; but to his great satisfaction +they received him with smiles. +</p> + +<p> +“The queen has paid, then?” he asked. +</p> + +<p> +“No, monseigneur, the queen could not procure the +money, as the king had refused it to her; but she has +guaranteed the debt, and that fully satisfies us.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah! so much the better; but how? Through the +countess?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, monseigneur. On hearing of the king’s refusal, +which soon became public, we wrote to Madame de la +Motte——” +</p> + +<p> +“When?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yesterday.” +</p> + +<p> +“And she replied?” +</p> + +<p> +“By one word, ‘Wait.’ That evening we received +from the queen, by a courier, a letter.” +</p> + +<p> +“A letter to you?” +</p> + +<p> +“Or rather a guarantee, in due form.” +</p> + +<p> +“Let me see it.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! we would with pleasure, but her majesty enjoins +that it is not to be shown to any one.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then you are safe?” +</p> + +<p> +“Perfectly, monseigneur.” +</p> + +<p> +“The queen acknowledges the debt?” +</p> + +<p> +“Fully.” +</p> + +<p> +“And engages to pay?” +</p> + +<p> +“500,000 francs in three months, the rest in six;” and +she adds, “let the affair rest between ourselves. You +will have no cause to repent it.” +</p> + +<p> +“I am charmed that it is settled,” said the cardinal. +</p> + +<p> +We must now raise the veil, though, doubtless, our +readers comprehend how Jeanne de la Motte had acted +towards her benefactress, and how she had managed to +satisfy both the queen and the jewelers by borrowing the +pen of M. Reteau. +</p> + +<p> +Three months were thus obtained for the completion of +her design of crime and deception, and within three +months everything would be arranged. +</p> + +<p> +She went to M. de Rohan, and repeated to him what +the jewelers had already told him. +</p> + +<p> +He asked if the queen remembered his good intentions. +She drew a picture of her gratitude, which enchanted +him. +</p> + +<p> +Her intention had been to sell some of the diamonds to +the value of 100,000 crowns, and then pass over to England, +where, when necessary, she could dispose of the +remainder. But her first essay frightened her; some +offered despicably small sums for the stones, others went +into raptures, declaring they had never seen such diamonds +but in the necklace of MM. Bœhmer and Bossange. +</p> + +<p> +She abandoned this course, therefore, which she saw +might soon bring about her ruin. She shut up the diamonds +carefully, and resolved to wait. But her position +was critical. A few words of explanation between +the queen and the cardinal, and all would be discovered. +She consoled herself by thinking that the cardinal was +too much in love not to fall into all the snares she might +lay for him. +</p> + +<p> +One thought alone occupied her—how to prevent their +meeting. That he would not be long satisfied without an +interview she knew—what should she do? Persuade him +to ask for one, and offend the queen by his presumption?—but +then the queen would speak her anger out, and all +would come to light. She must compromise her, and endeavor +so to close her lips. But if they met by chance, +what remained for her but flight? That was easy; a +few hours would suffice. Then, again, she thought of the +name she would leave behind her, and bear with her; no +longer a woman of rank, but a thief, whom justice only +does not reach, because she is too far off. No, she would +not fly, if she could help it. She would try what audacity +and skill could do, remain here and act between them. +“To prevent them from meeting—that is the difficulty, as +he is in love, and a prince, who has a right to see the +queen; and she is now grateful and will no longer fly +from him; but if I excite him to too open an admiration +and disgust her, I alienate them more than ever. She +will take fire easily, but what I want is something to +make the queen tremble as well as him; something which +would give me power to say, ‘If you accuse me, I will +accuse you and ruin you—leave me my wealth, and I will +you your honor.’ This is what I must seek for, and what +I must find.” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2>CHAPTER LXI.<br/> +THE PRISONER.</h2> + +<p> +Meanwhile a different scene was passing in the Rue +St. Claude, where M. de Cagliostro had lodged Oliva in +the old house, to keep her from the pursuit of the police. +There she lived, retired, and almost happy: Cagliostro +lavished care and attentions on her, and she liked being +protected by this great lord, who asked nothing from her +in return. Only what did he want? she often asked herself, +uselessly, for he must have some object. Her amour +propre made her decide that after all he was in love with +her; and she began to build castles in the air in which +we must confess poor Beausire now very rarely had a +place. Therefore the two visits a week paid to her by +Cagliostro were always eagerly looked forward to, and between +them she amused herself with her dreams, and +playing the great lady. However, her books were soon +read through, at least such as suited her taste, and +pictures and music soon wearied her. She soon began to +regret her mornings passed at the windows of the Rue +Dauphine, where she used to sit to attract the attention +of the passers-by; and her delightful promenades in the +Quartier St. Germain, where so many people used to turn +to look after her. True, the police-agents were formidable +people, but what availed safety if she was not amused; +so she first regretted her liberty, and then regretted +Beausire. +</p> + +<p> +Then she began to lose her appetite for want of fresh +air, for she had been used to walk every day. +</p> + +<p> +One day, when she was bemoaning her fate, she received +an unexpected visit from Cagliostro. He gave his accustomed +signal, and she opened the door, which was always +kept bolted, with an eagerness which showed her delight; +and, seizing his hands, she cried, in an impatient voice, +“Monsieur, I am ennuyée here.” +</p> + +<p> +“This is unlucky, my dear child.” +</p> + +<p> +“I shall die here.” +</p> + +<p> +“Really?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well,” said he, soothingly, “do not blame me, blame +the lieutenant of police, who persecutes you.” +</p> + +<p> +“You exasperate me with your sang froid, monsieur; +I would rather you flew in a passion.” +</p> + +<p> +“Confess, mademoiselle, that you are unreasonable,” +said he, seating himself. +</p> + +<p> +“It is all very well for you to talk,” replied she; “you +come and go as you like, you breathe the fresh air, your +life is full of pleasure. I vegetate in the space to which +you have limited me, and your assistance, is useless to me +if I am to die here.” +</p> + +<p> +“Die!” said the count, smiling. +</p> + +<p> +“You behave very badly to me; you forget that I love +passionately.” +</p> + +<p> +“M. Beausire?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, Beausire, I love him. I always told you so. Did +you think I had forgotten him?” +</p> + +<p> +“So little did I think so, mademoiselle, that I bring +you news of him.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah!” +</p> + +<p> +“He is a charming person, young and handsome, is he +not?” +</p> + +<p> +“Full of imagination and fire, rather rough toward +me, but that is his way of showing his love.” +</p> + +<p> +“Therefore I wished to take you back to him.” +</p> + +<p> +“You did not wish that a month ago.” +</p> + +<p> +“No, but when I see how you love him.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah! you are laughing at me.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, no, you have resisted all my advances so well.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, have I not?” +</p> + +<p> +“It was your love for him.” +</p> + +<p> +“But yours, then, was not very tenacious.” +</p> + +<p> +“No, I am neither old enough nor ugly enough, neither +poor enough nor foolish enough, to run the risk of a refusal; +and I saw that you would always have preferred +Beausire.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, but,” cried the coquette, using her eyes, which +had remained idle so long, “this famous compact which +you proposed to me, the right of always giving me your +arm, of visiting me when you liked; did that give you no +hope?” +</p> + +<p> +Cagliostro did not reply, but turned his eyes as if +dazzled by her glances. +</p> + +<p> +“Let us return to Beausire,” she said, piqued at his +indifference; “why have you not brought him here? it +would have been a charity. He is free——” +</p> + +<p> +“Because,” replied Cagliostro, “Beausire has too much +imagination, and has also embroiled himself with the +police.” +</p> + +<p> +“What has he done?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, a delightful trick, a most ingenious idea; I call +it a joke, but matter-of-fact people—and you know how +matter-of-fact M. de Crosne can be—call it a theft.” +</p> + +<p> +“A theft!” cried Oliva, frightened. “Is he arrested?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, but he is pursued.” +</p> + +<p> +“And is he in danger?” +</p> + +<p> +“That I cannot tell you; he is well hunted for, and if +you were together, the chances of his being taken would +be doubled.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, yes, he must hide, poor fellow; I will hide too; +let me leave France, monsieur. Pray render me this +service; for if I remain shut up here, I shall end by committing some +imprudence.” +</p> + +<p> +“What do you call imprudence?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, just getting some fresh air.” +</p> + +<p> +“I do not want to prevent your getting fresh air; you +would lose your beauty, and M. Beausire would love you +no longer. Open the windows as much as you like.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, I see I have offended you; you care no more +about me.” +</p> + +<p> +“Offended me—how?” +</p> + +<p> +“Because you had taken a fancy to me, and I repulsed +you. A man of your consequence, a handsome man like +you, has a right to be angry at being rejected by a poor +girl like me. But do not abandon me, sir, I entreat;” +and she put her arms round his neck. +</p> + +<p> +“Poor little thing,” said he, kissing her forehead; “do +not be afraid; I am not angry or offended. Indeed, were +you to offer me your love, I should refuse you, so much +do I desire to inspire pure sentiments. Besides, I should +think you influenced more by gratitude than love; so we +will remain as we are, and I will continue to protect +you.” +</p> + +<p> +Oliva let his hand fall, humiliated, and duped by the +pretended generosity of Cagliostro. “Oh, I shall say +henceforth,” she cried, “that there are men superior to +what I ever thought.” +</p> + +<p> +“All women are good,” thought Cagliostro, “if you +only touch the right chord.—From this evening,” he +said aloud, “you shall move to other rooms, where the +windows look on Menilmontant and the Bellevue. You +need not fear to show yourself to the neighbors; they are +all honest, simple people, who will never suspect you. +Only keep a little back from the window, lest any one +passing through the street should see you. At least you +will have air and sunshine.” +</p> + +<p> +Oliva looked pleased. +</p> + +<p> +“Shall I conduct you there now?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, yes.” +</p> + +<p> +He took a light, and she followed him up a staircase to +the third story, and entered a room, completely furnished, +and ready for occupation. +</p> + +<p> +“One would think it was prepared for me,” she said. +</p> + +<p> +“Not for you, but for myself; I like this place, and +often come here to sleep. Nothing shall be wanting to +make you comfortable, and your femme-de-chambre shall +attend you in a quarter of an hour.” And he left the +room. +</p> + +<p> +The poor prisoner sat down by her elegant bed, murmuring, +“I understand nothing of all this.” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2>CHAPTER LXII.<br/> +THE LOOK OUT.</h2> + +<p> +Oliva went to bed, and slept better. She admired the +count, whom she did not in the least understand. She +could no longer think him timid; she did not suspect +that he was only cold and insensible. She felt pleased +at the perfect safety in which he assured her she was; +and in the morning she examined her new rooms, and +found them nobly and luxuriously furnished, and enjoyed +immensely her privilege of going out into the balcony, +filled with flowers, and where she got sunshine and +fresh air, although she drew back whenever she saw any +one approaching, or heard a carriage coming. There +were not many, however, in the Rue St. Claude. She +could see the château of Menilmontant, the great trees in +the cemetery, myriads of houses of all colors; and she +could see the fields beyond, full of children at play, and +the peasants trotting along the roads on their donkeys. +All this charmed Oliva, who had always a heart of love +for the country, since she had left Taverney Maison-Rouge. +At last, getting tired of this distant view, she +began to examine the houses opposite to her. In some, she +saw birds in cages; and in one, hung with yellow silk +curtains, and ornamented with flowers, she thought she +could distinguish a figure moving about. She called her +femme-de-chambre to make inquiries about them; but +the woman could only show her mistress all the churches, +and tell her the names of the streets; she knew nothing +of the neighbors. Oliva therefore sent her away again, +and determined to watch for herself. +</p> + +<p> +She saw some open their doors, and come out for a +walk, and others variously occupied. At last she saw the +figure of a woman seat herself in an armchair, in the room +with the yellow curtains, and abandon her head for an hour +and a half to a hair-dresser, while he built up one of those +immense edifices worn at that time, in which minerals, +vegetables, and even animals, were introduced. At last, +it was complete: Oliva thought she looked pretty, and +admired her little foot, encased in a rose-colored slipper, +which rested on another chair. She began to construct +all sorts of romances about this lady, and made various +movements to attract her attention, but she never turned +her eyes that way, as that room had never before been +occupied, and she began to despair. The lady was, of +course, Jeanne de Valois, who was deeply absorbed in devising +some scheme for preventing the queen and the +cardinal from meeting. At last, Oliva, turning suddenly +round, knocked over a flower-pot which fell from the +balcony with a crash: at the sound the lady turned and +saw her, and clasping her hands she called out, “The +Queen;” but looking again, she murmured, “Oh! I +sought for a means to gain my end, and I have found +one.” Then, hearing a sound behind her, Oliva turned +and saw Cagliostro, and came in directly. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2>CHAPTER LXIII.<br/> +THE TWO NEIGHBORS.</h2> + +<p> +Cagliostro recommended her using the greatest circumspection, +and, above all, not to make friends with +her neighbors; but she did not feel disposed to relinquish +the intercourse which she hoped for with her fair neighbor +opposite. She, however, promised to obey him; +but he was no sooner gone than she returned to her balcony, +hoping to attract her attention again. Nor was +she disappointed, for Jeanne, who was watching for her, +acknowledged her with a bow and by kissing her hand. +This went on for two days. Jeanne was ever ready to +wave her a good morning, or an adieu when she went +out. +</p> + +<p> +Cagliostro, at his next visit, informed Oliva that an +unknown person had paid a visit to her hotel. +</p> + +<p> +“What do you mean?” cried Oliva. +</p> + +<p> +“A very pretty and elegant lady presented herself +here, and asked the servant who inhabited this story, +and wished to see you. I fear you are discovered; you +must take care, the police have female spies as well as +male, and I warn you, that if M. de Crosne claims you, I +cannot refuse to give you up.” +</p> + +<p> +Oliva was not at all frightened, she recognized the +portrait of her opposite neighbor, and felt delighted at +this advance, but she dissembled with the count, and +said, “Oh! I am not at all frightened; no one has seen +me; she could not have meant me.” +</p> + +<p> +“But she said a lady in these rooms.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, I will be more careful than ever, and, besides, +this house is so impenetrable.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, without climbing the wall, which is not easy, +or opening the little door with a key like mine, which I +never lend, no one can come in, so I think you are safe.” +</p> + +<p> +Oliva overwhelmed the count with thanks and protestations, +but at six o’clock the next morning she was out +in the balcony. She had not long to wait before Jeanne +appeared, who, after looking cautiously up and down the +street, and observing that all the doors and windows +were still closed, and that everything was quiet, called +across, “I wish to pay you a visit, madame; is it impossible +to see you?” +</p> + +<p> +“Alas, yes!” said Oliva. +</p> + +<p> +“Can I send a letter?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, no!” +</p> + +<p> +Jeanne, after a moment’s thought, left her balcony, +but soon returned with a cross-bow, with which she shot +a little wooden ball right through the open window of +Oliva’s room. +</p> + +<p> +She picked it up and found wrapped round it the following +note: +</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p> +“You interest me, beautiful lady. I find you charming, +and love you only by having seen you. Are you a +prisoner? I vainly tried to obtain admission to you. +Does the enchanter who guards you never let any one +approach you? Will you be my friend? If you cannot +go out, you can at least write, and as I go out when I +please, wait till you see me pass, and then throw out +your answer. Tie a thread to your balcony, and attach +your note to it; I will take it off and fasten mine on, +and in the dark no one will observe us. If your eyes +have not deceived me, I count on a return of my affection +and esteem, and between us we will outwit any one. +</p> + +<span style="margin-left: 24em;">“<span class="smcap">Your Friend</span>.”</span> + +</div> + +<p> +Oliva trembled with joy when she read this note. She +replied as follows: +</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p> +“I love you as you love me. I am a victim of the +wickedness and cruelty of men; but he who keeps me +here is a protector and not a tyrant; he comes to see +me nearly every day. I will explain all this some day; +but, alas! I cannot go out; I am locked up. Oh! if I +could but see you; there is so much we cannot write. +</p> + +<span style="margin-left: 24em;">“Your friend,</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 26em;">“<span class="smcap">Oliva Legay</span>.”</span><br /> + +</div> + +<p> +Then, when evening came, she let the thread fall over +the balcony. Jeanne, who was below, caught it, and +half an hour afterwards attached to it the following +answer: +</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p> +“You seem generally alone. How is your house secured—with +a key? Who has this key? Could you not +borrow or steal it? It would be no harm, but would procure +you a few hours of liberty, or a few walks with a +friend, who would console you for all your misfortune.” +</p></div> + +<p> +Oliva devoured this eagerly. She had remarked that +when the count came in he put down his lantern and the +key on a chiffonier. So she prepared some wax to take +the impression of the key at his first visit. This she accomplished +without his once turning to look at her, and +as soon as he was gone, she put it into a little box, and +lowered it to Jeanne, with a note. +</p> + +<p> +The next day she received the following answer: +</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p> +“<span class="smcap">My Dearest</span>, +</p> + +<p> +“To-night, at eleven o’clock, you will descend and unlock +the door, when you will find yourself in the arms of +your faithful friend.” +</p></div> + +<p> +Oliva felt more charmed than with the most tender +love-letter that she had ever received. At the appointed +time she went down and met Jeanne, who embraced her +tenderly, and made her get into a carriage that waited a +little way off; they remained out two hours, and parted +with kisses and protestations of affection. Jeanne learned +the name of Oliva’s protector; she feared this man, and +determined to preserve the most perfect mystery as to her +plans. Oliva had confided everything to her about Beausire, +the police, and all. Jeanne gave herself out for a +young lady of rank, living here secretly, without the +knowledge of her friends. One knew all, the other nothing. +From this day, then, it was no longer necessary to +throw out notes; Jeanne had her key, and carried off +Oliva whenever she pleased. “M. de Cagliostro suspects +nothing?” she often asked Oliva. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! no,” she would reply; “I do not think he would +believe it if I told him.” +</p> + +<p> +A week passed thus. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2>CHAPTER LXIV.<br/> +THE RENDEZVOUS.</h2> + +<p> +When Charny arrived at his estates, the doctor ordered +him to keep within doors, and not receive visitors; orders +which he rigorously obeyed, to the great disappointment +of all the young ladies in the neighborhood, who were +most anxious to see this young man, reputed to be at +once so brave and so handsome. His malady, however, +was more mental than bodily; he was devoured by regrets, +by longings, and by ennui; so, after a week, he set off +one night on horseback, and, before the morning, was at +Versailles. He found a little house there, outside the +park, which had been empty for some time; it had been +inhabited by one of the king’s huntsmen, who had cut +his throat, and since then the place had been deserted. +There Charny lived in profound solitude; but he could +see the queen from afar when she walked in the park with +her ladies, and when she went in again he could see her +windows from his own, and watch her lights every evening +until they disappeared; and he even fancied he could +see her shadow pass before the window. One evening he +had watched all this as usual, and after sitting two hours +longer at his window, was preparing to go to bed, for +midnight was striking from a neighboring clock, when +the sound of a key turning in a lock arrested his attention. +It was that of a little door leading into the park, +only twenty paces from his cottage, and which was never +used, except sometimes on hunting-days. Whoever it +was that entered did not speak, but closed it again quietly, +and entered an avenue under his windows. At first +Charny could not distinguish them through the thick +wood, though he could hear the rustling of dresses; but +as they emerged into an open space, and bright moonlight, +he almost uttered a cry of joy in recognizing the +tournure of Marie Antoinette, and a glimpse of her face; +she held in her hand a beautiful rose. Stifling his emotion, +he stepped down as quietly as possible into the park, +and hid behind a clump of trees, where he could see her +better. “Oh!” thought he, “were she but alone, I +would brave tortures, or death itself, that I might once +fall on my knees before her, and tell her, ‘I love you!’” +Oh, were she but menaced by some danger, how gladly +would he have risked his life to save hers. Suddenly the +two ladies stopped, and the shortest, after saying a few +words to her companion in a low voice, left her. The +queen, therefore, remained alone, and Charny felt inclined +to run towards her; but he reflected that the moment +she saw him she would take fright, and call out, +and that her cries would first bring back her companion, +and then the guards; that his retreat would be discovered, +and he should be forced to leave it. In a few minutes +the other lady reappeared, but not alone. Behind her +came a man muffled up in a large cloak, and whose face +was concealed by a slouch hat. +</p> + +<p> +This man advanced with an uncertain and hesitating +step to where the queen stood, when he took off his hat +and made a low bow. The surprise which Charny felt +at first soon changed into a more painful feeling. Why +was the queen in the park at this time of night? Who +was this man who was waiting for her, and whom she had +sent her companion to fetch? Then he remembered that +the queen often occupied herself with foreign politics, +much to the annoyance of the king. Was this a secret +messenger from Schoenbrunn, or from Berlin? This idea +restored him to some degree of composure. The queen’s +companion stood a few steps off, anxiously watching lest +they should be seen; but it was as necessary to guard +against spies in a secret political rendezvous as in one of +love. After a short time Charny saw the gentleman bow +to the ground, and turn to leave, when the companion of +the queen said to him, “Stop.” He stopped, and the +two ladies passed close to Charny, who could even recognize +the queen’s favorite scent, vervain, mixed with mignonette. +They passed on, and disappeared. A few moments +after the gentleman passed; he held in his hand a +rose, which he pressed passionately to his lips. Did this +look political? Charny’s head turned; he felt a strong +impulse to rush on this man and tear the flower from +him, when the queen’s companion reappeared, and said, +“Come, monseigneur.” He joined her quickly, and they +went away. Charny remained in a distracted state, leaning +against the tree. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2>CHAPTER LXV.<br/> +THE QUEEN’S HAND.</h2> + +<p> +When Charny reentered the house, he felt overwhelmed +by what he had seen—that he should have discovered +this retreat, which he had thought so precious, +only to be the witness of a crime, committed by the queen +against her conjugal duty and royal dignity. This man +must be a lover; in vain did he try to persuade himself +that the rose was the pledge of some political compact, +given instead of a letter, which might have been +too compromising. The passionate kiss which he had +seen imprinted on it forbade this supposition. These +thoughts haunted him all night and all the next day, +through which he waited with a feverish impatience, +fearing the new revelations which the night might bring +forth. He saw her taking her ordinary walk with her +ladies, then watched the lights extinguished one by one, +and he waited nervously for the stroke of midnight, the +hour of the rendezvous of the preceding night. It +struck, and no one had appeared. He then wondered +how he could have expected it; she surely would not repeat +the same imprudence two nights following. But as +these thoughts passed through his mind, he heard the +key turn again and saw the door open. Charny grew +deadly pale when he recognized the same two figures +enter the park. “Oh, it is too much,” he said to himself, +and then repeated his movements of the night +before, swearing that, whatever happened, he would restrain +himself, and remember that she was his queen. +All passed exactly as the night before: the confidante +left and returned with the same man; only this time, +instead of advancing with his former timid respect, he +almost ran up to the queen, and kneeled down before her. +Charny could not hear what he said, but he seemed to +speak with passionate energy. She did not reply, but +stood in a pensive attitude; then he spoke again, and at +last she said a few words, in a low voice, when the unknown +cried out, in a loud voice, so that Charny could +hear, “Oh! thanks, your majesty, till to-morrow, then.” +The queen drew her hood still more over her face, and +held out both her hands to the unknown, who imprinted +on them a kiss so long and tender that Charny gnashed +his teeth with rage. The queen then took the arm of +her companion and walked quickly away; the unknown +passed also. Charny remained in a state of fury not to +be described; he ran about the park like a madman: at +last he began to wonder where this man came from; he +traced his steps to the door behind the baths of Apollo. +He comes not from Versailles, but from Paris, thought +Charny, and to-morrow he will return, for he said, +“to-morrow.” Till then let me devour my tears in +silence, but to-morrow shall be the last day of my life, +for we will be four at the rendezvous. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2>CHAPTER LXVI.<br/> +WOMAN AND QUEEN.</h2> + +<p> +The next night the door opened at the same time, and +the two ladies appeared. Charny had taken his resolution—he +would find out who this lover was; but when he entered +the avenue he could see no one—they had entered +the baths of Apollo. He walked towards the door, and +saw the confidante, who waited outside. The queen, then, +was in there alone with her lover; it was too much. +Charny was about to seize this woman, and force her to +tell him everything; but the rage and emotion he had +endured were too much for him—a mist passed over his +eyes, internal bleeding commenced, and he fainted. +When he came to himself again, the clock was striking +two, the place was deserted, and there was no trace of +what had passed there. He went home, and passed a +night almost of delirium. The next morning he arose, +pale as death, and went towards the Castle of Trianon +just as the queen was leaving the chapel. All heads were +respectfully lowered as she passed. She was looking +beautiful, and when she saw Charny she colored, and +uttered an exclamation of surprise. +</p> + +<p> +“I thought you were in the country, M. de Charny,” +she said. +</p> + +<p> +“I have returned, madame,” said he, in a brusque and +almost rude tone. +</p> + +<p> +She looked at him in surprise; then, turning to the +ladies, “Good morning, countess,” she said to Madame +de la Motte, who stood near. +</p> + +<p> +Charny started as he caught sight of her, and looked +at her almost wildly. “He has not quite recovered his +reason,” thought the queen, observing his strange manner. +Then, turning to him again, “How are you now, M. de +Charny?” said she, in a kind voice. +</p> + +<p> +“Very well, madame.” +</p> + +<p> +She looked surprised again; then said: +</p> + +<p> +“Where are you living?” +</p> + +<p> +“At Versailles, madame.” +</p> + +<p> +“Since when?” +</p> + +<p> +“For three nights,” replied he, in a marked manner. +</p> + +<p> +The queen manifested no emotion, but Jeanne trembled. +</p> + +<p> +“Have you not something to say to me?” asked the +queen again, with kindness. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, madame, I should have too much to say to your +majesty.” +</p> + +<p> +“Come,” said she, and she walked towards her apartments; +but to avoid the appearance of a tête-à-tête, she +invited several ladies to follow her. Jeanne, unquiet, +placed herself among them; but when they arrived, she +dismissed Madame de Misery, and the other ladies, understanding +that she wished to be alone, left her. Charny +stood before her. +</p> + +<p> +“Speak,” said the queen; “you appear troubled, sir.” +</p> + +<p> +“How can I begin?” said Charny, thinking aloud; +“how can I dare to accuse honor and majesty?” +</p> + +<p> +“Sir!” cried Marie Antoinette, with a flaming look. +</p> + +<p> +“And yet I should only say what I have seen.” +</p> + +<p> +The queen rose. “Sir,” said she, “it is very early +in the morning for me to think you intoxicated, but I +can find no other solution for this conduct.” +</p> + +<p> +Charny, unmoved, continued, “After all, what is a +queen?—a woman. And am I not a man as well as a +subject?” +</p> + +<p> +“Monsieur!” +</p> + +<p> +“Madame, anger is out of place now. I believe I have +formerly proved that I had respect for your royal dignity. +I fear I proved that I had an insane love for yourself. +Choose, therefore, to whom I shall speak. Is it to the +queen, or the woman, that I shall address my accusation +of dishonor and shame?” +</p> + +<p> +“Monsieur de Charny,” cried the queen, growing pale, +“if you do not leave this room, I must have you turned +out by my guards!” +</p> + +<p> +“But I will tell you first,” cried he, passionately, “why +I call you an unworthy queen and woman! I have been +in the park these three nights!” +</p> + +<p> +Instead of seeing her tremble, as he believed she would +on hearing these words, the queen rose, and, approaching +him, said, “M. de Charny, your state excites my pity. +Your hands tremble, you grow pale; you are suffering. +Shall I call for help?” +</p> + +<p> +“I saw you!” cried he again; “saw you with that +man to whom you gave the rose! saw you when he kissed +your hands! saw you when you entered the baths of +Apollo with him!” +</p> + +<p> +The queen passed her hands over her eyes, as if to make +sure that she was not dreaming. +</p> + +<p> +“Sit down,” said she, “or you will fall.” +</p> + +<p> +Charny, indeed, unable to keep up, fell upon the sofa. +</p> + +<p> +She sat down by him. “Be calm,” said she, “and +repeat what you have just said.” +</p> + +<p> +“Do you want to kill me?” he murmured. +</p> + +<p> +“Then let me question,” she said. “How long have +you returned from the country?” +</p> + +<p> +“A fortnight.” +</p> + +<p> +“Where do you live?” +</p> + +<p> +“In the huntsman’s house, which I have hired.” +</p> + +<p> +“At the end of the park?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes.” +</p> + +<p> +“You speak of some one whom you saw with me.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes.” +</p> + +<p> +“Where?” +</p> + +<p> +“In the park.” +</p> + +<p> +“When?” +</p> + +<p> +“At midnight. Tuesday, for the first time, I saw you +and your companion.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, I had a companion! Do you know her also?” +</p> + +<p> +“I thought just now I recognized her, but I could not +be positive, because it was only the figure—she always +hid her face, like all who commit crimes.” +</p> + +<p> +“And this person to whom you say I gave a rose?” +</p> + +<p> +“I have never been able to meet him.” +</p> + +<p> +“You do not know him, then?” +</p> + +<p> +“Only that he is called monseigneur.” +</p> + +<p> +The queen stamped her foot. +</p> + +<p> +“Go on!” said she. “Tuesday I gave him a rose——” +</p> + +<p> +“Wednesday you gave him your hands to kiss, and +yesterday you went alone with him into the baths of +Apollo, while your companion waited outside.” +</p> + +<p> +“And you saw me?” said she, rising. +</p> + +<p> +He lifted his hands to heaven, and cried, “I swear +it!” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, he swears!” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes. On Tuesday you wore your green dress, moirée, +with gold; Wednesday, the dress with great blue and +brown leaves; and yesterday, the same dress that you +wore when I last kissed your hand. Oh, madame, I am +ready to die with grief and shame while I repeat that, on +my life, my honor, it was really you!” +</p> + +<p> +“What can I say?” cried the queen dreadfully agitated. +“If I swore, he would not believe me.” +</p> + +<p> +Charny shook his head. +</p> + +<p> +“Madman!” cried she, “thus to accuse your queen—to +dishonor thus an innocent woman! Do you believe me +when I swear, by all I hold sacred, that I was not in the +park on either of those days after four o’clock? Do you +wish it to be proved by my women—by the king? No; +he does not believe me.” +</p> + +<p> +“I saw you,” replied he. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, I know!” she cried. “Did they not see me at +the ball at the Opera, at Mesmer’s, scandalizing the +crowd? You know it—you, who fought for me!” +</p> + +<p> +“Madame, then I fought because I did not believe it; +now I might fight, but I believe.” +</p> + +<p> +The queen raised her arms to heaven, while burning tears +rolled down her cheeks. +</p> + +<p> +“My God,” she cried, “send me some thought which +will save me! I do not wish this man to despise me.” +</p> + +<p> +Charny, moved to the heart, hid his face in his hands. +</p> + +<p> +Then, after a moment’s silence, the queen continued: +</p> + +<p> +“Sir, you owe me reparation. I exact this from you. +You say you have seen me three nights with a man; I +have been already injured through the resemblance to me +of some woman, I know not whom, but who is like her +unhappy queen; but you are pleased to think it was me. +Well, I will go with you into the park; and if she appears +again, you will be satisfied? Perhaps we shall see her +together; then, sir, you will regret the suffering you +have caused me.” +</p> + +<p> +Charny pressed his hands to his heart. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, madame, you overwhelm me with your kindness!” +</p> + +<p> +“I wish to overwhelm you with proofs. Not a word, +to any one, but this evening, at ten o’clock, wait alone at +the door of the park. Now go, sir.” +</p> + +<p> +Charny kneeled, and went away without a word. +</p> + +<p> +Jeanne, who was waiting in the ante-chamber, examined +him attentively as he came out. She was soon after +summoned to the queen. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2>CHAPTER LXVII.<br/> +WOMAN AND DEMON.</h2> + +<p> +Jeanne had remarked the trouble of Charny, the +solicitude of the queen, and the eagerness of both for a +conversation. +</p> + +<p> +After what we have already told of the meetings between +Jeanne and Oliva, our readers will have been at no +loss to understand the scenes in the park. Jeanne, when +she came in to the queen, watched her closely, hoping to +gather something from her; but Marie Antoinette was +beginning to learn caution, and she guarded herself carefully. +Jeanne was, therefore, reduced to conjectures. +She had already ordered one of her footmen to follow +M. de Charny; the man reported that he had gone into +a house at the end of the park. +</p> + +<p> +“There is, then, no more doubt,” thought Jeanne; +“it is a lover who has seen everything, it is clear. I +should be a fool not to understand. I must undo what +I have done.” +</p> + +<p> +On leaving Versailles, she drove to the Rue St. +Claude; there she found a superb present of plate, sent +to her by the cardinal. She then drove to his house, +and found him radiant with joy and pride. On her entrance +he ran to meet her, calling her “Dear countess,” +and full of protestations and gratitude. +</p> + +<p> +“Thank you also, for your charming present. You +are more than a happy man; you are a triumphant +victor.” +</p> + +<p> +“Countess, it frightens me; it is too much.” +</p> + +<p> +Jeanne smiled. +</p> + +<p> +“You come from Versailles?” continued he. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes.” +</p> + +<p> +“You have seen her?” +</p> + +<p> +“I have just left her.” +</p> + +<p> +“And she said nothing?” +</p> + +<p> +“What do you expect that she said?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, I am insatiable.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, you had better not ask.” +</p> + +<p> +“You frighten me. Is anything wrong? Have I +come to the height of my happiness, and is the descent +to begin?” +</p> + +<p> +“You are very fortunate not to have been discovered.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! with precautions, and the intelligence of two +hearts and one mind——” +</p> + +<p> +“That will not prevent eyes seeing through the trees.” +</p> + +<p> +“We have been seen?” +</p> + +<p> +“I fear so.” +</p> + +<p> +“And recognized?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, monseigneur, if you had been—if this secret had +been known to any one, Jeanne de Valois would be out +of the kingdom, and you would be dead.” +</p> + +<p> +“True; but tell me quickly. They have seen people +walking in the park; is there any harm in that?” +</p> + +<p> +“Ask the king.” +</p> + +<p> +“The king knows?” +</p> + +<p> +“I repeat to you, if the king knew, you would be in +the Bastile. But I advise you not to tempt Providence +again.” +</p> + +<p> +“What do you mean, dear countess?” +</p> + +<p> +“Do you not understand?” +</p> + +<p> +“I fear to understand,” he replied. +</p> + +<p> +“I shall fear, if you do not promise to go no more to +Versailles.” +</p> + +<p> +“By day?” +</p> + +<p> +“Or by night.” +</p> + +<p> +“Impossible!” +</p> + +<p> +“Why so, monseigneur?” +</p> + +<p> +“Because I have in my heart a love which will end +only with my life.” +</p> + +<p> +“So I perceive,” replied she, ironically; “and it is to +arrive more quickly at this result that you persist in returning +to the park; for most assuredly, if you do, your +love and your life will end together.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, countess, how fearful you are—you who were so +brave yesterday!” +</p> + +<p> +“I am always brave when there is no danger.” +</p> + +<p> +“But I have the bravery of my race, and am happier +in the presence of danger.” +</p> + +<p> +“But permit me to tell you——” +</p> + +<p> +“No, countess, the die is cast. Death, if it comes; +but first, love. I shall return to Versailles.” +</p> + +<p> +“Alone, then.” +</p> + +<p> +“You abandon me?” +</p> + +<p> +“And not I alone.” +</p> + +<p> +“She will come?” +</p> + +<p> +“You deceive yourself; she will not come.” +</p> + +<p> +“Is that what you were sent to tell me?” +</p> + +<p> +“It is what I have been preparing you for.” +</p> + +<p> +“She will see me no more?” +</p> + +<p> +“Never; and it is I who have counseled it.” +</p> + +<p> +“Madame, do not plunge the knife into my heart!” +cried he, in a doleful voice. +</p> + +<p> +“It would be much more cruel, monseigneur, to let +two foolish people destroy themselves for want of a little +good advice.” +</p> + +<p> +“Countess, I would rather die.” +</p> + +<p> +“As regards yourself, that is easy; but, subject, you +dare not dethrone your queen; man, you will not destroy +a woman.” +</p> + +<p> +“But confess that you do not come in her name, that +she does not throw me off.” +</p> + +<p> +“I speak in her name.” +</p> + +<p> +“It is only a delay she asks?” +</p> + +<p> +“Take it as you wish; but obey her orders.” +</p> + +<p> +“The park is not the only place of meeting. There +are a hundred safer spots—the queen can come to you, +for instance.” +</p> + +<p> +“Monseigneur, not a word more. The weight of your +secret is too much for me, and I believe her capable, in +a fit of remorse, of confessing all to the king.” +</p> + +<p> +“Good God! impossible.” +</p> + +<p> +“If you saw her, you would pity her.” +</p> + +<p> +“What can I do then?” +</p> + +<p> +“Insure your safety by your silence.” +</p> + +<p> +“But she will think I have forgotten her, and accuse +me of being a coward.” +</p> + +<p> +“To save her.” +</p> + +<p> +“Can a woman forgive him who abandons her?” +</p> + +<p> +“Do not judge her like others.” +</p> + +<p> +“I believe her great and strong. I love her for her +courage and her noble heart. She may count on me, as I +do on her. Once more I will see her, lay bare my heart +to her; and whatever she then commands, I will sacredly +obey.” +</p> + +<p> +Jeanne rose. “Go, then,” said she, “but go alone. I +have thrown the key of the park into the river. You can +go to Versailles—I shall go to Switzerland or Holland. +The further off I am when the shell bursts the better.” +</p> + +<p> +“Countess, you abandon me. With whom shall I talk +of her?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! you have the park and the echoes. You can +teach them her name!” +</p> + +<p> +“Countess, pity me; I am in despair.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, but do not act in so childish and dangerous a +manner. If you love her so much, guard her name, and +if you are not totally without gratitude, do not involve +in your own ruin those who have served you through +friendship. Swear to me not to attempt to see or speak +to her for a fortnight, and I will remain, and may yet be +of service to you. But if you decide to brave all, I shall +leave at once, and you must extricate yourself as you +can.” +</p> + +<p> +“It is dreadful,” murmured the cardinal; “the fall +from so much happiness is overwhelming. I shall die of +it.” +</p> + +<p> +“Suffering is always the consequence of love. Come, +monseigneur, decide. Am I to remain here, or start for +Lausanne?” +</p> + +<p> +“Remain, countess.” +</p> + +<p> +“You swear to obey me.” +</p> + +<p> +“On the faith of a Rohan.” +</p> + +<p> +“Good. Well, then, I forbid interviews, but not letters.” +</p> + +<p> +“Really! I may write?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes.” +</p> + +<p> +“And she will answer.” +</p> + +<p> +“Try.” +</p> + +<p> +The cardinal kissed Jeanne’s hand again, and called her +his guardian angel. The demon within her must have +laughed. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2>CHAPTER LXVIII.<br/> +THE NIGHT.</h2> + +<p> +That day, at four o’clock, a man on horseback stopped +in the outskirts of the park, just behind the baths of +Apollo, where M. de Rohan used to wait. He got off, +and looked at the places where the grass had been trodden +down. “Here are the traces,” thought he; “it is +as I supposed. M. de Charny has returned for a fortnight, +and this is where he enters the park.” And he +sighed. “Leave him to his happiness. God gives to +one, and denies to another. But I will have proof to-night. +I will hide in the bushes, and see what happens.” +</p> + +<p> +As for Charny, obedient to the queen’s commands, he +waited for orders; but it was half-past ten, and no one +appeared. He waited with impatient anxiety. Then he +began to think she had deceived him, and had promised +what she did not mean to perform. “How could I be so +foolish—I, who saw her—to be taken in by her words and +promises!” At last he saw a figure approaching, wrapped +in a large black mantle, and he uttered a cry of joy, for +he recognized the queen. He ran to her, and fell at her +feet. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, here you are, sir! it is well.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, madame! I scarcely hoped you were coming.” +</p> + +<p> +“Have you your sword?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, madame.” +</p> + +<p> +“Where do you say those people came in?” +</p> + +<p> +“By this door.” +</p> + +<p> +“At what time?” +</p> + +<p> +“At midnight each time.” +</p> + +<p> +“There is no reason why they should not come again +to-night. You have not spoken to any one.” +</p> + +<p> +“To no one.” +</p> + +<p> +“Come into the thick wood, and let us watch, I have +not spoken of this to M. de Crosne. I have already mentioned +this creature to him, and if she be not arrested, he +is either incapable, or in league with my enemies. It +seems incredible that any one should dare to play such +tricks under my eyes, unless they were sure of impunity. +Therefore, I think it is time to take the care of my reputation +on myself. What do you think?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, madame! allow me to be silent! I am ashamed +of all I have said.” +</p> + +<p> +“At least you are an honest man,” replied the queen, +“and speak to the accused face to face. You do not +stab in the dark.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, madame, it is eleven o’clock! I tremble.” +</p> + +<p> +“Look about, that no one is here.” +</p> + +<p> +Charny obeyed. +</p> + +<p> +“No one,” said he. +</p> + +<p> +“Where did the scenes pass that you have described?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, madame! I had a shock when I returned to you; +for she stood just where you are at this moment.” +</p> + +<p> +“Here!” cried the queen, leaving the place with disgust. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, madame; under the chestnut tree.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then, sir, let us move, for they will most likely come +here again.” +</p> + +<p> +He followed the queen to a different place. She, silent +and proud, waited for the proof of her innocence to appear. +Midnight struck. The door did not open. Half +an hour passed, during which the queen asked ten times +if they had always been punctual. +</p> + +<p> +Three-quarters struck—the queen stamped with impatience. +“They will not come,” she cried; “these misfortunes +only happen to me;” and she looked at Charny, +ready to quarrel with him, if she saw any expression of +triumph or irony: but he, as his suspicions began to +return, grew so pale and looked so melancholy, that he +was like the figure of a martyr. +</p> + +<p> +At last she took his arm, and led him under the chestnut +tree. “You say,” she murmured, “that it was here +you saw her?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, madame.” +</p> + +<p> +“Here that she gave the rose?” And the queen, +fatigued and wearied with waiting and disappointment +leaned against the tree, and covered her face with her +hands, but Charny could see the tears stealing through. +At last she raised her head: +</p> + +<p> +“Sir,” said she, “I am condemned. I promised to +prove to you to-day that I was calumniated; God +does not permit it, and I submit. I have done what +no other woman, not to say queen, would have done. +What a queen! who cannot reign over one heart, who +cannot obtain the esteem of one honest man. Come, +sir, give me your arm, if you do not despise me too +much.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, madame!” cried he, falling at her feet, “if I +were only an unhappy man who loves you, could you not +pardon me?” +</p> + +<p> +“You!” cried she, with a bitter laugh, “you love me! +and believe me infamous!” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, madame!” +</p> + +<p> +“You accuse me of giving roses, kisses, and love. No, +sir, no falsehoods! you do not love me.” +</p> + +<p> +“Madame, I saw these phantoms. Pity me, for I am +on the rack.” +</p> + +<p> +She took his hands. “Yes, you saw, and you think it +was I. Well, if here under this same tree, you at my +feet, I press your hands, and say to you, ‘M, de Charny, I +love you, I have loved, and shall love no one else in this +world, may God pardon me’—will that convince you? +Will you believe me then?” As she spoke, she came so +close to him that he felt her breath on his lips. “Oh!” +cried Charny, “now I am ready to die.” +</p> + +<p> +“Give me your arm,” said she, “and teach me where +they went, and where she gave the rose,”—and she took +from her bosom a rose and held it to him. He took it +and pressed it to his heart. +</p> + +<p> +“Then,” continued she, “the other gave him her hand +to kiss.” +</p> + +<p> +“Both her hands,” cried Charny, pressing his burning +lips passionately on hers. +</p> + +<p> +“Now they visited, the baths—so will we; follow me +to the place.” He followed her, like a man in a strange, +happy dream. They looked all round, then opened the +door, and walked through. Then they came out again: +two o’clock struck. “Adieu,” said she; “go home until +to-morrow.” And she walked away quickly towards the +château. +</p> + +<p> +When they were gone, a man rose from among the +bushes. He had heard and seen all. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2>CHAPTER LXIX.<br/> +THE CONGÉ.</h2> + +<p> +The queen went to mass the next day, which was Sunday, +smiling and beautiful. When she woke in the morning +she said, “It is a lovely day, it makes me happy only +to live.” She seemed full of joy, and was generous and +gracious to every one. The road was lined as usual on +her return with ladies and gentlemen. Among them +were Madame de la Motte and M. de Charny, who was +complimented by many friends on his return, and on his +radiant looks. Glancing round, he saw Philippe standing +near him, whom he had not seen since the day of the duel. +</p> + +<p> +“Gentlemen,” said Charny, passing through the crowd, +“allow me to fulfil an act of politeness;” and, advancing +towards Philippe, he said, “Allow me, M. de Taverney, +to thank you now for the interest you have taken in my +health. I shall have the honor to pay you a visit to-morrow. +I trust you preserve no enmity towards me.” +</p> + +<p> +“None, sir,” replied Philippe. +</p> + +<p> +Charny held out his hand, but Philippe, without seeming +to notice it, said, “Here comes the queen, sir.” As +she approached, she fixed her looks on Charny with that +rash openness which she always showed in her affections, +while she said to several gentlemen who were pressing +round her, “Ask me what you please, gentlemen, for to-day +I can refuse nothing.” A voice said, “Madame.” +She turned, and saw Philippe, and thus found herself between +two men, of whom she almost reproached herself +with loving one too much and the other too little. +</p> + +<p> +“M. de Taverney, you have something to ask me; pray +speak——” +</p> + +<p> +“Only ten minutes’ audience at your majesty’s leisure,” +replied he, with grave solemnity. +</p> + +<p> +“Immediately, sir—follow me.” A quarter of an hour +after, Philippe was introduced into the library, where the +queen waited for him. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah! M. de Taverney, enter,” said she in a gay tone, +“and do not look so sorrowful. Do you know I feel rather +frightened whenever a Taverney asks for an audience. +Reassure me quickly, and tell me that you are not come +to announce a misfortune.” +</p> + +<p> +“Madame, this time I only bring you good news.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! some news.” +</p> + +<p> +“Alas, yes, your majesty.” +</p> + +<p> +“There! an ‘alas’ again.” +</p> + +<p> +“Madame, I am about to assure your majesty that you +need never again fear to be saddened by the sight of a +Taverney; for, madame, the last of this family, to whom +you once deigned to show some kindness, is about to +leave the court of France forever.” +</p> + +<p> +The queen, dropping her gay tone, said, “You leave +us?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, your majesty.” +</p> + +<p> +“You also!” +</p> + +<p> +Philippe bowed. “My sister, madame, has already had +that grief; I am much more useless to your majesty.” +</p> + +<p> +The queen started as she remembered that Andrée had +asked for her congé on the day following her first visit to +Charny in the doctor’s apartments. “It is strange,” she +murmured, as Philippe remained motionless as a statue, +waiting his dismissal. At last she said abruptly, “Where +are you going?” +</p> + +<p> +“To join M. de la Pérouse, madame.” +</p> + +<p> +“He is at Newfoundland.” +</p> + +<p> +“I have prepared to join him there.” +</p> + +<p> +“Do you know that a frightful death has been predicted +for him?” +</p> + +<p> +“A speedy one,” replied Philippe; “that is not necessarily +a frightful one.” +</p> + +<p> +“And you are really going?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, madame, to share his fate.” +</p> + +<p> +The queen was silent for a time, and then said, “Why +do you go?” +</p> + +<p> +“Because I am anxious to travel.” +</p> + +<p> +“But you have already made the tour of the world.” +</p> + +<p> +“Of the New World, madame, but not of the Old.” +</p> + +<p> +“A race of iron, with hearts of steel, are you Taverneys. +You and your sister are terrible people—you go not for +the sake of traveling, but to leave me. Your sister said +she was called by religions duty; it was a pretext. However, +she wished to go, and she went. May she be happy! +You might be happy here, but you also wish to go away.” +</p> + +<p> +“Spare us, I pray you, madame; if you could read our +hearts, you would find them full of unlimited devotion towards +you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh!” cried the queen, “you are too exacting; she +takes the world for a heaven, where one should only live +as a saint; you look upon it as a hell—and both fly from +it; she because she finds what she does not seek, and you +because you do not find what you do seek. Am I not +right? Ah! M. de Taverney, allow human beings to be +imperfect, and do not expect royalty to be superhuman. +Be more tolerant, or, rather, less egotistical.” She spoke +earnestly, and continued: “All I know is, that I loved +Andrée, and that she left me; that I valued you, and +you are about to do the same. It is humiliating to see +two such people abandon my court.” +</p> + +<p> +“Nothing can humiliate persons like your majesty. +Shame does not reach those placed so high.” +</p> + +<p> +“What has wounded you?” asked the queen. +</p> + +<p> +“Nothing, madame.” +</p> + +<p> +“Your rank has been raised, your fortune was progressing.” +</p> + +<p> +“I can but repeat to your majesty that the court does +not please me.” +</p> + +<p> +“And if I ordered you to stay here?” +</p> + +<p> +“I should have the grief of disobeying your majesty.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! I know,” cried she impatiently, “you bear malice; +you quarreled with a gentleman here, M. de Charny, and +wounded him; and because you see him returned to-day, +you are jealous, and wish to leave.” +</p> + +<p> +Philippe turned pale, but replied, “Madame, I saw +him sooner than you imagine, for I met him at two o’clock +this morning by the baths of Apollo.” +</p> + +<p> +It was now the queen’s time to grow pale, but she felt +a kind of admiration for one who had retained so much +courtesy and self-command in the midst of his anger and +grief. “Go,” murmured she at length, in a faint voice, +“I will keep you no longer.” +</p> + +<p> +Philippe bowed, and left the room, while the queen +sank, terrified and overwhelmed, on the sofa. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2>CHAPTER LXX.<br/> +THE JEALOUSY OF THE CARDINAL.</h2> + +<p> +The cardinal passed three nights very different to those +when he went to the park, and which he constantly lived +over again in his memory. No news of any one, no hope +of a visit; nothing but a dead silence, and perfect darkness, +after such brightness and happiness. He began to +fear that, after all, his sacrifice had been displeasing to +the queen. His uneasiness became insupportable. He +sent ten times in one day to Madame de la Motte: the +tenth messenger brought Jeanne to him. On seeing her +he cried out, “How! you live so tranquilly; you know +my anxiety, and you, my friend, never come near me.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, monseigneur, patience, I beg. I have been far +more useful to you at Versailles than I could have been +here.” +</p> + +<p> +“Tell me,” replied he, “what does she say? Is she +less cruel?” +</p> + +<p> +“Absence is equal pain, whether borne at Versailles or +at Paris.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, I thank you, but the proofs——” +</p> + +<p> +“Proofs! Are you in your senses, monseigneur, to +ask a woman for proofs of her own infidelity?” +</p> + +<p> +“I am not speaking of proofs for a lawsuit, countess, +only a token of love.” +</p> + +<p> +“It seems to me that you are either very exacting or +very forgetful.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! I know you will tell me that I might be more +than satisfied. But judge by yourself, countess; would +you like to be thrown on one side, after having received +assurances of favor?” +</p> + +<p> +“Assurances!” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, certainly, I have nothing to complain of, but +still——” +</p> + +<p> +“I cannot be answerable for unreasonable discontents.” +</p> + +<p> +“Countess, you treat me ill. Instead of reproaching +me for my folly, you should try to aid me.” +</p> + +<p> +“I cannot aid you. I see nothing to do.” +</p> + +<p> +“Nothing to do?” +</p> + +<p> +“No.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, madame, I do not say the same.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, monseigneur, anger will not help you; and besides, +you are unjust.” +</p> + +<p> +“No, countess; if you do not assist me any longer, I +know it is because you cannot. Only tell me the truth +at once.” +</p> + +<p> +“What truth?” +</p> + +<p> +“That the queen is a perfidious coquette, who makes +people adore her, and then drives them to despair.” +</p> + +<p> +Jeanne looked at him with an air of surprise, although +she had expected him to arrive at this state, and she felt +really pleased, for she thought that it would help her out +of her difficult position. “Explain yourself,” she said. +</p> + +<p> +“Confess that the queen refuses to see me.” +</p> + +<p> +“I do not say so, monseigneur.” +</p> + +<p> +“She wishes to keep me away lest I should rouse the +suspicions of some other lover.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, monseigneur!” cried Jeanne in a tone which +gave him liberty to suspect anything. +</p> + +<p> +“Listen,” continued he; “the last time I saw her, I +thought I heard steps in the wood——” +</p> + +<p> +“Folly!” +</p> + +<p> +“And I suspect——” +</p> + +<p> +“Say no more, monseigneur. It is an insult to the +queen; besides, even if it were true that she fears the +surveillance of another lover, why should you reproach +her with a past which she has sacrificed to you?” +</p> + +<p> +“But if this past be again a present, and about to be a +future?” +</p> + +<p> +“Fie, monseigneur, your suspicions are offensive both +to the queen and to me.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then, countess, bring me a proof—does she love me +at all?” +</p> + +<p> +“It is very simple,” replied Jeanne, pointing to his +writing table, “to ask her.” +</p> + +<p> +“You will give her a note?” +</p> + +<p> +“Who else would, if not I?” +</p> + +<p> +“And you will bring me an answer?” +</p> + +<p> +“If possible.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah! now you are a good creature, countess.” +</p> + +<p> +He sat down, but though he was an eloquent writer, he +commenced and destroyed a dozen sheets of paper before +he satisfied himself. +</p> + +<p> +“If you go on so, you will never have done,” said +Jeanne. +</p> + +<p> +“You see, countess, I fear my own tenderness, lest I +displease the queen.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh,” replied Jeanne, “if you write a business letter, +you will get one in reply. That is your own affair.” +</p> + +<p> +“You are right, countess; you always see what is +best.” He then wrote a letter, so full of loving reproaches +and ardent protestations, that Jeanne, when he gave it to +her to read, thought, “He has written of his own accord +what I never should have dared to dictate.” +</p> + +<p> +“Will it do?” asked he. +</p> + +<p> +“If she loves you. You will see to-morrow: till then +be quiet.” +</p> + +<p> +“Till to-morrow, then.” +</p> + +<p> +On her return home Jeanne gave way to her reflections. +This letter was just what she wanted. How +could the cardinal ever accuse her, when he was called on +to pay for the necklace? Even admitting that the queen +and cardinal met, and that everything was explained, +how could they turn against her while she held in her +hands such proofs of a scandalous secret? No, they must +let her go quietly off with her fortune of a million and a +half of francs. They would know she had stolen the +diamonds, but they never would publish all this affair; +and if one letter was not enough, she would have seven +or eight. The first explosion would come from the +jewelers, who would claim their money. Then she must +confess to M. de Rohan, and make him pay by threatening +to publish his letters. Surely they would purchase +the honor of a queen and a prince at the price of a +million and a half! The jewelers once paid, that question +was at an end; Jeanne felt sure of her fortune. She +knew that the cardinal had a conviction so firm that +nothing could shake it, that he had met the queen. There +was but one living witness against her, and that one she +would soon cause to disappear. Arrived at this point, she +went to the window and saw Oliva, who was watching in her +balcony. She made the accustomed sign for her to come +down, and Oliva replied joyfully. The great thing now +was to get rid of her. To destroy the instrument that +has served them is the constant endeavor of those who +intrigue; but here it is that they generally fail; they do +not succeed in doing so before there has been time to +disclose the secret. Jeanne knew that Oliva would not +be easy to get rid of, unless she could think of something +that would induce her to fly willingly. Oliva, on her part, +much as she enjoyed her nocturnal promenades at first, +after so much confinement, was already beginning to +weary of them, and to sigh once more for liberty and +Beausire. +</p> + +<p> +The night came, and they went out together; Oliva +disguised under a large cloak and hood, and Jeanne +dressed as a grisette; besides which the carriage bore the +respectable arms of Valois, which prevented the police, +who alone might have recognized Oliva, from searching +it. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! I have been so ennuyée,” cried Oliva, “I have +been expecting you so long.” +</p> + +<p> +“It was impossible to come and see you, I should have +run, and made you run, a great danger.” +</p> + +<p> +“How so?” said Oliva, astonished. +</p> + +<p> +“A terrible danger at which I still tremble. You +know how ennuyée you were, and how much you wished +to go out.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes; and you assisted me like a friend.” +</p> + +<p> +“Certainly; I proposed that we should have some +amusement with that officer who is rather mad, and in +love with the queen, whom you resemble a little; and +endeavor to persuade him that it was the queen he was +walking with.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” said Oliva. +</p> + +<p> +“The first two nights you walked in the park, and you +played your part to perfection; he was quite taken in.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” said Oliva, “but it was almost a pity to deceive +him, poor fellow, he was so delightful.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, but the evil is not there. To give a man a +rose, to let him kiss your hands, and call you ‘your +majesty,’ was all good fun; but, my little Oliva, it seems +you did not stop here.” +</p> + +<p> +Oliva colored. +</p> + +<p> +“How?” stammered she. +</p> + +<p> +“There was a third interview.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” replied Oliva, hastily, “you know, for you +were there.” +</p> + +<p> +“Excuse me, dear friend; I was there, but at a distance. +I neither saw nor heard what passed within, I +only know what you told me, that he talked and kissed +your hands.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, mon Dieu!” murmured Oliva. +</p> + +<p> +“You surely could not have exposed us both to such a +terrible danger without telling me of it.” +</p> + +<p> +Oliva trembled from head to foot. +</p> + +<p> +Jeanne continued. “How could I imagine that you, +who said you loved M. Beausire, and were courted by +a man like Count Cagliostro, whom you refused; oh! it +cannot be true.” +</p> + +<p> +“But where is the danger?” asked Oliva. +</p> + +<p> +“The danger! Have we not to manage a madman, +one who fears nothing, and will not be controlled. It +was no great thing for the queen to give him her hand to +kiss or to give him a rose; oh, my dear child, I have not +smiled since I heard this.” +</p> + +<p> +“What do you fear?” asked Oliva, her teeth chattering +with terror. +</p> + +<p> +“Why, as you are not the queen, and have taken her +name, and in her name have committed a folly of this +kind, that is unfortunately treason. He has no proof of +this—they may be satisfied with a prison or banishment.” +</p> + +<p> +“A prison! banishment!” shrieked Oliva. +</p> + +<p> +“I, at least, intend to take precautions and hide +myself.” +</p> + +<p> +“You fear also?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! will not this madman divulge my share also? +My poor Oliva, this trick of yours will cost us dear.” +</p> + +<p> +Oliva burst into tears. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh!” she cried, “I think I am possessed of a +demon, that I can never rest: just saved from one danger, +I must rush into another. Suppose I confess all to +my protector?” +</p> + +<p> +“A fine story to confess to him, whose advances you +refused, that you have committed this imprudence with +a stranger.” +</p> + +<p> +“Mon Dieu! you are right.” +</p> + +<p> +“Soon this report will spread, and will reach his ears; +then do you not think he will give you up to the police? +Even if he only send you away, what will become of +you?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! I am lost.” +</p> + +<p> +“And M. Beausire, when he shall hear this——?” +</p> + +<p> +Oliva started, and wringing her hands violently, cried +out, “Oh, he would kill me; but no, I will kill myself. +You cannot save me, since you are compromised also.” +</p> + +<p> +“I have,” replied Jeanne, “in the furthest part of +Picardy, a little farm. If you can gain this refuge, you +might be safe.” +</p> + +<p> +“But you?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, once you were gone, I should not fear him.” +</p> + +<p> +“I will go whenever you like.” +</p> + +<p> +“I think you are wise.” +</p> + +<p> +“Must I go at once?” +</p> + +<p> +“Wait till I have prepared everything to insure safety; +meanwhile, hide yourself, and do not come near the +window.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh yes, dear friend.” +</p> + +<p> +“And to begin, let us go home, as there is no more to +say.” +</p> + +<p> +“How long will your preparations take?” +</p> + +<p> +“I do not know, but remember henceforth, until the +day of your departure I shall not come to the window. +When you see me there, you will know that the day has +arrived, and be prepared.” +</p> + +<p> +They returned in silence. On arriving, Oliva begged +pardon humbly of her friend for bringing her into so +much danger through her folly. +</p> + +<p> +“I am a woman,” replied Jeanne, “and can pardon a +woman’s weakness.” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2>CHAPTER LXXI.<br/> +THE FLIGHT.</h2> + +<p> +Oliva kept her promise, and Jeanne also. Oliva hid +herself from every one, and Jeanne made her preparations, +and in a few days made her appearance at the window as +a sign to Oliva to be ready that evening for flight. +</p> + +<p> +Oliva, divided between joy and terror, began immediately +to prepare. Jeanne went to arrange about the carriage +that was to convey her away. Eleven o’clock at +night had just struck when Jeanne arrived with a post-chaise +to which three strong horses were harnessed. A +man wrapped in a cloak sat on the box, directing the +postilions. Jeanne made them stop at the corner of the +street, saying, “Remain here—half an hour will suffice—and +then I will bring the person whom you are to conduct +with all possible speed to Amiens. There you will +give her into the care of the farmer who is my tenant; +he has his instructions.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, madame.” +</p> + +<p> +“I forgot—are you armed? This lady is menaced by +a madman; he might, perhaps, try to stop her on the +road.” +</p> + +<p> +“What should I do?” +</p> + +<p> +“Fire on any one who tries to impede your journey.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, madame.” +</p> + +<p> +“You asked me seventy louis; I will give you a hundred, +and will pay the expenses of the voyage which you +had better make to London. Do not return here; it is +more prudent for you to go to St. Valery, and embark at +once for England.” +</p> + +<p> +“Rely on me, madame.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, I will go and bring the lady.” +</p> + +<p> +All seemed asleep in that quiet house. Jeanne lighted +the lamp which was to be the signal to Oliva, but received +no answering sign. “She will come down in the dark,” +thought Jeanne; and she went to the door, but it did not +open. Oliva was perhaps bringing down her packages. +“The fool!” murmured the countess, “how much time +she is wasting over her rubbish!” She waited a quarter +of an hour—no one came; then half-past eleven struck. +“Perhaps she did not see my signal,” thought Jeanne; +and she went up and lighted it again, but it was not acknowledged. +“She must be ill,” cried Jeanne, in a rage, +“and cannot move.” Then she took the key which Oliva +had given her; but just as she was about to open the +door, she thought, “Suppose some one should be there? +But I should hear voices on the staircase, and could return. +I must risk something.” She went up, and on +arriving outside Oliva’s door she saw a light inside and +heard footsteps, but no voices. “It is all right,” she +thought; “she was only a long time getting ready.” +“Oliva,” said she softly, “open the door.” The door +opened, and Jeanne found herself face to face with a man +holding a torch in his hand. +</p> + +<p> +“Oliva,” said he, “is this you?” Then, with a tone +of admirably-feigned surprise, cried, “Madame de la +Motte!” +</p> + +<p> +“M. de Cagliostro!” said she in terror, feeling half +inclined to run away; but he took her hand politely, and +begged her to sit down. +</p> + +<p> +“To what do I owe the honor of this visit, madame?” +</p> + +<p> +“Monsieur,” said she, stammering, “I came—I +sought——” +</p> + +<p> +“Allow me, madame, to inquire which of my servants +was guilty of the rudeness of letting you come up unattended?” +</p> + +<p> +Jeanne trembled. +</p> + +<p> +“You must have fallen to the lot of my stupid German +porter, who is always tipsy.” +</p> + +<p> +“Do not scold him, I beg you, sir,” replied Jeanne, +who could hardly speak. +</p> + +<p> +“But was it he?” +</p> + +<p> +“I believe so. But you promise me not to scold him?” +</p> + +<p> +“I will not; only, madame, will you now explain to +me——” +</p> + +<p> +Jeanne began to gather courage. +</p> + +<p> +“I came to consult you, sir, about certain reports.” +</p> + +<p> +“What reports?” +</p> + +<p> +“Do not hurry me, sir; it is a delicate subject.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah! you want time to invent,” thought he. +</p> + +<p> +“You are a friend of M. le Cardinal de Rohan?” +</p> + +<p> +“I am acquainted with him, madame.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, I came to ask you——” +</p> + +<p> +“What?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, sir, you must know that he has shown me much +kindness, and I wish to know if I may rely upon it. You +understand me, sir? You read all hearts.” +</p> + +<p> +“You must be a little more explicit before I can assist +you, madame.” +</p> + +<p> +“Monsieur, they say that his eminence loves elsewhere +in a high quarter.” +</p> + +<p> +“Madame, allow me first to ask you one question. +How did you come to seek me here, since I do not live +here?” Jeanne trembled. “How did you get in?—for +there are neither porter nor servants in this part of my +hotel. It could not be me you sought here—who was it? +You do not reply; I must aid you a little. You came +in by the help of a key which you have now in your pocket. +You came to seek a young woman whom from pure kindness +I had concealed here.” +</p> + +<p> +Jeanne trembled visibly, but replied, “If it were so, it +is no crime; one woman is permitted to visit another. +Call her; she will tell you if my friendship is a hurtful +one.” +</p> + +<p> +“Madame, you say that because you know she is not +here.” +</p> + +<p> +“Not here! Oliva not here?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh you do not know that—you, who helped her to +escape!” +</p> + +<p> +“I!” cried Jeanne; “you accuse me of that?” +</p> + +<p> +“I convict you,” replied Cagliostro; and he took a +paper from the table, and showed her the following words, +addressed to himself: +</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p> +“<span class="smcap">Monsieur</span>, and my generous protector, forgive me +for leaving you; but above all things I love M. Beausire. +He came and I follow him. Adieu! Believe in my +gratitude!” +</p></div> + +<p> +“Beausire!” cried Jeanne, petrified; “he, who did not +even know her address?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, madame, here is another paper, which was doubtless +dropped by M. Beausire.” The countess read, shuddering: +</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p> +“M. Beausire will find Mademoiselle Oliva, Rue St. +Claude, at the corner of the boulevard. He had better +come for her at once; it is time. This is the advice of a +sincere friend.” +</p></div> + +<p> +“Oh!” groaned the countess. +</p> + +<p> +“And he has taken her away,” said Cagliostro. +</p> + +<p> +“But who wrote this note?” +</p> + +<p> +“Doubtless yourself.” +</p> + +<p> +“But how did he get in?” +</p> + +<p> +“Probably with your key.” +</p> + +<p> +“But as I have it here, he could not have it.” +</p> + +<p> +“Whoever has one can easily have two.” +</p> + +<p> +“You are convinced,” replied she, “while I can only +suspect.” She turned and went away, but found the +staircase lighted and filled with men-servants. Cagliostro +called out loudly before them, “Madame la Comtesse de +la Motte!” She went out full of rage and disappointment. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2>CHAPTER LXXII.<br/> +THE LETTER AND THE RECEIPT.</h2> + +<p> +The day arrived for the payment of the first 500,000 +francs. The jewelers had prepared a receipt, but no one +came with the money in exchange for it. They passed +the day and night in a state of cruel anxiety. The following +day M. Bœhmer went to Versailles, and asked to +see the queen; he was told that he could not be admitted +without a letter of audience. However, he begged +so hard, and urged his solicitations so well among the +servants, that they consented to place him in the queen’s +way when she went out. Marie Antoinette, still full of +joy from her interview with Charny, came along, looking +bright and happy, when she caught sight of the somewhat +solemn face of M. Bœhmer. She smiled on him, +which he took for a favorable sign, and asked for an audience, +which was promised him for two o’clock. On his +return to Bossange, they agreed that no doubt the money +was all right, only the queen had been unable to send it +the day before. At two o’clock Bœhmer returned to +Versailles. +</p> + +<p> +“What is it now, M. Bœhmer?” asked the queen, as +he entered. Bœhmer thought some one must be listening, +and looked cautiously around him. +</p> + +<p> +“Have you any secret to tell?” asked the queen, in +surprise. “The same as before, I suppose—some jewels +to sell. But make yourself easy; no one can hear you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ahem!” murmured Bœhmer, startled at his reception. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, what?” +</p> + +<p> +“Then I may speak out to your majesty?” +</p> + +<p> +“Anything; only be quick.” +</p> + +<p> +“I only wished to say that your majesty probably forgot +us yesterday.” +</p> + +<p> +“Forgot you! what do you mean?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yesterday the sum was due——” +</p> + +<p> +“What sum?” +</p> + +<p> +“Pardon me, your majesty, if I am indiscreet. Perhaps +your majesty is not prepared. It would be a misfortune; +but still——” +</p> + +<p> +“But,” interrupted the queen, “I do not understand +a word of what you are saying. Pray explain yourself.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yesterday the first payment for the necklace was +due.” +</p> + +<p> +“Have you sold it, then?” +</p> + +<p> +“Certainly, your majesty,” replied Bœhmer, looking +stupefied. +</p> + +<p> +“And those to whom you have sold it have not paid, +my poor Bœhmer? So much the worse; but they must +do as I did, and, if they cannot pay, send it you back +again.” +</p> + +<p> +The jeweler staggered like a man who had just had a +sunstroke. “I do not understand your majesty,” he +said. +</p> + +<p> +“Why, Bœhmer, if ten purchasers were each to send +it back, and give you 100,000 francs, as I did, you would +make a million, and keep your necklace also.” +</p> + +<p> +“Your majesty says,” cried Bœhmer, ready to drop, +“that you sent me back the necklace!” +</p> + +<p> +“Certainly. What is the matter?” +</p> + +<p> +“What! your majesty denies having bought the necklace?” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah! what comedy is this, sir?” said the queen, +severely. “Is this unlucky necklace destined to turn +some one’s brain?” +</p> + +<p> +“But did your majesty really say that you had returned +the necklace?” +</p> + +<p> +“Happily,” replied the queen, “I can refresh your +memory, as you are so forgetful, to say nothing more.” +She went to her secretaire, and, taking out the receipt, +showed it to him, saying, “I suppose this is clear +enough?” +</p> + +<p> +Bœhmer’s expression changed from incredulity to terror. +“Madame,” cried he, “I never signed this receipt!” +</p> + +<p> +“You deny it!” said the queen, with flashing eyes. +</p> + +<p> +“Positively, if I lose my life for it. I never received +the necklace; I never signed the receipt. Were the +headsman here, or the gallows, I would repeat the same +thing!” +</p> + +<p> +“Then, sir,” said the queen, “do you think I have +robbed you? do you think I have your necklace?” +</p> + +<p> +Bœhmer drew out a pocket-book, and in his turn produced +a letter. “I do not believe,” said he, “that if +your majesty had wished to return the necklace, you +would have written this.” +</p> + +<p> +“I write! I never wrote to you; that is not my writing.” +</p> + +<p> +“It is signed,” said Bœhmer. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, ‘Marie Antoinette of France.’ You are mad! +Do you think that is the way I sign? I am of Austria. +Go, M. Bœhmer; you have played this game unskilfully; +your forgers have not understood their work.” +</p> + +<p> +“My forgers!” cried the poor Bœhmer, ready to faint +at this new blow. “You suspect me?” +</p> + +<p> +“You accuse me, Marie Antoinette?” replied she. +</p> + +<p> +“But this letter?” +</p> + +<p> +“This receipt? Give it me back, and take your letter; +the first lawyer you ask will tell you how much that is +worth.” And taking the receipt from his trembling +hands, and throwing the letter indignantly down, she +left the room. +</p> + +<p> +The unfortunate man ran to communicate this dreadful +blow to his partner, who was waiting in the carriage +for him; and on their way home their gestures and cries +of grief were so frantic as to attract the attention of every +passer-by. At last they decided to return to Versailles. +</p> + +<p> +Immediately they presented themselves they were admitted +by the order of the queen. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2>CHAPTER LXXIII.<br/> +“Roi ne puis, prince ne daigne,<br /> +Rohan je suis.”<a name="FNanchor_B_" id="FNanchor_B_"></a><a href="#Footnote_B_" class="fnanchor">[B]</a><br /> +</h2> + +<p> +“Ah!” cried the queen, immediately they entered, +“you have brought a reinforcement, M. Bœhmer; so +much the better.” +</p> + +<p> +Bœhmer kneeled at her feet, and Bossange followed his +example. +</p> + +<p> +“Gentlemen,” said she, “I have now grown calm, and +an idea has come into my head which has modified my +opinion with regard to you. It seems to me that we have +both been duped.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, madame, you suspect me no longer. Forger was +a dreadful word.” +</p> + +<p> +“No, I do not suspect you now.” +</p> + +<p> +“Does your majesty suspect any one else?” +</p> + +<p> +“Reply to my questions. You say you have not these +diamonds?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, madame, we have not.” +</p> + +<p> +“It then matters little to you that I sent them—that +is my affair. Did you not see Madame de la Motte?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, madame.” +</p> + +<p> +“And she gave you nothing from me?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, madame; she only said to us, ‘Wait.’” +</p> + +<p> +“But this letter—who brought it?” +</p> + +<p> +“An unknown messenger, during the night.” +</p> + +<p> +She rang, and a servant entered. +</p> + +<p> +“Send for Madame de la Motte. And,” continued the +queen to M. Bœhmer, “did you see M. de Rohan?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, madame; he paid us a visit in order to ask.” +</p> + +<p> +“Good!” said the queen. “I wish to hear no more +now; but if he be mixed up with this affair, I think you +need not despair. I think I can guess what Madame de +la Motte meant by saying ‘Wait.’ Meanwhile, go to M. +de Rohan, and tell him all you have told us, and that I +know it.” +</p> + +<p> +The jewelers had a renewed spark of hope; only Bossange +said that the receipt was a false one, and that that +was a crime. +</p> + +<p> +“True,” replied Marie Antoinette, “if you did not +write it, it is a crime; but to prove this I must confront +you with the person whom I charged to return you the +jewels.” +</p> + +<p> +“Whenever your majesty pleases; we do not fear the +test.” +</p> + +<p> +“Go first to M. de Rohan; he alone can enlighten +you.” +</p> + +<p> +“And will your majesty permit us to bring you his +answer?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes; but I dare say I shall know all before you do.” +</p> + +<p> +When they were gone she was restless and unquiet, and +despatched courier after courier for Madame de la Motte. +</p> + +<p> +We will, however, leave her for the present, and follow +the jewelers in their search after the truth. +</p> + +<p> +The cardinal was at home, reading, with a rage impossible +to describe, a little note which Madame de la Motte +had just sent him, as she said, from Versailles. It was +harsh, forbidding any hope, ordering him to think no +more of the past, not to appear again at Versailles, and +ending with an appeal to his loyalty not to attempt to +renew relations which were become impossible. +</p> + +<p> +“Coquette, capricious, perfidious!” cried he. “Here +are four letters which she has written to me, each more +unjust and tyrannical than the other. She encouraged +me only for a caprice, and now sacrifices me to a new +one.” +</p> + +<p> +It was at this moment that the jewelers presented themselves. +Three times he refused them admittance, and +each time the servant came back, saying that they would +not go without an audience. “Let them come in, then,” +said he. +</p> + +<p> +“What means this rudeness, gentlemen? No one owes +you anything here.” +</p> + +<p> +The jewelers, driven to despair, made a half-menacing +gesture. +</p> + +<p> +“Are you mad?” asked the cardinal. +</p> + +<p> +“Monseigneur,” replied Bœhmer, with a sigh, “do us +justice, and do not compel us to be rude to an illustrious +prince.” +</p> + +<p> +“Either you are not mad, in which case my servants +shall throw you out of the window; or you are mad, and +they shall simply push you out of the door.” +</p> + +<p> +“Monseigneur, we are not mad, but we have been +robbed.” +</p> + +<p> +“What is that to me? I am not lieutenant of police.” +</p> + +<p> +“But you have had the necklace in your hands, and in +justice——” +</p> + +<p> +“The necklace! is it the necklace that is stolen?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, monseigneur.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, what does the queen say about it?” +</p> + +<p> +“She sent me to you.” +</p> + +<p> +“She is very amiable; but what can I do, my poor +fellows?” +</p> + +<p> +“You can tell us, monseigneur, what has been done +with it.” +</p> + +<p> +“I?” +</p> + +<p> +“Doubtless.” +</p> + +<p> +“Do you think I stole the necklace from the queen?” +</p> + +<p> +“It is not the queen from whom it was stolen.” +</p> + +<p> +“Mon Dieu! from whom, then?” +</p> + +<p> +“The queen denies having had it in her possession.” +</p> + +<p> +“How! she denies it? But I thought you had an +acknowledgment from her.” +</p> + +<p> +“She says it is a forged one.” +</p> + +<p> +“Decidedly, you are mad!” cried the cardinal. +</p> + +<p> +“We simply speak the truth.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then she denied it because some one was there.” +</p> + +<p> +“No, monseigneur. And this is not all: not only does +the queen deny her own acknowledgment, but she produced +a receipt from us, purporting that we had received +back the necklace.” +</p> + +<p> +“A receipt from you?” +</p> + +<p> +“Which also is a forgery, M. le Cardinal—you know it.” +</p> + +<p> +“A forgery, and I know it!” +</p> + +<p> +“Assuredly, for you came to confirm what Madame de +la Motte had said; and you knew that we had sold the +necklace to the queen.” +</p> + +<p> +“Come,” said the cardinal, “this seems a serious affair. +This is what I did: first, I bought the necklace of you for +her majesty, and paid you 100,000 francs.” +</p> + +<p> +“True, monseigneur.” +</p> + +<p> +“Afterwards you told me that the queen had acknowledged +the debt in writing, and fixed the periods of payment.” +</p> + +<p> +“We said so. Will your eminence look at this signature?” +</p> + +<p> +He looked at it, and said directly, “‘Marie Antoinette +of France:’ you have been deceived, gentlemen; this is +not her signature; she is of the House of Austria.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then,” cried the jewelers, “Madame de la Motte +must know the forger and the robber.” +</p> + +<p> +The cardinal appeared struck with this. He acted like +the queen; he rang, and said, “Send for Madame de la +Motte.” His servants went after Jeanne’s carriage, which +had not long left the hotel. +</p> + +<p> +M. Bœhmer continued, “But where is the necklace?” +</p> + +<p> +“How can I tell?” cried the cardinal; “I gave it to +the queen. I know no more.” +</p> + +<p> +“We must have our necklace, or our money,” cried the +jewelers. +</p> + +<p> +“Gentlemen, this is not my business.” +</p> + +<p> +“It is Madame de la Motte,” cried they in despair, +“who has ruined us.” +</p> + +<p> +“I forbid you to accuse her here.” +</p> + +<p> +“Some one must be guilty; some one wrote the forged +papers.” +</p> + +<p> +“Was it I?” asked M. de Rohan, haughtily. +</p> + +<p> +“Monseigneur, we do not wish to say so.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, who then?” +</p> + +<p> +“Monseigneur, we desire an explanation.” +</p> + +<p> +“Wait till I have one myself.” +</p> + +<p> +“But, monseigneur, what are we to say to the queen? +For she accused us at first.” +</p> + +<p> +“What does she say now?” +</p> + +<p> +“She says that either you or Madame de la Motte has +the necklace, for she has not.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well,” replied the cardinal, pale with rage and shame, +“go and tell her—no, tell her nothing; there is scandal +enough. But to-morrow I officiate at the chapel at Versailles: +when I approach the queen, come to us; I will +ask her again if she has the necklace, and you shall hear +what she replies; if she denies it before me, then, gentlemen, +I am a Rohan, and will pay.” And with these words, +pronounced with an indescribable dignity, he dismissed +them. +</p> + +<div class="footnote"><p> +<a name="Footnote_B_" id="Footnote_B_"></a><a href="#FNanchor_B_"><span class="label">[B]</span></a> The motto of the Rohans. +</p></div> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2>CHAPTER LXXIV.<br/> +LOVE AND DIPLOMACY.</h2> + +<p> +The next morning, about ten o’clock, a carriage bearing +the arms of M. de Breteuil entered Versailles. Our +readers will not have forgotten that this gentleman was +a personal enemy of M. de Rohan, and had long been on +the watch for an opportunity of injuring him. He now +requested an audience from the king, and was admitted. +</p> + +<p> +“It is a beautiful day,” said Louis to his minister; +“there is not a cloud in the sky.” +</p> + +<p> +“Sire, I am sorry to bring with me a cloud on your +tranquillity.” +</p> + +<p> +“So am I,” replied the king, “but what is it?” +</p> + +<p> +“I feel very much embarrassed, sire, more especially +as, perhaps, this affair naturally concerns the lieutenant +of police rather than myself, for it is a sort of theft.” +</p> + +<p> +“A theft! well, speak out.” +</p> + +<p> +“Sire, your majesty knows the diamond necklace?” +</p> + +<p> +“M. Bœhmer’s, which the queen refused?” +</p> + +<p> +“Precisely, sire,” said M. de Breteuil; and ignorant +of all the mischief he was about to do, he continued, +“and this necklace has been stolen.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah! so much the worse. But diamonds are very +easy to trace.” +</p> + +<p> +“But, sire, this is not an ordinary theft; it is pretended +that the queen has kept the necklace.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why, she refused it in my presence.” +</p> + +<p> +“Sire, I did not use the right word; the calumnies are +too gross.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah!” said the king with a smile, “I suppose they +say now that the queen has stolen the necklace.” +</p> + +<p> +“Sire,” replied M. Breteuil, “they say that the queen +recommenced the negotiation for the purchase privately, +and that the jewelers hold a paper signed by her, acknowledging +that she kept it. I need not tell your majesty +how much I despise all such scandalous falsehoods.” +</p> + +<p> +“They say this!” said the king, turning pale. +“What do they not say? Had the queen really bought +it afterwards, I should not have blamed her. She is a +woman, and the necklace is marvelously beautiful; and, +thank God, she could still afford it, if she wished for it. +I shall only blame her for one thing, for hiding her +wishes from me. But that has nothing to do with the +king, only with the husband. A husband may scold his +wife if he pleases, and no one has a right to interfere. But +then,” continued he, “what do you mean by a robbery?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! I fear I have made your majesty angry.” +</p> + +<p> +The king laughed. “Come, tell me all; tell me even +that the queen sold the necklace to the Jews. Poor woman, +she is often in want of money, oftener than I can +give it to her.” +</p> + +<p> +“Exactly so; about two months ago the queen asked +for 500,000 francs, and your majesty refused it.” +</p> + +<p> +“True.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, sire, they say that this money was to have been +the first payment for the necklace. The queen, being +denied the money, could not pay——” +</p> + +<p> +“Well!” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, sire, they say the queen applied to some one to +help her.” +</p> + +<p> +“To a Jew?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, sire; not to a Jew.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! I guess, some foreign intrigue. The queen +asked her mother, or some of her family, for money.” +</p> + +<p> +“It would have been better if she had, sire.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, to whom, then, did she apply?” +</p> + +<p> +“Sire, I dare not——” +</p> + +<p> +“Monsieur, I am tired of this. I order you to speak +out at once. Who lent this money to the queen?” +</p> + +<p> +“M. de Rohan.” +</p> + +<p> +“M. de Rohan! Are you not ashamed to name to me +the most embarrassed man in my kingdom?” +</p> + +<p> +“Sire,” said M. de Breteuil, lowering his eyes. +</p> + +<p> +“M. de Breteuil, your manner annoys me. If you have +anything to say, speak at once.” +</p> + +<p> +“Sire, I cannot bring myself to utter things so compromising +to the honor of my king and queen.” +</p> + +<p> +“Speak, sir; if there are calumnies, they must be refuted.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then, sire, M. de Rohan went to the jewelers, and +arranged for the purchase of the necklace, and the mode +of payment.” +</p> + +<p> +“Really!” cried the king, annoyed and angry. +</p> + +<p> +“It is a fact, sire, capable of being proved with the +greatest certainty. I pledge my word for this.” +</p> + +<p> +“This is most annoying,” said the king; “but still, +sir, we have not heard of a theft.” +</p> + +<p> +“Sire, the jewelers say that they have a receipt signed +by the queen, and she denies having the necklace.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah!” cried the king, with renewed hope; “she +denies it, you see, M. de Breteuil.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, sire! I never doubted her majesty’s innocence. +I am indeed unfortunate, if your majesty does not see all +my respect for the purest of women.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then you only accuse M. de Rohan?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, sire. And appearances demand some inquiry +into his conduct. The queen says she has not the necklace—the +jewelers say they sold it to her. It is not to be +found, and the word ‘theft’ is used as connected both +with the queen and M. de Rohan.” +</p> + +<p> +“You are right, M. de Breteuil; this affair must be +cleared up. But who is that passing below? Is it not M. +de Rohan going to the chapel?” +</p> + +<p> +“Not yet, sire; he does not come till eleven o’clock, +and he will be dressed in his robes, for he officiates to-day.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then I will send for him and speak to him.” +</p> + +<p> +“Permit me to advise your majesty to speak first to the +queen.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, she will tell me the truth.” +</p> + +<p> +“Doubtless, sire.” +</p> + +<p> +“But first tell me all you know about it.” +</p> + +<p> +M. de Breteuil, with ingenious hate, mentioned every +particular which he thought could injure M. de Rohan. +They were interrupted by an officer, who approached the +king, and said, “Sire, the queen begs you will come to +her.” +</p> + +<p> +“What is it?” asked the king, turning pale. “Wait +here, M. de Breteuil.” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2>CHAPTER LXXV.<br/> +CHARNY, CARDINAL, AND QUEEN.</h2> + +<p> +At the same moment as M. de Breteuil asked for an +audience of the king, M. de Charny, pale and agitated, +begged one of the queen. He was admitted, and touching +tremblingly the hand she held out to him, said in an agitated +voice, “Oh! madame, what a misfortune!” +</p> + +<p> +“What is the matter?” +</p> + +<p> +“Do you know what I have just heard? What the +king has perhaps already heard, or will hear to-morrow.” +</p> + +<p> +She trembled, for she thought of her night with Charny, +and fancied they had been seen. “Speak,” said she; +“I am strong.” +</p> + +<p> +“They say, madame, that you bought a necklace from +M. Bœhmer.” +</p> + +<p> +“I returned it,” said she quickly. +</p> + +<p> +“But they say that you only pretended to do so, when +the king prevented you from paying for it by refusing you +the money, and that you went to borrow the amount from +some one else, who is your lover.” +</p> + +<p> +“And,” cried the queen, with her usual impetuous confidence, +“you, monsieur—you let them say that?” +</p> + +<p> +“Madame, yesterday I went to M. Bœhmer’s with my +uncle, who had brought some diamonds from the Indies, +and wished to have them valued. There we heard this +frightful story now being spread abroad by your majesty’s +enemies. Madame, I am in despair; if you bought the +necklace, tell me; if you have not paid, tell me; but do +not let me hear that M. de Rohan paid for you.” +</p> + +<p> +“M. de Rohan!” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, M. de Rohan, whom they call your lover—whom +they say lent the money—and whom an unhappy man, +called Charny, saw in the park in Versailles, kneeling before +the queen, and kissing her hand.” +</p> + +<p> +“Monsieur,” cried Marie Antoinette, “if you believe +these things when you leave me, you do not love me.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh!” cried the young man, “the danger presses. I +come to beg you to do me a favor.” +</p> + +<p> +“What danger?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, madame! the cardinal paying for the queen dishonors +her. I do not speak now of the grief such a confidence +in him causes to me. No; of these things one +dies, but does not complain.” +</p> + +<p> +“You are mad!” cried Marie Antoinette, in anger. +</p> + +<p> +“I am not mad, madame, but you are unhappy and +lost. I saw you in the park—I told you so—I was not +deceived. To-day all the horrible truth has burst out. +M. de Rohan boasts, perhaps——” +</p> + +<p> +The queen seized his arm. “You are mad,” repeated +she, with inexpressible anguish. “Believe anything—believe +the impossible—but, in the name of heaven, after +all I have said to you, do not believe me guilty. I, who +never even thought of you without praying to God to pardon +me for my fault. Oh, M. de Charny! if you do not +wish to kill me, do not tell me that you think me guilty.” +</p> + +<p> +Charny wrung his hands with anguish. “Listen,” said +he, “if you wish me to serve you efficaciously.” +</p> + +<p> +“A service from you?—from you, more cruel than my +enemies? A service from a man who despises me? +Never, sir—never.” +</p> + +<p> +Charny approached, and took her hands in his. +“This evening it will be too late. Save me from despair, +by saving yourself from shame.” +</p> + +<p> +“Monsieur!” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, I cannot pick my words with death, before me! +If you do not listen to me, we shall both die; you from +shame, and I from grief. You want money to pay for +this necklace.” +</p> + +<p> +“I?” +</p> + +<p> +“Do not deny it.” +</p> + +<p> +“I tell you——” +</p> + +<p> +“Do not tell me that you have not the necklace.” +</p> + +<p> +“I swear!” +</p> + +<p> +“Do not swear, if you wish me to love you. There +remains one way to save at once your honor and my love. +The necklace is worth 1,600,000 francs—you have paid +100,000. Here is the remainder; take it, and pay.” +</p> + +<p> +“You have sold your possessions—you have ruined +yourself for me! Good and noble heart, I love you!” +</p> + +<p> +“Then you accept?” +</p> + +<p> +“No; but I love you.” +</p> + +<p> +“And let M. de Rohan pay. Remember, madame, +this would be no generosity towards me, but the refinement +of cruelty.” +</p> + +<p> +“M. de Charny, I am a queen. I give to my subjects, +but do not accept from them.” +</p> + +<p> +“What do you mean to do, then?” +</p> + +<p> +“You are frank. What do the jewelers say?” +</p> + +<p> +“That as you cannot pay, M. de Rohan will pay for +you.” +</p> + +<p> +“What does the public say?” +</p> + +<p> +“That you have the necklace hidden, and will produce +it when it shall have been paid for; either by the cardinal, +in his love for you, or by the king, to prevent +scandal.” +</p> + +<p> +“And you, Charny; in your turn, I ask, what do you +say?” +</p> + +<p> +“I think, madame, that you have need to prove your +innocence to me.” +</p> + +<p> +The Prince Louis, Cardinal de Rohan, was at that +moment announced by an usher. +</p> + +<p> +“You shall have your wish,” said the queen. +</p> + +<p> +“You are going to receive him?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes.” +</p> + +<p> +“And I?” +</p> + +<p> +“Go into my boudoir, and leave the door ajar, that +you may hear. Be quick—here he is.” +</p> + +<p> +M. de Rohan appeared in his robes of office. The +queen advanced towards him, attempting a smile, which +died away on her lips. +</p> + +<p> +He was serious, and said, “Madame, I have several +important things to communicate to you, although you +shun my presence.” +</p> + +<p> +“I shun you so little, monsieur, that I was about to +send for you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Am I alone with your majesty?” said he, in a low +voice. “May I speak freely?” +</p> + +<p> +“Perfectly, monseigneur. Do not constrain yourself,” +said she aloud, for M. de. Charny to hear. +</p> + +<p> +“The king will not come?” +</p> + +<p> +“Have no fear of the king, or any one else.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, it is yourself I fear,” said he, in a moved voice. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, I am not formidable. Say quickly and openly +what you have to say. I like frankness, and want no reserve. +They say you complain of me; what have you to +reproach me with?” +</p> + +<p> +The cardinal sighed. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2>CHAPTER LXXVI.<br/> +EXPLANATIONS.</h2> + +<p> +“Madame,” said the cardinal, bowing, “you know +what is passing concerning the necklace?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, monsieur; I wish to learn it from you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why has your majesty for so long only deigned to +communicate with me through another? If you have +any reason to hate me, why not explain it?” +</p> + +<p> +“I do not know what you mean. I do not hate you; +but that is not, I think, the subject of our interview. I +wish to hear all about this unlucky necklace; but first, +where is Madame de la Motte?” +</p> + +<p> +“I was about to ask your majesty the same question.” +</p> + +<p> +“Really, monsieur, if any one knows, I think it ought +to be you.” +</p> + +<p> +“I, madame! why?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! I do not wish to receive your confessions about +her, but I wish to speak to her, and have sent for her ten +times without receiving any answer.” +</p> + +<p> +“And I, madame, am astonished at her disappearance, +for I also sent to ask her to come, and, like your majesty, +received no answer.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then let us leave her, monsieur, and speak of ourselves.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh no, madame; let us speak of her first, for a few +words of your majesty’s gave me a painful suspicion; it +seemed to me that your majesty reproached me with my +assiduities to her.” +</p> + +<p> +“I have not reproached you at all, sir.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! madame, such a suspicion would explain all to +me; then I should understand all your rigor towards me, +which I have hitherto found so inexplicable.” +</p> + +<p> +“Here we cease to understand each other, and I beg of +you not to still further involve in obscurity what I wished +you to explain to me.” +</p> + +<p> +“Madame,” cried the cardinal, clasping his hands, “I entreat +you not to change the subject; allow me only two +words more, and I am sure we shall understand each +other.” +</p> + +<p> +“Really, sir, you speak in language that I do not understand. +Pray return to plain French; where is the necklace +that I returned to the jewelers?” +</p> + +<p> +“The necklace that you sent back?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes; what have you done with it?” +</p> + +<p> +“I! I do not know, madame.” +</p> + +<p> +“Listen, and one thing is simple; Madame de la Motte +took away the necklace, and returned it to the jewelers in +my name. The jewelers say they never had it, and I hold +in my hands a receipt which proves the contrary; but +they say the receipt is forged; Madame de la Motte, if +sincere, could explain all, but as she is not to be found, I +can but conjecture. She wished to return it, but you, who +had always the generous wish to present me the necklace, +you, who brought it to me, with the offer to pay for it——” +</p> + +<p> +“Which your majesty refused.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes. Well, you have persevered in your idea, and you +kept back the necklace, hoping to return it to me at some +other time. Madame de la Motte was weak; she knew my +inability to pay for it, and my determination not to keep +it when I could not pay; she therefore entered into a conspiracy +with you. Have I guessed right? Say yes. Let +me believe in this slight disobedience to my orders, and +I promise you both pardon; so let Madame de la Motte +come out from her hiding-place. But, for pity’s sake, let +there be perfect clearness and openness, monsieur. A +cloud rests over me; I will have it dispersed.” +</p> + +<p> +“Madame,” replied the cardinal, with a sigh, “unfortunately +it is not true. I did not persevere in my idea, +for I believed the necklace was in your own hands; I never +conspired with Madame de la Motte about it, and I have +it no more than you say you or the jewelers have it.” +</p> + +<p> +“Impossible! you have not got it?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, madame.” +</p> + +<p> +“Is it not you who hide it?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, madame.” +</p> + +<p> +“You do not know what has become of it?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, madame.” +</p> + +<p> +“But, then, how do you explain its disappearance?” +</p> + +<p> +“I do not pretend to explain it, madame; and, moreover, +it is not the first time that I have had to complain +that your majesty did not understand me.” +</p> + +<p> +“How, sir?” +</p> + +<p> +“Pray, madame, have the goodness to retrace my letters +in your memory.” +</p> + +<p> +“Your letters!—you have written to me?” +</p> + +<p> +“Too seldom, madame, to express all that was in my +heart.” +</p> + +<p> +The queen rose. +</p> + +<p> +“Terminate this jesting, sir. What do you mean by +letters? How can you dare to say such things?” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah! madame, perhaps I have allowed myself to speak +too freely the secret of my soul.” +</p> + +<p> +“What secret? Are you in your senses, monsieur?” +</p> + +<p> +“Madame!” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! speak out. You speak now like a man who +wishes to embarrass one before witnesses.” +</p> + +<p> +“Madame, is there really any one listening to us?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, monsieur. Explain yourself, and prove to me, +if you can, that you are in your right senses.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! why is not Madame de la Motte here? she could +aid me to reawaken, if not your majesty’s attachment, +at least your memory.” +</p> + +<p> +“My attachment! my memory!” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, madame,” cried he, growing excited, “spare me, +I beg. It is free to you to love no longer, but do not +insult me.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, mon Dieu!” cried the queen, turning pale: +“hear what this man says.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, madame,” said he, getting still more excited, +“I think I have been sufficiently discreet and reserved +not to be ill-treated. But I should have known that +when a queen says, ‘I will not any longer,’ it is as imperious +as when a woman says, ‘I will.’” +</p> + +<p> +“But, sir, to whom, or when, have I said either the +one or the other?” +</p> + +<p> +“Both, to me.” +</p> + +<p> +“To you! You are a liar, M. de Rohan. A coward, +for you calumniate a woman; and a traitor, for you insult +the queen.” +</p> + +<p> +“And you are a heartless woman and a faithless queen. +You led me to feel for you the most ardent love. You +let me drink my fill of hopes——” +</p> + +<p> +“Of hopes! My God! am I mad, or what is he?” +</p> + +<p> +“Should I have dared to ask you for the midnight interviews +which you granted me?” +</p> + +<p> +The queen uttered a cry of rage, as she fancied she +heard a sigh from the boudoir. +</p> + +<p> +“Should I,” continued M. de Rohan, “have dared to +come into the park if you had not sent Madame de la +Motte for me?” +</p> + +<p> +“Mon Dieu!” +</p> + +<p> +“Should I have dared to steal the key? Should I have +ventured to ask for this rose, which since then I have +worn here on my heart, and burned up with my kisses? +Should I have dared to kiss your hands? And, above all, +should I have dared even to dream of sweet but perfidious +love.” +</p> + +<p> +“Monsieur!” cried she, “you blaspheme.” +</p> + +<p> +“Mon Dieu!” exclaimed the cardinal, “heaven knows +that to be loved by this deceitful woman I would have +given my all, my liberty, my life.” +</p> + +<p> +“M. de Rohan, if you wish to preserve either, you will +confess immediately that you invented all these horrors; +that you did not come to the park at night.” +</p> + +<p> +“I did come,” he replied. +</p> + +<p> +“You are a dead man if you maintain this.” +</p> + +<p> +“A Rohan cannot lie, madame; I did come.” +</p> + +<p> +“M. de Rohan, in heaven’s name say that you did not +see me there.” +</p> + +<p> +“I will die if you wish it, and as you threaten me; but +I did come to the park at Versailles, where Madame de la +Motte brought me.” +</p> + +<p> +“Once more, confess it is a horrible plot against me.” +</p> + +<p> +“No.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then believe that you were mistaken—deceived—that +it was all a fancy.” +</p> + +<p> +“No.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then we will have recourse,” said she, solemnly, “to +the justice of the king.” +</p> + +<p> +The cardinal bowed. +</p> + +<p> +The queen rang violently. “Tell his majesty that I +desire his presence.” +</p> + +<p> +The cardinal remained firm. Marie Antoinette went +ten times to the door of the boudoir, and each time returned +without going in. +</p> + +<p> +At last the king appeared. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2>CHAPTER LXXVII.<br/> +THE ARREST.</h2> + +<p> +“Sire,” cried the queen, “here is M. de Rohan, who +says incredible things, which I wish him to repeat to +you.” +</p> + +<p> +At these unexpected words the cardinal turned pale. +Indeed, it was a strange position to hear himself called +upon to repeat to the king and the husband all the claims +which he believed he had over the queen and the wife. +</p> + +<p> +But the king, turning towards him, said, “About a +certain necklace, is it not, sir?” +</p> + +<p> +M. de Rohan took advantage of the king’s question, and +chose the least of two evils. “Yes, sire,” he murmured, +“about the necklace.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then, sir, you have brought the necklace?” +</p> + +<p> +“Sire——” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, or no, sir.” +</p> + +<p> +The cardinal looked at the queen, and did not reply. +</p> + +<p> +“The truth, sir,” said the queen, answering his look. +“We want nothing but the truth.” +</p> + +<p> +M. de Rohan turned away his head, and did not speak. +</p> + +<p> +“If M. de Rohan will not reply, will you, madame, explain?” +said the king. “You must know something +about it; did you buy it?” +</p> + +<p> +“No.” +</p> + +<p> +M. de Rohan smiled rather contemptuously. +</p> + +<p> +“You say nothing, sir,” said the king. +</p> + +<p> +“Of what am I accused, sire?” +</p> + +<p> +“The jewelers say they sold the necklace either to you +or the queen. They show a receipt from her majesty——” +</p> + +<p> +“A forged one,” interrupted the queen. +</p> + +<p> +“The jewelers,” continued the king, “say that in +case the queen does not pay, you are bound to do so by +your engagements.” +</p> + +<p> +“I do not refuse to pay, sire. It must be the truth, as +the queen permits it to be said.” And a second look, +still more contemptuous than the first, accompanied this +speech. +</p> + +<p> +The queen trembled, for she began to think his behavior +like the indignation of an honest man. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, M. le Cardinal, some one has imitated the +signature of the Queen of France,” said the king. +</p> + +<p> +“The queen, sire, is free to attribute to me whatever +crimes she pleases.” +</p> + +<p> +“Sir,” said the king, “instead of justifying yourself, +you assume the air of an accuser.” +</p> + +<p> +The cardinal paused a moment, and then cried, +“Justify myself?—impossible!” +</p> + +<p> +“Monsieur, these people say that this necklace has +been stolen under a promise to pay for it; do you confess +the crime?” +</p> + +<p> +“Who would believe it, if I did?” asked the cardinal, +with a haughty disdain. +</p> + +<p> +“Then, sir, you think they will believe——” +</p> + +<p> +“Sire, I know nothing of what is said,” interrupted +the cardinal; “all that I can affirm is, that I have not the +necklace; some one has it who will not produce it; and +I can but say, let the shame of the crime fall on the +person who knows himself guilty.” +</p> + +<p> +“The question, madame, is between you two,” said +the king. “Once more, have you the necklace?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, by the honor of my mother, by the life of my +son.” +</p> + +<p> +The king joyfully turned towards the cardinal. “Then, +sir, the affair lies between you and justice, unless you +prefer trusting to my clemency.” +</p> + +<p> +“The clemency of kings is for the guilty, sire; I prefer +the justice of men!” +</p> + +<p> +“You will confess nothing?” +</p> + +<p> +“I have nothing to say.” +</p> + +<p> +“But, sir, your silence compromises my honor,” cried +the queen. +</p> + +<p> +The cardinal did not speak. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, then, I will speak,” cried she. “Learn, sire, +that M. de Rohan’s chief crime is not the theft of this +necklace.” +</p> + +<p> +M. de Rohan turned pale. +</p> + +<p> +“What do you mean?” cried the king. +</p> + +<p> +“Madame!” murmured the cardinal. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! no reasons, no fear, no weakness shall close my +mouth. I would proclaim my innocence in public if +necessary.” +</p> + +<p> +“Your innocence,” said the king. “Oh, madame, +who would be rash enough, or base enough, to compel +you to defend that?” +</p> + +<p> +“I beg you, madame,” said the cardinal. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah! you begin to tremble. I was right: such plots +bear not the light. Sire, will you order M. de Rohan to +repeat to you what he has just said to me.” +</p> + +<p> +“Madame,” cried the cardinal, “take care; you pass +all bounds.” +</p> + +<p> +“Sir,” said the king, “do you dare to speak thus to +the queen?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, sire,” said Marie Antoinette; “this is the way +he speaks to me, and pretends he has the right to do +so.” +</p> + +<p> +“You, sir!” cried the king, livid with rage. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! he says he has letters——” +</p> + +<p> +“Let us see them, sir,” said the king. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, produce them,” cried the queen. +</p> + +<p> +The cardinal passed his hands over his burning eyes, +and asked himself how heaven could ever have created a +being so perfidious and so audacious; but he remained +silent. +</p> + +<p> +“But that is not all,” continued the queen, getting +more and more excited: “M. le Cardinal says he has obtained +interviews——” +</p> + +<p> +“Madame, for pity’s sake,” cried the king. +</p> + +<p> +“For modesty’s sake,” murmured the cardinal. +</p> + +<p> +“One word, sir. If you are not the basest of men; if +you hold anything sacred in this world; if you have proofs, +produce them.” +</p> + +<p> +“No, madame,” replied he, at length, “I have not.” +</p> + +<p> +“You said you had a witness.” +</p> + +<p> +“Who?” asked the king. +</p> + +<p> +“Madame de la Motte.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah!” cried the king, whose suspicions against her +were easily excited; “let us see this woman.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” said the queen, “but she has disappeared. +Ask monsieur what he has done with her.” +</p> + +<p> +“Others have made her disappear who had more interest +in doing so than I had.” +</p> + +<p> +“But, sir, if you are innocent, help us to find the +guilty.” +</p> + +<p> +The cardinal crossed his hands and turned his back. +</p> + +<p> +“Monsieur,” cried the king, “you shall go to the Bastile.” +</p> + +<p> +“As I am, sire, in my robes? Consider, sire, the scandal +will commence, and will fall heavily on whomsoever it +rests.” +</p> + +<p> +“I wish it to do so, sir.” +</p> + +<p> +“It is an injustice, sire.” +</p> + +<p> +“It shall be so.” And the king looked round for some +one to execute his orders. M. de Breteuil was near, anticipating +the fall of his rival; the king spoke to him, and +he cried immediately, “Guards! arrest M. le Cardinal de +Rohan.” +</p> + +<p> +The cardinal passed by the queen without saluting her; +then, bowing to the king, went towards the lieutenant of +the guards, who approached timidly, seeming to wait for +a confirmation of the order he had received. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, sir,” said M. de Rohan, “it is I whom you are to +arrest.” +</p> + +<p> +“Conduct monsieur to his apartment until I have +written the order;” said the king. +</p> + +<p> +When they were alone, the king said, “Madame, you +know this must lead to a public trial, and that scandal +will fall heavily on the heads of the guilty.” +</p> + +<p> +“I thank you, sire; you have taken the only method of +justifying me.” +</p> + +<p> +“You thank me.” +</p> + +<p> +“With all my heart; believe me, you have acted like a +king, and I as a queen.” +</p> + +<p> +“Good,” replied the king, joyfully; “we shall find +out the truth at last, and when once we have crushed the +serpent, I hope we may live in more tranquillity.” He +kissed the queen, and left her. +</p> + +<p> +“Monsieur,” said the cardinal to the officer who conducted +him, “can I send word home that I have been arrested?” +</p> + +<p> +“If no one sees, monseigneur.” +</p> + +<p> +The cardinal wrote some words on a page of his missal, +then tore it out, and let it fall at the feet of the officer. +</p> + +<p> +“She ruins me,” murmured the cardinal; “but I will +save her, for your sake, oh! my king, and because it is +my duty to forgive.” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2>CHAPTER LXXVIII.<br/> +THE PROCÈS-VERBAL.</h2> + +<p> +When the king reentered his room he signed the order +to consign M. de Rohan to the Bastile. The Count de +Provence soon came in and began making a series of signs +to M. de Breteuil, who, however willing, could not understand +their meaning. This, however, the count did not +care for, as his sole object was to attract the king’s attention. +He at last succeeded, and the king, after dismissing +M. de Breteuil, said to him, “What was the meaning of +all those signs you were making just now? I suppose +they meant something.” +</p> + +<p> +“Undoubtedly, but——” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, you are quite free to say or not.” +</p> + +<p> +“Sire, I have just heard of the arrest of M. de Rohan.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, and what then? Am I wrong to do justice +even on him?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh no, brother; I did not mean that.” +</p> + +<p> +“I should have been surprised had you not taken part +somehow against the queen. I have just seen her, and +am quite satisfied.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, sire, God forbid that I should accuse her! The +queen has no friend more devoted than myself.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then you approve of my proceedings? which will, I +trust, terminate all the scandals which have lately disgraced +our court.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, sire, I entirely approve your majesty’s conduct, +and I think all is for the best as regards the necklace——” +</p> + +<p> +“Pardieu, it is clear enough. M. de Rohan has been +making himself great on a pretended familiarity with +the queen; and conducting in her name a bargain for +the diamonds, and leaving it to be supposed that she had +them. It is monstrous. And then these tales never stop +at the truth, but add all sorts of dreadful details which +would end in a frightful scandal on the queen.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, brother, I repeat as far as the necklace is concerned +you were perfectly right.” +</p> + +<p> +“What else is there, then?” +</p> + +<p> +“Sire, you embarrass me. The queen has not, then, +told you?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, the other boastings of M. de Rohan? The pretended +correspondence and interviews he speaks of? All +that I know is, that I have the most absolute confidence +in the queen, which she merits by the nobleness of her +character. It was easy for her to have told me nothing +of all this; but she always makes an immediate appeal to +me in all difficulties, and confides to me the care of her +honor. I am her confessor and her judge.” +</p> + +<p> +“Sire, you make me afraid to speak, lest I should be +again accused of want of friendship for the queen. But +it is right that all should be spoken, that she may justify +herself from the other accusations.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, what have you to say?” +</p> + +<p> +“Let me first hear what she told you?” +</p> + +<p> +“She said she had not the necklace; that she never +signed the receipt for the jewels; that she never authorized +M. de Rohan to buy them; that she had never given him +the right to think himself more to her than any other of +her subjects; and that she was perfectly indifferent to +him.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah! she said that——?” +</p> + +<p> +“Most decidedly.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then these rumors about other people——” +</p> + +<p> +“What others?” +</p> + +<p> +“Why, if it were not M. de Rohan, who walked with +the queen——” +</p> + +<p> +“How! do they say he walked with her?” +</p> + +<p> +“The queen denies it, you say? but how came she to +be in the park at night, and with whom did she walk?” +</p> + +<p> +“The queen in the park at night!” +</p> + +<p> +“Doubtless, there are always eyes ready to watch every +movement of a queen.” +</p> + +<p> +“Brother, these are infamous things that you repeat, +take care.” +</p> + +<p> +“Sire, I openly repeat them, that your majesty may +search out the truth.” +</p> + +<p> +“And they say that the queen walked at night in the +park?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, sire, tête-à-tête.” +</p> + +<p> +“I do not believe any one says it.” +</p> + +<p> +“Unfortunately I can prove it but too well. There are +four witnesses: one is the captain of the hunt, who says +he saw the queen go out two following nights by the door +near the kennel of the wolf-hounds; here is his declaration +signed.” +</p> + +<p> +The king, trembling, took the paper. +</p> + +<p> +“The next is the night watchman at Trianon, who says +he saw the queen walking arm in arm with a gentleman. +The third is the porter of the west door, who also saw +the queen going through the little gate; he states how +she was dressed, but that he could not recognize the +gentleman, but thought he looked like an officer; he +says he could not be mistaken, for that the queen was +accompanied by her friend, Madame de la Motte.” +</p> + +<p> +“Her friend!” cried the king, furiously. +</p> + +<p> +“The last is from the man whose duty it is to see that +all the doors are locked at night. He says that he saw +the queen go into the baths of Apollo with a gentleman.” +</p> + +<p> +The king, pale with anger and emotion, snatched the +paper from the hands of his brother. +</p> + +<p> +“It is true,” continued the count, “that Madame de la +Motte was outside, and that the queen did not remain +more than an hour.” +</p> + +<p> +“The name of the gentleman?” cried the king. +</p> + +<p> +“This report does not name him; but here is one dated +the next day, by a forester, who says it was M. de Charny.” +</p> + +<p> +“M. de Charny!” cried the king. “Wait here; I will +soon learn the truth of all this.” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2>CHAPTER LXXIX.<br/> +THE LAST ACCUSATION.</h2> + +<p> +As soon as the king left the room, the queen ran towards +the boudoir, and opened the door; then, as if her +strength failed her, sank down on a chair, waiting for the +decision of M. de Charny, her last and most formidable +judge. +</p> + +<p> +He came out more sad and pale than ever. +</p> + +<p> +“Well?” said she. +</p> + +<p> +“Madame,” replied he, “you see, everything opposes +our friendship. There can be no peace for me while such +scandalous reports circulate in public, putting my private +convictions aside.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then,” said the queen, “all I have done, this perilous +aggression, this public defiance of one of the greatest +nobles in the kingdom, and my conduct being exposed to +the test of public opinion, does not satisfy you?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh!” cried Charny, “you are noble and generous, I +know——” +</p> + +<p> +“But you believe me guilty—you believe the cardinal. +I command you to tell me what you think.” +</p> + +<p> +“I must say, then, madame, that he is neither mad nor +wicked, as you called him, but a man thoroughly convinced +of the truth of what he said—a man who loves you, +and the victim of an error which will bring him to ruin, +and you——” +</p> + +<p> +“Well?” +</p> + +<p> +“To dishonor.” +</p> + +<p> +“Mon Dieu!” +</p> + +<p> +“This odious woman, this Madame de la Motte, disappearing +just when her testimony might have restored +you to repose and honor—she is the evil genius, the curse, +of your reign; she whom you have, unfortunately, admitted +to partake of your intimacy and your secrets.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, sir!” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, madame, it is clear that you combined with her and +the cardinal to buy this necklace. Pardon if I offend you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Stay, sir,” replied the queen, with a pride not unmixed +with anger; “what the king believes, others might +believe, and my friends not be harder than my husband. +It seems to me that it can give no pleasure to any man to +see a woman whom he does not esteem. I do not speak +of you, sir; to you I am not a woman, but a queen; as +you are to me, not a man, but a subject. I had advised +you to remain in the country, and it was wise; far from +the court, you might have judged me more truly. Too +ready to condescend, I have neglected to keep up, with +those whom I thought loved me, the prestige of royalty. +I should have been a queen, and content to govern, and +not have wished to be loved.” +</p> + +<p> +“I cannot express,” replied Charny, “how much your +severity wounds me. I may have forgotten that you were +a queen, but never that you were the woman most in the +world worthy of my respect and love.” +</p> + +<p> +“Sir, I think your absence is necessary; something +tells me that it will end by your name being mixed up in +all this.” +</p> + +<p> +“Impossible, madame!” +</p> + +<p> +“You say ‘impossible’; reflect on the power of those +who have for so long played with my reputation. You +say that M. de Rohan is convinced of what he asserts; +those who cause such convictions would not be long in +proving you a disloyal subject to the king, and a disgraceful +friend for me. Those who invent so easily what is +false will not be long in discovering the truth. Lose no +time, therefore; the peril is great. Retire, and fly from +the scandal which will ensue from the approaching trial; +I do not wish that my destiny should involve yours, or +your future be ruined. I, who am, thank God, innocent, +and without a stain on my life—I, who would lay bare +my heart to my enemies, could they thus read its purity, +will resist to the last. For you might come ruin, defamation, +and perhaps imprisonment. Take away the money +you so nobly offered me, and the assurance that not one +movement of your generous heart has escaped me, and +that your doubts, though they have wounded, have not +estranged me. Go, I say, and seek elsewhere what the +Queen of France can no longer give you—hope and happiness. +From this time to the convocation of Parliament, +and the production of witnesses must be a fortnight; +your uncle has vessels ready to sail—go and leave me; I +bring misfortunes on my friends.” Saying this, the queen +rose, and seemed to give Charny his congé. +</p> + +<p> +He approached quickly, but respectfully. “Your +majesty,” cried he, in a moved voice, “shows me my +duty. It is here that danger awaits you, here that you +are to be judged, and, that you may have one loyal witness +on your side, I remain here. Perhaps we may still +make your enemies tremble before the majesty of an +innocent queen, and the courage of a devoted man. And +if you wish it, madame, I will be equally hidden and unseen +as though I went. During a fortnight that I lived +within a hundred yards of you, watching your every +movement, counting your steps, living in your life, no +one saw me; I can do so again, if it please you.” +</p> + +<p> +“As you please,” replied she; “I am no coquette, M. +de Charny, and to say what I please is the true privilege +of a queen. One day, sir, I chose you from every one. +I do not know what drew my heart towards you, but I +had need of a strong and pure friendship, and I allowed +you to perceive that need; but now I see that your soul +does not respond to mine, and I tell you so frankly.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, madame,” cried Charny, “I cannot let you take +away your heart from me! If you have once given it to +me, I will keep it with my life; I cannot lose you. You +reproached me with my doubts—oh, do not doubt me!” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah,” said she, “but you are weak, and I, alas, am +so also.” +</p> + +<p> +“You are all I love you to be.” +</p> + +<p> +“What!” cried she, passionately, “this abused queen, +this woman about to be publicly judged, that the world condemns, +and that her king and husband may, perhaps, also +in turn condemn, has she found one heart to love her?” +</p> + +<p> +“A slave, who venerates her, and offers her his heart’s +blood in exchange for every pang he has caused her!” +</p> + +<p> +“Then,” cried she, “this woman is blessed and happy, +and complains of nothing!” +</p> + +<p> +Charny fell at her feet, and kissed her hands in transport. +At that moment the door opened, and the king +surprised, at the feet of his wife, the man whom he had +just heard accused by the Comte de Provence. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2>CHAPTER LXXX.<br/> +THE PROPOSAL OF MARRIAGE.</h2> + +<p> +The queen and Charny exchanged a look so full of terror, +that their most cruel enemy must have pitied them. +</p> + +<p> +Charny rose slowly, and bowed to the king, whose heart +might almost have been seen to beat. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah!” cried he, in a hoarse voice, “M. de Charny!” +</p> + +<p> +The queen could not speak—she thought she was lost. +</p> + +<p> +“M. de Charny,” repeated the king, “it is little honorable +for a gentleman to be taken in the act of theft.” +</p> + +<p> +“Of theft?” murmured Charny. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, sir, to kneel before the wife of another is a +theft; and when this woman is a queen, his crime is +called high treason!” +</p> + +<p> +The count was about to speak, but the queen, ever impatient +in her generosity, forestalled him. +</p> + +<p> +“Sire,” said she, “you seem in the mood for evil suspicions +and unfavorable suppositions, which fall falsely, I +warn you; and if respect chains the count’s tongue, I +will not hear him wrongfully accused without defending +him.” Here she stopped, overcome by emotion, frightened +at the falsehood she was about to tell, and bewildered +because she could not find one to utter. +</p> + +<p> +But these few words had somewhat softened the king, +who replied more gently, “You will not tell me, madame, +that I did not see M. de Charny kneeling before you, and +without your attempting to raise him?” +</p> + +<p> +“Therefore you might think,” replied she, “that he +had some favor to ask me.” +</p> + +<p> +“A favor?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, sire, and one which I could not easily grant, or +he would not have insisted with so much less warmth.” +</p> + +<p> +Charny breathed again, and the king’s look became +calmer. Marie Antoinette was searching for something +to say, with mingled rage at being obliged to lie, and +grief at not being able to think of anything probable to +say. She half hoped the king would be satisfied, and ask +no more, but he said: +</p> + +<p> +“Let us hear, madame, what is the favor so warmly +solicited, which made M. de Charny kneel before you; I +may, perhaps, more happy than you, be able to grant it.” +</p> + +<p> +She hesitated; to lie before the man she loved was +agony to her, and she would have given the world for +Charny to find the answer. But of this he was incapable. +</p> + +<p> +“Sire, I told you that M. de Charny asked an impossible +thing.” +</p> + +<p> +“What is it?” +</p> + +<p> +“What can one ask on one’s knees?” +</p> + +<p> +“I want to hear.” +</p> + +<p> +“Sire, it is a family secret.” +</p> + +<p> +“There are no secrets from the king—a father interested +in all his subjects, who are his children, although, +like unnatural children, they may sometimes attack the +honor and safety of their father.” +</p> + +<p> +This speech made the queen tremble anew. +</p> + +<p> +“M. de Charny asked,” replied she, “permission to +marry.” +</p> + +<p> +“Really,” cried the king, reassured for a moment. +Then, after a pause, he said, “But why should it be impossible +for M. de Charny to marry? Is he not noble? +Has he not a good fortune? Is he not brave and handsome? +Really, to refuse him, the lady ought to be a +princess, or already married. I can see no other reason for +an impossibility. Therefore, madame, tell me the name +of the lady who is loved by M. de Charny, and let me see +if I cannot remove the difficulty.” +</p> + +<p> +The queen, forced to continue her falsehood, replied: +</p> + +<p> +“No, sire; there are difficulties which even you cannot +remove, and the present one is of this nature.” +</p> + +<p> +“Still, I wish to hear,” replied the king, his anger +returning. +</p> + +<p> +Charny looked at the queen—she seemed ready to +faint. He made a step towards her and then drew back. +How dared he approach her in the king’s presence? +</p> + +<p> +“Oh!” thought she, “for an idea—something that the +king can neither doubt nor disbelieve.” Then suddenly a +thought struck her. She who has dedicated herself to +heaven the king cannot influence. “Sire!” she cried, +“she whom M. de Charny wishes to marry is in a +convent.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! that is a difficulty; no doubt. But this seems +a very sudden love of M. de Charny’s. I have never +heard of it from any one. Who is the lady you love, +M. de Charny?” +</p> + +<p> +The queen felt in despair, not knowing what he would +say, and dreading to hear him name any one. But +Charny could not reply: so, after a pause, she cried, +“Sire, you know her; it is Andrée de Taverney.” +</p> + +<p> +Charny buried his face in his hands; the queen pressed +her hand to her heart, and could hardly support herself. +</p> + +<p> +“Mademoiselle de Taverney? but she has gone to St. +Denis.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, sire,” replied the queen. +</p> + +<p> +“But she has taken no vows.” +</p> + +<p> +“No, but she is about to do so.” +</p> + +<p> +“We will see if we can persuade her. Why should +she take the vows?” +</p> + +<p> +“She is poor,” said the queen. +</p> + +<p> +“That I can soon alter, madame, if M. de Charny +loves her.” +</p> + +<p> +The queen shuddered, and cast a glance at the young +man, as if begging him to deny it. He did not speak. +</p> + +<p> +“And I dare say,” continued the king, taking his +silence for consent, “that Mademoiselle de Taverney +loves M. de Charny. I will give her as dowry the 500,000 +francs which I refused the other day to you. Thank the +queen, M. de Charny, for telling me of this, and ensuring +your happiness.” +</p> + +<p> +Charny bowed like a pale statue which had received an +instant’s life. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, it is worth kneeling again for!” said the king. +</p> + +<p> +The queen trembled, and stretched out her hand to the +young man, who left on it a burning kiss. +</p> + +<p> +“Now,” said the king, “come with me.” +</p> + +<p> +M. de Charny turned once, to read the anguish in the +eyes of the queen. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2>CHAPTER LXXXI.<br/> +ST. DENIS.</h2> + +<p> +The queen remained alone and despairing. So many +blows had struck her that she hardly knew from which +she suffered most. How she longed to retract the words +she had spoken, to take from Andrée even the chance of +the happiness which she still hoped she would refuse; +but if she refused, would not the king’s suspicions reawaken, +and everything seem only the worse for this +falsehood? She dared not risk this—she must go to +Andrée and confess, and implore her to make this sacrifice; +or if she would only temporize, the king’s suspicions +might pass away, and he might cease to interest +himself about it. Thus the liberty of Mlle. de Taverney +would not be sacrificed, neither would that of M. de +Charny; and she would be spared the remorse of having +sacrificed the happiness of two people to her honor. She +longed to speak again to Charny, but feared discovery; +and she knew she might rely upon him to ratify anything +she chose to say. Three o’clock arrived—the state dinner +and the presentations; and the queen went through +all with a serene and smiling air. When all was over she +changed her dress, got into her carriage, and, without +any guards, and only one companion, drove to St. Denis, +and asked to see Andrée. Andrée was at that moment +kneeling, dressed in her white peignoir; and praying +with fervor. She had quitted the court voluntarily, and +separated herself from all that could feed her love; but +she could not stifle her regrets and bitter feelings. Had +she not seen Charny apparently indifferent towards her, +while the queen occupied all his thoughts? Yet, when +she heard that the queen was asking for her, she felt a +thrill of pleasure and delight. She threw a mantle over +her shoulders, and hastened to see her; but on the way +she reproached herself with the pleasure that she felt, +endeavoring to think that the queen and the court had +alike ceased to interest her. +</p> + +<p> +“Come here, Andrée,” said the queen, with a smile, +as she entered. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2>CHAPTER LXXXII.<br/> +A DEAD HEART.</h2> + +<p> +“Andrée,” continued the queen, “it looks strange +to see you in this dress; to see an old friend and companion +already lost to life, is like a warning to ourselves +from the tomb.” +</p> + +<p> +“Madame, no one has a right to warn or counsel your +majesty.” +</p> + +<p> +“That was never my wish,” said the queen; “tell me +truly, Andrée, had you to complain of me when you were +at court?” +</p> + +<p> +“Your majesty was good enough to ask me that question +when I took leave, and I replied then as now, no, madame.” +</p> + +<p> +“But often,” said the queen, “a grief hurts us which +is not personal; have I injured any one belonging to you? +Andrée, the retreat which you have chosen is an asylum +against evil passions; here God teaches gentleness, moderation +and forgiveness of injuries. I come as a friend, +and ask you to receive me as such.” +</p> + +<p> +Andrée felt touched. “Your majesty knows,” said +she, “that the Taverneys cannot be your enemies.” +</p> + +<p> +“I understand,” replied the queen; “you cannot pardon +me for having been cold to your brother, and, perhaps, +he himself accuses me of caprice.” +</p> + +<p> +“My brother is too respectful a subject to accuse the +queen,” said Andrée, coldly. +</p> + +<p> +The queen saw that it was useless to try and propitiate +Andrée on this subject; so she said only, “Well, at least, +I am ever your friend.” +</p> + +<p> +“Your majesty overwhelms me with your goodness.” +</p> + +<p> +“Do not speak thus; cannot the queen have a friend?” +</p> + +<p> +“I assure you, madame, that I have loved you as much +as I shall ever love any one in this world.” She colored +as she spoke. +</p> + +<p> +“You have loved me; then you love me no more? +Can a cloister so quickly extinguish all affection and all +remembrance? if so, it is a cursed place.” +</p> + +<p> +“Do not accuse my heart, madame, it is dead.” +</p> + +<p> +“Your heart dead, Andrée? you, so young and beautiful.” +</p> + +<p> +“I repeat to you, madame, nothing in the court, nothing +in the world, is any more to me. Here I live like the +herb or the flower, alone for myself. I entreat you to +pardon me; this forgetfulness of the glorious vanities of +the world is no crime. My confessor congratulates me on +it every day.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then you like the convent?” +</p> + +<p> +“I embrace with pleasure a solitary life.” +</p> + +<p> +“Nothing remains which attracts you back to the +world?” +</p> + +<p> +“Nothing!” +</p> + +<p> +“Mon dieu!” thought the queen; “shall I fail? If +nothing else will succeed, I must have recourse to entreaties; +to beg her to accept M. de Charny—heavens, +how unhappy I am!—Andrée,” she said, “what you +say takes from me the hope I had conceived.” +</p> + +<p> +“What hope, madame?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! if you are as decided as you appear to be, it is +useless to speak.” +</p> + +<p> +“If your majesty would explain——” +</p> + +<p> +“You never regret what you have done?” +</p> + +<p> +“Never, madame.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then it is superfluous to speak; and I yet hoped to +make you happy.” +</p> + +<p> +“Me?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, you, ingrate; but you know best your inclinations.” +</p> + +<p> +“Still, if your majesty would tell me——” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, it is simple; I wished you to return to court.” +</p> + +<p> +“Never!” +</p> + +<p> +“You refuse me?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, madame, why should you wish me?—sorrowful, +poor, despised, avoided by every one, incapable of inspiring +sympathy in either sex! Ah, madame, and dear mistress, +leave me here to become worthy to be accepted by +God, for even He would reject me at present.” +</p> + +<p> +“But,” said the queen, “what I was about to propose +to you would have removed all these humiliations of which +you complain. A marriage, which would have made you +one of our great ladies.” +</p> + +<p> +“A marriage?” stammered Andrée. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, I refuse, I refuse!” +</p> + +<p> +“Andrée!” cried the queen, in a supplicating voice. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, no, I refuse!” +</p> + +<p> +Marie Antoinette prepared herself, with a fearfully-palpitating +heart, for her last resource; but as she hesitated, +Andrée said, “But, madame, tell me the name of the man +who is willing to think of me as his companion for life.” +</p> + +<p> +“M. de Charny,” said the queen, with an effort. +</p> + +<p> +“M. de Charny?”—— +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, the nephew of M. de Suffren.” +</p> + +<p> +“It is he!” cried Andrée, with burning cheeks, and +sparkling eyes; “he consents——” +</p> + +<p> +“He asks you in marriage.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, I accept, I accept, for I love him.” +</p> + +<p> +The queen became livid, and sank back trembling, +whilst Andrée kissed her hands, bathing them with her +tears. “Oh, I am ready,” murmured she. +</p> + +<p> +“Come, then!” cried the queen, who felt as though +her strength was failing her, with a last effort to preserve +appearances. +</p> + +<p> +Andrée left the room to prepare. Then Marie Antoinette +cried, with bitter sobs, “Oh, mon Dieu! how can +one heart bear so much suffering? and yet I should be +thankful, for does it not save my children and myself from +shame?” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2>CHAPTER LXXXIII.<br/> +IN WHICH IT IS EXPLAINED WHY THE BARON DE +TAVERNEY GREW FAT.</h2> + +<p> +Meanwhile Philippe was hastening the preparations for +his departure. He did not wish to witness the dishonor +of the queen, his first and only passion. When all was +ready, he requested an interview with his father. For the +last three months the baron had been growing fat; he +seemed to feed on the scandals circulating at the court—they +were meat and drink to him. When he received his +son’s message, instead of sending for him, he went to seek +him in his room, already full of the disorder consequent +on packing. Philippe did not expect much sensibility +from his father, still he did not think he would be pleased. +Andrée had already left him, and it was one less to torment, +and he must feel a blank when his son went also. +Therefore Philippe was astonished to hear his father call +out, with a burst of laughter, “Oh, mon Dieu! he is going +away, I was sure of it, I would have bet upon it. +Well played, Philippe, well played.” +</p> + +<p> +“What is well played, sir?” +</p> + +<p> +“Admirable!” repeated the old man. +</p> + +<p> +“You give me praises, sir, which I neither understand +nor merit, unless you are pleased at my departure, and glad +to get rid of me.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! oh!” laughed the old man again, “I am not +your dupe. Do you think I believe in your departure?” +</p> + +<p> +“You do not believe? really, sir, you surprise me.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, it is surprising that I should have guessed. You +are quite right to pretend to leave; without this ruse all, +probably, would have been discovered.” +</p> + +<p> +“Monsieur, I protest I do not understand one word of +what you say to me.” +</p> + +<p> +“Where do you say you go to?” +</p> + +<p> +“I go first to Taverney Maison Rouge.” +</p> + +<p> +“Very well, but be prudent. There are sharp eyes on +you both, and she is so fiery and incautious, that you must +be prudent for both. What is your address, in case I want +to send you any pressing news?” +</p> + +<p> +“Taverney, monsieur.” +</p> + +<p> +“Taverney, nonsense! I do not ask you for the address +of your house in the park; but choose some third +address near here. You, who have managed so well for +your love, can easily manage this.” +</p> + +<p> +“Sir, you play at enigmas, and I cannot find the solution.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, you are discreet beyond all bounds. However, +keep your secrets, tell me nothing of the huntsman’s +house, nor the nightly walks with two dear friends, nor +the rose, nor the kisses.” +</p> + +<p> +“Monsieur!” cried Philippe, mad with jealousy and +rage, “will you hold your tongue?” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, I know it all—your intimacy with the queen, +and your meetings in the baths of Apollo. Mon Dieu! +our fortunes are assured forever.” +</p> + +<p> +“Monsieur, you cause me horror!” cried poor Philippe, +hiding his face in his hands. And, indeed, he felt it, at +hearing attributed to himself all the happiness of another. +All the rumors that the father had heard, he had assigned +to his son, and believed that it was he that the +queen loved, and no one else; hence his perfect contentment +and happiness. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” he went on, “some said it was Rohan; others, +that it was Charny; not one that it was Taverney. Oh, +you have acted well.” +</p> + +<p> +At this moment a carriage was heard to drive up, and +a servant entering, said, “Here is mademoiselle.” +</p> + +<p> +“My sister!” cried Philippe. +</p> + +<p> +Then another servant appeared, and said that Mademoiselle +de Taverney wished to speak to her brother in +the boudoir. Another carriage now came to the door. +</p> + +<p> +“Who the devil comes now?” muttered the baron; “it +is an evening of adventures.” +</p> + +<p> +“M. le Comte de Charny,” cried the powerful voice of +the porter at the gate. +</p> + +<p> +“Conduct M. le Comte to the drawing-room; my father +will see him; and I will go to my sister—What can he +want here?” thought Philippe, as he went down. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2>CHAPTER LXXXIV.<br/> +THE FATHER AND THE FIANCÉE.</h2> + +<p> +Philippe hastened to the boudoir, where his sister +awaited him. She ran to embrace him with a joyous air. +</p> + +<p> +“What is it, Andrée?” cried he. +</p> + +<p> +“Something which makes me happy. Oh! very happy, +brother.” +</p> + +<p> +“And you come back to announce it to me.” +</p> + +<p> +“I come back for ever,” said Andrée. +</p> + +<p> +“Speak low, sister; there is, or is going to be, some +one in the next room who might hear you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Who?” +</p> + +<p> +“Listen.” +</p> + +<p> +“M. le Comte de Charny,” announced the servant. +</p> + +<p> +“He! oh, I know well what he comes for.” +</p> + +<p> +“You know!” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, and soon I shall be summoned to hear what +he has to say.” +</p> + +<p> +“Do you speak seriously, my dear Andrée?” +</p> + +<p> +“Listen, Philippe. The queen has brought me suddenly +back, and I must go and change my dress for one +fit for a fiancée.” And saying this, with a kiss to Philippe, +she ran off. +</p> + +<p> +Philippe remained alone. He could hear what passed +in the adjoining room. M. de Taverney entered, and +saluted the count with a recherché though stiff politeness. +</p> + +<p> +“I come, monsieur,” said Charny, “to make a request, +and beg you to excuse my not having brought my uncle +with me, which I know would have been more proper.” +</p> + +<p> +“A request?” +</p> + +<p> +“I have the honor,” continued Charny, in a voice full +of emotion, “to ask the hand of Mademoiselle Andrée, +your daughter.” +</p> + +<p> +The baron opened his eyes in astonishment—“My +daughter?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, M. le Baron, if Mademoiselle de Taverney feels +no repugnance.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh,” thought the old man, “Philippe’s favor is already +so well-known, that one of his rivals wishes to marry +his sister.” Then aloud, he said, “This request is such +an honor to us, M. le Comte, that I accede with much +pleasure; and as I should wish you to carry away a perfectly +favorable answer, I will send for my daughter.” +</p> + +<p> +“Monsieur,” interrupted the count, rather coldly, “the +queen has been good enough to consult Mademoiselle de +Taverney already, and her reply was favorable.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah!” said the baron, more and more astonished, “it +is the queen then——” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, monsieur, who took the trouble to go to St. +Denis.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then, sir, it only remains to acquaint you with my +daughter’s fortune. She is not rich, and before concluding——” +</p> + +<p> +“It is needless, M. le Baron; I am rich enough for +both.” +</p> + +<p> +At this moment the door opened, and Philippe entered, +pale and wild looking. +</p> + +<p> +“Sir,” said he, “my father was right to wish to discuss +these things with you. While he goes up-stairs to +bring the papers I have something to say to you.” +</p> + +<p> +When they were left alone, “M. de Charny,” said he, +“how dare you come here to ask for the hand of my sister?” +Charny colored. “Is it,” continued Philippe, +“in order to hide better your amours with another +woman whom you love, and who loves you? Is it, that +by becoming the husband of a woman who is always near +your mistress, you will have more facilities for seeing +her?” +</p> + +<p> +“Sir, you pass all bounds.” +</p> + +<p> +“It is, perhaps; and this is what I believe, that were I +your brother-in-law, you think my tongue would be tied +about what I know of your past amours.” +</p> + +<p> +“What you know?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” cried Philippe, “the huntsman’s house hired +by you, your mysterious promenades in the park at night, +and the tender parting at the little gate.” +</p> + +<p> +“Monsieur, in heaven’s name——” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, sir, I was concealed behind the baths of Apollo +when you came out, arm in arm with the queen.” +</p> + +<p> +Charny was completely overwhelmed for a time; then, +after a few moments, he said, “Well, sir, even after all +this, I reiterate my demand for the hand of your sister. +I am not the base calculator you suppose me; but the +queen must be saved.” +</p> + +<p> +“The queen is not lost, because I saw her on your arm, +raising to heaven her eyes full of happiness; because I +know that she loves you. That is no reason why my sister +should be sacrificed, M. de Charny.” +</p> + +<p> +“Monsieur,” replied Charny, “this morning the king +surprised me at her feet——” +</p> + +<p> +“Mon Dieu!” +</p> + +<p> +“And she, pressed by his jealous questions, replied +that I was kneeling to ask the hand of your sister. Therefore +if I do not marry her, the queen is lost. Do you +now understand?” +</p> + +<p> +A cry from the boudoir now interrupted them, followed +by another from the ante-chamber. Charny ran to the +boudoir; he saw there Andrée, dressed in white like a +bride: she had heard all, and had fainted. Philippe ran +to where the other cry came from; it was his father, +whose hopes this revelation of the queen’s love for Charny +had just destroyed; struck by apoplexy, he had given his +last sigh. Philippe, who understood it, looked at the +corpse for a few minutes in silence, and then returned to +the drawing-room, and there saw Charny watching the +senseless form of his sister. He then said, “My father +has just expired, sir; I am now the head of the family; +if my sister survive, I will give her to you in marriage.” +</p> + +<p> +Charny regarded the corpse of the baron with horror, +and the form of Andrée with despair. Philippe uttered +a groan of agony, then continued, “M. de Charny, I +make this engagement in the name of my sister, now +lying senseless before us; she will give her happiness to +the queen, and I, perhaps, some day shall be happy enough +to give my life for her. Adieu, M. de Charny——” and +taking his sister in his arms, he carried her into the next +room. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2>CHAPTER LXXXV.<br/> +AFTER THE DRAGON, THE VIPER.</h2> + +<p> +Oliva was preparing to fly, as Jeanne had arranged, +when Beausire, warned by an anonymous letter, discovered +her and carried her away. In order to trace them, Jeanne +put all her powers in requisition—she preferred being +able to watch over her own secret—and her disappointment +was great when all her agents returned announcing +a failure. At this time she received in her hiding-place +numerous messages from the queen. +</p> + +<p> +She went by night to Bar-sur-Aube, and there remained +for two days. At last she was traced, and an express sent +to take her. Then she learnt the arrest of the cardinal. +“The queen has been rash,” thought she, “in refusing +to compromise with the cardinal, or to pay the jewelers; +but she did not know my power.” +</p> + +<p> +“Monsieur,” said she to the officer who arrested her, +“do you love the queen?” +</p> + +<p> +“Certainly, madame.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, in the name of that love I beg you to conduct +me straight to her. Believe me, you will be doing her a +service.” +</p> + +<p> +The man was persuaded, and did so. The queen received +her haughtily, for she began to suspect that her conduct +had not been straightforward. She called in two ladies +as witnesses of what was about to pass. +</p> + +<p> +“You are found at last, madame,” said the queen; +“why did you hide?” +</p> + +<p> +“I did not hide, madame.” +</p> + +<p> +“Run away, then, if that pleases you better.” +</p> + +<p> +“That is to say, that I quitted Paris. I had some +little business at Bar-sur-Aube, and, to tell the truth, I +did not know I was so necessary to your majesty as to be +obliged to ask leave for an absence of eight days.” +</p> + +<p> +“Have you seen the king?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, madame.” +</p> + +<p> +“You shall see him.” +</p> + +<p> +“It will be a great honor for me; but your majesty +seems very severe towards me—I am all trembling.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, madame, this is but the beginning. Do you know +that M. de Rohan has been arrested?” +</p> + +<p> +“They told me so, madame.” +</p> + +<p> +“You guess why?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, madame.” +</p> + +<p> +“You proposed to me that he should pay for a certain +necklace; did I accept or refuse?” +</p> + +<p> +“Refuse.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah!” said the queen, well pleased. +</p> + +<p> +“Your majesty even paid 100,000 francs on account.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, and afterwards?” +</p> + +<p> +“Afterwards, as your majesty could not pay, you sent +it back to M. Bœhmer.” +</p> + +<p> +“By whom?” +</p> + +<p> +“By me.” +</p> + +<p> +“And what did you do with it?” +</p> + +<p> +“I took it to the cardinal.” +</p> + +<p> +“And why to the cardinal instead of to the jewelers, +as I told you?” +</p> + +<p> +“Because I thought he would be hurt if I returned it +without letting him know.” +</p> + +<p> +“But how did you get a receipt from the jewelers?” +</p> + +<p> +“M. de Rohan gave it to me.” +</p> + +<p> +“But why did you take a letter to them as coming from +me?” +</p> + +<p> +“Because he gave it to me, and asked me to do so.” +</p> + +<p> +“It is, then, all his doing?” +</p> + +<p> +“What is, madame?” +</p> + +<p> +“The receipt and the letter are both forged.” +</p> + +<p> +“Forged, madame!” cried Jeanne, with much apparent +astonishment. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, you must be confronted with him to prove the +truth.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why, madame?” +</p> + +<p> +“He himself demands it. He says he has sought you +everywhere, and that he wishes to prove that you have +deceived him.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! then, madame, let us meet.” +</p> + +<p> +“You shall. You deny all knowledge of where the +necklace is?” +</p> + +<p> +“How should I know, madame?” +</p> + +<p> +“You deny having aided the cardinal in his intrigues?” +</p> + +<p> +“I am a Valois, madame.” +</p> + +<p> +“But M. de Rohan maintained before the king many +calumnies, which he said you would confirm.” +</p> + +<p> +“I do not understand.” +</p> + +<p> +“He declares he wrote to me.” +</p> + +<p> +Jeanne did not reply. +</p> + +<p> +“Do you hear?” said the queen. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, madame.” +</p> + +<p> +“What do you reply?” +</p> + +<p> +“I will reply when I have seen him.” +</p> + +<p> +“But speak the truth now.” +</p> + +<p> +“Your majesty overwhelms me.” +</p> + +<p> +“That is no answer.” +</p> + +<p> +“I will give no other here;” and she looked at the +two ladies. The queen understood, but would not yield; +she scorned to purchase anything by concession. +</p> + +<p> +“M. de Rohan,” said the queen, “was sent to the +Bastile for saying too much; take care, madame, that +you are not sent for saying too little.” +</p> + +<p> +Jeanne smiled. “A pure conscience can brave persecution,” +she replied; “the Bastile will not convict me of +a crime I did not commit.” +</p> + +<p> +“Will you reply?” +</p> + +<p> +“Only to your majesty.” +</p> + +<p> +“Are you not speaking to me?” +</p> + +<p> +“Not alone.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah! you fear scandal, after being the cause of so +much to me.” +</p> + +<p> +“What I did,” said Jeanne, “was done for you.” +</p> + +<p> +“What insolence!” +</p> + +<p> +“I submit to the insults of my queen.” +</p> + +<p> +“You will sleep in the Bastile to-night, madame!” +</p> + +<p> +“So be it; I will first pray to God to preserve your +majesty’s honor.” +</p> + +<p> +The queen rose furiously, and went into the next room. +</p> + +<p> +“After having conquered the dragon,” she said, “I +can crush the viper!” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2>CHAPTER LXXXVI.<br/> +HOW IT CAME TO PASS THAT M. BEAUSIRE WAS TRACKED +BY THE AGENTS OF M. DE CROSNE.</h2> + +<p> +Madame de la Motte was imprisoned as the queen had +threatened, and the whole affair created no little talk and +excitement through France. M. de Rohan lived at the +Bastile like a prince: he had everything but liberty. He +demanded to be confronted with Madame de la Motte as +soon as he heard of her arrest. This was done. She +whispered to him, “Send every one away, and I will explain.” +He asked this, but was refused; they said his +counsel might communicate with her. She said to this +gentleman that she was ignorant of what had become of +the necklace, but that they might well have given it to +her in recompense for the services she had rendered the +queen and the cardinal, which were well worth a million +and a half. The cardinal turned pale on hearing this +repeated, and felt how much they were in Jeanne’s power. +He was determined not to accuse the queen, although his +friends endeavored to convince him that it was his only +way to prove his innocence of the robbery. Jeanne said +that she did not wish to accuse either the queen or the +cardinal, but that, if they persisted in making her responsible +for the necklace, she would do so to show that they +were interested in accusing her of falsehood. Then M. de +Rohan expressed all his contempt for her, and said that he +began to understand much of Jeanne’s conduct, but not +the queen’s. All this was reported to Marie Antoinette. +She ordered another private examination of the parties, +but gained nothing from it. Jeanne denied everything +to those sent by the queen; but when they were gone she +altered her tone, and said, “If they do not leave me alone +I will tell all.” The cardinal said nothing, and brought +no accusations; but rumors began to spread fast, and +the question soon became, not “Has the queen stolen the +necklace?” but “Has she allowed some one else to steal it +because she knew all about her amours?” Madame de la +Motte had involved her in a maze, from which there +seemed no honorable exit; but she determined not to +lose courage. She began to come to the conclusion that +the cardinal was an honest man, and did not wish to ruin +her, but was acting like herself, only to preserve his +honor. They strove earnestly but ineffectually to trace +the necklace. All opinions were against Jeanne, and she +began to fear that, even if she dragged down the queen +and cardinal, she should be quite overwhelmed under the +ruins she had caused; and she had not even at hand the +fruits of her dishonesty to corrupt her judges with. Affairs +were in this state when a new episode changed the face of +things. Oliva and M. Beausire were living, happy and +rich, in a country house, when one day Beausire, going +out hunting, fell into the company of two of the agents +of M. de Crosne, whom he had scattered all over the +country. They recognized Beausire immediately, but, as +it was Oliva whom they most wanted, they did not arrest +him there, but only joined the chase. Beausire, seeing +two strangers, called the huntsman, and asked who they +were. He replied that he did not know, but, if he had +permission, would send them away. On his questioning +them, they said they were friends of that gentleman, pointing +to M. Beausire. Then the man brought them to him, +saying, “M. de Linville, these gentlemen say they are +friends of yours.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, you are called De Linville now, dear M. Beausire!” +</p> + +<p> +Beausire trembled; he had concealed his name so carefully. +He sent away the huntsman, and asked them who +they were. +</p> + +<p> +“Take us home with you, and we will tell you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Home?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes; do not be inhospitable.” Beausire was frightened, +but still feared to refuse these men who knew him. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2>CHAPTER LXXXVII.<br/> +THE TURTLES ARE CAGED.</h2> + +<p> +Beausire, on entering the house, made a noise to attract +Oliva’s attention, for, though he knew nothing about +her later escapades, he knew enough about the ball at +the Opera, and the morning at M. Mesmer’s, to make +him fear letting her be seen by strangers. Accordingly, +Oliva, hearing the dogs bark, looked out, and, seeing +Beausire returning with two strangers, did not come to +meet him as usual. Unfortunately the servant asked if +he should call madame. The men rallied him about the +lady whom he had concealed; he let them laugh, but +did not offer to call her. They dined; then Beausire +asked where they had met him before. “We are,” replied +they, “friends of one of your associates in a little +affair about the Portuguese embassy.” +</p> + +<p> +Beausire turned pale. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah!” said he: “and you came on your friend’s +part?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, dear M. Beausire, to ask for 10,000 francs.” +</p> + +<p> +“Gentlemen,” replied Beausire, “you cannot think I +have such a sum in the house.” +</p> + +<p> +“Very likely not, monsieur; we do not ask for impossibilities. +How much have you?” +</p> + +<p> +“Not more than fifty or sixty louis.” +</p> + +<p> +“We will take them to begin with.” +</p> + +<p> +“I will go and fetch them,” said Beausire. But they +did not choose to let him leave the room without them, +so they caught hold of him by the coat, saying: +</p> + +<p> +“Oh no, dear M. Beausire, do not leave us.” +</p> + +<p> +“But how am I to get the money if I do not leave +you?” +</p> + +<p> +“We will go with you.” +</p> + +<p> +“But it is in my wife’s bedroom.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah,” cried one of them, “you hide your wife from +us!” +</p> + +<p> +“Are we not presentable?” asked the other. “We +wish to see her.” +</p> + +<p> +“You are tipsy, and I will turn you out!” said Beausire. +</p> + +<p> +They laughed. +</p> + +<p> +“Now you shall not even have the money I promised,” +said he, emboldened by what he thought their intoxication; +and he ran out of the room. +</p> + +<p> +They followed and caught him; he cried out, and at +the sound a door opened, and a woman looked out with +a frightened air. On seeing her, the men released +Beausire, and gave a cry of exultation, for they recognized +her immediately who resembled the Queen of France so +strongly. +</p> + +<p> +Beausire, who believed them for a moment disarmed by +the sight of a woman, was soon cruelly undeceived. +</p> + +<p> +One of the men approached Oliva, and said: +</p> + +<p> +“I arrest you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Arrest her! Why?” cried Beausire. +</p> + +<p> +“Because it is M. de Crosne’s orders.” +</p> + +<p> +A thunderbolt falling between the lovers would have +frightened them less than this declaration. +</p> + +<p> +At last Beausire said, “You came to arrest me?” +</p> + +<p> +“No; it was a chance.” +</p> + +<p> +“Never mind, you might have arrested me, and for +sixty louis you were about to leave me at liberty.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh no, we should have asked another sixty; however, +for one hundred we will do so.” +</p> + +<p> +“And madame?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, that is quite a different affair.” +</p> + +<p> +“She is worth two hundred louis,” said Beausire. +</p> + +<p> +They laughed again, and this time Beausire began to +understand this terrible laugh. +</p> + +<p> +“Three hundred, four hundred, a thousand—see, I +will give you one thousand louis to leave her at liberty!” +</p> + +<p> +They did not answer. +</p> + +<p> +“Is not that enough? Ah, you know I have money, +and you want to make me pay. Well, I will give +you two thousand louis; it will make both your fortunes!” +</p> + +<p> +“For 100,000 crowns we would not give up this +woman. M. de Rohan will give us 500,000 francs for +her, and the queen 1,000,000. Now we must go. You +doubtless have a carriage of some kind here; have it +prepared for madame. We will take you also, for form’s +sake; but on the way you can escape, and we will shut +our eyes.” +</p> + +<p> +Beausire replied, “Where she goes, I will go; I will +never leave her.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, so much the better; the more prisoners we +bring M. de Crosne, the better he will be pleased.” +</p> + +<p> +A quarter of an hour after, Beausire’s carriage started, +with the two lovers in it. One may imagine the effect of +this capture on M. de Crosne. The agents probably did +not receive the 1,000,000 francs they hoped for, but there +is reason to believe they were satisfied. M. de Crosne +went to Versailles, followed by another carriage well +guarded. He asked to see the queen, and was instantly +admitted. She judged from his face that he had good +news for her, and felt the first sensation of joy she had +experienced for a month. +</p> + +<p> +“Madame,” said M. de Crosne, “have you a room here +where you can see without being seen?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh yes—my library.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, madame, I have a carriage below, in which is +some one whom I wish to introduce into the castle unseen +by any one.” +</p> + +<p> +“Nothing more easy,” replied the queen, ringing to +give her orders. +</p> + +<p> +All was executed as he wished. Then she conducted +M. de Crosne to the library, where, concealed from view +behind a large screen, she soon saw enter a form which +made her utter a cry of surprise. It was Oliva, dressed +in one of her own favorite costumes—a green dress with +broad stripes of black moirée, green satin slippers with +high heels, and her hair dressed like her own. It might +have been herself reflected in the glass. +</p> + +<p> +“What says your majesty to this resemblance?” asked +M. de Crosne, triumphantly. +</p> + +<p> +“Incredible,” said the queen. She then thought to +herself, “Ah! Charny; why are you not here?” +</p> + +<p> +“What does your majesty wish?” +</p> + +<p> +“Nothing, sir, but that the king should know.” +</p> + +<p> +“And M. de Provence see her? shall he not, madame?” +</p> + +<p> +“Thanks, M. de Crosne, you hold now, I think, the +clue to the whole plot.” +</p> + +<p> +“Nearly so, madame.” +</p> + +<p> +“And M. de Rohan?” +</p> + +<p> +“Knows nothing yet.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah!” cried the queen; “in this woman, doubtless, +lies all his error.” +</p> + +<p> +“Possibly, madame; but if it be his error it is the +crime of some one else.” +</p> + +<p> +“Seek well, sir; the honor of France is in your +hands.” +</p> + +<p> +“Believe me worthy of the trust. At present, the accused +parties deny everything. I shall wait for the proper +time to overwhelm them with this living witness that +I now hold.” +</p> + +<p> +“Madame de la Motte?” +</p> + +<p> +“Knows nothing of this capture. She accuses M. de +Cagliostro of having excited the cardinal to say what he +did.” +</p> + +<p> +“And what does M. de Cagliostro say?” +</p> + +<p> +“He has promised to come to me this morning. He +is a dangerous man, but a useful one, and attacked by +Madame de la Motte, I am in hopes he will sting back +again.” +</p> + +<p> +“You hope for revelations?” +</p> + +<p> +“I do.” +</p> + +<p> +“How so, sir? Tell me everything which can reassure +me.” +</p> + +<p> +“These are my reasons, madame. Madame de la +Motte lived in the Rue St. Claude, and M. de Cagliostro +just opposite her. So I think her movements cannot +have been unnoticed by him; but if your majesty will excuse +me, it is close to the time he appointed to meet me.” +</p> + +<p> +“Go, monsieur, go; and assure yourself of my gratitude.” +</p> + +<p> +When he was gone the queen burst into tears. “My +justification begins,” said she; “I shall soon read my +triumph in all faces; but the one I most cared to know +me innocent, him I shall not see.” +</p> + +<p> +M. de Crosne drove back to Paris, where M. de +Cagliostro waited for him. He knew all; for he had +discovered Beausire’s retreat, and was on the road to see +him, and induce him to leave France, when he met the +carriage containing Beausire and Oliva. Beausire saw +the count, and the idea crossed his mind that he might +help them. He therefore accepted the offer of the police-agents, +gave them the hundred louis, and made his escape, +in spite of the tears shed by Oliva; saying, “I go +to try and save you.” He ran after M. de Cagliostro’s +carriage, which he soon overtook, as the count had +stopped, it being useless to proceed. Beausire soon told +his story; Cagliostro listened in silence, then said, +“She is lost.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why so?” Then Cagliostro told him all he did not +already know—all the intrigues in the park. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! save her,” cried Beausire; “and I will give her +to you, if you love her still.” +</p> + +<p> +“My friend,” replied Cagliostro, “you deceive yourself; +I never loved Mademoiselle Oliva; I had but one +aim—that of weaning her from the life of debauchery she +was leading with you.” +</p> + +<p> +“But——” said Beausire. +</p> + +<p> +“That astonishes you—know that I belong to a society +whose object is moral reform. Ask her if ever she heard +from my mouth one word of gallantry, or if my services +were not disinterested.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, monsieur! but will you save her?” +</p> + +<p> +“I will try, but it will depend on yourself.” +</p> + +<p> +“I will do anything.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then return with me to Paris, and if you follow my +instructions implicitly, we may succeed in saving her. I +only impose one condition, which I will tell you when I +reach home.” +</p> + +<p> +“I promise beforehand. But can I see her again?” +</p> + +<p> +“I think so, and you can tell her what I say to you.” +In two hours they overtook the carriage containing Oliva, +and Beausire bought for fifty louis permission to embrace +her, and tell her all the count had said. The agents +admired this violent love, and hoped for more louis, but +Beausire was gone. Cagliostro drove him to Paris. +</p> + +<p> +We will now return to M. de Crosne. +</p> + +<p> +This gentleman knew a good deal about Cagliostro, his +former names, his pretensions to ubiquity and perpetual +regeneration, his secrets in alchemy and magnetism, and +looked upon him as a great charlatan. +</p> + +<p> +“Monsieur,” said he to Cagliostro, “you asked me for +an audience; I have returned from Versailles to meet +you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Sir, I thought you would wish to question me about +what is passing, so I came to you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Question you?” said the magistrate, affecting surprise. +“On what?” +</p> + +<p> +“Monsieur,” replied Cagliostro, “you are much occupied +about Madame de la Motte, and the missing necklace.” +</p> + +<p> +“Have you found it?” asked M. de Crosne, laughing. +</p> + +<p> +“No, sir, but Madame de la Motte lived in the Rue St. +Claude——” +</p> + +<p> +“I know, opposite you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, if you know all about Oliva, I have nothing more +to tell you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Who is Oliva?” +</p> + +<p> +“You do not know? Then, sir, imagine a young girl +very pretty, with blue eyes, and an oval face, a style of +beauty something like her majesty, for instance.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, sir?” +</p> + +<p> +“This young girl led a bad life; it gave me pain to see +it; for she was once in the service of an old friend of +mine, M. de Taverney—but I weary you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh no, pray go on.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, Oliva led not only a bad life, but an unhappy +one, with a fellow she called her lover, who beat and +robbed her.” +</p> + +<p> +“Beausire,” said the magistrate. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah! you know him. You are still more a magician +than I am. Well, one day when Beausire had beaten +the poor girl more than usual, she fled to me for +refuge; I pitied her, and gave her shelter in one of my +houses.” +</p> + +<p> +“In your house!” cried M. de Crosne in surprise. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! why not? I am a bachelor,” said Cagliostro, +with an air which quite deceived M. de Crosne. +</p> + +<p> +“That is then the reason why my agents could not find +her.” +</p> + +<p> +“What! you were seeking this little girl? Had she +then been guilty of any crime?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, sir, no; pray go on.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! I have done. I lodged her at my house, and +that is all.” +</p> + +<p> +“No, sir, for you just now associated her name with +that of Madame de la Motte.” +</p> + +<p> +“Only as neighbors.” +</p> + +<p> +“But, sir, this Oliva, whom you say you had in your +house, I found in the country with Beausire.” +</p> + +<p> +“With Beausire? Ah! then I have wronged Madame +de la Motte.” +</p> + +<p> +“How so, sir?” +</p> + +<p> +“Why just as I thought I had hopes of reforming +Oliva, and bringing her back to an honest life, some one +carried her away from me.” +</p> + +<p> +“That is strange.” +</p> + +<p> +“Is it not? And I firmly believed it to be Madame de +la Motte. But as you found her with Beausire, it was +not she, and all her signals and correspondence with Oliva +meant nothing.” +</p> + +<p> +“With Oliva?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes.” +</p> + +<p> +“They met?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, Madame de la Motte found a way to take Oliva +out every night.” +</p> + +<p> +“Are you sure of this?” +</p> + +<p> +“I saw and heard her.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, sir, you tell me what I would have paid for with +one thousand francs a word. But you are a friend of +M. de Rohan?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes.” +</p> + +<p> +“You ought to know how far he was connected with +this affair.” +</p> + +<p> +“I do not wish to know.” +</p> + +<p> +“But you know the object of these nightly excursions +of Madame de la Motte and Oliva?” +</p> + +<p> +“Of that also I wish to be ignorant.” +</p> + +<p> +“Sir, I only wish to ask you one more question. Have +you proofs of the correspondence of Madame de la Motte +and Oliva?” +</p> + +<p> +“Plenty.” +</p> + +<p> +“What are they?” +</p> + +<p> +“Notes which Madame de la Motte used to throw +over to Oliva with a cross-bow. Several of them did not +reach their destination, and were picked up either by +myself, or my servants, in the street.” +</p> + +<p> +“Sir, you will be ready to produce them, if called +upon?” +</p> + +<p> +“Certainly; they are perfectly innocent, and cannot +injure any one.” +</p> + +<p> +“And have you any other proofs of intimacy?” +</p> + +<p> +“I know that she had a method of entering my house +to see Oliva. I saw her myself, just after Oliva had disappeared, +and my servants saw her also.” +</p> + +<p> +“But what did she come for, if Oliva was gone?” +</p> + +<p> +“I did not know. I saw her come out of a carriage at +the corner of the street. My idea was that she wished to +attach Oliva to her, and keep her near her.” +</p> + +<p> +“And you let her do it?” +</p> + +<p> +“Why not? She is a great lady, and received at +court. Why should I have prevented her taking charge +of Oliva, and taking her off my hands?” +</p> + +<p> +“What did she say when she found that Oliva was +gone?” +</p> + +<p> +“She appeared distressed.” +</p> + +<p> +“You suppose that Beausire carried her off?” +</p> + +<p> +“I suppose so, for you tell me you found them together. +I did not suspect him before, for he did not +know where she was.” +</p> + +<p> +“She must have let him know herself.” +</p> + +<p> +“I think not, as she had fled from him. I think +Madame de la Motte must have sent him a key.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah! what day was it?” +</p> + +<p> +“The evening of St. Louis.” +</p> + +<p> +“Monsieur, you have rendered a great service to me +and to the state.” +</p> + +<p> +“I am happy to hear it.” +</p> + +<p> +“You shall be thanked as you deserve. I may count +on the production of the proofs you mention?” +</p> + +<p> +“I am ready, sir, to assist justice at all times.” +</p> + +<p> +As Cagliostro left, he muttered, “Ah, countess! you +tried to accuse me—take care of yourself.” +</p> + +<p> +Meanwhile, M. de Breteuil was sent by the king to examine +Madame de la Motte. She declared that she had +proofs of her innocence, which she would produce at the +proper time; she also declared, that she would only +speak the truth in the presence of the cardinal. She was +told that the cardinal laid all the blame upon her. “Tell +him then,” she said, “that I advise him not to persist in +such a foolish system of defense.” +</p> + +<p> +“Whom then do you accuse?” asked M. Breteuil. +</p> + +<p> +“I accuse no one,” was her reply. +</p> + +<p> +A report was spread at last that the diamonds were +being sold in England by M. Reteau de Villette. This +man was soon found and arrested, and brought over and +confronted with Jeanne. To her utter confusion, he +acknowledged that he had forged a receipt from the +jewelers, and a letter from the queen at the request of +Madame de la Motte. She denied furiously, and declared +that she had never seen M. Reteau. M. de Crosne produced +as witness a coachman, who swore to having driven +her, on the day named, to the house of M. Reteau. Also, +one of the servants of M. de Cagliostro deposed to having +seen this man on the box of Jeanne’s carriage on the night +that she came to his master’s house. Now, Jeanne began to +abuse the count, and accused him of having inspired M. de +Rohan with the ideas inimical to the royal dignity. +M. de Rohan defended him, and Jeanne at once plainly +accused the cardinal of a violent love for the queen. +M. de Cagliostro requested to be incarcerated, and allowed +to prove his innocence publicly. Then the queen caused +to be published all the reports made to the king about +the nocturnal promenades, and requested M. de Crosne +to state all that he knew about it. This public avowal +overturned all Jeanne’s plans, and she denied having assisted +at any meetings between the queen and the cardinal. +This declaration would have cleared the queen, +had it been possible to attach any credence to what this +woman said. While Jeanne continued to deny that she +had ever been in the park, they brought forward Oliva at +last, a living witness of all the falsehoods of the countess. +When Oliva was shown to the cardinal the blow was +dreadful. He saw at last how infamously he had been +played upon. This man, so full of delicacy and noble +passions, discovered that an adventuress had led him to +insult and despise the Queen of France; a woman whom +he loved, and who was innocent. He would have shed all +his blood at the feet of Marie Antoinette to make atonement. +But he could not even acknowledge his mistake +without owning that he loved her—even his excuse would +involve an offense; so he was obliged to keep silent, and +allow Jeanne to deny everything. Oliva confessed all +without reserve. At last Jeanne, driven from every hold, +confessed that she had deceived the cardinal, but declared +that it was done with the consent of the queen, +who watched and enjoyed the scene, hidden behind the +trees. To this story she kept; the queen could never +disprove it, and there were plenty of people willing to +believe it true. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2>CHAPTER LXXXVIII.<br/> +THE LAST HOPE LOST.</h2> + +<p> +Here the affair therefore rested, for Jeanne was determined +to share the blame with some one, as she could +not turn it from herself. All her calculations had been +defeated by the frankness with which the queen had met, +and made public, every accusation against her. +</p> + +<p> +At last Jeanne wrote the following letter to the queen: +</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p> +“<span class="smcap">Madame</span>, +</p> + +<p> +“In spite of my painful position and rigorous treatment, I +have not uttered a complaint; all that has been tried to extort +avowals from me has failed to make me compromise my sovereign. +However, although persuaded that my constancy and discretion +will facilitate my release from my present position, the +friends of the cardinal make me fear I shall become his victim. +A long imprisonment, endless questions, and the shame and +despair of being accused of such crimes, begin to exhaust my +courage, and I tremble lest my constancy should at last give +way. Your majesty might end all this by a few words to M. de +Breteuil, who could give the affair in the king’s eyes any color +your majesty likes without compromising you. It is the fear of +being compelled to reveal all which makes me beg your majesty +to take steps to relieve me from my painful position. I am, +with profound respect, +</p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 20em;">“Your humble servant,</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 22em;"><span class="smcap">“Jeanne de la Motte.”</span></span><br /> +</p> +</div> + +<p> +Jeanne calculated either that this letter would frighten +the queen, or, what was more probable, would never reach +her hands, but be carried by the messenger to the governor +of the Bastile, where it could hardly fail to tell +against the queen. She then wrote to the cardinal: +</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p> +“I cannot conceive, monseigneur, why you persist in not +speaking plainly. It seems to me that your best plan would be +to confide fully in our judges. As for me, I am resolved to be +silent if you will not second me; but why do you not speak? +Explain all the circumstances of this mysterious affair, for if I +were to speak first, and you not support me, I should be sacrificed +to the vengeance of her who wishes to ruin us. But I have +written her a letter which will perhaps induce her to spare us, +who have nothing to reproach ourselves with.” +</p></div> + +<p> +This letter she gave to the cardinal at their last confrontation. +He grew pale with anger at her audacity, +and left the room. Then Jeanne produced her letter to +the queen, and begged the Abbé Lekel, chaplain of the +Bastile, who had accompanied the cardinal, and was devoted +to him, to take charge of it and convey it to the +queen. He refused to take it. She declared that if he +did not she would produce M. de Rohan’s letters to the +queen. “And take care, sir,” added she, “for they will +cause his head to fall on the scaffold.” +</p> + +<p> +At this moment the cardinal reappeared. +</p> + +<p> +“Madame,” said he, “let my head fall, so that I have +the satisfaction of seeing also the scaffold which you shall +mount as a thief and a forger. Come, Abbé.” He went +away, leaving Jeanne devoured with rage and disappointment +at her failures at every turn. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2>CHAPTER LXXXIX.<br/> +THE BAPTISM OF THE LITTLE BEAUSIRE.</h2> + +<p> +Madame de la Motte had deceived herself on all +points, Cagliostro upon none. Once in the Bastile, he +saw a good opportunity for working at the ruin of the +monarchy, which he had been trying to undermine for so +many years. He prepared the famous letter, dated from +London, which appeared a month after. In this letter, +after attacking king, queen, cardinal, and even M. de +Breteuil, he said, “Yes, I repeat, now free after my imprisonment, +there is no crime that would not be expiated by +six months in the Bastile. They ask me if I shall ever +return to France? Yes, I reply, when the Bastile becomes +a public promenade. You have all that is necessary +to happiness, you Frenchmen; a fertile soil and +genial climate, good hearts, gay tempers, genius, and +grace. You only want, my friends, one little thing—to +feel sure of sleeping quietly in your beds when you are +innocent.” +</p> + +<p> +Oliva kept her word faithfully to Cagliostro, and +uttered no word that could compromise him. She threw +all the blame on Madame de la Motte, and asserted vehemently +her own innocent participation in what she believed +to be a joke, played on a gentleman unknown to +her. All this time she did not see Beausire, but she had +a souvenir of him; for in the month of May she gave +birth to a son. Beausire was allowed to attend the baptism, +which took place in the prison, which he did with +much pleasure, swearing that if Oliva ever recovered her +liberty he would make her his wife. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2>CHAPTER XC.<br/> +THE TRIAL.</h2> + +<p> +The day at last arrived, after long investigations, when +the judgment of the court was to be pronounced. All +the accused had been removed to the Conciergerie, to be +in readiness to appear when called on. Oliva continued +to be frank and timid; Cagliostro, tranquil and indifferent; +Reteau, despairing, cowardly, and weeping; and +Jeanne, violent, menacing, and venomous. She had managed +to interest the keeper and his wife, and thus +obtain more freedom and indulgences. +</p> + +<p> +The first who took his place on the wooden stool, which +was appropriated for the accused, was Reteau, who +asked pardon with tears and prayers, declared all he +knew, and avowed his crimes. He interested no one; he +was simply a knave and a coward. After him came +Madame de la Motte. Her appearance produced a great +sensation; at the sight of the disgraceful seat prepared +for her, she, who called herself a Valois, threw around +her furious looks, but, meeting curiosity instead of +sympathy, repressed her rage. When interrogated, she +continued, as before, to throw out insinuations, stating +nothing clearly but her own innocence. When questioned +as to the letters which she was reported to have +said passed between the queen and the cardinal, she answered +that she did not wish to compromise the queen, +and that the cardinal was best able to answer this question +himself. “Ask him to produce them,” said she; “I +wish to say nothing about them.” She inspired in nearly +all a feeling of distrust and anger. When she retired, +her only consolation was the hope of seeing the cardinal +in the seat after her; and her rage was extreme when she +saw it taken away, and an armchair brought for his use. +The cardinal advanced, accompanied by four attendants, +and the governor of the Bastile walked by his side. At +his entrance he was greeted by a long murmur of sympathy +and respect; it was echoed by loud shouts from +without—it was the people who cheered him. He was +pale, and much moved. The president spoke politely to +him, and begged him to sit down. When he spoke, it +was with a trembling voice, and a troubled and even +humble manner. He gave excuses rather than proofs, +and supplications more than reasons, but said little, and +seemed to be deserted by his former eloquence. Oliva +came next. The wooden stool was brought back for her. +Many people trembled at seeing this living image of the +queen sitting there as a criminal. Then Cagliostro +was called, but almost as a matter of form, and dismissed +immediately. The court then announced that the proceedings +were concluded, and the deliberations about to +begin. All the prisoners were locked for the night in +the Conciergerie. The sentence was not pronounced till +the following day. Jeanne seated herself early at the +window, and before long heard a tremendous shouting +from the crowd collected to hear the sentence. This +continued for some time, when she distinctly heard a +passer-by say, “A grand day for the cardinal!” “For +the cardinal,” thought Jeanne; “then he is acquitted;” +and she ran to M. Hubert, the keeper, to ask, but he did +not know. “He must be acquitted!” she said; “they +said it was a grand day for him. But I——” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, madame,” said he, “if he is acquitted, why +should you not be acquitted also?” +</p> + +<p> +Jeanne returned to the window. “You are wrong, +madame,” said Madame Hubert to her; “you only become +agitated, without perfectly understanding what is +passing. Pray remain quiet until your counsel comes to +communicate your fate.” +</p> + +<p> +“I cannot,” said Jeanne, continuing to listen to what +passed in the street. +</p> + +<p> +A woman passed, gaily dressed, and with a bouquet in +her hand. “He shall have my bouquet, the dear man!” +said she. “Oh, I would embrace him if I could!” +</p> + +<p> +“And I also,” said another. +</p> + +<p> +“He is so handsome!” said a third. +</p> + +<p> +“It must be the cardinal,” said Jeanne; “he is acquitted.” +</p> + +<p> +And she said this with so much bitterness that the +keeper said, “But, madame, do you not wish the poor +prisoner to be released?” +</p> + +<p> +Jeanne, unwilling to lose their sympathy, replied, +“Oh, you misunderstand me. Do you believe me so envious +and wicked as to wish ill to my companions in misfortune? +Oh no; I trust he is free. It is only impatience +to learn my own fate, and you tell me nothing.” +</p> + +<p> +“We do not know,” replied they. +</p> + +<p> +Then other loud cries were heard. Jeanne could see +the crowd pressing round an open carriage, which was +going slowly along. Flowers were thrown, hats waved; +some even mounted on the steps to kiss the hand of a man +who sat grave and half frightened at his own popularity. +This was the cardinal. Another man sat by him, and +cries of “Vive Cagliostro!” were mingled with the shouts +for M. de Rohan. Jeanne began to gather courage from +all this sympathy for those whom she chose to call the +queen’s victims; but suddenly the thought flashed on +her, “They are already set free, and no one has even been +to announce my sentence!” and she trembled. New +shouts now drew her attention to a coach, which was also +advancing, followed by a crowd; and in this Jeanne recognized +Oliva, who sat smiling with delight at the people +who cheered her, holding her child in her arms. Then +Jeanne, seeing all these people free, happy, and fêted, +began to utter loud complaints that she was not also +liberated, or at least told her fate. +</p> + +<p> +“Calm yourself, madame,” said Madame Hubert. +</p> + +<p> +“But tell me, for you must know.” +</p> + +<p> +“Madame.” +</p> + +<p> +“I implore you! You see how I suffer.” +</p> + +<p> +“We are forbidden, madame.” +</p> + +<p> +“Is it so frightful that you dare not?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh no; calm yourself.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then speak.” +</p> + +<p> +“Will you be patient, and not betray us?” +</p> + +<p> +“I swear.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, the cardinal is acquitted.” +</p> + +<p> +“I know it.” +</p> + +<p> +“M. de Cagliostro and Mademoiselle Oliva are also acquitted, +M. Reteau condemned to the galleys——” +</p> + +<p> +“And I?” cried Jeanne, furiously. +</p> + +<p> +“Madame, you promised to be patient.” +</p> + +<p> +“See—speak—I am calm.” +</p> + +<p> +“Banished,” said the woman, feebly. +</p> + +<p> +A flash of delight shone for a moment in the eyes of +the countess; then she pretended to faint, and threw +herself into the arms of Madame Hubert. “What would +it have been,” thought she, “if I had told her the +truth!” +</p> + +<p> +“Banishment!” thought Jeanne; “that is liberty, +riches, vengeance; it is what I hoped for. I have +won!” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2>CHAPTER XCI.<br/> +THE EXECUTION.</h2> + +<p> +Jeanne waited for her counsel to come and announce +her fate; but, being now at ease, said to herself, “What +do I care that I am thought more guilty than M. de Rohan? +I am banished—that is to say, I can carry away +my million and a half with me, and live under the orange +trees of Seville during the winter, and in Germany or +England in the summer. Then I can tell my own story, +and, young, rich, and celebrated, live as I please among +my friends.” +</p> + +<p> +Pleasing herself with these notions, she commenced +settling all her future plans, the disposal of her diamonds, +and her establishment in London. This brought to her +mind M. Reteau. “Poor fellow!” thought she, “it is +he who pays for all; some one must suffer, and it always +falls on the humblest instrument. Poor Reteau pays +now for his pamphlets against the queen; he has led a +hard life of blows and escapes, and now it terminates +with the galleys.” She dined with M. and Madame +Hubert, and was quite gay; but they did not respond, +and were silent and uneasy. Jeanne, however, felt so +happy that she cared little for their manner towards her. +After dinner, she asked when they were coming to read +her sentence. +</p> + +<p> +M. Hubert said they were probably waiting till she +returned to her room. She therefore rose to go, when +Madame Hubert ran to her and took her hands, looking +at her with an expression of so much pity and sympathy, +that it struck her for a moment with terror. She was +about to question her, but Hubert took her hand, and led +her from the room. When she reached her own apartment, +she found eight soldiers waiting outside; she felt +surprised, but went in, and allowed the man to lock her +up as usual. Soon, however, the door opened again, and +one of the turnkeys appeared. +</p> + +<p> +“Will madame please to follow me?” he said. +</p> + +<p> +“Where?” +</p> + +<p> +“Below.” +</p> + +<p> +“What for? What do they want with me?” +</p> + +<p> +“Madame, M. Viollet, your counsel, wishes to speak to +you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why does he not come here?” +</p> + +<p> +“Madame, he has received letters from Versailles, and +wishes to show them to you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Letters from Versailles,” thought Jeanne; “perhaps +the queen has interested herself for me, since the sentence +was passed. Wait a little,” she said; “Till I +arrange my dress.” In five minutes she was ready. +“Perhaps,” she thought, “M. Viollet has come to get me +to leave France at once, and the queen is anxious to facilitate +the departure of so dangerous an enemy.” +</p> + +<p> +She followed the turnkey down-stairs, and they entered +a room, which looked like a vault; it was damp, and +almost dark. +</p> + +<p> +“Sir,” said she, trying to overcome her terror, “where +is M. Viollet?” +</p> + +<p> +The man did not reply. +</p> + +<p> +“What do you want?” continued she; “have you +anything to say to me? you have chosen a very singular +place for a rendezvous.” +</p> + +<p> +“We are waiting for M. Viollet,” he replied. +</p> + +<p> +“It is not possible that M. Viollet should wish for me +to wait for him here.” All at once, another door, which +Jeanne had not before observed, opened, and three men +entered. Jeanne looked at them in surprise, and with +growing terror. One of them, who was dressed in black, +with a roll of papers in his hand, advanced, and said: +</p> + +<p> +“You are Jeanne de St. Rémy de Valois, wife of Marie +Antoine, Count de la Motte?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, sir.” +</p> + +<p> +“Born at Fontette, on the 22d of July, 1756?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, sir.” +</p> + +<p> +“You live at Paris, Rue St. Claude?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, sir; but why these questions?” +</p> + +<p> +“Madame, I am the registrar of the court, and I am +come to read to you the sentence of the court of the 31st +of May, 1786.” +</p> + +<p> +Jeanne trembled again, and now looked at the other +two men; one had a gray dress with steel buttons, the +other a fur cap on and an apron, which seemed to her +spotted with blood. She drew back, but the registrar said, +“On your knees, madame, if you please.” +</p> + +<p> +“On my knees?” cried Jeanne; “I, a Valois!” +</p> + +<p> +“It is the order, madame.” +</p> + +<p> +“But, sir, it is an unheard-of thing, except where some +degrading sentence has been pronounced; and banishment +is not such.” +</p> + +<p> +“I did not tell you you were sentenced to banishment,” +said he gravely. +</p> + +<p> +“But to what, then?” +</p> + +<p> +“I will tell you, madame, when you are on your knees.” +</p> + +<p> +“Never!” +</p> + +<p> +“Madame, I only follow my instructions.” +</p> + +<p> +“Never! I tell you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Madame, it is the order that when the condemned +refuse to kneel, they should be forced to do it.” +</p> + +<p> +“Force—to a woman!” +</p> + +<p> +“There is no distinction in the eyes of justice.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah!” cried Jeanne, “this is the queen’s doings; I +recognize the hands of an enemy.” +</p> + +<p> +“You are wrong to accuse the queen; she has nothing +to do with the orders of the court. Come, madame, I +beg you to spare me the necessity of violence, and kneel +down.” +</p> + +<p> +“Never!” and she planted herself firmly in a corner +of the room. +</p> + +<p> +The registrar then signed to the two other men, who, +approaching, seized her, and in spite of her cries dragged +her into the middle of the room. But she bounded up +again. +</p> + +<p> +“Let me stand,” said she, “and I will listen patiently.” +</p> + +<p> +“Madame, whenever criminals are punished by whipping, +they kneel to receive the sentence.” +</p> + +<p> +“Whipping!” screamed Jeanne; “miserable wretch, +how dare you——” +</p> + +<p> +The men forced her on her knees once more, and held +her down, but she struggled so furiously that they called +out, “Read quickly, monsieur, for we cannot hold her.” +</p> + +<p> +“I will never hear such an infamous sentence,” she +cried; and indeed she drowned his voice so effectually +with her screams, that although he read, not a word could +be heard. +</p> + +<p> +He replaced his papers in his pocket, and she, thinking +he had finished, stopped her cries. Then he said, “And +the sentence shall be executed at the place of executions, +Cour de Justice.” +</p> + +<p> +“Publicly!” screamed she. +</p> + +<p> +“Monsieur de Paris, I deliver you this woman,” said +the registrar, addressing the man with the leathern +apron. +</p> + +<p> +“Who is this man?” cried Jeanne, in a fright. +</p> + +<p> +“The executioner,” replied the registrar. +</p> + +<p> +The two men then took hold of her to lead her out, but her resistance was so +violent that they were obliged to drag her along by force, and she never ceased +uttering the most frantic cries. They took her thus into the court called Cour +de Justice, where there was a scaffold and which was crowded with spectators. +On a platform, raised about eight feet, was a post garnished with iron rings, +and with a ladder to mount to it. This place was surrounded with soldiers. When +she appeared, cries of “Here she is!” mingled with much abuse, were +heard from the crowd. Numbers of the partisans of M. de Rohan had assembled to +hoot her, and cries of “A bas la Motte, the forger!” were heard on +every side, and those who tried to express pity for her were soon silenced. +</p> + +<p> +Then she cried in a loud voice, “Do you know who I am? I am of the blood +of your kings. They strike in me, not a criminal, but a rival; not only a +rival, but an accomplice. Yes,” repeated she, as the people kept silence +to listen, “an accomplice. They punish one who knows the secrets +of——” +</p> + +<p> +“Take care,” interrupted the registrar. +</p> + +<p> +She turned and saw the executioner with the whip in +his hand. At this sight she forgot her desire to captivate +the multitude, and even her hatred, and sinking on her +knees she said, “Have pity!” and seized his hand; but +he raised the other, and let the whip fall lightly on her +shoulders. She jumped up, and was about to try and throw +herself off the scaffold, when she saw the other man, who +was drawing from a fire a hot iron. At this sight she +uttered a perfect howl, which was echoed by the people. +</p> + +<p> +“Help! help!” she cried, trying to shake off the cord +with which they were tying her hands. The executioner +at last forced her on her knees, and tore open her dress; +but she cried, with a voice which was heard through all +the tumult, “Cowardly Frenchmen! you do not defend +me, but let me be tortured; oh! it is my own fault. If +I had said all I knew of the queen I should have been——” +</p> + +<p> +She could say no more, for she was gagged by the attendants: +then two men held her, while the executioner +performed his office. At the touch of the iron she +fainted, and was carried back insensible to the Conciergerie +when the crowd gradually dispersed. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2>CHAPTER XCII.<br/> +THE MARRIAGE.</h2> + +<p> +On the same day at noon the king entered a drawing-room, +where the queen was sitting in full dress, but pale +through her rouge, and surrounded by a party of ladies +and gentlemen. He glanced frequently towards the door. +“Are not the young couple ready? I believe it is noon,” +he said. +</p> + +<p> +“Sire, M. de Charny is waiting in the gallery for your +majesty’s orders,” said the queen, with a violent effort. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! let him come in.” The queen turned from the +door. “The bride ought to be here also,” continued the +king, “it is time.” +</p> + +<p> +“Your majesty must excuse Mademoiselle de Taverney, +if she is late,” replied M. de Charny, advancing; “for +since the death of her father she has not left her bed +until to-day, and she fainted when she did so.” +</p> + +<p> +“This dear child loved her father so much,” replied +the king, “but we hope a good husband will console her. +M. de Breteuil,” said he, turning to that gentleman, +“have you made out the order of banishment for M. de +Cagliostro?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, sire.” +</p> + +<p> +“And that De la Motte. Is it not to-day she is to be +branded?” +</p> + +<p> +At this moment, Andrée appeared, dressed in white like +a bride, and with cheeks nearly as white as her dress. +She advanced leaning on her brother’s arm. M. de Suffren, +leading his nephew, came to meet her, and then drew back +to allow her to approach the king. +</p> + +<p> +“Mademoiselle,” said Louis, taking her hand, “I +begged of you to hasten this marriage, instead of waiting +until the time of your mourning had expired, that I might +have the pleasure of assisting at the ceremony; for to-morrow +I and the queen commence a tour through France.” +And he led Andrée up to the queen, who could hardly +stand, and did not raise her eyes. The king then, putting +Andrée’s hand into Philippe’s, said, “Gentlemen, to +the chapel,”—and they began to move. The queen +kneeled on her prie Dieu, her face buried in her hands, +praying for strength. Charny, though pale as death, feeling +that all eyes were upon him, appeared calm and +strong. Andrée remained immovable as a statue; she did +not pray—she had nothing to ask, to hope for, or to fear. +The ceremony over, the king kissed Andrée on the forehead, +saying, “Madame la Comtesse, go to the queen, she +wishes to give you a wedding present.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh!” murmured Andrée to Philippe, “it is too +much; I can bear no more; I cannot do that.” +</p> + +<p> +“Courage, sister, one effort more.” +</p> + +<p> +“I cannot, Philippe; if she speaks to me, I shall die.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then, you will be happier than I, for I cannot die.” +</p> + +<p> +Andrée said no more, but went to the queen. She found +her in her chair with closed eyes and clasped hands, seeming +more dead than alive, except for the shudders which, +shook her from time to time. Andrée waited tremblingly +to hear her speak; but, after a minute, she rose slowly, +and took from the table a paper, which she put into +Andrée’s hands. Andrée opened it, and read: +</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p> +“Andrée, you have saved me. My honor comes from +you; my life belongs to you. In the name of this honor, +which has cost you so dear, I swear to you that you may +call me sister without blushing. This paper is the pledge +of my gratitude, the dowry which I give you. Your heart +is noble and will thank me for this gift. +</p> + +“<span class="smcap">MARIE ANTOINETTE DE LORRAINE D’AUTRICHE</span>.”<br /> + +</div> + +<p> +Andrée looked at the queen, and saw tears falling from +her eyes; she seemed expecting an answer, but Andrée, +putting the letter in the fire, turned and left the room. +Then Charny, who was waiting for her, took her hand, and +they, each pale and silent, left the room. Two traveling-carriages +were in the courtyard; Andrée got into one, and +then said: +</p> + +<p> +“Sir, I believe you go to Picardy.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, madame.” +</p> + +<p> +“And I to where my mother lies dead. Adieu, monsieur.” +</p> + +<p> +Charny bowed, but did not reply, and Andrée drove off. +</p> + +<p> +Charny himself, after giving his hand to Philippe, got +into the other, and also drove off. +</p> + +<p> +Then Philippe cried, in a tone of anguish, “My task is +done!” and he too vanished. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div style='display:block; margin-top:4em'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE QUEEN’S NECKLACE ***</div> +<div style='text-align:left'> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +Updated editions will replace the previous one—the old editions will +be renamed. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright +law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, +so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United +States without permission and without paying copyright +royalties. 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