The Queen's Necklace

CHAPTER XXXVI.
THE QUEEN

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:

"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."

"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."

"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?"

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.

"Madame," said she, "there was a woman much agitated who attracted great attention by her contortions and cries."

"Probably some actress or loose character."

"Possibly, madame."

"Countess, you replied very well to the king, and I will not forget you. How have you advanced in your own affairs?"

At this moment Madame de Misery came in, to say that Mademoiselle de Taverney wished to know if her majesty would receive her.

"Assuredly," said the queen. "How ceremonious you always are, Andrée; why do you stand so much upon etiquette?"

"Your majesty is too good to me."

Madame de Lamballe now availed herself of Andrée's entrance to take leave.

"Well, Andrée," the queen then said, "here is this lady whom we went to see the other day."

"I recognize madame," said Andrée, bowing.

"Do you know what they have been saying of me?"

"Yes, madame; M. de Provence has been repeating the story."

"Oh! no doubt; therefore we will leave that subject. Countess, we were speaking of you – who protects you now?"

"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."

"Then," said the queen, "no one has been either brave enough or corrupt enough to protect you for yourself?"

"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."

"Prince, countess! who is it?"

"Monsieur the Cardinal de Rohan."

"My enemy," said the queen, smiling.

"Your enemy! Oh, madame!"

"It seems you are astonished that a queen should have an enemy. It is evident you have not lived at court."

"But, madame, he adores you. The devotion of the cardinal equals his respect for you."

"Oh, doubtless," said the queen, with a hearty laugh; "that is why he is my enemy."

Jeanne looked surprised.

"And you are his protégée," continued the queen; "tell me all about it."

"It is very simple; his eminence has assisted me in the most generous, yet the most considerate, manner."

"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.

"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 – "

"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."

"Your majesty surprises me; M. de Rohan did that?"

"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?"

"Madame!"

"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."

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.

The queen listened.

"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.

All at once a joyous voice was heard near, and the queen said, "Here is the Comte d'Artois."

When he entered, the queen introduced the countess to him.

"Pray do not let me send you away, Madame la Comtesse," said he, as Jeanne made a move to depart.

The queen also requested her to stay. "You have returned from the wolf-hunt, then?" she said.

"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?"

"How?"

"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."

"Ah! you know the story?"

"M. de Provence told me."

"He is indefatigable. But tell me how he related it."

"So as to make you whiter than snow, or Venus Aphroditus. It seems you came out of it gloriously; you are fortunate."

"Oh, you call that fortunate. Do you hear him, Andrée?"

"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."

"Ah! you know that too?"

"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."

"Badly proved."

"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.

"What ball?"

"The ball at the Opera."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean the ball at the Opera; but I beg pardon, I should not have mentioned it."

"Really, brother, you puzzle me; I know nothing about the ball at the Opera."

The words "ball" and "Opera" caught Jeanne's ear, and she listened intently.

"I am dumb," said the prince.

"But, count, I insist on knowing what it means."

"Oh, pray allow me to let it drop."

"Do you want to disoblige me?"

"No, sister; but I have said quite enough for you to understand."

"You have told me nothing."

"Oh, sister, it is needless with me."

"But really I am in earnest."

"You wish me to speak?"

"Immediately."

"Not here," said he, looking at the others.

"Yes, here; there cannot be too many at such an explanation."

"Then you mean to say you were not at the last ball?"

"I!" cried the queen, "at the ball at the Opera?"

"Hush, I beg."

"No, I will not hush; I will speak it aloud. You say I was at the ball?"

"Certainly I do."

"Perhaps you saw me?" she said ironically.

"Yes, I did."

"Me?"

"Yes, you."

"Oh, it is too much! Why did you not speak to me?"

"Ma foi! I was just going to do so, when the crowd separated us."

"You are mad!"

"I should not have spoken of it. I have been very foolish."

The queen rose, and walked up and down the room in great agitation.

Andrée trembled with fear and disquietude, and Jeanne could hardly keep from laughing.

Then the queen stopped, and said:

"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."

"I will, if you please, sister."

"Be serious, Charles. You have invented all this, have you not?"

He winked at the ladies, and said, "Oh, yes, of course."

"You do not understand me, brother!" cried the queen vehemently. "Say yes or no. Do not tell falsehoods; I only want the truth!"

"Well, then, sister," said he, in a low voice, "I have told the truth, but I am sorry I spoke."

"You saw me there?"

"As plain as I see you now; and you saw me."

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."

"Well," said he, "I was with M. de Richelieu and others, when your mask fell off."

"My mask!"

"I was about to say, 'This is too rash, sister,' but the gentleman with you drew you away so quickly."

"Oh, mon Dieu! you will drive me mad! What gentleman?"

"The blue domino."

The queen passed her hand over her eyes.

"What day was this?" she asked.

"Saturday. The next day I set off to hunt, before you were up."

"What time do you say you saw me?"

"Between two and three."

"Decidedly one of us is mad!"

"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."

"Well, brother, on Saturday I went to bed at eleven."

The count bowed, with an incredulous smile.

The queen rang. "Madame de Misery shall tell you."

"Why do you not call Laurent also?" said he, laughing.

"Oh!" cried the queen in a rage, "not to be believed!"

"My dear sister, if I believed you, others would not."

"What others?"

"Those who saw you as well as myself."

"Who were they?"

"M. Philippe de Taverney, for instance."

"My brother?" cried Andrée.

"Yes; shall we ask him?"

"Immediately."

"Mon Dieu!" murmured Andrée, "my brother a witness!"

"Yes; I wish it;" and she went to seek him at his father's.

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.

"Sir," said she, "are you capable of speaking the truth?"

"Incapable of anything else, madame."

"Well, then, say frankly, have you seen me at any public place within the last week?"

"Yes, madame."

All hearts beat so that you might have heard them.

"Where?" said the queen, in a terrible voice.

Philippe was silent.

"Oh, no concealment, sir! My brother says you saw me at the ball of the Opera."

"I did, madame."

The queen sank on a sofa; then, rising furiously, she said:

"It is impossible, for I was not there! Take care, M. de Taverney!"

"Your majesty," said Andrée, pale with anger, "if my brother says he saw you, he did see you."

"You also!" cried Marie Antoinette; "it only remains now for you to have seen me. Pardieu! my enemies overwhelm me."

"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."

The queen colored.

"Did it not look something like his tournure, M. de Taverney?" continued the count.

"I did not remark, monseigneur," said he, in a choking voice.

"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."

"So he saw me too?"

"If he were not blind, he did."

The queen rang.

"What are you about to do?"

"Send for him also, and ask. I will drain this cup to the dregs!"

"I do not think he can come," said Philippe.

"Why?"

"Because I believe he is not well."

"Oh, he must come, monsieur! I am not well either, but I would go to the end of the world barefoot to prove – "

All at once Andrée, who was near the window, uttered an exclamation.

"What is it?" cried the queen.

"Oh, nothing; only here comes M. de Charny."

The queen, in her excitement, ran to the window, opened it, and cried, "M. de Charny!"

He, full of astonishment, hastened to enter.

CHAPTER XXXVII.
AN ALIBI

M. de Charny entered, a little pale, but upright, and not apparently suffering.

"Take care, sister," said the Comte d'Artois; "what is the use of asking so many people?"

"Brother, I will ask the whole world, till I meet some one who will tell you you are deceived."

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."

"One does not die from the scratch of a thorn in the Bois de Boulogne," replied Charny.

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?"

"Yes, your majesty."

"Tell us what you saw there."

"Does your majesty mean whom I saw there?"

"Precisely; and no complaisant reserve, M. de Charny."

"Must I say, madame?"

The cheeks of the queen assumed once more that deadly paleness, which had many times that morning alternated with a burning red.

"Did you see me?" she asked.

"Yes, your majesty, at the moment when your mask unhappily fell off."

Marie Antoinette clasped her hands.

"Monsieur," said she, almost sobbing, "look at me well; are you sure of what you say?"

"Madame, your features are engraved in the hearts of your subjects; to see your majesty once is to see you forever."

"But, monsieur," said she, "I assure you I was not at the ball at the Opera."

"Oh, madame," said the young man, bowing low, "has not your majesty the right to go where you please?"

"I do not ask you to find excuses for me; I only ask you to believe."

"I will believe all your majesty wishes me to believe," cried he.

"Sister, sister, it is too much," murmured the count.

"No one believes me!" cried she, throwing herself on the sofa, with tears in her eyes.

"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."

"This secret! oh, I want nothing but to prove the truth."

"Madame," said Andrée, "some one approaches."

The king was announced.

"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."

The king entered with an air of calmness, in strange contrast to the disturbed countenances of those present.

"Sire," said the queen, "you come àpropos; there is yet another calumny, another insult to combat."

"What is it?" said Louis, advancing.

"An infamous report. Aid me, sire, for now it is no longer my enemies that accuse me, but my friends."

"Your friends!"

"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."

"At the ball at the Opera!" cried the king.

A terrible silence ensued.

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.

The king repeated, with an air of anguish, "At the ball at the Opera! Does M. de Provence know this?"

"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."

All bowed.

"Come," continued she, "call all my people, ask every one. You say it was Saturday?"

"Yes, sister."

"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."

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."

"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.

"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?"

Philippe was leaning against the wainscot as pale as death. Charny wiped the burning drops from his forehead.

"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."

"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."

"Charles!"

"Pardon, sire, now I will take my leave."

"Well, I will go with you." And once more kissing the queen's hand, they left the room.

"M. de Taverney," said the queen severely, when they were gone, "do you not accompany M. d'Artois?"

Philippe started, all the blood rushed to his head, and he had hardly strength to bow and leave the room.

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.

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 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."

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.