The queens necklace, p.25
THE QUEEN’S NECKLACE, page 25
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.”
“Madame — — ”
“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!”
Andrée listened anxiously for his reply, but he only leaned against the wall, and grew pale.
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.”
“It is not that, madame; but I am on duty at two o’clock, and unless your majesty wishes me to remain — — ”
“Oh! no, monsieur; we know what duty is. You are free,” said the queen, in a tone of slight pique.
Charny bowed, and disappeared like a man in haste; but in a minute they beard 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.”
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!”
“Oh, madame! in spite of the king’s word — impossible!”
“He may have thought the king said it for his own sake.”
“My brother was not so incredulous,” said Andrée.
“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.”
“Your majesty is right; you must investigate it.”
“For,” continued the queen, “people said they saw me at M. Mesmer’s.”
“But your majesty was there,” said Madame de la Motte.
“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.”
“The truth!” stammered the countess.
“Oh! I hope so,” said Andrée.
“Send for M. de Crosne,” said the queen, joyously.
CHAPTER XXXVIII.
M. DE CROSNE.
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.
“Now, M. de Crosne,” said the queen, “it is our turn for an explanation.”
“I am at your majesty’s orders.”
“You ought to know the cause of all that has happened to me, sir.”
M. de Crosne looked round him rather frightened.
“Never mind these ladies,” said the queen; “you know them both; you know every one.”
“Nearly,” said the magistrate; “and I know the effects, but not the cause, of what has happened to your majesty.”
“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.”
“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.
“Well, sir, do you think this impossible; or do you prefer to think that I am deceiving you?”
“Oh no, madame! but surely, however strong a resemblance may be, there must be some points of difference to prevent people being so deceived.”
“It seems not, sir; some are deceived.”
“Oh! and I remember,” said Andrée, “when we lived at Taverney Maison Rouge, we had a servant who very strongly — — ”
“Resembled me?”
“Most wonderfully, your majesty.”
“And what became of her?”
“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.”
“You see, M. de Crosne. Ah! this interests you.”
“Much, madame.”
“Afterwards, dear Andrée?”
“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.”
“Did she steal anything?”
“Nothing, madame.”
“You did not know all this, M. de Crosne?”
“No, madame.”
“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.”
“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.”
“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.”
“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 — — ”
The queen started.
“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.”
“M. de Charny!” cried the queen and Andrée in a breath.
“Yes, madame: his blows are yet fresh on the shoulders of the journalist.”
“M. de Charny committed himself with this fellow!”
“I know it by my calumniated police, madame; and also, which was more difficult, the duel which followed.”
“A duel! M. de Charny fought?”
“With the journalist?” asked Andrée.
“No, madame; the journalist was too well beaten to give M. de Charny the sword-thrust which made him faint here just now.”
“Wounded!” cried the queen; “how and when? He was here just now.”
“Oh!” said Andrée, “I saw that he suffered.”
“What do you say?” cried the queen, almost angrily; “you saw that he suffered, and did not mention it!”
Andrée did not reply.
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.”
“Monsieur,” said the queen again to M. de Crosne, “with whom and why did M. de Charny fight?”
“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.”
“In my presence!”
“Yes, madame; the conqueror left about twenty minutes ago.”
“M. de Taverney!” cried the queen.
“My brother!” murmured Andrée.
“I believe,” said M. de Crosne, “that it was he with whom M. de Charny fought.”
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?”
“Not till this moment, madame.”
“Why did he fight?”
“If my brother fought,” said Andrée, “it was in your majesty’s service.”
“That is to say, that M. de Charny fought against me.”
“Your majesty, I spoke only of my brother, and of no one else.”
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.
Andrée made a movement to depart. The queen gave her a careless adieu.
Jeanne also prepared to leave, when Madame de Misery entered.
“Madame,” said she to the queen, “did your majesty appoint this hour to receive MM. Bœhmer and Bossange?”
“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.
“All these Taverneys are made of iron,” thought the queen. “Ah, gentlemen, what do you bring me now? you know I have no money.”
CHAPTER XXXIX.
THE TEMPTRESS.
Madame de la Motte remained, therefore, as before.
“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 — — ”
“A duty?”
“Concerning the necklace which your majesty did not deign to take.”
“Oh! then, the necklace has come again,” said Marie Antoinette, laughing. “It was really beautiful, M. Bœhmer.”
“So beautiful,” said Bossange, “that your majesty alone was worthy to wear it.”
“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?”
“Yes, your majesty.”
“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.”
“That is an error of your majesty’s; the necklace is sold.”
“Sold!” cried the queen. “To whom?”
“Ah! madame, that is a state secret.”
“Oh!” said the queen, “I think I am safe. A state secret means that there is nothing to tell.”
“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 — — ”
“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.”
“Madame, it is the ambassador from Portugal,” said Bœhmer, in a low voice, that Madame de la Motte might not hear.
“The ambassador from Portugal!” said the queen. “There is none here, M. Bœhmer.”
“He came expressly for this, madame.”
“Do you imagine so?”
“Yes, madame.”
“What is his name?”
“M. de Souza.”
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.”
“But allow us one moment, madame,” said Bœhmer.
“Have you ever seen those diamonds?” said the queen to Jeanne.
“No, madame.”
“They are beautiful. It is a pity these gentlemen have not brought them.”
“Here they are,” said Bœhmer, opening the case.
“Come, countess, you are a woman, and these will please you.”
Jeanne uttered a cry of admiration when she saw them, and said, “They are indeed beautiful.”
“1,500,000 francs, which you hold in the palm of your hand,” said the queen.
“Monsieur was right,” said Jeanne, “when he said that no one was worthy to wear these diamonds but your majesty.”
“However, my majesty will not wear them.”
“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.”
“My refusal has been made public,” said the queen, “and has been too much applauded for me to repent of it.”
“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.”
“Do not speak of it any more,” said Marie Antoinette, casting at the same time a longing look at the casket.
Jeanne sighed, “Ah, you sigh, countess; in my place you would act differently.”
“I do not know, madame.”
“Have you looked enough?”
“Oh no! I could look forever.”
“Let her look, gentlemen; that takes nothing from the value. Unfortunately, they are still worth 1,500,000 francs.”
“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!”
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.
“It has touched your majesty’s neck; it ought not to belong to any one else,” said Bœhmer.
“Impossible!” said the queen, firmly. “Gentlemen, I have amused myself with these jewels; to do more would be a fault.”
“We will return to-morrow,” said Bœhmer.
“No; I must pay sooner or later; and, besides, doubtless you want your money. You will get it soon.”
“Yes, your majesty,” said the merchant, a man of business again.
“Take the necklace back,” said the queen; “put it away immediately.”
“Your majesty forgets that such a thing is equal to money itself.”
“And that in a hundred years it will be worth as much as it is now,” said Jeanne.
“Give me 1,500,000 francs,” said the queen, “and we shall see.”
“Oh, if I had them!”
MM. Bœhmer and Bossange took as long as possible to put back the necklace, but the queen did not speak.
At last they said, “Your majesty refuses them?”
“Yes, oh yes!” And they quitted the room.
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.”
Jeanne bowed respectfully.
“But I will not forget you,” added the queen.
“She is regretting and desiring,” thought Jeanne, as she left; “and yet she is a queen.”
CHAPTER XL.
TWO AMBITIONS THAT WISH TO PASS FOR TWO LOVES.
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.
In five minutes the man returned.
“Well,” said Madame de la Motte, impatiently, “why are you not gone?”
“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.”
“Let him enter,” said the countess.
Jeanne had been thinking all the way home of the beautiful necklace, and wishing it was hers. It would be a fortune in itself.
The cardinal entered. He also was full of desires and ambitions, which he wished to hide under the mask of love.
“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?”
“As you see, monseigneur.”
“And content?”
“Enchanted.”
“The queen received you, then?”
“I was introduced immediately on my arrival.”
“You were fortunate. I suppose, from your triumphant air, that she spoke to you.”
“I passed three hours in her majesty’s cabinet.”
“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!”
“Oh, I assure you, monseigneur, that I did not waste my time.”
“I dare say that in the whole three hours you did not once think of me.”
“Ungrateful man!”
“Really!” cried the cardinal.
“I did more than think of you; I spoke of you.”
“Spoke of me! to whom?” asked the prelate, in a voice from which all his power over himself could not banish some emotion.
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