Bi
 
 LIBRARY 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 SANTA BARBARA 
 
 PRESENTED BY 
 
 MRS. DONALD KELLOGG
 

 
 THE 
 
 QUEEN'S NECKLACE; 
 
 OR THE 
 
 SECRET HISTORY OF THE COURT OF LOUIS XVI, 
 
 BY ALEXANDRE DUMAS, 
 
 TRANSLATED BY THOMAS WILLIAMS, ESQ, 
 
 N E W - Y O R K : 
 W. P. BURGESS, 22 ANN STREET. 
 
 1850.
 
 Entered according to un Act of Congress in the year 1850. 
 
 BY W. F. BURGESS, 
 
 In the Clerk's OflBce of the District Court for the Southern District of New York.
 
 THE QUEEN'S NECKLACE: 
 
 OR, 
 
 THE MYSTERIES OP THE COURT OF LOUIS Xl'I. 
 
 PROLOGUE. 
 
 An old Nobleman and an old Major-dnmo 
 
 IN the early pint of the month of 
 April 1734, and at about a quarter piisf 
 three o'clock in the afternoon, the aged 
 Marshnl <li- llirholi.'u, our old acquain- 
 tance, after having with his own hands 
 dyed his eyebrows with a perfumed 
 liquid, pushed from before him a hwnd- 
 las3 which was held up by his v.ilct de 
 chambre, the successor, but not the 
 equnl of the faithful Rafe, and shaking 
 his head with that air which was pecu- 
 liar to himself. 
 
 Come, come,' said he, -I look toler- 
 able well after all.' And he rose from 
 his arm chair filliping off with a perfect- 
 ly juvenile gesture tin; minute atoms of 
 u.ii,- |)'i\v(!cr which had fallen from his 
 peruke on to his light blue velvet 
 les. Then nfler taking two or 
 turns in his dressing closet 
 stretching forth one foot and straighten- 
 ing his knee with a satisfied air. 
 
 C.iil in, major-domo,' said he. 
 I'ivr minutes afterwards, the major- 
 domo entered in grand costume. 
 
 .Marshal assumed iis serious an 
 i avily of the case demanded. 
 '.Sir,' sail li;-. I Mippose that you have 
 provided ;\ good dinner.' 
 
 Why, yes, Monseigneur.' 
 
 ut to you the list of my guests, 
 did I not ?' 
 
 And I have carefully noted the num- 
 ber of them, Monseigneur. Nine per- 
 sons in all, was it not .'' 
 
 Yes sir, but there are dinners and 
 dinners.' 
 
 ' Of that I am well aware, Monseig- 
 neur, but ' 
 
 The Marshal interrupted the major- 
 domo with a slight gesture of impa- 
 tience, tempered however with dignity. 
 
 ' But, is no answer, sir, for every lime 
 I hear the word but, and I have heard 
 it many times during the last eighty 
 years; well, sir, every time I have heard 
 that word, I am sorry to make the ob- 
 
 servation, but it was sure to be the fore- * 
 runner of some gross stupidity.' 
 
 Mou seigneur !' 
 
 First of all. at what o'clock am I to 
 dine ?' 
 
 ' Citizens, my lord,- dine at two o'- 
 clock, people connected with the law at 
 three, the nobility at four ' 
 
 ' And I, sir?' 
 
 ' My lord will dine to-day at live o' 
 clock.' 
 
 ' Oh ! oh ! at five o'clock !' 
 
 ' Yes, my lord, as the King does.' 
 
 And why as the King does ?' 
 
 ' Because, upon the list which my 
 lord did me the honor to transmit to 
 me, there is the name of a king.' 
 
 ' By no means, sir ; you are mis- 
 taken ; among my guests to-day there 
 ;ire but private gentlemen.' 
 
 ' My lord, is pleased doubtless to jest 
 with his humble .servant, and I thank 
 him for the honor he does me, but the 
 Count de Haga who is one of my lord's 
 guests ' 
 
 Well ?' 
 
 ' Well then, the Count de Haga is a 
 king.' 
 
 1 I do not know any king who is thus 
 named, sir.' 
 
 ' My lord will be pleased to forgive 
 me then, for I had supposed ' 
 
 ' Your mission is not to imagine, your 
 duty is not to suppose ! What you 
 have to do is to execute the orders I 
 may give you without adding your com- 
 ments to them. When I wish a thing 
 to be known I say it ; when I do not say 
 it, h is my will that it should not be 
 known.' 
 
 The major-domo bowed a second lime 
 and on this occasion perhaps more re- 
 t'ully than had he been speaking to 
 ;i ivigning King. 
 
 Therefore, sir,' continued the old 
 Marshal, 'you will have the goodneaa 
 a-i I have only private gentlemen to dine 
 with me, to allow me to dine at my 
 accustomed hour, four o'clock-'
 
 THJ , 'II, TIJK 
 
 On receiving these orders the brow I 
 of tbo major-domo became clouded over 
 is if 6entence of death had been pro- 
 nounced against him. He turned pale 
 and trembled under the unexpected 
 blow. Then drawing himself up with 
 all the courage of despair : 
 
 jipen what niny please heaven,' 
 wiid he, resolutely, 'but my lord will 
 not this drfy dine before five o'clock.' 
 
 ' How ! What does this mean ?' cri- 
 ed the Marshal drawing himself up 
 fiercely. 
 
 1 Because, it ia materialy impossible 
 that my lord can dine before that hour.' 
 
 4 Sir,' said the old Marshal, proudly 
 shaking his head, which still appeared 
 young and energetic, it is I believe 
 twenty years since you first entered my 
 ervice.' 
 
 4 Twenty-one years, one month and 
 two weeks over and above.' 
 
 1 Well, sir, then let me tell you that to 
 these twenty-one years, one month and 
 fourteen days you shall not add a diiy, 
 nay, not even an hour, do you hear inc.' 
 said the old man pinching up his thiii 
 lips and knitting his dyed eyebrows, 
 4 from this evening you may seek an- 
 other master. I will not 'allow the 
 word 4 impossible ' to be pronounced in 
 my houae. It is not at my age that I 
 will begin to serve an apprenticeship to 
 that word. I have no time to lose.' 
 
 The major-domo bowed a third time. 
 
 4 This evening I shall take leave of 
 my lord ; but at least my duty will have 
 been decorously fulfilled up to the last 
 moment. ' 
 
 And he took two steps backwards to- 
 wards the door. 
 
 What do you mean by decorously?' 
 cried the Marshal; 'please to remember 
 sir, that tilings are to be done here ac- 
 Hn-ding to my will, that is the decorum 
 I insist upon. I wish to dine at four 
 o'clock, and it is not decorous that you 
 thould make me dine at five.' 
 
 * My lord, Marshal,' said the major-do- 
 mo drily, ' I served the Prince de Sou- 
 
 liutier, the Prince de Rohan an 
 imciukmt. The King of France dined 
 once a year with the former. With 
 the second his Majesty the Emperor of 
 Aueirin dined once a month. I there- 
 fore know, my lord, how sovereigns 
 should be treated. It was in viiin that 
 JVin^ Louis XV. called himself the 
 Baron de Gonesse when at the house 
 of the Prince de Soubise. In the 
 houae of the second, that is to say the 
 Prince de Rohan, it was in vain that the 
 Juuueror of Austria styled himself the 
 
 Count de Packenstein ; he was still the 
 Emperor. To-day your lordship re- 
 ceives a guest who vainly calls himself 
 the Count de Haga ; the Count is not 
 any the less King of Sweden. I wil 
 leave the Hotel of your lordship this 
 evening, but the Count de Haga shall be 
 received as a king !' 
 
 ' And this is precisely what I am rack- 
 ing my brain to prevent, you wrong- 
 headed, obstinate man,' cried the Mar- 
 shal. 'The Count de Haga insists on 
 Jhe strictest, the most opaque incognito. 
 JJy heavens ! I fully recognize in this 
 your stupid vanity, Sir Knight of the 
 Niipkin ! It is not a crowned head that 
 you wish to honor, it is your own sell- 
 Jove you wish to glorify, by spending a 
 few extra crowns.' 
 
 ' I do not imagine,' repliod the major- 
 domo, ' that your lordship is speaking 
 seriously when he talks of money.' 
 
 'Surely not,' said the Marshal almosi 
 humiliated, 4 it is not with regard to 
 money. Who the deuse spoke to you of 
 money ? Do not avoid the real question 
 in thin wny, if you please. I tell you 
 again that I will not allow you even to 
 suppose that a king is to be here.' 
 
 ' But my lord Duke, who do you take 
 me for '.' Do you believe that I could 
 act thus blindly. Why not a word will 
 be said about a king even for a mo- 
 ment.' 
 
 ' Come, come ! do not be obstinate 
 and let us have our dinner at four o'- 
 clock.' 
 
 ' No, my lord, no; because at four o'- 
 clock something that I am expecting 
 will not have arrived.' 
 
 'What is it you are expecting? a 
 fish I suppose, as did Mr. Vatel.' 
 
 4 Mr. Vatel ! Mr. Vatel !* muttered 
 the major-domo. 
 
 4 How ! are you shocked at the com- 
 parison ?' 
 
 ' No ; but for a miserable sword thrust 
 which Mr. Vatel gave himself through 
 the body, Mr, Vatel has become im- 
 mortal.' 
 
 4 And you, sir, I suppose consider thai 
 your brother artist paid too cheaply for 
 his glory.' 
 
 'No, my lord; but how mnny are 
 there in our profession who suffer more 
 than he did, and who ore compelled to 
 endure sorrows and humiliations*! thou- 
 sand times more poignant than a sword 
 wound, but who nevertheless are not 
 immoitali/.euV 
 
 4 But do you not know, sir, that in or- 
 der to be immortalized you must either 
 belong to the academy or be duud ?'
 
 MYSTERIES OF THE COURT OF LOUIS XVI. 
 
 4 Oh ! if that is the case, my lord, it is 
 much better to be alive, and to fulfil one's 
 duty. I will not die, and my service shall 
 be duly performed, as would have been 
 thai of Mi'. Vatel, if M. de Conde had 
 bud pisiii'iice to wait only half an hour.' 
 
 a, now y.-u are promising won- 
 der- .y cunning of you.' 
 
 'No, my lord, I promise no wonders.' 
 
 4 What is ir, then, you are expecting ?' 
 
 Doiv my lord insisf.npon my telling 
 him?' 
 
 4 V <\s, really, for I am curious to know 
 
 it.' 
 
 ' Well, then, my lord, I am expecting 
 H bottle of wine.' 
 
 4 A bottle of wine ! explain yourself, 
 sir; this begins to interest rne.' 
 
 ' This is the whole matter, my lord, 
 his Majesty the King of Sweden I 
 beg your pardon. I should have said 
 his Excellency the Count de Haga 
 never drink* any wine out Tokay.' 
 
 And what of" that; is then my cellar 
 M> unprovided ih.it I have no Takay in 
 it ? In that case, I must at once dis- 
 charge my butler.' 
 
 4 No, my lord, for on the contrary you 
 have still sixty bottles left.' 
 
 1 Do you then moan to say that the 
 Count de H;>ga will drink sixty-one bot- 
 tles at his dinner ?' 
 
 4 A little p;;iienco, rny lord ; when the 
 Count de Hagtt came to France for the 
 first time, he was then but the Prince 
 Royal ; on that occasion he dined with 
 the late King who had received u dozen 
 bottles of Tokay from his Majesty the 
 Emperor of Austria. The first quality of 
 Tokay is always reserved for the Em- 
 peror's cellar. i her sovereigns 
 can drink of that quality only when the 
 Emperor i-< j/. -u I it to them.' 
 i well iiwarn of that.' 
 
 4 Well then, my lord, of those twelve 
 bottles of which the Prince Royal drank 
 a part of one, un:l t'.nni'l it exquisite, of 
 these twelve bottles two only are now 
 existing.' 
 
 Oh! oh!' 
 
 4 One of them is still in the cellar of 
 King Louis XVI.' 
 
 And the <,ther ?' 
 
 Ah ! that's it., my lord,' cried the 
 major-domo with a triumphant smile, 
 for he t'i:lt thai, .ifiur the long battle he, 
 had sustained the moment of victory was 
 
 * close at hand; the other !' well, the 
 other was purloined.' 
 4 And by whom .'' 
 
 me of my friends, the butler of 
 the lute King, who was under great ob- 
 
 4 And he gave it to you?' 
 
 4 Most certainly, my lord ,' replied 
 the major-domo, drawing himself up 
 proudly. 
 
 4 And what did you do with it ?' 
 
 4 1 deported it most carefully in my 
 master's cellar, my lord.' 
 
 4 Your master ! And who was your 
 master at that time, sir ?' 
 
 4 He was the Marshal Prince Louis 
 de Rohan.' 
 
 ' Oh ! good heaven, at Strasbourg.' 
 
 4 At Saver ne.' 
 
 4 And you have sent to. seek that bot- 
 tle for me !' exclaimed tn*e old Marshal. 
 
 ' For you, my lord,' replied the ma- 
 jor-domo, in the same accent as he 
 would have said 4 ungrateful man.' 
 
 The Duke de Richelieu seized his old 
 servant's hand, exclaiming 
 
 ' I ask your pardon, sir ; you are tb 
 king of major-domos !' 
 
 ' And you have discharged me,' ob- 
 served ,the latter with an indescribable 
 gesture of the head and shoulders. 
 
 ' Who, I? I will pay you a hundred 
 pistoles for that bottle.' *' 
 
 ' And a hundred more which the 
 travelling expenses for fetching this bot- 
 tle will amount to, making two hun- 
 dred pistoles. But, my lord will ac- 
 knowledge that it is far beneath its 
 value.' . r 
 
 4 1 will acknowledge any thing you 
 please, sir: in the meantime from this 
 slay I will double your salary.' 
 
 4 Oh ! my lord, I did not expect this, 
 I have only done my duty.' 
 
 4 And when is your hundred pistole 
 courier to arrive ?' 
 
 ' My lord will be able to judge whe- 
 ther I have lost my time. On what day 
 was it, my lord, that you ordered this 
 dinner?' 
 
 4 Three days ago, I believe.' 
 
 4 It will take the courier, who nuog 
 fast, twenty-four hours to go there and 
 twenty -four hours to return.' 
 
 4 Well, you had twenty -four hours to 
 spare, my prince of major-domos hovf 
 have you employed them ?' 
 
 4 Alas ! my lord, I lost them altogeth- 
 er: the idea did not strike me till the 
 day after you gave me the list of your 
 guests. Now, then, let us calculate th*' 
 time required for uegociating, and you 
 will see, my lord, that by asking you to 
 delay till five o'clock I only asked you 
 the time which was absolutely neces- 
 sary." 
 
 4 How is this ; the bottle has not yai 
 arrived ?' 
 
 4 No, my lord.'
 
 THE QUEEN'S NECKLACE; OR, THE 
 
 Good heaven, sir, and should your ' Yes, but he will set out immediately 
 
 colleague be as devoted to M. de Rohan, 
 as you are to me, ' 
 
 Well, my lord ? 
 
 ' And if he were to refuse to deliver 
 up the bottle, as you, yourself would 
 have refused it?' 
 
 1 Who I, my lord.' 
 
 Why yes, for I suppose you would 
 not give up such a bottle, were there 
 on" in my cellar.' 
 
 * ' I humbly beg your lordship's pardon. 
 If one of my colleagues had to treat a 
 kin:;, and wen to ask me for the best 
 bottle of wine'ln your lordship's cellar, 
 I should instantly give it to him.' 
 
 'Ho! ho!' cried the marshal, mak- 
 ing a slight grimiici-. 
 
 ' It is by assisting others, that we ob- 
 tain assistance when we are in need, 
 my lord.' 
 
 ' Well then, I may feel tolerably tran- 
 quil on the subject.' said the Marshal, 
 slightly sighing, ' but still we have acci- 
 dents to fear.' 
 
 ' What accidents, my lord ?' 
 ' If the bottle should be broken !' 
 ' Oh ! my lord, no man ever yet broke 
 a bottle worth two thousandl ivres.' 
 
 1 was wrong ; we will not say anoth- 
 er word of accident. And now then, 
 at what time will your courier arrive ?' 
 
 ' Pr<icv'?iy at four o'clock.' 
 
 A in i i is to prevent our 
 dining at four u'rlnck ?' rejoined the 
 Marshal, us obstinate as a Castilian mule. 
 
 ' My lord, it will require a good hour 
 for my wine to settle, and even that 
 could not be accomplished were it not 
 for a process of which I am the invent- 
 or : were it not for that it would require 
 three days.' 
 
 Defeated once more upon this ground, 
 the Marshal beat a rctrcnl hv giving a 
 sign to his major-domo that, he had 
 done with him. 
 
 'Moreover.' said r . 'your 
 
 guests, \vlio l.i,u\\ they are ID have the 
 honor of dining \\ ; ih tlm (loimtde Ha- 
 
 g 
 f 
 
 a, will mil assemble before half-past 
 
 our o'clock.' 
 
 'Tin; is quite anotln-r story.' 
 
 'Undoubtedly, m_> ionl: ynur guests 
 are the Count de Luumiy, Madame the 
 Countess Dubarry, M. de la Perouse, 
 M. de Favras, M. de Condorcet, M. de 
 Cagliostro, and M. de Taverney. ' 
 
 ' And what then /' 
 
 'Well, my lord, let us proceed indue 
 order. M. de Launay comes from the 
 Bastille on the other side of Paris. 
 which will require, from the ice on the 
 roads, three hours.' 
 
 after the prisoners' dinner hour, that is to 
 say, twelve o'clock. I know that well ?' 
 
 ' I beg your pardon, my lord ; but 
 since your lordship was at the Bastille 
 the dinner hour has been changed. 
 The Bastille dines at one o'clock.' 
 
 ' We learn something every day, sir, 
 I am obliged by the information- (!o 
 on, sir.' 
 
 ' Madame Du Barry comep from 
 Luciennes, it is down hill all the way 
 and the road covered with sheet ice.' 
 
 ' That will not hinder her from being 
 punctual, and as she is now the favorite 
 of only one duke, she does not play tho 
 queen excepting with the barons. But 
 understand this in your turn, sir, that I 
 wished to dine early on account of M. 
 de la Perouse, who has to set out this 
 evening and would not like to be do 
 layed.' 
 
 ' My lord, M. de la Perouse is with 
 the King, and is conversing on geogra- 
 phy and cosmography with his majes- 
 ty. The King will not allow M. de la 
 Perouse to leave him early.' 
 
 ' That is possible.' 
 
 'It is certain, my lord. The same 
 thing will happen as to M. Favras who 
 is with the Count de Provence, and who 
 will doubtless be talking of Mr. Beau 
 marchfds last comedy.' 
 
 ' The Marriage of Figaro?' 
 
 * Yes, my lord.' 
 
 1 Do you know, sir, you are quite 
 man of letters.' 
 
 ' In my spare moments, I read, my 
 lord.' 
 
 ' Then there is M. de Condorcet, who 
 in his quality of geometrician, may de 
 sire to appear punctual.' 
 
 ' Yes, but he will be bewildering him- 
 self in some deep calculation, and b> 
 fore he ,' ts out of it he will find hiu. 
 sell' hull' an hour behind his time. V^ 
 to the Count do Cagliostro, as that no 
 blemau is a foreigner and has not live. I 
 long in Pan's, i, is probable that he in 
 not well acquainted with our Versailles 
 mode of life, and that he will be late too.' 
 
 'Well, well!' said the Marshal, 'you 
 have with the exception of Taverney 
 naniei' all my guests, and that in an or 
 der of enumeration worthy of Homer, 
 or of my poor RatV .' 
 
 The major-domo bowed. 
 
 ' I did not mention M. de Taverney 
 because ho is an old friend who will 
 conform to custom. I believe, my lord, 
 these eight are all the guests, is it not so ?' 
 
 'Perfectly right, und where do you 
 intend that'we shall dine ?'
 
 MYSTERIES OF THE COUR1 Ut LOUIS XVI. 
 
 In the grand dining room, my lord.' 
 
 But we shall freeze there.' 
 
 I have had it warmed for the last 
 three days, and have regulated the at- 
 mosphere at eighteen degress.' 
 
 Very well : but the half hour is 
 striking.' 
 
 The Marshal threw a glance at the 
 clock, on the chimney piece. 
 
 1 It is half past, four, sir.' 
 
 4 Yes, my lord, and I hear a horse 
 galloping into the court yard; that is 
 my bottle of Tokay.' 
 
 ' May I be served, for twenty years to 
 come, in the same way,' said the old 
 Marshal turning to his looking-glass, 
 while the major-domo hastened to re- 
 eivo his courier. 
 
 ' Twenty years !' cried a joyous voice 
 which stopped the Duke just as he gave 
 the first look at the mirror, ' twenty 
 years ! my dear Marshal, I most fervent- 
 ly svish you them ; but then I shnll be 
 sixty. Duke, and shnll be very old.' 
 
 'What you, countess,' cried the duke, 
 'you the first! Good heaven, how 
 beautiful and fresh you always look.' 
 
 1 Rather say frozen. Duke.' 
 
 I beg you will step into the boudoir.' 
 
 'Oh! a tete a tete, Marshal.' 
 
 It will be of three then,' cried a 
 rough cracked voice. 
 
 Taverney." exclaimed the Marshal, 
 the deu.se take the interloper, how very 
 inapropos,' he continued whispeiinginto 
 the Marchioness ear. 
 
 ' f'o.xcomb !' murmured Madame Du- 
 barry, bursting into a loud laugh and they 
 all three went into an adjoining room. 
 
 l-\ Pi: ROUSE. 
 . 
 
 At the same moment the hollow rum- 
 bling of several carriages over the pave- 
 rni-iiv ti.icivly covered with snow, warn- 
 ed the Marshal of tin: arrival of his 
 guests ; and soou afterwards, thanks to 
 t.he punctuality of his major-domo, the 
 Marshal and his eight friends were com- 
 fortably seated at an oval table in the 
 <: -,! dining hull. Nine servants as ^si- 
 lent as shadows, active without bustle, 
 nite nt ive without being troublesome, 
 glided over the carpet, passed between 
 the guests without jostling the elbow s 
 of any one of them, or touching their ! 
 arm charms. These chairs were bed- j 
 ded in deep furs in which the legs of j 
 the guests plunged up to the knees. 
 
 Thus luxuriously were seated the I 
 friends of the Marshal, in an atmosphere ! 
 tempered by the mild and well adjusted 
 heat of the stoves, while they inhaled 
 
 the savory odours of the exquisitely 
 prepared viands, the aroma of the costly 
 wines, and after taking soup began a 
 conversation in low murmurs. 
 
 No noise was heard from without, 
 for the,' shutters were all wadded ; not 
 the slightest noise within excepting that 
 made by the guests themselves ; plates 
 were changed without jingling against 
 each other, forks and spoons brought to 
 the table without n single vibration: thn 
 major-dorno's presence could not be 
 tected by the least whisper, he gave his 
 order with his eyes. 
 
 And consequently in about ten min- 
 utes the guests might have imagined 
 themselves completely alone in the vast 
 apartment ; and in fact servants so mute, 
 slaves altogether so impalpable could 
 not be otherwise than deaf. 
 
 M. de Richelieu was the first to break 
 the solemn silence which usually reigna 
 during the time of eating soup, by say- 
 ing to his right-hand neighbour, 
 
 ' Your lordship the Count does not 
 drink.' 
 
 The person to whom these, words 
 were addressed was a man about thirty- 
 eight years old, fair hair> 1. low in 
 stature but rather high shouldered ; his 
 eyes very light blue ; sometimes spark- 
 ling but more frequently melancholy ; 
 nobility was stamped in urrthistakeable 
 characters on his expansive and shining 
 forehead. 
 
 ' I drink only water, Marshal,' he re- 
 plied. 
 
 ' Excepting at the table of King Lou 
 is XV,' said the Duke, 'I had the hon- 
 or of dining there with you, my lord 
 Count, and on that occasion you conde- 
 scended to drink wine. 1 
 
 ' You recall to my mind a very pleaa- 
 ing remembrance, Marshal; that waa 
 in 1771, and the wine I drank wsis To- 
 kay of the imperial vintage.' 
 
 'It was precisely the -^nn-- w:;m that 
 my major-domo is now about to have 
 the honor of p> you, iny 
 
 lord Count,' replied Kichlien bo\\ 
 
 The Count, de Haga raised tli 
 to the level of the wax light?- > 
 amined the wine as it sparkled in 
 richly cut crystal, like liquid rubies. 
 
 ' It is really the same wine. M 
 said he. 'Thanks! thanks!' 
 
 ' And the Count pronounced the word 
 thanks in atone so noble and so ,v nioioua 
 that all present ro.se as if electrified by 
 a spontane ms movement, exclaiming. 
 
 ' Long .ive the Kiti !' 
 
 'Tin well aaid,' re.j lieu the Count de 
 'Long live hi majesty the King
 
 THE QUEEN'S NECKLACE ; OR, THE 
 
 of Frinice. Are you not of my opinion, 
 Monsieur de la Perouse.' 
 
 1 My lord Count,' rejoined the Captain 
 will the caressing but at the same time 
 respectful tone of a man accustomed to 
 address crowned heads, 'I left the King 
 only an hour ago, and he was so full of 
 goodness towards me that no one in the 
 world would ciy more loudly than I 
 would "Long live the King." But as an 
 hour hence I shall be travelling post to 
 reach the sea shore, where the King 
 has placed two ships at my disposal, I 
 will ask your permission, so soon as I 
 shall have left this company to cry 
 44 Long live another King, whom I should 
 be proud to serve had I not so good a 
 master.'" And raising his glass -M. de 
 la Perouse with much humility bowed 
 to the Count de Haga. 
 
 ' The health which you wish to 
 drink,' said Madame Du Barry who was 
 seated to the left of the Marshal, we 
 are all ready to do honor to. But, nev- 
 ertheless, it ought to be proposed by 
 the oldest member present as they say 
 in parliament.' 
 
 ' Is it tp you, Tnverney, or to me that 
 this re mar'- applies,' said the Marshal 
 laughing, and looking cunningly at his 
 old friend. 
 
 'I do not believe it can be to either,' 
 snid a new sp&aker who was sitting op- 
 posite to the Marshal de Richelieu. 
 
 4 What is it you do not believe, M. 
 Cagliostro,' said the Count de Haga, 
 fixing a piercing glance on the interlo- 
 cutor. 
 
 'I do not believe, my lord Count,' re- 
 plied Cagliostro,. bowing, ' that M. de 
 Richelieu is the senior of this company.' 
 
 4 Oh ! this is as it should be,' said the 
 M arshal, 4 it appears then it must be 
 you, Taverney.' 
 
 4 Oh ! I dare say; why I am eight years 
 younger than you are I was born in 
 1704,' replied the old nobleman. 
 
 4 Rude fellow !' cried the Marshal, 
 4 why ho is proclaiming to every one 
 that I am eighty-eightyears old.' 
 
 4 Can it be really true, Duke, that you 
 are eighty-eight years old !' cried M. de 
 Condorcet. 
 
 Yes, by heaven ! and the calculation 
 is- ';{>) ly made, therefore unworthy of an 
 algebrist of your capacity, Marqnis. I 
 am of the last century, the great century 
 as it is called I am of 1696, there is 
 a date for you.' 
 
 4 Impossible !' said De L:mnay. 
 
 'If your father were iy good 
 
 governor oi' the Hastil!."/ replied do 
 Richelieu, 'lie '.vi;uM not exclnim ' 4 Im- 
 
 possible," he who had me as a boarder 
 there in 1714.' 
 
 4 The senior here present I declare 
 to be,' said M. de Favres, 4 the wine 
 which the Count de Haga is now pouring 
 into his glass.' 
 
 4 Tokay one hundred and twenty yews 
 old; you are quite right M. de Karros,' 
 replied the Count. 4 To this Tokay be 
 adjudged the honor of proposing tho 
 King's health.' 
 
 ' One moment, gentlemen, if you 
 please,' said Cagliosrro, raising his 
 handsome face, beaming with energy 
 and intelligence, 4 1 claim the right.' 
 
 4 You dispute the claim of seniority 
 with the Tokay ." cried all the other 
 guests in chorus. 
 
 4 Assuredly;' calmly replied the 
 Count de Cagliostro, 4 for it was .1 my- 
 self who sealed that bottle.' 
 
 You?' 
 
 4 Yes, I ; and on the day that Monte- 
 cuculi gained a victory over the Turks 
 in 1664.' 
 
 An immense shout of laughter burst 
 forth on hearing these words which 
 Cagliostro had pronounced with imper- 
 turbable gravity. 
 
 4 By this calculation, sir,' said Ma- 
 dame Du Barry, 4 you must then be nt 
 least one hundred and thirty, for I will 
 allow that you could not have been less 
 than ten years old when you put this 
 good wine into that great bottle.' 
 
 1 1 was more than ten years old, ma- 
 dam, when I performed that operation, 
 for only two days afterwards I had the 
 honor of being appointed by his majesty. 
 Ihe Emperor of Austria, to congratulate 
 Montecuculi, who by the victory at 
 Saint Gothard, had avenged the unfor- 
 tunate day of Especk in Sclavonica ; a 
 day on which the unbelievers ao com- 
 pletely defeated the Imperialists, my 
 friends and my companions in arms in 
 the year 1536.' 
 
 Ah." said the Count de Haga with 
 as much coolness as Cagliostro, 'thia 
 gentleman must necessarily have been 
 ten years old, since he was personally, 
 present at that memorable battle.' 
 
 4 It was a frightful defeat, my lord 
 Count,' rejoined Cugliostro bowing. 
 
 4 Less cruol, however^than the defeat 
 of Cressy,' observed Condorcet smiling. 
 
 4 That, i.s true,' auid Cagliostro, also 
 smiling, ' the defeat at Cressy was 'ter- 
 rible indeed, for it was not merely an 
 army, but all France that was there 
 ii. llul w must idso allow that 
 th: victory was not a very loyal one on 
 the part of England. King Edward had
 
 MYSTERIES OF THE COURT OF LOUIS XVI. 
 
 cannon, u circumstance of which Philip 
 de Valois was totally ignorant ; or I 
 should say rather, a circumstance which 
 Philip de Valois would not believe, al- 
 though I had warned him of it, for I 
 told him that I had seen these four 
 pieces of artillery, with my own eyes, 
 and that Edward had bought them of 
 the Venetians/ 
 
 4 Ah! ah!' cried Madame Du Barry, 
 ' then you were acquainted with Philip 
 de Valois ?' 
 
 4 Madam, I had the honor of being 
 one of the five noblemen who escorted 
 him on his leaving the field of battle,' 
 replied Cagliostro, 'I had come to 
 France with the poor old King of Bohe- 
 mia, and who caused himself to be killed 
 the moment he heard that all was lost.' 
 
 'Ah ! good heaven, sir,' said La Pi - 
 rouse, 'you cannot imagine how much 
 I regret that instead of your having been 
 present at the battle of Cressy, you 
 were not so at the battle of Antium.' 
 
 'And why so, sir?' 
 
 Oh! because you might have given 
 me some nautical details with regard to 
 it, which, notwithstanding the admirable 
 narrative of Plutarch, have always ap- 
 peared to me as rather obscure.' 
 
 ' And what are they, sir ? I should 
 be happy could I be of any use to you.' 
 
 ' You were there, then ? ' 
 
 ' No, sir ; for I was at that time in 
 Egypt ; I had been commissioned by 
 Queen Cleopatra to reorganize the li- 
 brary at Alexandria, a work I was more 
 fitted for than any other person, having 
 . been personally acquainted with the 
 best authors of antiquity.' 
 
 ' And you have seen Queen Cleopa- 
 tra, M. de Cagliostro '?' exclaimed the 
 Countess Du Barry. 
 
 ' As I now see you, madam.' 
 
 ' Was she as beautiful as has been 
 represented ?' 
 
 ' You are well aware, Countess, that 
 beauty is altogether u relative ali'air, 
 though a charming Queen in Egypt, 
 Cleopatra, in Paris, would have been 
 but an adorable grisette.' 
 
 ' Do not speak ill of our grisettes, 
 Count.' 
 
 ' Heaven preserve me from it !' 
 
 ' And so Cleopatra was ' 
 
 ' Short, thin, lively, wi;ty, with large 
 eyes of an almond shape, a Grecian 
 nose, pearl-like teeth, and a hand like 
 yours, madam; a hand truly fit to wield ' 
 a sceptre. See nowhere is a diamond j 
 which she gave me, and which she had ; 
 from her brother Ptolemy ; she wore | 
 k on her thumb.' 
 
 . ' On her thumb ?' exclaimed Madame 
 Du Barry. 
 
 ' Yes ; it was the Egyptian fashion ; 
 and you see it is with difficulty that I 
 can get it on my little finger.' 
 
 And drawing off the ring he present- 
 ed it to Madame Du Barry. 
 
 ' It was a magnificent diamond, which 
 might be worth, so marvellously fine 
 was its water, ao beautiful was its cut, 
 from thirty to forty thousand livres. The 
 diamond was passed round the table and 
 returned to Cagliostro who very tran- 
 quilly re-placed it on his finger. 
 
 4 Ah ! I see,' said > he, ' that you are 
 incredulous, fatal incredulity, which I 
 have had to combat all my life : Phil- 
 lip de Valois would not believe me 
 when I advised him to allow Edward to 
 retreat ; Cleopatra would not believe 
 me when I tpld her that Anthony would 
 be defeated ; the Trojans would not be- 
 lieve me when I told them with regard 
 to the wooden horse " Cassandra is in- 
 spired, listen to Cassandra." ' 
 
 Oh ! but this is positively marvel- 
 lous.' cried Madame Du Barry, almost 
 beside herself with laughter, ' and re- 
 ally, I have never before met a man 
 who is at once so serious and so amus- 
 ing as you are.' 
 
 4 1 can assure you,' said Cagliostro 
 bowing, ' that Jonathajrtsvas much more 
 amusing than I am. Oh! what a de- 
 lightful companion ?' So much did I 
 fee! it that I was nearly deprived of 
 reason when Saul killed him !' 
 
 Do you know, that if you go on in 
 this way, Count,' said the Duke de 
 Richelieu, ' that you will drive my poor 
 de Taverney .stark mad, for he is so 
 much afraid of death, that he is staring 
 at you with amazed eyes, believing you 
 to be immortal. Come now, tell us, 
 are .you really, you or no ?' 
 
 4 Immortal ?' 
 
 ' Immortal.' 
 
 ' Of that I know nothing ; but this 1 
 know and can affirm ' 
 
 4 What is it ?' .said Taverney, who 
 was the mos^nger of all the listeners. 
 
 ' That I hare seen all I have related, 
 and have consorted with all the persons 
 j,J4iuve just cited/ 
 
 4 You were personally acquainted 
 with Montecuculli ?' 
 
 ' As I am acquainted with you, Mon- 
 sieur de Favres, and even more inti- 
 mately ; for it is only the third or fourth 
 time that I have had the honor of meet- 
 ing you, whereas I lived nearly a whole 
 year under the same tent with the skill- 
 ful strategist of whom we are speaking.' 

 
 10 
 
 THK (JUKKN'S NKCKLACK: OR. TMK 
 
 ' You knew Phillip de Vulois ?' 
 ' As I ha\e had the honor to tell you. 
 Monsieur dc Condorcet ; but when he 
 re-en! ered Paris. I left France and re- 
 turned to Bohemia.' 
 ' C|eu| : 
 
 1 Yes. my lady Countess, Cleopatrn. 
 1 told you that lier eyes were black as 
 3'ours are, and her bust was almost HS 
 beautiful as your^." 
 
 ' But, Count, you know ubt what my 
 bust is ' 
 
 ' Pivci.-ely like that of Cleopatra, and 
 that nothing should be wanting to the 
 resemblance, she Jfftd as you have, or 
 you have as she had, a small black mole 
 above the sixth left rib." 
 
 Oh .' really, Count, no^v I must say 
 ymi are a sorcerer !' 
 
 By no means, Marchioness,' cried 
 the Duke de Richelieu laughing, ' it 
 was I who told him that.' 
 
 ' And how came you to know it ?' 
 The Duke pouted out his lips. 
 
 Hem !' said he, ' that ie a family 
 secret.' 
 
 'Oh! mighty well, mighty well.": 
 said Madame Du Barry. ' Upon my 
 word, Marshal, one should lay on a 
 double coat of rouge on coming to visit 
 you.' 
 
 Then turning to Cagliostro. 
 
 In truth, then, sir, you Inne tue se- 
 cret of renr \s i HIT youth, for being some 
 three or four thousand yearn old. which 
 you must hi-, oiii- would scarce think 
 you forty.' 
 
 I have the secret of renewing 
 youth. 1 
 
 ' Oh ! then make me young again/ 
 
 You, madam ? That would indeed 
 be unnecessary: the miracle is already 
 performed. Our age is. that which we 
 appear to have attained, and you are 
 not more than thirty.' 
 
 'That is mere compliment.' 
 ' No, madam, it is a fuct.' 
 
 Kx press yourself.' 
 
 'Nothing can be more ea>\ . You 
 have made use of my pro< 
 
 ' And how so ?' 
 
 ' Yotfnave taken my elixir.' 
 ( " 
 
 1 Yen, you, yourself, Countess. ( 
 you have nut forgotten it.' 
 
 ' Oh ' that i'or e\;,mple !' 
 
 Countess, do you remember a house 
 in the Ki, ' I ;o 3 on re- 
 member coining to that house on a cer- 
 tain affair regarding M. dc Sariiries? 
 Do you remember having hcei, of 
 service to one of my friend?-, named 
 Joseph Balna mo ? Do you remember 
 
 that Joseph Balsamo made you a pre- 
 sent of a phial of elixir, recommending 
 you to take three drops of it every 
 morning ? Do you remember having 
 i"e'!-\M d his prescription until last year, 
 at v. liich time the contents of the phial 
 sveiv e\hiu.i8led ? If, Countess, you no 
 longer remember all this, why really it 
 would not be mere forgetfulness, but. 
 sheer ingratitu-! ." 
 
 'Oh! Monsieur de Cagliostro, 3'ou 
 are really telling me things ' 
 
 'Which c;;n be known only to your- 
 self, that I am well aware of. But in 
 what would the merit of a sorcerer con- 
 sist, if he did not know the secrets of 
 lii.- neighbor ?' 
 
 'But Joseph Balsomo must have pos- 
 sessed then as you do, the receipt for 
 this admirable elixir ?' 
 
 ' No, madam ; but as lie was one of 
 my best friends, I had given him three 
 or four phials of it.' 
 
 ' And has he any still remaining ?' 
 
 ' Oh ! that I know not. For three 
 years past poor Balsamo has disappear- 
 ed. The last time I suw him was in 
 America, on the banks of the Ohio ; he 
 was then setting out on an expedifioi. 
 to the Rocky Mountains, und since theu 
 I have heard that he is dead.' 
 
 ' Come, come, Count,' cried the 
 Marshal. ' truce to gallantry for mer- 
 cy'.-; >ake. The secret. Count, the se- 
 cret.' 
 
 Aroyou speaking seriously, sir? 
 asked the Count de Haga.' 
 
 'Very seriously, Sire -oli ! pardon 
 me, I should have said my lord Count.' 
 
 And Cagliostre bowed in u manner 
 which indicated that the error he had 
 committed was altogether voluntary. 
 
 Tims,' said the Marshal, the ' 
 
 tot old enough to ha\e her youth 
 renewed ?' 
 
 No, in all conscience.' 
 
 Well, then, I will present another 
 subject to you. Here is my frieini 
 Tavern. -y. What s;.\ you of him .' 
 ILu- he not 'he air oi' being n ct.nt. Hi- 
 porar) wiih I'ontius Pilate / But per- 
 hl<p.- he. on the contnirv. i- too ol,l ." 
 
 Caglios>;ro looked at ihc H.iron. 
 
 No. he i- not.' said he. 
 
 Ah! my dear Count.' exclaimed 
 llirh.-ii.-ii. if you can make him young 
 a^ain. ! Niil pn-cLim von a pupil ot 
 Medei .' 
 
 ;, mi de>ire i; /' inquired Cagli- 
 0^1,0, iiddi'es.-in^ the words to ;lie ma> 
 
 nd. by his looks, the 
 'lie ( omp::ny. 
 Tin . ... iiffirniative.
 
 MYSTERIES OF THE COURT OF LOUIS XVI. 
 
 11 
 
 And you also, Monsieur de Taver- 
 ney 
 
 ' Who, I ? More than any of them, 
 by heaven,' cried the Baron. 
 
 ' Well, then, it is easily done,' re- 
 joined Cagliostro. 
 
 Then, slipping two fingers into his 
 waistcoat pocket, he drew forth a small 
 octagonal bottle. 
 
 Then he took a clean crystal glass 
 and poured a few dropa of the liquor 
 contained in the small bottle into it. 
 K. Then mixing these few drops in half 
 a glass of iced champaigne, he handed 
 the beverage so prepared to the Baron. 
 All eyes were following his every 
 motion ; eveiy mouth was gaping with 
 expectation 
 
 The Baron took the glass ; but the 
 moment he placed it to his lips he hesi- 
 tated. 
 
 Every one on observing this hesita- 
 tion laughed so vociferously, that Cagli- 
 ostro became impatient. 
 
 ' Drink quickly, Baron,' said he, ' or 
 you will waste a liquor every drop of 
 which is worth a hundred louis.' 
 
 ' The deuse !' said Richelieu endeav- 
 oring to be witty, ' that is something 
 more valuable than even my Tokay.' 
 
 I must drink it then ?' inquired the 
 Baron, almost trembling. 
 
 1 Or pass the glass to another, sir, that 
 the elixir may be useful to some one at 
 all events.' 
 
 'Pass it to me,' said the Duke de 
 Richelieu, holding forth his hand. 
 
 The Baron smelled at the glass, and 
 decided, doubtless, by its balsamic and 
 fragrant odor, by the beautiful rosy 
 tinge which the few drops of the elixir 
 had communicated to the champagne, 
 he swallowed the magic draught. 
 
 At the sarn moment, it seemed to 
 him that a shudder ran through his 
 whole being, causing the torpid blood 
 then slumbering in his veins to rush 
 towards the epidermis. His wrinkled 
 Bkin became smooth, his opaque eyes, 
 over which the lids hung loosely became 
 dilated ; the pupils became large and 
 sparkling ; his hands which before 
 trembled like an aspen leaf became at 
 once steady and firm ; his voice regain- 
 ed its strength, and his knees became 
 
 through the apartments. Taverney, 
 who before had only mumbled his food, 
 suddenly felt a devouring appetite. He 
 seized a plate, knife and fork, and help- 
 ing himself to a repast of partridges 
 which was standing at his left hand, 
 ate enormously of it, champing bones 
 and all, and declaring that he felt that 
 his teeth were as good as when only 
 twenty years old. 
 
 He ate, he laughed, he drank and 
 shouted with delight for about half an 
 hour ; and during this half hour the 
 other guests remained gazing at him in 
 perfect stupefaction ; then by degrees 
 he failed like a lamp the oil of which is 
 gradually exhausting. First of all, his 
 forehead, from which the former wrin- 
 kles has disappeared, again became 
 furrowed with deep and new ones ; his 
 eyes became dim, the eyelids heavy as 
 before. He lost his taste ; his shoul- 
 ders became stooping. His appetite 
 was gone, his knees began once moro 
 to tremble. 
 
 ' Oh !' he exclaimed with a groan. 
 
 * What is the matter ?' enquired all 
 the guests. 
 
 ' Alas ! farewell again to youth ." 
 
 And he heaved a deep sigh accom- 
 panied by two big tears, which trickled 
 down his cheeks. 
 
 Instinctively at the sorrowful aspect 
 of the valetudinarian to whom youth 
 had suddenly returned but who from 
 the striking contrast had now apparent- 
 ly become older than before, a sigh 
 similar to that uttered by Taverney es- 
 caped the breast of every one of the 
 guests. 
 
 ' All this is very natural, gentlemen,' 
 said Cagliostro. ' I poured out but 
 thirty-five drops of the elixir for the 
 Baron, and he became young again for 
 only thirty-five minutes." 
 
 Oh! give me more, more, Count!' 
 eagerly cried the old man. 
 
 No, sir,' replied Cagliostro, 'fora 
 second trial might, perhaps, kill you.' 
 
 Of all the guests, Madame Du Barry 
 from knowing the virtues vf the elixir, 
 was the one who had the most minute- 
 ly attended to the ell'ects produced by 
 it on Taverney. As by degrees youth 
 and vigor flowed through his arteries, 
 
 elast ic as in the strongest days of his | the eye of the Countess eagerly fol- 
 
 youth ; his loins resumed their vigor ; 
 and he gradually became erect, as if 
 the liquor as it descended into his stom- 
 ach, had regenerated his whole body 
 from his head to his feet. 
 
 A shout of surprise, of stupefaction, 
 and above all of admiration resounded 
 
 lowed this progression. She laughed, 
 she applauded, and appeared regenera- 
 ted by merely gazing at him. 
 
 When the success of the draught had 
 attained the climax she was about seiz- 
 ing the hand of Cagliostro to wrest from. 
 him the precious phial. But at that
 
 i HE t^U KEN'S NECKLACE; UK, THE 
 
 moment, as Taveruey became old again 
 more suddenly thau he hud become 
 young : 
 
 'Alas! I, see clearly,' said she sor- 
 rowfully, 'that ail is vanity, 'fin hut a 
 chimera, the marvelous effect has -ex- 
 isted but five and thirty minutes.' 
 
 'Hint is to say,' rejoined the Count 
 do Haga. that in order to obtain youth 
 that would endure two years, it would 
 be. necessary to drink a river.' 
 
 All. round the table laughed. 
 
 -aid ( 'oiidorcet, 'the calculation 
 is a very easy one ; at the rate of thirty- 
 live drops'for thirty-five minutes, it would 
 only require the trilliug quantity of three 
 millions one hundred and fifty-three 
 thousand and six drops to remain young 
 for an entire year.' 
 
 ' A perfect inundation,' aid La Pe- 
 rouse. 
 
 ' And yet, sir,' said Madame Du Bur- 
 ry addressing Cagliostro, ' according to 
 your opinion it was not so with me, 
 ince a small bottle about four times the 
 size of your phial and which was given 
 to me by your friend Joseph Balsaino, 
 has sufficed to arrest the progress of 
 age during ten years.' 
 
 Pivci.-.ely so, madam, and you alone 
 have hit upon the mysterious reality. 
 The man who has become old. and too 
 old, requires twft quantity in order to 
 produce an immediate and powerful ef- 
 fect. Hut a woman of thirty, which is 
 your age, madam, or a man of forty, 
 like myself, when they began to drink 
 the elixir of life, full of vitality nnd 
 youth do not need to drink more than 
 ten drops at each period of decay, and 
 with the :)ici of these tell drops, he or 
 she who sNiill drink then will eternally 
 prolong life and youth and in the same 
 degree energy and vigor.' 
 
 What do you mean by periods "of 
 decay ?' inquired the Count de Haga. 
 
 The nati;rn! periods, my lord Count. 
 fn the natural state, the Mrength of 
 man incTeasei until the age of thirty- 
 live. Having reached that it remains 
 *a;ionary until forty. From the age 
 
 iffony it decreases but almost imper- 
 'oeptibiy until be reaches fifty. Then 
 the peinods become shorter, and hurry 
 on until the day of death. In the state 
 of civilization, that is to say, when the 
 body is worn out by excess, care and 
 maladies, the increase of strength is ar- 
 rested at thirty; decay commences at 
 thirty-live. Well the'n ! it is at. that 
 moment, whether an inhabitant of ihe 
 town or of the country, that he .should 
 oeizo nature at me Ht.alionary period in 
 
 order to oppose the inclination to decny. 
 He who possessing the secret of this 
 elixir, us 1 do, knows -how to combine 
 his measures in such a way as to arrest 
 the progress of decay, will live, as I 
 live, always young, or at. least young 
 enough for all he can wish for in this 
 world.' 
 
 'Why! good heaven! Monsieur d 
 Cngliostro,' cried Madame Du Bnrry, 
 ' how was it Jhen, that you, having it in 
 your power to select the age you piec- 
 ed, did not choose that of twenty Hi- 
 stead of forty, 
 
 Uecause, madam,' replied Cagliog- 
 tro, smiling, 'I prefer being always a 
 man of forty, healthy and full grown, to 
 being an unformed young man of twen- 
 ty.' 
 
 ' Oh ! oh ." cried the Countess. 
 
 ' Why, undoubtedly, madam,' re- 
 joined Cagliostro, ' for at the age of 
 twenty we please women of thirty.; 
 whereas at forty we govern women of 
 twenty and men of sixty.' 
 
 ' I yield the point, sir,' said the Coun- 
 tess, ' besides, how would it be possi- 
 ble to dispute it with a living proof!' 
 
 ' Then I,' said Taverney very pite- 
 ously, ' I am totally condemned ; I hav 
 begun too late.' 
 
 ' M. de Richelieu has been more 
 skillful than you,' said La Perouse with 
 the frankness of a sailor, 'for I have al- 
 ways heard that the Marshal had u cer- 
 tain receipt ' 
 
 ' That is a report which had been 
 spread about by the women,' said the 
 Count de Haga, laughing. 
 
 ' Is that ft reason for not believing if,' 
 asked Madame Du Barry. 
 
 The old Marshal blushed, he who in- 
 deed seldom blushed, but immediately 
 abb 
 
 4 Do you wish to know, gentlemen, 
 in what this receipt of mine consists ?' 
 
 ''Yes, certainly, we wish to know 
 it/ 
 
 ' Well, then, it is in being careful of 
 If.' 
 
 ' Oh ! oh ." cried all the guests. 
 
 'Tis that though, and nothing more,' 
 rejoined the Marshal. 
 
 ' I would dispute the authority of the 
 receipt,' observed the Countess, ' had I 
 not seen the elfect of that of M. de 
 Cagliostro. Therefore be on your 
 guard, Mr. Sorcerer, I have not yet got 
 to the end of my questions.' 
 
 ' Go on, madam, go on.' " 
 
 1 You were saying then that when 
 you first made use of your elixir of life 
 you were forty year old ?'
 
 MYSTERIES OF THE COURT OF LOUIS XVI. 
 
 13 
 
 Yes, madam.' 
 
 'And that since that, time, that is to 
 ay, since the siege of Troy ' 
 
 4 A short time before that, madam ' 
 
 4 Well, be it so; since that time you 
 have always remained at forty.' 
 
 4 As you see.' 
 
 'But then you are proving, sir,' said 
 Condorcet, ' more than your theorem 
 requires.' 
 
 4 What was I proving to you, Mar- 
 quis?' , 
 
 4 You are proving not only the per- 
 petuation of youth, but the preservation 
 of life ; for if you hnve never been more 
 than forty years old since the siege of 
 Troy, you never can have died.' 
 
 'That is very true, Marquis, I hum- 
 bly acknowledge it, I have never died.' 
 
 4 And notwithstanding you are not 
 invulnerable as Achilles was and yet I 
 should not call Achilles invulnerable, 
 for he was killed by Paris who struck 
 him in the heel with an arrow.' 
 
 4 No, I am not invulnerable, and much 
 tO'tny regret,' said Cagliostro. ti< 
 
 4 Then you may be killed, you may 
 die from violence.' 
 
 ' Alas ! yes.' 
 
 k How then have you managed to es- 
 cape all accidents during three thou 
 sand five-hundred years ?' enquired the 
 Count de Haga. 
 
 'By chance, my lord Count. Be pleas- 
 ed'to attend to my explanation.' 
 
 '"I will do so.' 
 
 * We are all attention.' 
 
 ' Yes, yes,' exclaimed the other 
 guests with an expression of unusual in- 
 terest, and they all placed their elbows 
 on the table and listened with great 
 earnestness. 
 
 The voice of Cagliostro broke this 
 general silence ; 
 
 ' What is the first condition of life ?' 
 said he extending his marvellously 
 white hands loaded with rings, among 
 which that of Queen Cleopatra spark- 
 led like the evening star 4 Health, is it 
 not?' 
 
 4 Yes, undoubtedly,' exclaimed every 
 foice. 
 
 4 And the first condition of Health 
 is ' 
 
 4 Proper diet,' said the Count de Ha- 
 ga. 
 
 4 \ ou are right, my lord Count, it is 
 proper diet that produces health. Well, 
 than, why should not these drops of 
 my elixir constitute the best possible 
 diet?' 
 
 4 And who knows that?' 
 
 ' You, yourself, Countess. 1 * 
 
 4 Yes, undoubtedly, but no one else,' 
 said Madam Du Barry. 
 
 ' As to that madam, it is a question 
 we will discuss hereafter. Well then, 
 I have always followed the regimen of 
 my drops, and as they have been the 
 constant dream of men of all ages, as 
 they found the secret which the an- 
 cients searched for under the name of 
 water of youth, and which the moderns 
 tried to discover under the name of 
 Elixir of Life, I have constantly preserv- 
 ed my youth anid consequently my 
 health, consequently my life ; that is 
 perfectly clear.' 
 
 ' But every thing wears out, Count, 
 the most beautifully formed body as the 
 rest.' 
 
 4 Thnt of Paris as well as that of 
 Vulcan,' remarked the Countess. 'You 
 no doubt were acquainted with Paris, 
 M. de Cagliostro ?' 
 
 4 Perfectly well, madam ; he was ;i 
 very handsome youth, but upon the 
 whole he did not deserve all thnt Ho- 
 mer said of him, or the world now 
 thinks ! In the fii-st place, he was red- 
 haired .' 
 
 4 Red ! oh ! fie, that's horrible,' ex- 
 claimed the Countess. 
 
 4 Unfortunately, Helen was not of 
 your opinion, madam,' said Cagliostro, 
 4 but to return to our elixir.' 
 
 4 Yes, yes,' cried all the company. 
 
 4 You assert, M. de Taverney, that 
 every thing wears out. But you know 
 also that every thing can be renovated, 
 every thing can be regenerated, or, if 
 you will, replaced. The celebrated knife 
 of Saint Hubert, the handle and blade of 
 which have so often been changed is 
 an example, for notwithstanding this 
 double species of change it still remains 
 the knife of Saint Hubert. The wine 
 which the Monks of Heidleberg pre- 
 serve in their cellar, is always the same 
 wine, and yet, every year they pour 
 into their gigantic tun a new vintage. 
 And therefore the wine of Heidleberg 
 is always clear, sparkling and of j^ood 
 flavor ; whereas the wine which Opi- 
 mus and myself sealed up in earthero 
 amphori, was when I tasted it a hun- 
 dred years afterwards but thick mud ; 
 which could undoubtedly be eaten but 
 certainly not drank.' 
 
 4 Well, then, instead of following the 
 example of Opimus, I anticipated the 
 system which was to be adopted by the 
 Monks of Heidelberg. I sustained my 
 body by pouring into it a new principle 
 calculated to regenerate the old ele- 
 ments of which it was composed. Every
 
 14 
 
 THE QUEEN'S NECKLACE; OR, THE 
 
 morning a new atom, fresh and vigor- 
 ous, replaced in my blood, my flesh, my 
 bones, a worn-out, inert particle. From 
 this minute study of the system of life, 
 die result has been that my thinking 
 faculties, my gestures, my nerves, my 
 heart, my soul, hare never for a mo- 
 ment forgotten their proper functions ; 
 and 1 , as everything in this world follows 
 a necessary concatenation, as those suc- 
 ceed best in performing everything who 
 always do but that one^hing, I naturally 
 became more skillful than any other in 
 avoiding the dangers of an existence of 
 three thousand years, and that, because 
 I had succeeded in acquiring from every 
 thing so much experience, that I fore- 
 see disadvantages I feel the danger of 
 a position, be it what it may. Thus, 
 you could never compel me to enter a 
 house which is in danger of falling. 
 Oh ! no ; I have seen too many houses, 
 not to distinguish at a glance the solid 
 from the dangerous ones. You^could 
 not persuade me to shoot in company 
 with an inexperienced sportsman, who 
 handles his gun unskilfully. From the 
 days of Cephalus, who killed his wife 
 Procris, down to the regent who shot 
 the prince in the eye, I have seen too 
 many awkward persons. You could 
 not induce me in a campaign to volun- 
 teer to occupy such or such a post 
 which many would eagerly apply for ; 
 for, seeing that I should have calculated 
 in a moment all the parabolic lines 
 which verge towards that post. You 
 may tell me that no one can calculate 
 against a chance shot ; I reply that, a 
 man who, having avoided a million of 
 gun shots, would be inexcusable, did he 
 allow himself to be struck by a chance 
 one. Ah ! do not make those incre- 
 dulous signs, for at all events I am here 
 bel'm-e you as a living proof. I do not 
 sa}' that I am immortal; I sny only that 
 I know tiiat which no one else knows 
 that is to say, how to avoH death when 
 likely to present itself by accident. 
 Thus for example : for nothing the 
 world could* oiler would I remain here 
 alone a quarter of an hour with M. de 
 Launay, who is at this very moment 
 thinking that could he but get me into 
 one of his cells in the Bastille, he would 
 make some experiments on my immor- 
 tality with the aid of starvation. Neither 
 would I remain alone with M. Condor- 
 cet, for he is at this moment thiftking 
 of throwing into my glass the contents 
 of tin; ring which he wears on the fore- 
 finger of his left hand, and its contents 
 are poison. And this without any evil 
 
 intention whatsoever; but, by way of 
 philosophical experiment, to uncertain 
 !r imply and purely whether it could kill 
 
 The two persons whom the Count de 
 Cagliostro had thus named, both started 
 slightly. 
 
 ' Acknowledge it boldly, M. de Lau- 
 nay ; we are not in a court, of justice, 
 and, besides, mere intentions are not 
 punishable. Come now, tell me, did 
 you not think that which I have just 
 stated ? And you, M. Condorcef, have 
 you not in that ring a poison which you 
 would wish me to taste ? In the name 
 of your beloved mistress, Science, i 
 conjure you.' 
 
 ' In good faith,' replied M. de Lau- 
 nay, laughing and blushing, 1 ac- 
 knowledge that you are perfectly right. 
 It was an absurdity, but an absurdity 
 that really did rise to my mind at the 
 very moment before you accused inc.' 
 
 'And I,' said Condorcet, 'will not be , 
 less frank than Monsieur de Launay. J 
 did in truth think that, were you to 
 taste 'of that which is in my ring, I 
 would not give an obole for your immor- 
 tality.' 
 
 An exclamation of admiration re- 
 sounded from all the company. These 
 avowals were convincing proofs not of 
 the immortality, but of the penetration 
 of M. de Cagliostro. 
 
 ' You see clearly,' said Cagliostro, c * 
 calmly, 'that I had guelsed rightly. 
 Well, it is the same with every thing 
 that is likely to happen to me. My 
 long habit of living reveals to me at a 
 glance the past and future of people 
 whom I meet. My infallibility on this 
 point is such that it extends even to 
 animals and to inert matter. If I tun 
 about to get into a carriage, I see by 
 the look of the horses that they would 
 run away with me; by the face of the 
 coachman, whether he is likely to over- 
 turn me or run against, any thing. If I 
 have to embark on board a ship, I di- 
 vine whether she is sea-worthy, whe- 
 ther the captain is ignorant or obstinate, 
 and, consequently, whether he can or 
 cannot properly navigate his ship. 1 
 do not deny the power of fiite, but, I 
 lessen it; instead of leaving if a hun- 
 dred chances, as do people generally, I 
 diminish them by ninety -nine, and I 
 mistrust the hundredth. And this is 
 the advantage I have gained by living 
 three thousand years.' 
 
 Then,' said La Perouse, laughing 
 amid the enthusiasm excited by Cagli- 
 ostro'e words, 'Then, my deal 1 prophet,
 
 MYSTERIES OF THE COURT OF .LOUIS XVI. 
 
 15 
 
 you ought to favor me by accompanying 
 me to the ships wilh which I Jim to 
 make a voyage rouud the world. \"ou 
 would be doing me a signal servK-i 1 .' 
 Cagliostro made nu i - i:ply . 
 
 Well, ray good MiU'nhul,' continued 
 La Perouse still laughing, ; since M. de 
 Cagliostro, and which I fully compre- 
 hend, feels uo desire to leave such ex- 
 cellent company, you must allow me to 
 do so Pardon me, Count de Haga, 
 pardon me lovely Countess, but seven 
 o'clock is striking, and I promised the 
 King to get into my chaise at a quarter 
 past seven precisely, and now, since the 
 
 ; Count de Cagliostro is not tempted to 
 go with me to sec my two good ships. 
 let him tell me at least what is to hap- 
 pen to me between Versailles and Brest. 
 From Brest to the pole, I ask him noth- 
 ing, for that is my ailair. But by Ju- 
 piter, from Versailles to Brest he ought 
 to give me an opinion.' 
 
 Cagliostro looked once more at La 
 Perouse and with an expression so 
 melancholy, an air at once so kind and 
 sorrowful, that the greater part of the 
 guests were singularly moved by it. 
 But the navigator did not observe it, he 
 was taknig leave of his friends, his aerv- 
 auta were throwing over his shoulders 
 a large fur cloak, and Madame Du Bar- 
 ry was slipping into his pockets some 
 .bottles of exquisite cordials so accept- 
 able to a traveller, and which the latter 
 rarely thinks ol*providing, but which re- 
 ctd to him his absent friends during the 
 long nights of journe)' performed be- 
 neath a wintry and inclement sky. 
 
 La Perouse still smiling respectfully 
 took leave of the Count de Haga, and 
 held out his hand to the old Marshal. 
 
 Adieu ! my dear La Perouse,' said 
 the Duke de Richelieu. 
 
 Not so, Duke,' replied La Perouse, 
 ' only farewell, till we meet again. Why 
 really one would think I was going 
 away to all eternity. It is but a voyage 
 round the world, four or five years ab- 
 sence and that is all. We need not 
 say adieu ! for that.' 
 
 4 Four or five years !' cried the Mar- 
 shal, * why do you not say at onee four 
 or five centuries ? At my age, days 
 are years. Again I say adieu !' 
 
 4 Pshaw ! Ask our magician there,' 
 eaid La Perouse laughing, ' he will i 
 promise you twenty yearv yet, will you i 
 uoi M. de (Jagliost.ro ? Ah ! Count why 
 did you not tell me sooner of your di- 
 vine drops ? Whatever they might 
 have cost I would have shipped a tun i 
 of them on board the Astrolabe. That ; 
 
 is the in. me of my ship, gentlemen. 
 Madame, allow me once more to kiss 
 your lovely hand, undoubtedly the most 
 lovely I am destined to see until my re- 
 turn. Farewell, till we meet again.' 
 
 And he left the room. 
 
 Cagliostro still maintained the same 
 inauspicious silence. 
 
 They heard the Captain's steps as 
 he went through the vestibule ; his 
 joyous voice in the court yard, and hia 
 last compliment? to the persons who 
 had assembled there to see him. 
 
 Then the horses shook their heads, 
 loaded with bells, the door of the post 
 chaise slammed too with a sharp sound, 
 and the wheels rumbled over the hard 
 frozen snow. 
 
 La Perouse had taken the first steps 
 in that mysterious journey from which 
 he was never to return. 
 
 Every .one listened. 
 
 When nothing more was to be heard 
 all eyes as if by some superior power 
 were turned on Cagliostro. 
 
 At that moment a pythonic intelli- 
 gence appeared to lighten up the fea- 
 tures of that man, which made the 
 whole of the company shudder. 
 
 A dead silence pervaded the room 
 for some moments. The Count de Ha- 
 ga was the first to break it. 
 
 'And why, sir, did you not reply to 
 him ?' 
 
 This question was the expression ol 
 their mutual anxiety. 
 
 Cagliostro started as if it had aroused 
 him from his meditations. 
 
 Because,' said he, replying to the 
 Count, ' I must either have spoken free- 
 ly, or have said that which would have 
 appeared harsh.' 
 
 4 And why so?' 
 
 ' Because I should have been com- 
 pelled to say. the Duke de Rirhelieu 
 was right in bidding you adieu ! and in 
 not saying farewell, till we meet again.' 
 
 4 Why,' cried the Duke de Richelieu 
 turning pale, ' what the deuse are you 
 saying there M. de Cagliostro, about La 
 Perouse !' 
 
 * Oh ! do not be at all uneasy,' eager- 
 ly replied de Cagliostro, 'the prediction 
 is in no wise gloomy with regard to 
 you.' 
 
 * How then,' exclaimed Madame Du 
 Barry, 'and poor La Perouse who but 
 now kissed my hand ' 
 
 Not only will he never kiss it again, 
 madam, but he will never again see those 
 whom he has left this evening,' said 
 Cagliostro attentively examining a glasa 
 full of water that stood before him, and
 
 THE QUEEN'S NECKLACE; OR, THE 
 
 which from the position in which it was 
 placed wns illuminated by rays of an opal 
 tint, transversely checquered by the 
 shadows of surrounding objects. 
 
 A cry of astonishment issued from 
 every lip. 
 
 Conversation had arrived at that point 
 at which every moment increased 
 the interest, and it might have been 
 aid,, from the grave, solemn and almost 
 anxious air with which the company in- 
 terrogated Cagliostro, whether by their 
 words or looks, that they were await- 
 ing the infallible predictions of an an- 
 cient oracle. 
 
 In the middle of this prepossession, 
 M. de Favras, imbued with the general 
 feelings, rose from his chair, made a 
 sign, and -then went on tiptoe into the 
 anti-chamber, to ascertain that none of 
 the servants were listening. 
 
 But. aa we have before said, the Mar- 
 shal de Richelieu's, house, was well 
 regulated, and M. de Favras found out- 
 eide the door of the antechamber only 
 an old intendant, who rigid as a senti- 
 nel on an advanced post defended the 
 approaches to the dining room at the 
 solemn hour of the dessert. 
 
 He therefore returned to his seat 
 making a sign to the assembled com- 
 pany that they might converse with 
 perfect freedom. 
 
 4 In that case,' said Madame Du Bar- 
 ry replying to the assurance of M. de 
 Favras as if it had been pronounced au- 
 dibly, ' in that case tell us the fate which 
 awaits our poor La Perouse ?' 
 
 Cagliostro shook hie head. 
 
 * Let us have it ! Let us have it,' 
 said the men. 
 
 'Well, then, M. de Laperouse has left 
 us as he told you, with the intention of 
 performing a voynge round the world, 
 and to continue the discoveries of Cook, 
 poor Cook ! whom you have heard was 
 assassinated at the Sandwich Islands.' 
 
 'Yes, yes, we have heard that,' re- 
 plied the company, rather by signs than 
 words. 
 
 ' All would predict a favorable issue 
 to the enterprise. M. de La Perouse 
 is a good setimnn, and moreover the 
 King Louis XVI, has skilfully traced 
 out the course he is to take.' 
 
 ' Yes,' said the Count de Haga, in- 
 terrupting him, ' the King of France is 
 a skilful geographer ; is he not so M. de 
 Condorcet ?' 
 
 A more skillful geograoher than a 
 King need be,' replied the Marquis. 
 ' Kings should but know things super- 
 ficially. Then they would perhaps al- 
 
 low themselves to be directed by men 
 who know them thoroughly.' 
 
 ' That is a lesson, Marquis,' smilingly 
 observed the Count de Haga. 
 
 Condorcet blushed. 
 
 ' Oh ! no, my lord Count,' said he, ' it 
 is a mere reflection ; a philosophical 
 generality.' 
 
 4 Well, then, he has set out,' said 
 Madame Du Barry, hastening to pre- 
 vent all private conversation, which 
 might cause the general interest to de- 
 viate from the point which it had 
 reached. 
 
 ' Well then, he has set out,' rejoined 
 Cagliostro. ' But do not believe, al- 
 though he appeared to you in such 
 haste, that he will set sail immediately; 
 no, I see him losing much time at 
 Brest.' 
 
 'That is a pity,' observed Condor- 
 cet,' it is now the proper time for sail- 
 ing. It is even rather late, February 
 or March would have been better.' 
 
 ' Oh ! do not reproach him for the 
 loss of these two or three months, M. 
 de Condorcet, at least he lives during 
 that time ; he lives and hopes.' 
 
 ' He is well accompanied, I suppose,' 
 said the Duke de Richelieu. 
 
 ' Yes,' said Cagliostro, he who com- 
 mands the second ship is a distinguish- 
 ed officer. I see him, still young, ad- 
 venturous, brave, unfortunately.' 
 
 ' How ! unfortunately^' 
 
 'Yes, unfortunately; a year after- 
 wards I seek that friend, and I no long- 
 er see him,' said Cagliostro, anxiously 
 examining his glass. ' There are none 
 here who are related to M. de Lan- 
 gle ?' 
 
 'No.' 
 
 'No one here is acquainted with 
 him ?' 
 
 'No.' 
 
 'Well then, death will begin with 
 him ; I no longer see him.' 
 
 A murmur of terror escaped from al' 
 present. 
 
 But he he La Perouse!' cried 
 several palpitating voices. 
 
 ' He sails on he lands ho re-em- 
 barks. One year, two years of success- 
 ful navigation. Letters are received 
 from him.* And then 
 
 ' And then ' 
 
 ' Years pass by.' 
 
 ' And at last.' 
 
 Che offiorr who hr-night the last intelligence 
 receive*! fr.mLi Per. u-e w* M. "Je L fcep^ 
 ih nl, mi 'i f tile whole axjjediuou who r- 
 ;uru tl to Fraace
 
 MYSTERIES OF THE COURT OF LOUIS XVI. 
 
 17 
 
 * At last! The ocean is immense, known islands." He would then have 
 the skies are lowering. Here and there ! been warned against them. It would, 
 arise unexplored lands, here and there at all events, have given him a chance.' 
 frightful faces like tlTose of the Gre cian ' I can assure you it would not, my 
 Archipelago. They are watching the lord Count ; and, had he believed me, 
 vessel, which glides in the haze among , think but a moment of the horrible ef- 
 the reefs, carried along by conflicting feet of such a revelation ; for, when in 
 currents ; at length the storm, the storm presence of such a danger, at the aspect 
 more hospitable than the shore, and of these unknown islands which must 
 
 then funereal lights. Oh ! Laperouse. 
 Laperouse, couldst thou but hear me, I 
 would say to thee; thou departed as 
 did Christopher Columbus, to discover 
 an unknown world ; Laperouse bewure 
 of unknown Islands !' 
 
 And he suid no more. 
 
 An icy chill pervaded the whole com- 
 pany, while the last words he had ut- 
 tered still vibrated above the table. 
 
 4 But why then did you not warn 
 him?' cried the Count de Hnga, who 
 submitted, as did all the rest, to the in- 
 fluence of this extraordinary man who 
 moved all hearts at his mere will. 
 
 , Yes. yes,' said Madam Dubarry.' 
 ' Why not send after him ; why not 
 bring him back ? The life of such a 
 man as Laperouse is surely worth the 
 journey of a courier, my dear Marshal.' 
 
 The Marshal understood her and half 
 
 rose to ring the bell. 
 Cagliostro extended 
 
 his hand, the 
 
 Duke de Richelieu fell back into his 
 armrchair. 
 
 ' Alas !' continued Cagliostro, ' all 
 counsel Would be unavailing; the man 
 who foresees fate cannot alter its de- 
 crees. M. de Laperouse would have 
 Iftughed had he heard my words, us did 
 
 the sons of 
 prophesied ; 
 
 Priam, when Cassandra 
 but see, you yoursetf are 
 
 laughing, Count de Haga, and your com- 
 panions will soon follow your example. 
 Oh ! do not restrain yourself Monsieur 
 de Condorcet, do not restrain yourself 
 Monsieur de Favras ; I have never yet 
 met with a believing auditory,' 
 
 4 Oh ! we believe,' exclaimed Ma- 
 dame Dubarry and the old Duke of 
 Richelieu.' : 
 
 I believe,' murmured Tavejjney,. 
 
 'And I also,' politely said the Count 
 de Haga. , : 
 
 ' Yes>' rejoined CagUflfltro, ' you be- 
 lieve : you believe, ibecuuse wlyit 1 have 
 Bhid concerns Laperouse, but did it con- 
 cern yourself, you would not.' 
 
 'Oh!' 
 
 I am certain of it.' 
 
 1 I acknowledge that I should, have 
 believed more readily,' , replied ; tlu- 
 Count de Haga, ' hud M fie Cugljystni 
 eaid to M. Laperouse, "Beware of un- 
 
 be fatal to him, the unhappy man, be- 
 lieving in my prophecy, would feel the 
 mysterious death approaching him, 
 without being able to fly from it. It 
 would not be a single death, but a 
 thousand deaths fha* he would suiter ; 
 for it would be suffering a thousand 
 deaths to be wandering in the gloom, 
 side by side with despair. Reflect, 
 that hope, of which I should have de- 
 prived him, is the last consolation winch 
 the wretched victim retains, even when 
 beneath the axe of the execution.;): -to 
 which he clings, even when it first 
 touches him when he feels its sharp 
 edge when his blood begins to flow. 
 Life becomes extinct while man still 
 
 1 . 
 
 hopes.' 
 
 ' Oh'! that is true !| t>,aid some of tho 
 guests in a half whiter. 
 
 'Yes,' continue,} Condorcet, 'the 
 veil which coucr ia } s t h e termination' of 
 our lives is tl\ e greatest blessing which 
 God has conferred on man.' 
 
 ' Well, be that as it may/ said the 
 Count de Hap. ; ' but did it happen that 
 I should hear a man like you suy'to me, 
 " Beware of such a man, or such a 
 thing," I should receive the advice as 
 good, and I should thank the adviser.' 
 
 Caglfostro gently shook his head, ao- 
 fpmpanying this gesture with a mourn- 
 ful smile. 
 
 ' in good earnest, Monsieur Cagli- 
 ostrq,' continued the Count, ^ivu up a 
 warning and I will thank you.' 
 
 ' You -vyiwh me, then, to tell you '.hat 
 which I have refused, to tell M. do La- 
 perouse.' 
 . f,\ Yes, I do wish it.' 
 
 Cagliostro made a movement, as if 
 .ubout to .peak, but, paused. 
 
 ' Oh ! no,' said he, ' Count no.' 
 
 ' l 
 , C 
 
 you.' 
 
 ostro turueq aside his head. 
 er !' nmrmureil ho. 
 . -ike can- !' ^aiil the Count, with a 
 smile, -or vuu will make me once more 
 incredulous ; /, 
 
 - Lucrqdulfty is less injurious than 
 anguish.' 
 
 M, .de, Caghostro,' said the Count 
 i-ly, there is one thing which you 
 forget.'
 
 18 
 
 THE QUEEN'S NECKLACE; OR, THE 
 
 'And what is that?' respectfully in- 
 quired the Prophet. 
 
 It is that if there may be certain men 
 who without inconvenience may re- 
 main ignorant of their destiny, there 
 are others to whom it is essential the 
 future should be known, seeing that 
 their destiny is not alone important to 
 themselves, but to millions of men.'' 
 
 4 In that case I must have an order,' 
 replied Cngliostro. ' No, I will do no- 
 thing without an order.' 
 
 ' What is it that you mean ?' 
 ' That j'our Majesty should lay your 
 commands upon me,' said Cagliostro in 
 a low tone, ' and I will then obey.' 
 
 4 1 command you to reveal to me my 
 destiny, M. de Cagliostro,' rejoined the 
 King, with courteous dignity. 
 
 And at that moment as the Count de 
 Haga had allowed himself to be ad- 
 dressed as a King and had thrown off 
 his incognito by giving a direct order, 
 M. de Richelieu rose, stepped forward 
 and bowing humbly to the King said to 
 him: 
 
 ' A thousand thanks for the honor 
 which the King of Sweden has done 
 my house. Your Majesty will now be 
 pleased to take tbe seat of honor; from 
 this moment it belongs to you alone, sire.' 
 4 Let us remain at? we are, my good 
 Marshal, and do not le us lose a word 
 of that which M. de Cagliostro is about 
 to say to me.' 
 
 4 To Kings, truth cannot be spoken, 
 sire.' 
 
 4 Bah ! I am not in my own kingdom. 
 Resume your seat, Duke ; speak, Mon- 
 sieur de Cagliostro, I entreat you.' 
 
 Cagliostro cast a glance at his glass ; 
 globules, similar to those which sparkle 
 in champagne, rose from the bottom to 
 the surface ; the water appeared to be 
 attracted by his powerful gaze, and be- 
 came agitated at his will. 
 
 4 Tell me, sire, what you desire to 
 know,' said Cagliostro ; 4 1 am now ready 
 to reply to you.' 
 
 4 Tell me of what death I shall die ?' 
 4 You will be shot, sire.' m 
 
 The features of Gustavus beamed 
 with joy. 
 
 4 Ah ! in a battle,' exclaimed he ; ' a 
 soldier's death, and on the battle field. 
 Thanks, M. de Cagliostro; a hundred 
 times I thank you. Oh ! I foresee bat- 
 tles, and Gustavus Adolphus and Charles 
 the Twelfth have shown me how a man 
 should die when he is King of Sweden.' 
 Cagliostro .bowed down his head, 
 without replying. The Count de Haga 
 knit his brow. 
 
 4 Oh! oh!' cried he, ( will it not be 
 in battle that the death shot will be 
 fired?' 
 
 4 No, sire.' 
 
 4 During an insurrection ? Yes, that 
 also may be possible.' 
 
 4 Nor in an insurrection.' 
 
 ' 4 But where, then, will it happen ?' 
 
 4 At a ball, sire.' 
 
 The King became thoughtful. 
 
 Cagliostro, who had risen, resumed 
 his seat and let his head fall upon his 
 hands, 'covering his face. 
 
 All present became pale, attentively 
 regarding the author of the prophecy 
 and he who was the object of it. 
 
 M. de Condorcet approached Cagli- 
 ostro's chair, and taking the glass, in 
 which he had read the fatal augury, by 
 the stem, he raised it to the level of his 
 eye, closely examining its brilliant cut 
 lery and its mysterious contents. . 
 
 His intelligent but cold and scrutiniz- 
 ing eye appeared to be asking of both 
 the solid and liquid crystal, the solution 
 of a problem which his reason reduced 
 to a mere physical speculation. 
 
 And, in fact, the scientific man was 
 endeavoring to compute the depth, the 
 luminous refractions, and the micro- 
 scopic play of the water. He was in- 
 quiring of himself he who wished to 
 discover a cause for every thing the 
 cause and the pretext for this jugglery, 
 exercised upon men of the mental qual- 
 ities possessed by those seated around 
 that table, and by one whose wondrous 
 knowledge no one could deny. 
 
 Doubtless, he did not find a solution 
 to his problem, for he ceased to examine 
 the glass, replaced it on the table, and, 
 amid the stupefaction which resulted 
 from Cagliostro's prognostic 
 
 4 Well,' said he, ' I also will beg our 
 illustrious prophet to question his magic 
 mirror. Unfortunately,' added he, 4 1 
 atn not a powerful lord I cannot com- 
 mand, and my obscure life does not be- 
 long to millions of men.' 
 
 4 Sir,' said the Count de Haga, 4 you 
 command in the name of Science, and 
 your life is not merely interesting to a 
 people, but to the whole human race.' 
 
 4 Thanks, my lord Count ; but per- 
 haps your opinion on this point is not 
 the same as that of M. de Cagliostro.' 
 
 Cagliostro raised his head, as does a 
 charger under the pressure of the spur. 
 
 44 Yes, yes, Marquis,' he replied, un- 
 der the influence of incipient, nervous 
 irritability,which in ancient times would 
 have been ascribed to the power of the 
 God by whom he was inspired. 4 Yes,
 
 MYSTERIES OF THE COURT OF LOUIS XVI. 
 
 19 
 
 you are a powerful lord in the kingdom 
 of intellect. Come, now, look at me 
 steadily ; do you also desire that I 
 should predict your fate ?' 
 
 Seriously, Count ; upon my honor, 
 no one can more seriously desire it,' 
 replied Condorcet. 
 
 Well, then, Marquis,' said Cagli- 
 ostro, in a hollow tone, and closing his j 
 eyelids, ' you will die of the poison 
 continued in the ring you wear on your 
 
 . finger. You will die ' 
 
 4 Oh ! but should I throw it away ?' 
 cried Condorcet, interrupting him. 
 
 4 Throw it away, then.' 
 
 4 You will at all events acknowledge 
 that it can easily be done.' 
 
 4 Then, throw it away, I tell you.' 
 
 'Oh! yes, Marquis,' cried Madame 
 Dubarry ; ' for mercy's sake, throw 
 away that horrid poison throw it away, 
 if it be only to prove that this ill-omen- 
 ed prophet has spoken falsely he who 
 afflicts us all with his predictions ; for 
 nothing can be more clear than this, 
 that should you throw it away, it will 
 not be by that you will be poisoned ; 
 and as it is by that, that M. de Cagli- 
 ostro pretends you will be, then, in 
 spite of himself, he will have advanced 
 a falsehood.' 
 
 ' The Countess Madam is right,' said 
 the Count de Haga. 
 
 4 Bravo ! Countess,' said Richelieu ; 
 4 come, now, Marquis, throw away that 
 poison ; for now that I know that you 
 carry on your finger that which might 
 cause the death of any man, I shall 
 tremble eveiy time we touch glasses. 
 The ring may open accidentally, and 
 and' 
 
 4 And when two glasses touch each 
 other, they come very close,' observed 
 Taverney. 4 Throw it away, Marquis 
 throw it away.' 
 
 All that is useless,' observed Cag- 
 liostro very calmly, 4 M. de- Condorcet 
 will not throw it away.' 
 
 ' No,' said the Marquis, 4 that is true, 
 I will not throw it away, and it is not 
 because I am aiding fate ; it is because 
 it was Cabanis who composed this poi- 
 son for me, which is unique, for in was 
 solidified by mere accident, and such 
 an accident as perhaps may never occur 
 again ; that is the reason why I will 
 not throw away this poison. Triumph 
 if you please, M. de Cagliostro.' 
 
 ' Destiny,' observed the latter, 4 finds 
 always faithful agents to aid the execu- 
 tion of her decrees.' 
 
 ' So I am to die poisoned,' said the 
 Marquis. ' Well ! be it so ! It is not 
 
 every one who wishes it that can die 
 from poison. It is an admirable death 
 that you predict to me ; a little poison 
 on the tip of my tongue and I am an- 
 nihilated. It is not death it is only 
 minus life, as we say in Algebra.' 
 
 ' It is no wish of mine that you should 
 suffer,' coldly replied Cagliostro, and he 
 made a sign, evincing that he wished to 
 proceed no farther at all events with re- 
 gard to M. Condorcet. 
 
 4 Sir,' then said the Marquis de Fa- 
 vras, stretching across the table, to get 
 as nenr as possible to Cagliostro, ' we 
 have hnd a shipwreck, a shot, and an 
 empoisonment, which make my mouth 
 water ; would you not do me the favor 
 to predict for me some little catastrophe 
 of the same nature ?' 
 
 Oh ! Marquis,' replied Cagliostro, be- 
 ginuing to become animated under all 
 this irony, 4 it would really be wrong in 
 you to feel jealous of these gentlemen, 
 for on the honor of a gentleman you will 
 have something better.' 
 
 4 Better !' exclaimed M. de Favraa, 
 laughing ; ' take care ! you are promis- 
 ing too much. Better than the sea, a 
 ball, or poison. That's difficult.' 
 
 4 There still remains the rope Mar- 
 quis,' said Cngliostro very cftui'teously. 
 
 4 The rope ! oh ! oh ! what are you 
 saying?' 
 
 4 1 tell you that you will be hanged,' 
 replied Cagliostro in a species of pro- 
 phetic rage of which he was no longer 
 master. 
 
 4 Hanged ." reiterated all present, 
 4 the devil !' 
 
 4 You forget, sir, that I am a noble- 
 man,' said Favras, somewhat cooled ; 
 4 and if by chance you mean to hint at 
 suicide, I forewarn you that I calculate 
 upon respecting myself too much even 
 to the last moment, to make use of a 
 rope as long a? I have a sword.' 
 
 4 1 am not talking to you of suicide, 
 sir.' 
 
 4 Then you speak of an execution.' 
 
 4 Yes.' 
 
 4 You are a foreigner, sir, and as such 
 I pardon you.' 
 
 What?' 
 
 4 Your ignorance. In France, noble- 
 men are beheaded.' 
 
 4 You will arrange that matter, sir, 
 with the executioner,' said Cagliostro 
 I crushing his interlocutor with that bru- 
 I tal answer. 
 
 There was a moment's hesitation in 
 the company. 
 
 4 Do you know,' said M. de Launay 
 that I begin to tremble ; my predeces-
 
 20 
 
 THE QUEEN'S NECKLACE ; OR, THE 
 
 tore have been so unfortunate that I au- 
 gtir ill for miself, should I dip my hand 
 into the snme bag as tliey have done.' 
 
 'Then you are more reasonable than 
 they have shown themselves, and ^do 
 not desire to know the future. You 
 are right. Whether good or evil let us 
 respect the secrets of Heaven.' 
 
 ' Oh ! oh ! M. de Launay ." exclainfed 
 Mndame Dubarry, ' I hope you will 
 have ns much courage as these gentle- 
 men.' * 
 
 And I hope so too, madam,' said the 
 Goyernor, bowing. Then turning to- 
 wards Cagliostro he continued. 
 
 ' Now, sir, in my turn ; be pleased to 
 gratify me by drawing my horoscope, 
 I intrent you.' 
 
 'Tis very easily done,' said Caglios- 
 tro, ' a knock on the head with a hat- 
 chet and all is over.' 
 
 A cry of terror rang throughout the 
 room. The Duke de Richelieu and 
 Taverney begged Cagliostro net to pro- 
 ceed further, but feminine xuriosity 
 was not so easily satisfied. 
 
 ' Frpm what you say, Count,' said 
 Madame Dubarry, ' one would really be 
 inclined to imagine that the whole uni- 
 Yerse is to die by violent means. How 
 is this, we are only eight, and five of 
 thfc eight have already been condemned 
 by you ?' 
 
 'Oh! you will readily understand 
 that this is a planned thing, and that we 
 hfagh at it madam,' said M. de Favras 
 endeavoring to laugh, but affectedly. 
 
 4 Undoubtedly we laugh at it,' said 
 the Count de Huga, ' and whether it be 
 true or false.' 
 
 ' Oh ! I will also laogh,' rejoined Ma- 
 dame Dubarry, ' for I would not by my 
 cowardice dishonor this good company. 
 But alas! I am but a woman and shall 
 not have the honor to rank with you in 
 a fatal denouement. A woman dies in 
 her bed. Alas ! my death, that of an 
 old woman, sorrowful and forgotten, 
 will be the worst of deaths. Is it not 
 BO M. de Cagliostro?' 
 
 Saying these words she hesitated ; 
 he gave not only by her words but by 
 her manner, a pretext to the prophet to 
 ay something to console her, but Cag- 
 liostro said nothing that was consoling. 
 
 Curiosity was stronger than anxiety, 
 and it impelled her onwards. 
 
 4 Come now, M. de Cagliostro, do an- 
 swer me ?' said Madame Dubarry. 
 
 How would you have me answer yon, 
 madam, when you do not question me ?' 
 The Countess hesitated. 
 But' aid she. 
 
 ' Come, now decide,' said Cagliostro, 
 ' do you question me, yes or no ?' 
 
 The Countess made an effort, and 
 after being encouraged by the smiles of 
 the company. 
 
 'Well then, yes,' said she. 'I will 
 risk it ; tell me what will be the end of 
 Jeanne de Vanbernier, Countess Du- 
 barry ?' 
 
 ' On the scafiold, madam,' replied the 
 lugubrious prophet. 
 
 '/This is a jest, is it not, sir?' stam- 
 mered the Countess with a supplicat- 
 ing look. 
 
 But Cagliostro had been too much pro- 
 voked and he did not observe her look. 
 
 ' Why should it be a jest ?' asked he. 
 
 4 Because in order to be condemned 
 to the scaffold one must have either 
 killed, assassinated, or committed some 
 dreadful crime, and because in all prob- 
 ability I shall never commit a crime. 
 Oh ! you must be jesting, are you not ?' 
 
 ' Oh ! good heaven, yes,' replied Cag- 
 liostro, ' this is a jest, as till that I have 
 predicted.' 
 
 The Countess burst into a loud laugh 
 j which an experienced observer would 
 I have conceived to be too noisy to be 
 I natural. 
 
 ' Come, M. de Favras,' said she, 'let 
 us at once order our mourning coaches.' 
 
 'That would be altogether useless, 
 with regard to you, Countess,' said 
 Cagliostro. 
 
 ' And why so, sir ?' 
 
 ' Because you will go to the scaffold 
 in a cart.' 
 
 'Oh! fie! horrid!' exclaimed Ma- 
 dame Dubarry. ' Oh ! the filthy man ! 
 Marshal, another time please to choose 
 your guests of a more agreeable humor, 
 or I will never visit you again.' 
 
 ' Pardon me, madam,' said Cagliostro, 
 ' but you, as did all the rest, insisted on it.' 
 
 ' But, us. well as to all the rest, you 
 will I hope grant me the time to choose 
 my own confessor?' 
 
 ' It would be a superfluous trouble 
 Countess,' said Cagliostro. 
 
 ' How so?' 
 
 ' The last who will ascend the scaf- 
 fold with a confessor wil be ' 
 
 ' Will be ?' inquired the company sim- 
 ultaneously. 
 
 ' Will be, the King of France !' 
 
 And Cagliostro uttered these words 
 in so hollow and lugubrious a tone that 
 it passed like the wings of the angel of 
 death over the whole company and 
 chilled them to the soul. 
 
 A silence of some minutes ensued. 
 
 During this time Cagliostro raised
 
 MYSTERIES OF THE COURT OF LOUIS XVI. 
 
 21 
 
 the glass of water to his lips in which he 
 had read all these sanguinary prophecies 
 but it scarcely touched them when, with 
 an invincible disgust, he pushed it from 
 him as it had been a bitter chalice. 
 
 While doing this the eyes of Caglios- 
 tro had been turned on Taverney. 
 
 4 Ob. !' exclaimed the latter, who be- 
 Iteved he was about to address him, ' do 
 not telLwhat is to be my fate ! I do not 
 ask it or you.' 
 
 ' Well, then, I ask it in his place,' 
 said de Richelieu. 
 
 4 You, Marshal de Richelieu, may feel 
 perfectly at ease, for of nil present,you are 
 the only one who will die in your own bed. 
 
 ' The coffee ! gentlemen,' cried the 
 old Marshal delighted with the predic- 
 tion, ' let us go to take our coffee!' 
 
 Every one rose. But before going 
 into the drawing room, the Count de 
 Haga approached Cagliostro. 
 
 'Sir,' said he, ' I do not attempt to 
 escape my fate ; but tell me what I 
 should mistrust?' 
 
 4 A muff, Sire.' 
 
 M. de Haga left the room. 
 
 4 And I ?' inquired Condorcet. 
 
 An omelette.' 
 
 4 Good ! I renounce eggs forever,' and 
 then followed the Count. 
 
 4 And I ;' said Favras, ' what have I to 
 fear?' 
 
 1 A Letter.' 
 
 ' Good. I thank you.' 
 
 4 And I ?' inquired de Launay. 
 
 4 The taking of the Bastille.' 
 
 4 Oh ! then I am perfectly at 'ease,' 
 and he went away laughing. 
 
 4 And now in my turn,' cried the 
 . Cotintess, much agitated. 
 
 4 You, lovely Countess, beware of the 
 Place Louis XV !' 
 
 4 Alas !' rejoined the Countess. ' I 
 once before lost my way there, and I 
 suffered greatly. I lost my senses.' 
 
 4 Well, Countess, on this occasion 
 you will again lose them, never again 
 to be recovered.' 
 
 Madame Dubarry uttered a loud 
 shriek, and rushed to the drawing-room 
 after the other guests. 
 
 Cagliostro was about to follow them. 
 
 ' One moment !' crie8 de Richelieu ; 
 ' the only persons to whom you have 
 not predicted evil, are Taverney and 
 myself, my dear sorcerer.' 
 
 4 M. de Taverney requested that I 
 would say nothing in regard to him.' 
 
 4 Oh!' cried Taverney, clasping his 
 hands, I still intrent you to say nothing. 
 
 ' But come now, in order to prove to us 
 the power of your ge nius, tell us one thing 
 
 of which we alone have cogniznnrj ? 
 
 4 What is it?' demanded Cagliostro, 
 smiling. 
 
 4 Well now,, tell us how it'is that Ta- 
 verney has come to reside at Ver- 
 sailles, instead of living quietly on his 
 boiiutiful estate of Maison Rouge, which 
 the King repurchased for him three 
 years iigo?' 
 
 4 Nothing more easy,' replied Cagli- 
 ostro. 4 Ten years ago, M. de Tuver- 
 ney wished to give his daughter, Ma- 
 demoiselle Andree, to the King, Louia 
 XV, but he did not succeed.' 
 
 ' Oh ! Oh !' groaned Taverney. 
 
 4 And now he wishes to give his don, 
 Philippe de Taverney, to Queen Marie 
 Antoinette : ask him if I speak falsely.' 
 
 4 Why really, cried Taverney, 4 this 
 man is a sorcerer ; or may the devil 
 seize me !' 
 
 4 Oh! Oh!' exclaimed the Duke de 
 Richelieu, 4 speak not so cavalierly of 
 the devil, my old comrade.' 
 
 4 Terrible ! terrible !' cried de Taver 
 ney ; and he turned round once more 
 to implore the prudent reserve of Cag- 
 liostro ; but the latter had disappeared. 
 
 4 Come, Taverney, come, let us go 
 into the drawing-room,' said the Mar- 
 shal ; ' they will take their coffee with- 
 out us, or our "coffee will be cold, and 
 that will be worse still.' 
 
 He hastened to the drawing-room ; but 
 jt was deserted : not one of the guests 
 had had the courage to again face the 
 author of the terrible predictions. 
 
 The wax lights were burning brightly 
 in the candelabra ; the coffee was smo- 
 king in the urn ; the fire was blazing 
 on the hearth ; and all this, uselessly. 
 
 ' I'faith, old comrade, it appears that 
 we must take our coffee tete-a-tete 
 Why, what the devil has become of 
 you?' and Richelieu looked about in 
 every direction for Taverney ; but the 
 little old man had slipped*away like all 
 the rest. 
 
 ' Well, no matter,' cried the Duke, 
 chuckling as Voltaire would have done, 
 and rubbing his white and shrivelled 
 hands, loaded with rings, with great 
 glee ; ' I am to be the only one of this 
 day's company who is to die in his bed. 
 Ha! ha! in my bed! Count de Cagliostro. 
 I am not an unbeliever I ! In my bed 
 was it not so ? in my bed and the 
 later the better. Ho ! there, my valet 
 de chambre, and my drops !' 
 
 The valet de chambre entered with 
 a phial in his hand and the Marshal 
 and he went into an adjoining bed room. 
 
 END OF THE PROLOGCE.
 
 THE QUEEN'S NECKLACE. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 TWO 0NKJTOWN LADIES. 
 
 THE winter of 1784, that monster 
 which devoured a sixth part of France, 
 we have seen but little of, although it 
 howled around the dwelling of the Duke 
 de Richelieu ; but we were there too 
 comfortably ensconced in his well warm- 
 ed and perfumed dining-room to feel 
 its dire effects. A little hoar frost on 
 the windows is a luxury of nature ad- 
 ded to the luxury of man. Winter has 
 its diamonds, its powder and its silver 
 embroidery, to offer to the rich muffled 
 up in furs or snugly seated in a close car- 
 riage, or reclining listlessly on the soft 
 cushioned velvet fqrniture of a well 
 warmed room. All these congelations 
 are a pomp, every change of season, ev- 
 ery tempest is merely a variation of 
 scene which the rich from their win- 
 dows gaze upon as the work of the great 
 and eternal mechanician. 
 
 In truth he who is warm and comfor- 
 table may admire the snow-clad trees 
 and find a charm even in the gloomy 
 perspective which winter casts over 
 the plains. He who inhales the savory 
 odors of the dinner that awaits him, 
 may fespire from time to time, at a half 
 opened window the biting Wast of the 
 north wind, and the Icy vapor of the 
 snows which serve but to invigorate his 
 appetite and his ideas. 
 
 He, in short, who after a day of en- 
 joyment, wherein his fellow men have 
 suffered acutely, throws himself luxu- 
 riously upon his bedjif ei<!rnlo\vn, be- 
 tween fine sheets and warmed to the 
 proper degree, that man, like the ego- 
 tist of whom Lucretius speaks and 
 whom Voltaire glorifies, may find that 
 every thing is as it should be in this 
 best possible of worlds. 
 
 But he who is shivering with cold ob- 
 serves not at all these splendors of na- 
 - ture, for she is as richly clad in her 
 enow white as in her grass green man- 
 tle. 
 
 He who is hungry, looks downward 
 to the earth and raises not his eyes to 
 heaven, that heaven which is sunless 
 and consequently smiles not on the 
 wretched. 
 
 Now, at the moment of which we are 
 speaking, that is to say about the mid- 
 dle of the month of April, three" hun- 
 dred thousand unhappy wretches, dy- 
 ing of cold and hunger, were bewailing 
 their hard fate iti the city of Paris. In 
 Paris, where under the pretext that no 
 city in the world contained so many 
 rich, no provision had been made to 
 prevent the poor from perishing from 
 cold and hunger. 
 
 During four months a sky of adamant 
 had driven the wretched inhabitants of 
 the villages into the city, as in winter 
 wolves are driven from the woods into 
 the villages. 
 
 There was no bread, no wood. 
 
 There was no bread for those who 
 were exposed to cold, no wood where- 
 with to cook their bread. 
 
 All the provisions which had been 
 collected, Paris had devoured in a 
 month ; the Mayor, an improvident and 
 incapable man, had not sufficient fore- 
 sight to have brought into the city, 
 confided to his care, two hundred thou- 
 sand cords of wood which were attain- 
 able from a circuit of only about ten 
 leagues around the capital. 
 
 He gave as an excuse ; 
 
 When it froze hard, that the frost 
 prevented the horses from working ; 
 when it thawed, the insufficient num- 
 ber of carts and horses. Louis XVI, 
 always benevolent, always humane, al- 
 ways the first to feel the physical wants 
 of his subjects, whose .social wants 
 more readily escaped him, Louis 
 XVI, began by appropriating a sum of 
 two hundred thousand livres to the 
 hiring of carts and horses, and after 
 this he put them under forcible requisi- 
 tion. Notwithstanding this the con- 
 sumption was more than equal to the 
 supply, It became necessary to limit 
 the rich purchasers. No one had the 
 right to take from a wood-yard more 
 than one cord of wood, and soon this 
 was reduced to half a cord. The files 
 of applicants were then seen extending 
 far from the gates of the wood-yard aa 
 was subsequently the case at the bakers 
 doors. The King expended the whole 
 of his privy purse in alms. He bor- 
 rowed three millions on the security of 
 the duti.-s received at the gates of Par-
 
 MYSTERIES OF THE COURT OF LOUIS XVI. 
 
 23 
 
 Is ; and applied these three millions to 
 the relief of the unfortunate, declaring 
 that every thing should give way to 
 the urgency of cold and famine. 
 
 The Queen on her side gave five hun- 
 dred louis from her own savings. The 
 convents, the hospitals and public build- 
 ings were converted into asylums for 
 the poor, and every gate-way to of the 
 houses of Paris was thrown open by 
 order of its master, following the ex- 
 ample of the royal residences, to admit 
 into their court-yards the poor people 
 who crowded into them to crouch 
 around the large fires therein lighted. 
 
 They hoped to get on in this way un- 
 til a favorable thaw should set in. 
 
 But the skies were inflexible. Ev- 
 ery evening a veil half rose half copper 
 colored extended itself along the hori- 
 zon, and the stars sparkled brightly and 
 coldly like funeral torches, and the 
 nightly frosts condensed into lakes of 
 diamonds the pale snow which the noon 
 tide sun had for a moment liquified. 
 
 During the day thousands of work- 
 men with pick-axes and shovels broke 
 up the snow and ice and piled it up 
 before the houses, so that a durable 
 rampart, thick and humid, obstructed 
 one half of every street, which for the 
 most part, were before too narrow. 
 Heavy carriages with wheels sliding in 
 all directions, horses stumbling and fal- 
 ling at eveiy moment pressed the poor 
 passengers against these icy walls so 
 that they had to contend against three 
 dangers, that of slipping down, of be- 
 ing run over or of the ice and snow fai- 
 ling upon them. 
 
 Soon these heaps of ice and show be- 
 came so considerable that the fronts of 
 the shops were completely hidden by 
 them, the passages closed up, and it 
 was found necessary to discontinue 
 piling up the ice, for the means of re- 
 moving it were altogether insufficient. 
 
 Paris thus exhausted, acknowledged 
 itself vanquished and allowed winter to 
 take its own course. December, Jan- 
 uary, February and March passed thus. 
 Sometimes a tnaw of two or three days 
 would change Paris into one wide 
 ocean, for all the sewers and water 
 \vaj r s were choked up. Some of the 
 streets during these times could only be 
 crossed by swimming. Horses fell and 
 were drowned. Carriages did not ven- 
 ture into the streets even at a foot pace, 
 they would have become boats. 
 
 Paris, always true to its character, 
 made songs on death by thaw, as it had 
 made eongs on death by famine. Peo- 
 
 ple went in procession to the market to 
 see the fish women sell their finny 
 stocks, and run along in wide breeches 
 and enormous father boots, coming 
 above their knees,their petticoats tucked 
 up round their waists, gesticulating and 
 splashing each other in the species of 
 marsh which they inhabited; but as 
 these thaws were but transitory, as the 
 ice returned more opaque and more 
 obstinate than ever, as the Lakes of the 
 day before became a sheet of shining 
 crystal, sledges usurped the place of 
 wheeled carriages, and glided along, 
 either pushed by skaters or drawn by 
 horses, rough shod, along the streets 
 thus changed into glassy mirrors. The 
 Seine, which was frozen to the depth 
 of many feet, had become the rendez- 
 vous of all the idlers, who exercised 
 themselves by sliding or skating, and 
 who, when heated by these gymnastic 
 exercises, as soon as they became fa- 
 tigued, ran to the nearest fire, to pre- ' 
 vent th'e perspiration from freezing on 
 their limbs. 
 
 The continued frost having thus im- 
 peded communication by water, and 
 very much obstructed the means of 
 transport by land, the moment at length 
 arrived when it was feared there would 
 be no possibility of receiving farther 
 supplies of provision, and that Paris, 
 that gigantic body, would succumb for 
 want of nourishment, like those ceta- 
 ceous monsters in the polar regions, 
 who, having devoured all within their 
 reach, remain enclosed in the thick- 
 ribbed ice, and die from inanition ; not 
 being able, like the smaller fish on 
 which they prey, to escape by the fis- 
 sures to more genial zones, and waters 
 better stocked. 
 
 In this extremity, the King sum- 
 moned his Council, and decided that an 
 order of removal from Paris should be 
 issued ; or rather, that the following 
 classes of persons should be requested 
 to return to their residences in the pro- ' 
 vinces, viz : all bishops, abbes, monks 
 not over anxious to fulfil their duties T 
 governors, intendants of provinces who 
 had established their seat of govern- 
 ment at Paris; and finally, the magis- 
 trates who>preferred the opera to their 
 own magisterial chairs. And i:i truth, 
 all these people consumed Inrgr quanti- 
 ties of wood in their hotels ; they coh- 
 f 'imed immense quantities of provision 
 i.. their immense kirchens. 
 
 Besides these, there were all the 
 lords who had estates in the provinces 
 aud were to be requested to withdraw
 
 24 
 
 THE QUEEN'S NECKLACE ; OR, THE 
 
 to their domains. But M. Lenoir, the 
 lieutenant of police, observed to the 
 King, thin all these persons not having 
 boen guilty of any offence, could not be 
 r >mprlUl to leave Paris at twenty-four 
 hqurs notice ; that consequently they 
 would delay their departure as much 
 as possible, in the first place from tlusir 
 unwillingness to go at all ; and secondly, 
 from the bad state of the roads, and 
 thus a thaw would take place before 
 any advantage could be derived from 
 the measure, while all the inconve- 
 niences aiising from it would have 
 been produced. 
 
 However, the compassion of the 
 king which had drained the coffers of 
 the State, the charitable tenderness of 
 the queen which had exhausted her 
 own private funds, had excited the 
 gratitude of the people, who ingeniously 
 consecrated, by monuments as ephe- 
 meral as the evil and the benefits which 
 had been bestowed upon them, the 
 remembrance of the charities of Louis 
 XVI. and the queen. As, in the olden 
 times, when soldiers raised trophies 
 to a victorious general, formed of the 
 arms of the enemy whom he had van- 
 quished upon the field of battle, the 
 Parisians, when they had struggled 
 against the winter, raised obelisks of ice 
 and snow, in honor of the King and 
 Queen. All assisted in the work ; la- 
 bourers contributed their strength to 
 raise the masses, workmen moulded 
 them into shape, the artist gave his 
 talent, and the obelisks arose elegant, 
 bold and solid ; the poor literary man 
 whom the benevolence of the Sovereign 
 had sought out in his garret; brought 
 the offering of an inscription dictated 
 rather by the feelings of the heart, than 
 the talent of the head. 
 
 At the end of March a thaw declar- 
 ed itself, but it was by no means gene- 
 ral, for it was accompanied by occa- 
 sional returns of frost, which prolonged 
 the misery, the hunger, and the grief 
 of the population of Paris, at the same 
 time that it diminished the form and 
 the solidity of the monuments which 
 hud been erected. 
 
 Misery had never attained to such a 
 climax as during this period. The 
 intermitting rays of sunshine already 
 possessing some degree of warmth, 
 rendered the frosty and windy nigh- s 
 so much the more insufferable ; i - 
 mense masses of ice had begun to in . 
 arid ran down into the Seine, which \ r- 
 flowed its banks in all directions. Hut 
 in the beginning of April, one of 
 
 those returns of frost of which ,we 
 have spoken, again occurred; the obe- 
 lisks, from which was already stream- 
 ing that humidity which predicted 
 their speedy dissolution, the obelisks, 
 half melted, became anew solidified, but 
 shapeless and much lessened. A mantle 
 of snow covered the boulevards and the 
 quays, and sledges were again seen 
 with their prancing horses. These 
 caused much delight upon the quays 
 and boulevards. But in the streets 
 carriages and one horse cabriolets if 
 they moved rapidly over the snow, 
 became the .terror of the pedestrians 
 who could not hear them approaching, 
 and, being hindered by the mounds of 
 ice, could not escape them, but fre- 
 quently fell under the wheels, while 
 endeavoring to fly from them. 
 
 In a few days, Paris was full of 
 wounded and dying persons. Some 
 had their legs broken by falling on the 
 sheet ice, others their ribs knocked in 
 by the shafts of cabriolets, which, 
 driven rapidly along, could not be pulled 
 up in time upon the slippery surface. 
 The police then thought it necessary 
 to devise some means of preserving 
 those who had escaped death from 
 cold, hunger and inundation, from be- 
 ing crushed to death by carriage wheels 
 Penalties were therefore exacted from 
 the rich who thus rode down the poor. 
 In those days, the reign of the aristo- 
 crats, there was aristocracy even in 
 the mode of driving. A Prince of the 
 blood drove full tilt; and, without crying 
 giye,' (take care!) a Duke or Peer, a 
 gentleman and an opera dancer, drove 
 at a fast trot ; a president or financier 
 at a more gentle trot, the dandy drove 
 himself, and his jockey standing behind 
 the cabriolet, cried take care ! after his 
 master had run against, or had knocked 
 down some unfortunate wretch. 
 
 And then, as Mercier says, they got 
 
 up again as they could ; but after all, 
 
 so that the Parisian can see beautiful 
 
 swan-necked sledges racing along the 
 
 boulevards, so long as he can admire 
 
 the lovely ladies of the Court in their 
 
 sable and ermine pelisses flying like 
 
 meteors over the shining surface of 
 
 the ice, so long as the gilt bells, 
 
 the purple netting, and the horses 
 
 plumes, amuse the children standing 
 
 in a row to see all these splendid 
 
 I things pass by, the citizen of Paris 
 
 ! forgets the want of care of the police, 
 
 j and the brutality of coachmen, whilst 
 
 I the poor man, on his side, forgets, at 
 
 I all events for the moment, his misery,
 
 MYSTERIES OF THE COURT. OF LOUIS XVI. 
 
 being accustomed, as he was in those 
 days, to being patronised by the rich, or 
 by those who affected to be so. 
 
 Now it was under the circumstances, 
 we have just described, and about a 
 week after the dinner given at Ver- 
 sailles, by the Duke de Richelieu, that 
 four elegant sledges were seen enter- 
 ing Paris, gliding over the hardened 
 snow in the Cours-la-Reine and the 
 Champs Elysfes. All around Paris the 
 snow had retained its virginal white- 
 ness, but in Paris itself, on the con- 
 trary, a hundred thousand people 
 trampling it under foot each hour, soon 
 blacken and deflower the splendor of 
 the wintry mantle. 
 
 The sledges, which had glided drily 
 over the exterior road, stopped on 
 reaching the boulevard, that is to say, as 
 soon as the mud began to usurp the 
 place of snow. In fact, the noon-day 
 sun had softened the atmosphere, and 
 a thaw had momentarily commenced ; 
 we say momentarily, for the pureness 
 of the air gave promise that the coming 
 night would be attended with that icy 
 north-east wind which burns up the 
 first budding leaves and all precocious 
 flowers. 
 
 In the sledge which led the van were 
 two men wrapped up in brown great 
 coata, with double collars ; the only dif- 
 ference to be observed in the two coats 
 was that the fro'gs and the buttons of 
 the one were of gold, while those of 
 the other were of silk. 
 
 These two men drawn by a magni- 
 ficent black horse whose nostrils gave 
 forth a cloud of steam, preceded a se- 
 cond sledge, which they every now and 
 then turned round to observe. 
 
 In the second sledge were two ladies 
 so well muffled up in their furs that 
 no one could see their faces. We may 
 even aver that it would have been diffi- 
 cult to say to what sex they belonged, 
 but for the height of their head-dresses, 
 on the top of which was a small hat 
 with waving plumes. 
 
 From the colossal edifice of these 
 head-dresses entwined with braids of 
 ribband, and small articles of jewellery, 
 a cloud of white powder continually 
 escaped, as winter winds shake from 
 the trees a cloud of the hoar frost which 
 covers them. 
 
 These two ladies wpre seated close 
 to each other, and conversing without 
 paying any attention to the crowd of 
 spectators who were gazing at them as 
 they passed along the boulevard. 
 
 We had omitted to mention that af- 
 4 
 
 ter a moment's hesitation the four 
 sledges had resumed their course. 
 
 One of the ladies, the tallest and 
 most majestic of the two, held a fine 
 embroidered cambric handkerchief to 
 her lips, and sat with head erect not- 
 withstanding the piercingly cold wind, 
 the sharpness of whichxwas inci'eased 
 by the rapid motion of the sledge. The 
 clock of Saint Croix d'Antln had, just 
 struck five, and night was fast closing in 
 on Paris, and with night came the frost. 
 
 At this moment the equipage had 
 nearly reached the Saint Denis gate. 
 
 The lady of the sledge, she who held 
 a handkerchief over her mouth, made 
 a sign to the two men who formed the 
 advanced guard, who urged on their 
 horse and were soon at a distance. 
 Then the lady turned towards the rear 
 guard composed of two other sledges 
 each driven by a coachman out of li- 
 very, and making a sign to them which 
 was immediately understood, they 
 quickly disappeared by the rue Saint 
 Denis. 
 
 On the other hand,, as we have be- 
 fore said, the sledge in which were the 
 two men, soon distanced that of the la- 
 dies, and disappeared amid the haze of 
 evening which was thickening around 
 the colossal buildings of the Bastille. 
 
 The second sledge on reaching the 
 boulevard Menilmontant, stopped ; in 
 that quarter there were but few pedes- 
 trians, the coming night had dispersed 
 them ; moreover, in that remote 
 neighborhood, few citizens would ven- 
 ture without torches and an escort, 
 since winter had sharpened the teeth 
 of three or four thousand suspicious 
 looking mendicants, who had by a gen- 
 tle transition become thieves. 
 
 The lady whom we have designated 
 already as giving orders, with the tip 
 of her finger touched the shoulder of 
 the coachman, who immediately pulled 
 up. 
 
 4 Weber,' said she ' how much time 
 will it take to bring the cabriolet to the 
 place I mentioned ?' 
 
 Matame, dakes de gapriolay ?' en- 
 quired the coachman with a very de- 
 cided German accent. 
 
 4 Yes, I will return by the streets, to 
 see the fires. Now the streets being 
 still more muddy than the boulevards, 
 a sledge would be very uncomfortable, 
 and besides which I feel very cold, and 
 you too, dear little one ?' added the la- 
 dy addressing her companion. 
 
 4 Yes, madam,' replied the latter. 
 
 4 You have heard me Weber, you
 
 26 
 
 THE QUEEN'S NECKLACE ; OR, THE 
 
 will bring the cabriolet to the appointed 
 place ?' 
 
 ' Ferry veil, matam.' 
 
 ' How much time will it take ?' 
 
 4 Alf ein hour.' 
 
 ''Tis well; just see what o'clock it 
 is dear little one.' 
 
 The youngest of the two ladies put 
 her hand into her pelisse pocket and 
 drawing out her watch, ascertained the 
 hour though with some difficulty, for as 
 we have said, the evening was closing 
 in. 
 
 4 A quarter to six,' she replied. 
 
 4 Well then, Weber, at a quarter be- 
 fore seven.' 
 
 And while speaking these words the 
 lady lightly jumped from the sledge, 
 gave her hand to her friend, and was 
 moving away, while the coachman with 
 a gesture of respectful despair mut- 
 tered loud enough to be heard by his 
 mistress 
 
 4 Mein Got! vot imbroodence !' 
 
 The two ladies began laughing, muf- 
 fled themselves up in their pellisses the 
 collars of which reached the tops of 
 their ears, crossed the foot path on the 
 boulevard, amusing themselves by mak- 
 ing the snow crackle beneath their tiny 
 feet, encased in well furred shoes. 
 
 4 You who have good eyes, Andree,' 
 naid the lady who appeared the elder, 
 and who nevertheless could not have 
 been more than thirty or thirty-two 
 years old, 4 try if you can read the name 
 of the street upon this corner here.' 
 
 ' Rue du pont-aux choux, Madam,' 
 said the younger one, laughing. 
 
 4 What street can that be, Pont-aux 
 chaux. Why, good Heaven ! we have 
 lost our way. I am sure *hey told me 
 the second street to the right. But 
 what a delightful smell there is here 
 of hot bread, Andre e.' 
 
 4 That is by no means surprising,' 
 replied the other, 4 for we are close to 
 the door of a baker's shop.' 
 
 1 Well, then, let us ask him where is 
 the Rue Saint-Claude. 1 
 
 And she who thus spoke was advan- 
 cing towards the door. 
 
 Oh ! do not go in, Madam,' said the 
 other, 4 leave that to me.' 
 
 4 The Rue Saint Claude, my lovely 
 little ladies,' cried a joyous hearty 
 voice, 4 you wish to know where is the 
 Rue Saint Claude ?' 
 
 The two ladies turned round at the 
 same moment, and looked in the direc- 
 tion whence the voice proceeded, and 
 saw leaning against the baker's door, his 
 foreman, with his jacket loosely thrown 
 
 over his shoulders, his breast and legs 
 quite bare, notwithstanding the intense 
 cold. 
 
 4 Why, 'tis a naked man !' exclaimed 
 the younger lady, 4 Are we then in 
 Oceania?' and she retreated a step 
 hiding herself behind her companion. 
 
 4 You are looking for the Rue Saint 
 Claude ?' repeated the man of dough, 
 who did not at ah 1 comprehend the re- 
 trograde movement made by the younger 
 of the two ladies, and who being accus- 
 tomed to his own mode of dress was 
 far from attributing to it the centrifugal 
 power, the result of which we have 
 just described. 
 
 'Yes, my friend, the Rue Saint* 
 Claude,' replied the elder of the two 
 ladies, restraining at the same time a 
 strong desire to laugh outright. 
 
 4 Oh ! there is nothing difficult in 
 that, and, besides, I will conduct you 
 there myself,' replied the hearty flour 
 bespattered youth, who accompanying 
 his word by action, began to extend the 
 immensity of his meagre legs the feet 
 of which were thrust into enormous 
 wooden shoes as large as boats. 
 
 4 Oh ! no, by no means,' said the 
 elder of the two ladies, who doubtless, 
 did not at all relish the idea of being 
 met accompanied by such a guide, 4 only 
 point out the street to us without giv- 
 ing yourself more trouble, and we'll 
 endeavor to follow your directions.' 
 
 4 It is the first street to the right, ma- 
 dam,' replied the guide, discreetly with- 
 drawing to his shop-door. 
 
 ' Thanks !' simultaneously cried the 
 two ladies. 
 
 And they set off running in the indi- 
 cated direction, stifling their laughter 
 in their muffs. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 AN INTERIOR. 
 
 EITHER we have calculated too posi- 
 tively on the memory of our reader, or 
 he will at once have remembered the 
 Rue Saint Claude, the eastern end of 
 which joins the boulevard, and the wes- 
 tern the Rue Saint Louis ; in fact he 
 has seen more than one of the person- 
 ages who have played, or who will play, 
 a part in this history, wending their way 
 through it in former times, that is to 
 say, when the great physician Joseph 
 Balsamo took up his residence there 
 with his sibyl Lorenza and his master 
 Althotas.
 
 MYSTERIES OF THE COURT OF LOUIS XVI. 
 
 27 
 
 In 1784 as in 1770 the time at which 
 we first conducted our readers to the 
 spot, the street itself was a very decent 
 street, not very well lighted up, 'tis 
 true, nor very clean, for that is also 
 true ; but, in short, it was not much 
 frequented, was little built upon and 
 little known ; but it bore the name of a 
 saint, and its quality of being a street in 
 the Marais, and as such it sheltered, in 
 the three or four houses of which it 
 consisted, several small fund-holders, 
 several poor trades-people, and many 
 poor paupers omitted in the parish lists. 
 
 Besides these three or four houses, 
 there was at the corner of the boule- 
 vard, a mansion of grand appearance of 
 which the Rue Saint Claude might 
 have been proud, being a highly aristo- 
 cratic building; but this mansion, the 
 high windows of which, would on festal 
 days, have illuminated the whole street, 
 over the wall of the court-yard, from 
 the mere reflection of its candelabras 
 and its lustres ; this mansion, we were 
 about to say, was the blackest, the most 
 silent and the most hermetically closed 
 of all the houses in the quarter. 
 
 The gate of its court-yard never 
 opened : the windows wadded with lea- 
 thern cushions, had on each leaf of 
 their blinds on every moulding of the 
 shutters, a layer of dust which physio- 
 logists or geologists would have calcula- 
 ted must have required at least ten 
 years for its formation. 
 
 Sometimes an idler passing by, an in- 
 quisitive person or a neighbor, would 
 approach the carriage gate and peeping 
 through the immense key hole would 
 examine the court-yard. 
 
 He would there see nothing but tufts 
 of rank grass growing between the pav- 
 ing stones, and green mould and moss 
 upon the stone slabs. Sometimes an 
 enormous rat, sovereign of the aban- 
 doned domain, would quietly cross the 
 yard to dive into one of the cellars, a 
 modesty which was altogether super- 
 fious, when he had at his sole and en- 
 tire disposal saloons and cabinets so 
 much more commodious, and where no 
 cats could offer him annoyance. 
 
 If it happened to be a mere passer 
 by or one simply curious, after having 
 ascertained the perfect solitude of the 
 mansion, he would soon continue his 
 walk ; but if it were a neighbor, as the 
 interest which he attached to the hotel 
 was much greater, he would remain, 
 almost always, long enough to be joined 
 by a second neighbor, attracted by curi- 
 osity as eager as his own ; and then 
 
 would commence a conversation of 
 which we are pretty nearly positive wa 
 can give the substance, if not the pre- 
 cise details. 
 
 ' Neighbor,' says the one who is not 
 peeping, to the one who peeps, ' what 
 is it that you see in the Count de Balsa- 
 mo's house, that you are observing so 
 intently ?' 
 
 ' Neighbor,' replied the one who has 
 his eye to the key hole, to the other 
 who has not that advantage, ' I ee the 
 rat.' 
 
 ' Oh ! then will you allow me 4 ?' 
 
 And the second inquisitive person in- 
 stals himself at the key hole. 
 
 'Do you see him ?' says the one dis- 
 possessed to the one in possession. 
 
 ' Yes,' replied the latter,' ' I see him. 
 Oh ! sir, he has grown fatter.' 
 
 'You think so ?' 
 
 ' Yes, I am sure of it.' 
 
 ' I do not doubt it; he has nothing to 
 trouble him.' 
 
 ' And certainly, whatever people may 
 say, there must be some tit-bits in the 
 house.' 
 
 ' Tit-bits do you say ?' 
 
 ' Why, certainly ! M. de Balsamo 
 disappeared so suddenly that he must 
 have forgotten something.' 
 
 ' Why, neighbor, when a house is 
 half-burnt down, what do you imagine 
 can have been forgotten ?' 
 
 ' In truth, neighbor, I believe you 
 may be right..' 
 
 And after having once more looked 
 at the rat, the neighbors would separate, 
 alarmed at having said so much on so 
 mysterious and delicate a matter. 
 
 And in fact after the burning of the 
 mansion, or rather of a part of it, Bal- 
 samo had disappeared, and no repairs 
 having been effected, the house had 
 been abandoned. 
 
 We will leave it then rising above the 
 neighboring houses, gloomy and damp, 
 its terraces covered with snow, and its 
 roof broken down in parts by the action 
 of the flames. We could not, however, 
 pass by this old mansion without paus- 
 ing before it as an old acquaintance ; 
 then crossing the street from the left 
 side to the right, let us examine a high 
 j narrow house, in a garden enclosed by 
 , a high wall, rising like a tall white 
 , tower and standing out in bold relief 
 . from the grey sky. 
 
 From the top of this house, a chim- 
 
 ' ney rises like a lightning conductor, and 
 
 immediately over the summit of this 
 
 chimney a brilliant star shines and 
 
 sparkles.
 
 28 
 
 THE QUEEN'S NECKLACE; OR, THE 
 
 The last story of the house would be 
 lost unperceived in rhe immensity of 
 sjmce, hut for n rny of light "which red- 
 dens two of the three' windows in the 
 front. 
 
 The other stones are dark and gloo* 
 my. Are their imrmtes already asleep ? 
 Are they economising beneath their 
 blankets, candles which are so dear 
 ami wood which is so scarce this year ? 
 However this may be, these four sto- 
 ries giye no signs of life, while the fifth 
 not only lives, but shines forth with a 
 certain degree of affectation. 
 
 Let us knock at the door and ascend 
 the gloomy staircase ; it terminates at 
 the v fifth story, where our affairs now 
 call us. A common ladder placed 
 against the wall leads to the garret 
 above. 
 
 A deer's foot hangs beside the door 
 as a bell pull ; a rope mat lies before 
 it. 
 
 The first door being opened, we enter 
 a dark and unfurnished room ; it is the' 
 onu of which the window is not illumi- 
 nated. It serves as an ante-chamber 
 and leads into a second one, the details 
 and furniture of which deserve all our 
 attention. 
 
 The floor is tiled instead of being of 
 inlaid wood, the doors are rudely paint- 
 ed, three white arm chairs covered with 
 yellow velvet, n poor sofa, the cushions 
 of which have become singularly mea- 
 ger from the effects of age. 
 
 Our attention is at first attracted by 
 two portraits hanging against the wall. 
 A candle and a lamp, the one placed 
 upon n thiee-legged stand, the other on 
 the chimney-piece, combine their rays 
 BO as to make these two portraits the 
 focus of their light. 
 
 A cap upon his head, a long pale face, 
 dull eyes, painted beard, a ruffle round 
 his neck, the first of these portraits is 
 recommended by its notoriety ; they 
 are the features, strikingly resembling, 
 of Henry III, King of France and 
 Poland. 
 
 Beneath it is inscribed in black let- 
 ters, on an ill gilt frame, 
 
 Henry de Valois. 
 
 The other frame had been more 
 recently gilt, and the portrait which 
 was as fresh with regard to the paint- 
 ing as the other was antiquated, repre- 
 sents a young woman with bright black 
 eyes, nose straight and thin, high 
 cheek bones, and a small mouth. Her 
 head is dressed or rather crashed 
 beneath an edifice of hair and rib- 
 bands, in comparison with which the 
 
 cap of Henry III, is but a mole hill be- 
 side a pyramid. 
 
 Under this portrait is also inscribed 
 in black letters, 
 
 Jeanne de Valois. 
 
 And if you are desirous, after having 
 examined the tireless hearth, the 
 miserable cotton curtains of the bed, 
 ornamented with faded green damask 
 now almost yellow ; if you. are desirous 
 to ascertain what connection can exist 
 between these portraits, and the inha- 
 bitants of this fifth story, you have only 
 to turn your eyes towards & small oak 
 table, upon which a woman plainly 
 dressed, is leaning her left elbow and 
 examining several sealed letters to as- 
 certain that the addresses have been 
 correctly written. 
 
 This young woman is the original of 
 the portrait. 
 
 At three paces from her, in a semi- 
 inquisitive, semi-respectful attitude, 
 stands a little waiting woman sixty 
 years of age, attired little one of 
 Gretise's duennas ; she is looking on, 
 and waiting the orders of her mistress. 
 
 1 Jeanne de Valois,' us we have said, 
 was the inscription. 
 
 But then, if this lady was actuafly a 
 Valois, how happens it that Henry the 
 Third, the Sybarite King, the beruffled 
 voluptuary, could endure, even when 
 observing it only from his portrait, the 
 spectacle of so much squalid misery, 
 when the party Buffering it belonged 
 not only to his race, but bore his own 
 illustrious name ?' 
 
 We shall endeavor to clear up this 
 mystery so dishonorable, so degrading 
 to one of the most ancient families of 
 Europe. 
 
 Moreover, the lady who occupied this 
 fifth story did not by her person belie 
 the descent she claimed. She had white 
 and delicate hands, which from time 
 to time she warmed, by placing under 
 her arms, folded across her chest. Her 
 feet were small and tapering, on which 
 she wore velvet slippers that had still 
 pretensions to elegance, and she at- 
 tempted to warm them by stamping on 
 the tiled floor, shining and cold as the 
 ice that covered Paris. 
 
 Then as the breeze whistled under 
 the doors, and through the crannies of 
 the windows, the old waiting woman 
 shrugged her shoulders and looked 
 wistfully at the fireless hearth. 
 
 As to the lady, the mistress of the 
 apartment, she went on counting the 
 letters and reading their superscrip- 
 tions.
 
 MYSTERIES OF THE COURT OF LOUIS XVI. 29 
 
 And after examining each letter and 
 address she made a calculation. 
 
 Madame de Misery,' murmured she, 
 1 first tiring woman to her Majesty. ^1 
 cannot calculate upon more than six 
 louis from this quarter, having received 
 something already.' 
 
 And she heaved a sigh. 
 
 ' Madame Patrix, waiting woman to 
 the Queen two louis.' 
 
 4 Monsieur d'Ormesson an audience. 
 
 4 Monsieur de Calonne an opinion. 
 
 ' Monsieur de Rohan a visit, and we 
 will manage so that he shall renew it,' 
 said the lady, smiling.* 
 
 4 We have, therefore," she continued, 
 in the same monotonous tone, ' assured 
 ourselves eight louis, during the next 
 week.' 
 
 And she raised her head. 
 
 1 Dame Clothilde,' she said,' do snuff 
 that candle.' 
 
 The old woman obeyed, and then 
 resumed her position, serious and at- 
 tentive as before. 
 
 This species of inquisition, of which 
 she was the object, appeared to annoy 
 the young lady. 
 
 4 Just see, Clothilde,' said she, ' if you 
 cannot find some end of a wax candle, 
 it is hateful to use tallow.' 
 
 4 There is not any,' replied the old 
 woman. 
 
 4 Well, try to find one.' 
 
 4 But where shall I look ? 
 
 4 Why, in the ante-chamber.' 
 
 4 It is very cold out there.' 
 
 4 There now, there is somebody ring- 
 ing,' observed the young lady. 
 
 4 Madame is mistaken,' said the ob- 
 stinate old woman. 
 
 4 1 thought I heard some one, dame 
 Clothilde.' 
 
 And seeing that the old woman did .not 
 budge, she yielded, muttering to herselJ 
 as people generally do when from any 
 motive they have allowed their inferior 
 to assume an influence over them. Then 
 she resumed her calculations. 
 
 4 Eight louis, out of which I owe 
 three in the neighborhood.' 
 
 She took up her pen and wrote : 
 
 ' Three louis, five promised to M. de 
 La Mothe to enuble him to put up 
 with his residence at Bar-sur-Aube ; 
 poor devil ! our marriage has not en- 
 riched him. But patience.' 
 
 And she smiled again, but this time 
 looking at herself in a glass which hung 
 between the two portraits. 
 
 'Now, then,' she continued, l jour- 
 nies from Paris to Versailles, and from 
 Versailles to Paris, one louis.' 
 
 And she wrote down this new figure 
 in the column of expenses. 
 
 4 Living for one week, one louis.' 
 
 And she wrote that down also. 
 
 ' Dress, hackney coach hire, presents 
 to the porters of the houses where I go 
 to solicit, four louis. Is that all I have 
 to charge ? Let us add it up.' 
 - But while adding up she suddenly 
 paused, saying : 
 
 There is somebody ringing I tell you. 
 
 4 No, Madam,' replied the old woman, 
 who seemed nailed to her place, ' it is 
 not here, it is below, on the fourth 
 story.' 
 
 'Four, six, eleven, fourteen louis ; 
 six less than I want, and iny whole 
 wardrobe requires renewing, and this 
 old brute to be paid, that I may get rid 
 of her.' 
 
 And then suddenly. 
 
 4 But I tell you again, some one itf 
 ringing at our door,' cried she angrily. 
 
 Thiei time the most unwilling ear 
 could not have denied it, the bell was 
 rung so violently, and vabrated so long, 
 that the clapper struck the wainscoting 
 at least a dozen times. 
 
 On hearing this noise, and while the 
 old wonian was shaking off he^r' torpor, 
 her mistress, active as a squirrel,' 
 snatched up the letters and papers^ 
 scattered upon the table, threw them 
 into a drawer, and after giving a rapid 
 glance around the room to assure herRelf 
 that every thing was in due order, took 
 her seat upon the sofa, in the attitude 
 of a person who was suffering but re- 
 signed. 
 
 We must however hasten to say, 
 that it washer body only that remnined 
 inert. Her eyes active, eager, vigilnnt, 
 consulted the glass in which was re- 
 flected the outer door, while her ears 
 were on the stretch to catch the slight- 
 est sound. 
 
 The duenna opened the door, and she 
 was heard muttering some words in the 
 ante-chamber. 
 
 Them a clear soft voice, though not 
 deficient in firmness, pronounced these 
 words, 
 
 ' Is not this the residence of the 
 Countess de La Mothe T 
 . ' The Countess de La Mothe-Valoia,' 
 added ClothihV, with nusal twang. 
 
 'Oh! that is it precisely, my good 
 dame. Is Madame de La Mothe at 
 home?' 
 
 4 Yes, madam, and suffering too much 
 from illness to go out.' 
 
 During this colloquy, of which she 
 had not lost a word, the pretended in-
 
 THE QUEEN'S NECKLACE ; OR, THE 
 
 ratid, having attentively consulted the 
 looking-glass, had se t en that it was a 
 lady who was questioning Clothilde, , 
 and that this lady, from her appearance, j 
 undoubtedly belonged to the upper class 
 of society. She immediately jumped 
 from the sofa, and, threw herself into 
 an arm chair, in order to leave the seat 
 of honor to the stranger. 
 
 While performing this evolution, shp 
 could not observe that the visiter had 
 turned round upon the landing place : 
 and had said to another person who had 
 remained outside, 
 
 * You can come in, madam, this is the 
 place.' 
 
 The door was again closed, and the 
 two ladies who hacTinquiretl their way 
 to the Rue Saint Claude, entered the 
 apartment of the Countess de La 
 Mothe- Valois. 
 
 ' Who am I to announce to my mis- 
 tress the Countess ?' inquired Clothilde, 
 curiously though respectfully, holding 
 up the eandle to the faces of the two 
 ladies. 
 
 ' Announce a lady des Bonnes- Oeu- 
 vres,'* replied the elder. 
 
 Of Paris?' 
 
 No, of Versailles.' 
 
 Clothilde went into her mistress's 
 room and the strangers following her, 
 found themselves in the lighted apart- 
 ment, at the moment that Jeanne de 
 Valois rose painfully from her chair to 
 curtsey very civilly to her two visitors. 
 
 Clothilde drew forward the two other 
 arm-chairs that the ladies might have 
 their choice, and withdrew to the ante- 
 chamber, but so slowly, that it could be 
 easily divined she contemplated posting 
 herself behind the door to listen to the 
 conversation about to ensue. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 JEANNE DE LA HOTHE Dli VALOIS. 
 
 The first care of Jeanne de La Mothe, 
 when she could with propriety raise 
 her eyes, was to discover with what 
 description of countenances she had to 
 deal. 
 
 The elder of the two ladies might, as 
 we have before said, be from thirty to 
 thirty-two years old ; her beauty was 
 altogether remarkable, although an air 
 of haughtiness impressed on all her fea- 
 
 A charitable society o cill< d in English it 
 would be " Lad ii of good work .' 
 
 tures naturally detracted from the charm 
 her physiognomy would have otherwise 
 possessed. At least so jndged Jeanne 
 from the little she couJ^ 'erceive of the 
 countenance of *' .aicer. For the 
 latter, prefe r ' __, one of the arm chairs 
 to the sofajLad withdrawn herself with- 
 out the range of light thrown by the 
 lamp, sitting in a corner of the room, 
 and having pulled over her forehead the 
 wadded silk hood of her pelisse, which, 
 in consequence, threw a shade over her 
 face. 
 
 But she held her head so proudly, 
 her eye was sO j^ercing and so naturally 
 dilated, that even although all the de- 
 tails were imperceptible, she would at 
 once have been recognised as being of 
 a good race, and above all of noble race. 
 Her companion, less timid, at all 
 events in appearance, although younger 
 by four or five years, did not in any 
 way attempt to conceal her real beauty. 
 An admirable face both as to feature 
 and complexion ; a head dress which 
 left the temples bare, and set off its 
 perfect oval ; two large blue eyes calm 
 even to serenity ; a mouth of sweetly 
 soft expression which nature had 
 stamped with frankness, but to which 
 education and etiquette had added dis- 
 cretion ; a nose which as to form had 
 nothing to envy, even in that of the 
 Venus de Medicis ; all this was seen at 
 once by the rapid glance of Jeanne. 
 Then, as it wandered over other details, 
 the Countess remarked in the younger 
 of the two ladies, a shape more delicat* 
 and more flexible than that of her com- 
 panion, a chest broader and of a richer 
 sweep, and finally a hand as plump as 
 that of the other lady was small and 
 nervous. 
 
 Jeanne de Valois made all these 
 remarks in a few seconds, that is to 
 say in less time than we have taken to 
 commit them to paper. 
 
 Then, these remarks being made, she 
 gently asked to what happy circum- 
 stance she owed the visit of those ladies. 
 
 The two ladies looked at each other, 
 and on a sign from the elder, 
 
 ' Madam,' said the younger, ' for you 
 are married I believe ?' 
 
 I have the honor to be the wife of 
 the Count de La Mothe, madam, an 
 excellent gentleman.' 
 
 Well then, we, Countess, are the 
 superiors of an institution of Good 
 Works. We have been told things, re- 
 garding your situation, which have ex- 
 cited our interest, and in consequence 
 we wish to have some precise details
 
 MYSTERIES OF THE COURT OF LOUIS XVI. 
 
 31 
 
 with respect to you and your position.' 
 
 Jeanne paused a moment before mak- 
 ing a reply. 
 
 4 Ladies,' she said, remarking the re- 
 serve of the second visitor, 'you see 
 there the portrait of Henry III, that is 
 to say, of the brother of my ancestor ; 
 for I am really of the blood of the Va- 
 lois, as undoubtedly you have been told.' 
 
 And she awaited another question, 
 looking at her visitors with a sort of 
 proud humility. 
 
 ' Madam,' said the elder of the two 
 in a grave, soft voice, ' is it true that 
 your mother was, as we h**e have been 
 told, house-keeper of a mansion called 
 Fontette, situated near Bar-sur-Seine ?' 
 
 Jeanne blushed at this reminiscence 
 but immediately replied, without em- 
 barrassment, 
 
 4 It is the truth, madam ; my moth- 
 er was house-keeper at Fontette.' 
 
 4 Ah !' exclaimed the questioner. 
 
 ' And as Marie Jossel, my mother 
 possessed rare beauty, my father be- 
 came enamored of her and married her. 
 It is by my father that I am of noble 
 race madam ; my father was a Saint 
 Remy de Valois, a direct descendant of 
 the Valois who reigned in France.' 
 
 4 But how have you fallen to this de- 
 gree of misery, madam ?' 
 
 ' Alas ! 'tis very easy to be under- 
 stood.' 
 
 4 1 am listening.' 
 
 4 You are well aware that after the 
 accession of Henry IV with whom the 
 crown passed from the house of Valois 
 to that of Bourbon, the dispossessed 
 family had still some scions left ; doubt- 
 less they were obscure but incontesta- 
 bly proceeding from the same parent 
 stock as the four brothers, who all four 
 perished so fatally.' 
 
 The two ladies made a -sign which 
 might be considered as an assent. 
 
 4 Therefore,' continued Jeanne, 
 4 these scions of the house of Valois, 
 fearing to give umbrage, despite their 
 obscurity to the new royal family, 
 changed their names of Valois to that 
 of Remy, adopted from an estate be- 
 longing to them, and they are found in 
 the genealogy from the time of Louis 
 XIII under that name, until that of my 
 grandfather, the last male descendant 
 but one of that house, who seeing the 
 monarchy firmly established and the 
 old branch forgotten, did not think it 
 necessary any longer to deprive himself 
 of an illustrious name, his only appanage. 
 
 He therefore resumed the name of 
 Valois, and notwithstanding the poverty 
 
 by which he obscured it, he was gener- 
 ally called by it in his remote province, 
 while no one at the Court of France 
 dreamed that beyond the protecting 
 j rays of the throne, there vegitated a 
 descendant of the former Kings of 
 France, who if not the most glorious of 
 the monarchy, were at all events the 
 most unfortunate.' 
 
 Jeanne paused after uttering these 
 words. She had spoken unaffectedly 
 and with a moderation which had been 
 observed. 
 
 4 Doubtless, you have your proofs in 
 perfect order?' said the older of the 
 two visitors, with much suavity but fix- 
 ing a penetrating look on the person 
 who called herself a descendant of the 
 Valois. 
 
 4 Oh ! madam,' replied the latter with 
 a bitter smile, 4 it is not in proofs that I 
 am deficient. ' My father had them all 
 drawn up and dying bequeathed them 
 to me, not having any other inheritance 
 to leave me ; but of what service can be 
 the proofs of a useless fact, or of a fact 
 which no one will recognize?' 
 
 4 Is your father dead ?' asked the 
 younger of the two ladies. 
 
 4 Alas ! yes.' 
 
 4 Did he die in the country ?' 
 
 4 No, madam.' 
 
 ' At Paris, then?' 
 
 'Yes.; 
 
 4 In this apartment?' 
 
 4 No, madam, my father a Baron de 
 Valois, grand nephew of Henry III, 
 died of misery and hunger.' 
 
 4 Impossible !' exclaimed both the la- 
 dies at the same moment. 
 
 4 And not here,' continued Jeanne, 
 4 not in this poor retreat, not on his 
 own bed, even were that bed a miser- 
 able pallet ! No, my father died side 
 by side with the most wretched and the 
 lowest. My father died at the Hos- 
 pital, the Hotel Dieu at Paris.' 
 
 The two ladies uttered a cry of sur- 
 prise which sounded like a shriek of 
 terror. 
 
 Jeanne, well satisfied with the effect 
 she had produced, and the art she had 
 employed in rounding the period and 
 winding up the'climax, Jeanne remain- 
 ed motionless, her eyes cast down, her 
 hands listlessly pendant. 
 
 The elder of the two ladies observed 
 her with attention and intelligence, and 
 not .seeing anything in her grief, which 
 was at once so simple and so natural, 
 that was either affected or vulgar, she 
 again addressed her. 
 
 4 From what you have told me. ma-
 
 32 
 
 THE QUEEN'S NECKLACE; OR, THE 
 
 darn, you have experienced painful 
 trials, and above all, the death of your 
 father ' 
 
 ' Oh ! were 1 to state to you, madam, 
 the history of my life, you would not 
 eay that the death of my father was my 
 greatest misfortune.' 
 
 1 How, madam, you consider as a 
 Blight misfortune the death of a father?' 
 exclaimed the lady, frowning austerely. 
 
 4 Yes, madam, and in so saying I 
 speak as a pious daughter. For my 
 father, when he died, was at once freed 
 from all those evils which beset him 
 upon earth, and which continue to over- 
 whelm his unhappy family. I there- 
 fore feel, amid the grief which his loss 
 has caused, a certain degree of joy 
 when thinking that my father is dead, 
 and that the descendant of kings id no 
 longer reduced to beg his bread.' 
 
 Beg his bread !' 
 
 4 Oh ! I acknowledge it without 
 shame, for in our misfortune, my father 
 was in no way to blame, nor myself 
 neither.' 
 
 1 But your mother ' 
 
 4 Well then, with the same frankness 
 with which I just now told you that 
 I thanked (God for having taken my la- 
 ther to himself, I complain to God that 
 he has allowed my mother still to exist. 1 
 
 The two ladies looked at each other, 
 almost shuddering at hearing these 
 strange words. 
 
 * Would it be indiscreet, madam, to 
 ask you to give us a more detailed re- 
 citiil of your misfortunes,' said the 
 elder. 
 
 4 The indiscretion would be on my 
 part, madam, for I should fatigue your 
 ears by the recital of griefs, which 
 cannot be otherwise than indifferent to 
 you.' 
 
 ' I am listening, madam,' majestic- 
 ally- replied the elder of the two ladies, 
 to whom' her companion immediately 
 directed a glance as a warning to be 
 more upon her guard. 
 
 And indeed, Madam de La Mothe 
 hud herself been somewhat struck by 
 tin- imperious accent of the voice, and 
 she gaxed at the lady with astonish- 
 ment. 
 
 4 1 am listening, then,' rejoined the 
 lady, in u softer tone, 4 if you will do 
 me the favor to speak.' 
 
 And yielding to an uncomfortable 
 feeling produced doubtless by cold, the 
 lady who had spoken shuddered and 
 beat her feet which were getting be- 
 numbed from the contact of the dump 
 tiled Moor. 
 
 The younger then pushed towards 
 her a small foot carpet which was near 
 her chair, an attention which her com- 
 panion in her turn blamed by an ex- 
 pressive look. 
 
 1 Keep that carpet for yourself, my 
 sister, for you are more delicate than 
 lam.' 
 
 1 Pardon me, madam,' said the Coun- 
 tess de La Mothe, 4 1 feel much regret 
 that you should be suffering from cold ; 
 but wood has risen in price, six francs 
 more, which makes it now seventy 
 livres the cord, and my stock has been 
 exhausted for eight days.' 
 
 1 You were saying, madam,' re- 
 joined the elder of the two visitors, 
 4 that you were unhappy in having a 
 mother.' 
 
 'Yes, I can well comprehend that 
 such an apparent blasphemy requires 
 to be explained, is it not s6, madam ?' 
 said Jeanne. 4 The following then is 
 the explanation since you desire it.' 
 The lady nodded affirmatively. 
 ' I have already had the honor to in- 
 form you, madam, that my father had 
 unfortunately married beneath him- 
 self 
 
 'Yes, by marrying his housekeeper.' 
 1 Well, then ! my mother, Marie 
 Tossel,' instead of being proud and 
 grateful for the honor she had received, 
 began by ruining my father which 
 indeed, was not a very difficult matter. 
 To. satisfy her caprice, she expended 
 all the little property of her husband. 
 Then having reduced him to sell the 
 last piece of ground he possessed, she 
 persuaded him that he should go to 
 Paris and assert the rights which ap- 
 pertained to his name. My father was 
 easily seduced, and perhaps he had 
 some hope in the justice of the king. 
 He therefore came on to Paris having 
 converted into money the little he pos- 
 sessed.' 
 
 4 Besides myself, my father had a son 
 arid daughter. The son, as unfortunate 
 as myself vegetates in the lowest riirtks 
 of the army; the daughter, my poor 
 sister, was abandoned the evening be- 
 fore our departure for Paris, being left 
 at the door of a farmer who was her 
 godfather.' 
 
 4 This journey exhausted the litile 
 money we had left. My father wore 
 himself out in making useless and un- 
 fruitful solicitations. It was seldom 
 that we saw him at homo ; when he did 
 come he found there the same abject 
 misery in which he had left us. During 
 his absence my mother, who must ol
 
 MASTERIES OF THE TOURT OK LOUIS XVI. 
 
 
 ways have some victim, would vent her I had but one fear, that of being beat- 
 malice upon me. She began by re- en.' 
 
 preaching me with the quantity I ate. | ' And what came of all this ?' 
 I at last preferred eating only bread, or j ' Good Heaven ! madam, that which 
 eating nothing rather than seat myself my mother expected. I sometimes 
 at our poor board. But pretexts for brought a little money home, and the 
 chastising me were not wanting ; at the frightful perspective of nn hospital con 
 least fault, which other mothers would stantly before my father's eyes, was ex 
 
 t"in irn i i_-li r*r 1 4*ri u -f ti tir r\ n vra * 
 
 have merely' smiled at, my mother beat 
 me ; some neighbors thinking to do me 
 service, informed my father of the ill 
 treatment to which I was constantly ex- 
 posed. My father endeavored to de- 
 fend me against my mother, but he did 
 not perceive that by his protection he 
 changed the enemy of the moment into 
 a perpetual fuiy. Alas ! I could not for 
 iny own interest advise him to the con- 
 trary, I was too young, too much a 
 child. I could not myself comprehend 
 it. I felt the effects without endeavor- 
 ing to seek out the cause. I felt the 
 pain and that was all. My father fell 
 sick ; at first he was confined to his room 
 and then to his bed. Then I was for- 
 bidden to enter my father's room under 
 the pretence that my being there 
 fatigued him, and that I could not re- 
 
 strain that propensity to motion so natur- ! two ladies. 
 
 tiuguished for a few days.' 
 
 The features of the elder of the two 
 ladies became contracted ; tears rose 
 in the eyes of the younger. 
 
 ' At length, madam, notwithstanding 
 the relief which this brought to my fa- 
 ther, this hateful trade became utterly 
 revolting to my feelings. One day in- 
 stead of running after the, passers-by 
 and annoying them with my accustom- 
 ed phrase, I seated myself beside a post, 
 where I remnined a portion of the day 
 as if annihilated. In the evening I re- 
 turned home with empty hands. My 
 mother beat me so severely that the 
 next day I fell ill. It was then that my 
 father, being deprived of every resource, 
 was carried to the Hotel Dieu where 
 he died.' 
 
 Oh ! horrible story !' murmured the 
 
 al to youth. When out of his room I 
 was altogether under the dominion of my 
 mother. She taught me a sentence, 
 which she impressed upon me by blows 
 and bruises ; then when I could 901-- 
 rectly repeat that humiliating phrase 
 which instinctively I did not wish to 
 learn, when my eyes were red with 
 tears, she made me go down to the 
 street door, and would make me hasten 
 after each respectable looking passer- 
 oy and repeat the phrase to him, threat- 
 ening if I did not, that she would beat 
 me to death/ 
 
 Oh ! frightful ! frightful !' murmur- 
 ed the younger of the two ladies. . 
 
 And what was that phrase ?' inquir- 
 ed the elder. 
 
 'It was as follows,' replied Jeanne 
 Take pity, sir, on a poor orphan, the 
 lineal descendant of Henry de Valois.' 
 
 'Oh! fie! fie!' cried the elder with 
 a gesture of disgust. 
 
 1 And what effect did this phrase pro- 
 duce on the persons to whom it was ad- 
 
 'But then when your father died 
 what became of you ?' asked the young- 
 er of the two visitors. 
 
 'God took compassion upon me. One 
 month after the death of my father, my 
 mother went off with a soldier, her 
 lover, thus abandoning my brother and 
 myself.' 
 
 ' Poor orphans !' 
 
 "Oh .'madam, on the contrary, we 
 were indeed orphans only while we 
 had a mother. Public charity adopted 
 us ; but, as begging was repugnant to 
 us, we only begged that which was ab- 
 solutely necessary for our support. 
 God comrmtnds his creatures to pre- 
 serve their lives.' 
 
 Alas ." 
 
 What was it I was saying / 
 
 Oh.' 
 
 one day I was fortunate enough to meet 
 a carnage which was going slowly up 
 the Faubourg Saint Marcel ; four ser- 
 vants were standing behind it ; inside 
 of it was a lady who was still youog 
 and beautiful. I held out my hand to 
 
 dressed ?' asked the younger. tier: she questioned me: iny answer 
 
 Some of them listened to me with und my nnme struck her with surprise, 
 pity,' said Jeanne, ' others were angry | and then with incredulity. The next 
 and threatened me ; others, more com'- ; day she ascertained that I had not 
 passionate than the first, warned me i spoken falsely ; she adopted us my 
 that I incurred great danger by utter- 1 brother and myself placed my brother 
 ing such words, which might' fall on ! in a regiment, and obtained a situation 
 prejudiced ears. But I knew only one for me with a seamstress. We were 
 danger, that of disobeying my mother. both savnd from the daugerof starvation.'
 
 THE QUEEN'S NECKLACE ; OR, THE 
 
 ' Wna not that lady Madam de Bou- 
 lainvilliers ?' 
 
 * Herself.' 
 
 1 She is, I believe, dead.' 
 
 * Yes, and her death again plunged 
 me into an abyss.' 
 
 ' But her husband is still alive, and 
 he is rich.' 
 
 'Her husband ! madam ; it is to him 
 that I owe all the misfortunes of my 
 youthful life, as it was to my mother 
 that I owed all the miseries of my 
 childhood. 1 had grown, and had per- 
 haps become good-looking ; he per- 
 ceived this, he wished to fix a price 
 upon his benevolence, which I refused. 
 It was just nt this time that Madame de 
 Boulainvilliers died ; and I I, whom 
 she had married to a brave and loyal 
 soldier, M. de La Mothe I found my- 
 self, separated as I then was from my 
 husband, he being with the army I 
 found myself more desolate after her 
 death than I had been even at my fath- 
 er's death. This is my story, madam, 
 which I have abbreviated. Sufferings 
 are always tedious, and the recital of 
 them should be spai'ed to those who 
 are blessed with the smiles of fortune, 
 were they even as benevolent as you, 
 ladies, appear to be.' 
 
 A long silence succeeded this last 
 period of Madame de La Mothe's his- 
 tory. It was the elder of the two ladies 
 who was the first to break it. 
 
 4 And your husband what is he do- 
 ing ?' she inquired. 
 
 4 My husband is in garrison at Bar- 
 ur-Aube, madam ; he is serving in the 
 Gendarmerie, and he is also hoping for 
 better days.' 
 
 4 But you have pressed your claims 
 at Court ?' 
 
 'Undoubtedly!' 
 
 4 The name of Valois, backed by 
 proper proofs, must have awakened 
 sympathy !' 
 
 4 1 know not, madam, what feeling 
 my solicitations may have awakened, 
 for I have not received a reply to any 
 one of my applications.' 
 
 4 And yet you must have seen the 
 ministers, the King, the Queen ?' 
 
 1 No one ; on all sides have my at- 
 tempt been fruitless,' replied Madame 
 de La Mothe. 
 
 4 You cannot, however, beg.' 
 
 * No, I have lost that habit ; but' 
 
 4 But what?' 
 
 4 But I may die of hunger, as my 
 father did.' 
 
 4 You have no children ?' 
 
 4 No, madam : and my husband, by 
 
 being killed in the King's service, will 
 at least find a glorious end to all our 
 miseries.' 
 
 4 Can you, madam I must regret in- 
 sisting on this point can you furnish 
 the required proofs of your genealogy?' 
 
 Jeanne rose, went to a chest of draw- 
 ers, and took from it some papers, which 
 she presented to the lady. But, as she 
 wished to take advantage of the % mo- 
 ment when the latter would approach 
 the lamp to examine them, and thus 
 obtain a good view of her features, she 
 allowed this manoeuvre of her's to be 
 perceived, by the care she took to raise 
 the wick of the lamp, in order to give 
 more light. 
 
 Then the Sister of Charity, as if the 
 light offended her eyes, turned her 
 back to the lamp, and consequently to 
 Madame de La Mothe. 
 
 It was in this position that she read 
 attentively and examined every docu- 
 ment, one after the other. 
 
 4 But,' she remarked, ' these are 
 merely copies, madam. I do not see a 
 single original document.' 
 
 4 The minutes, madam, are deposited 
 in a safe place, and I can produce them.' 
 
 ' If an important occasion should pre- 
 sent ifself,' said the lady, smiling. 
 
 4 It is doubtless, madam, an impor- 
 tant occasion which has procured me 
 the honor of seeing you ; but the docu- 
 ments in question are so precious to me 
 that ' 
 
 4 1 understand ; you cannot exhibit 
 them to every stranger.' 
 
 4 Oh !' exclaimed Jeanne, who had at 
 last caught a glimpse of the lovely und 
 dignified features of her protectress, 
 oh ! madam, I cannot, consider you as 
 a stranger.' 
 
 And on the instant she rapidly raised 
 the lid of a secretary, then pressing a 
 spring, opened a secret drawer, and 
 drew from it the originals of the docu- 
 ments and titles, carefully enclosed in 
 an old port-folio, emblazoned with the 
 armorial bearings of Ihe house of Va- 
 lois. 
 
 The lady took them and after having 
 with much intelligence and attention 
 examined them, 
 
 4 You are right, madam,' stiid the 
 Sister of Charity, 4 these documents 
 are perfectly in order and I should ad- 
 vise you to produce and exhibit them to 
 the proper authorities.' 
 
 4 And what, in your opinion, madam, 
 should I obtain by so doing ?' 
 
 4 Doubtless, a pension for yourself 
 and promotion for M. de La Mothe,
 
 MYSTERIES OF THE COURT OF LOUIS XVI. 
 
 provided that gentleman be of a char- 
 acter to further such promotion.' 
 
 ' My husband, madam, is a model of 
 honorable conduct, and has never been 
 found wanting in his duties as a milita- 
 ry man." 
 
 'It is sufficient, madam,' said the 
 Sister of Charity, drawing her hood 
 closely over her face. 
 
 Madam de La Mothe anxiously ob- 
 served every movement that she made. 
 She saw her put her hand into her 
 pocket, from which she first drew 
 the embroidered handkerchief which 
 shehad held to her face while driving a- 
 long the boulevard, then a small rouleau 
 of one inch in diameter, and about three 
 or four inches in length. 
 
 The Sister of Charity placed the 
 rouleau on a chiffonier, saying, 
 
 ' The Society of Good Works author- 
 izes me, madam, to offer you this slight 
 relief until something further may be 
 done.' 
 
 Madame de La Mothe cast a rapid 
 glance upon the rouleau. 
 
 ' Half crowns, of three livres each,' 
 she thought to herself, ' there may be 
 fifty or a hundred. Well, that is a 
 hundred and fifty or three hundred 
 livres which have thus fallen from the 
 clouds. For a hundred it would seem 
 rather short, but for fifty it would be 
 very long.' 
 
 While she was thus calculating, the 
 two ladies had gone into the outer 
 chamber where dame Clothilde had 
 fallen asleep on a chair near a candle, 
 the red and smoking wick of which 
 rose out of a perfect sheet of liquid tal- 
 low. 
 
 The acrid and nauseating odor had 
 such an effect on the throat of the elder 
 of the two ladies, that she suddenly 
 plunged her hand into her pocket and 
 drew from it a scent bottle. But on 
 Jeanne's calling to her, dame Clothilde 
 had awakened ; seizing the remainder 
 of the candle with her hand, she raised 
 it like a beacon light above the gloomy 
 stair-case, notwithstanding the protes- 
 tations of the two strangers whom she 
 was lighting but poisoning at the same 
 time. 
 
 ' Good night ! good night, Countess,' 
 they both cried, and hurried down the 
 stair-case. 
 
 'Where can I have the honor 
 of thanking you, ladies ?' inquired 
 Jeanne de Valois. 
 
 ' We will let you know,' replied the 
 elder of the two ladies, while descend- 
 . ing as rapidly as possible. 
 
 And the noise of their steps was soon 
 lost in the depths of the lower stories. 
 
 Madame de Valois re-entered her 
 apartment from the landing place, im- 
 patient to ascertain if her supposition 
 with regard to the rouleau was correct. 
 But as she was crossing the ante-cham- 
 ber she struck her foot against some- 
 thing which rolled from the mat laid 
 near the door to keep out the wind, on 
 to the tiled floor. 
 
 To stoop down, pick up this article, 
 and run to the lamp to examine it, was 
 the first idea of the Countess de La 
 Mothe. 
 
 It was a round gold box, flat and 
 rather plainly ornamented. This box 
 contained some pastilles of prepared 
 chocolate; but although so flat it was 
 evident that it had a double bottom, the 
 secret spring of which the Countess 
 was some time in finding. 
 
 At length she found it and pressed 
 upon it. 
 
 Immediately the portrait of a woman 
 appeared, of brilliant though masculine 
 beauty and of imperious majesty. 
 
 A German head-dress, a magnificent 
 collar resembling that of an order gave 
 to the physiognomy a strange appear- 
 ance. 
 
 A cypher composed of an M and a. T, 
 entwined in a circle of laurel was on 
 the upper part of the box. 
 
 Madame de La Mothe supposed from 
 the resemblance of the portrait to the 
 face of the young lady her benefactress, 
 that it was the portrait of her mother or 
 grandmother, and, we must in justice 
 acknowledge that her first movement 
 was to run to the head of the stair-case 
 and call to the ladies. 
 
 At that moment she heard the street 
 door close upon them. 
 
 She then, as it was too late to catch 
 them, ran to the window to call to 
 them. 
 
 But at the .end of the Rue Saint 
 Claude opening into the Rue Saint 
 Louis, she saw a cabriolet driving rapid- 
 ly off. This was the only object she 
 could distinguish in the street. 
 
 The Countess having no longer any 
 hope of calling back her two protectres- 
 ses, again looked at the box, promising 
 herself that she would send it after 
 them to Versailles; then seizing the 
 rouleau which had been left ,on the 
 chiffonier, she said, 
 
 ' I was not mistaken ; there are not 
 more than fifty half crowns.' 
 
 And breaking the paper which she 
 threw on the floor, she gazed with
 
 
 
 TftF OTVIA-S NVPKTirp. OR THP 
 1 nit. v^UJi.lliJN o [N Jt.l>ltLjAC.n. ; Uiv, J rlJo 
 
 , 
 meut at its contents, and clasping j ' Not at all, \\ obi^r, if freezes and 
 
 her hands cried, i the Boulfvaids will he covered with 
 
 They are louis ; double louis. j sheet ice, the streets will be much bet- 
 Fifty double louis ! two thousand five I ter on that account, thnnks to the thous- 
 
 huadred livros !' 
 
 And a most eager expression of joy 
 was depicted in her eyes, while dame 
 Clothilde, astounded at the sight of 
 more gold than she had ever before 
 seen, remained openmouthed and with 
 her hands clasped together. 
 
 ' A hundred louis !' reiterated Ma- 
 dame La Mothe, ' these ladies mujet be 
 erv rich ? Oh ! I will find them again.' 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 MADAME de La Mothe was not mis- 
 taken in believing that the cabriolet 
 she had seen had driven oft' with the 
 * ladies of Charity. 
 
 The two ladies had in fact found near 
 t^e door of Madaine de La Mothe's 
 house a cabriolet, such as was construct- 
 ed in these days, that is to say, with 
 high wheels, light body, a raised dash- 
 ing board,, and a commodious seat for a 
 servant who rode behind. 
 
 This cabriolet, which was drawn by 
 a magnificent Irish horse, with docked 
 t.ail, and fine lustrous bay coat, had 
 b#en brought to the rue Saint Claude, 
 
 the same servant who had driveii 
 i'e sledge, and whom the Lady 01 
 
 ''.. , , 1, , *r^r - r 
 
 ands of pedestrains who melt the snow. 
 Come, Weber, be quick !' 
 
 Weber held the horse while the la- 
 dies sprang lightly into the cabriolet, 
 then he jumped up behind and gave 
 notice that all was ready. 
 
 The elder of the two ladies address- 
 ing her companion, said 'Well, An- 
 dree what do you think of our Coun- 
 tess ?' 
 
 And at the same moment she gave 
 the horse his head who set off at a ra- 
 pid pace quickly turning the corner of 
 the Rue Saint Louis. 
 
 It was just at that moment that Madame 
 de La Mothe opened her window to 
 call after the two Sisters of Chiivity. 
 
 ' I think, madam,' replied the lady 
 who had been called Andree, 'I think 
 that Madame de La Mothe is poor and 
 very unhappy.' 
 
 ' And well brought up, is she not ?' 
 
 'Yes, undoubtedly.' 
 
 ' You are cold with regard to her, 
 Andree.' 
 
 ' If I must acknowledge it, T think 
 there is an expression of cunning in 
 her countenance which does not please 
 me.' 
 
 ' Oh ! I know that you are distrust- 
 ful, Andree, and that in order to please 
 you, a person must possess every good 
 quality. For my own part, I thiuk that 
 liule Countess very interesting, and that 
 
 ^Knty had culled Weber, as we have j there is an much simplicity in her pride 
 before stated. us in her humility.' 
 
 Weber held the horse by ihe bit L ' '- - ' ' 
 
 Tfh,en the ladies arrived ; he was tu- 
 n-ing to restrain the impetuosity 
 
 It is a fortune to her to have had 
 
 the happiness of pleasing your ' 
 
 Take care !' cried the elder kdy, 
 
 
 of the noble animal who was with one ! loudly, at the same time sharply rein- 
 foot puwing the snow which had be- ' ing her horse to one side, to pr< 
 come harder by degrees since night- ' n " * *' " 
 
 en the two ladies made their ap- 
 pearance 
 
 ' Muttam,' said Weber, I hut inden- 
 ted to pring Scibio, vor ho is fery mild 
 and easy do trive, but Seilrio hurt won 
 of his legs laeht night, and Twos opliged 
 to pring Pelus who is rader vrisky.' 
 
 4 Oh ! nd to that, Weber, you know 
 thai it is of no consequence, for I have 
 a steady hand and am well used to 
 driving,' said the elder of the two ladies. 
 - .ow dat mattam droives ferry 
 roll bu ti roats is ferry pad. Vere is 
 w in; : .. '.' 
 
 ' To V 
 
 By .Is.leu?' 
 
 aid running over a porter at the corner 
 ot tin- Hue Saint Antoine. 
 
 Duke gare !' cried Weber in a sten- 
 torian voice. 
 
 And the cabriolet continued its rapid 
 course, but the imprecations of t 
 who hud just escaped the wheel, were 
 loud and menacing; and several others 
 having joined in chorus, a clamor of a 
 most hostile nature was raised 6 
 the cabriolet. 
 
 But in a very few moments, Belus 
 placed between his mistress and those 
 blasphemers the whole distance be- 
 tween the Place Saint Catherine and 
 the Place Baudoyer. 
 
 Them, us is well known, the streets 
 fork, Kiid the skillful driver resolutely
 
 MYSTERIES OF THE CO WIT OF LOUIS XVI. 
 
 .turned her horse into the Rue de la 
 Tixeranderie, a very narrow and 
 crowded street, and by no means aris- 
 tocratic. 
 
 Therefore, notwithstanding her re- 
 peated shouts of 'take care !' notwith- 
 standing the loud bawlings of Weber, 
 the passers-by were furious in their 
 exclamations. 
 
 ' Oh ! the cabriolet down with the 
 cabriolet ." 
 
 Belus kept on his way, and his driver, 
 notwithstanding that her hand was de- 
 licate as that of a child, urged him on 
 rapidly and above all skilfully, through 
 the pools of liquid snow, or over the 
 still more dangerous heaps of unraelted 
 ice and the ruts and rivulets formed 
 through them. 
 
 Yet,, contrary to all expectation, no 
 disaster had occurred ; a brilliant lamp 
 suspended to the cabriolet, cast its 
 sparkling rays before it, and this was 
 an excess of precaution which the police 
 had not yet, in those days, obliged the 
 cabriolets to adopt. 
 
 We said that no misfortune had oc- 
 curred ; not a single carriage had been 
 touched, not a post grazed, not a sin- 
 gle pedestrian injured. It was really a 
 miracle, and yet cries and threats were 
 constantly vociferated. 
 
 The cabriolet passed with the same 
 rapidity and the same good fortune 
 through the Rue de Mederce, Rut> St. 
 Martin, Rue Aubry le Boucher. 
 
 Perhaps our readers would imagine 
 that on approaching the more civilized 
 sections of the city, the hatred shown 
 towards the aristocratic equipage would 
 become less savage ; but quite the con- 
 trary ; scarcely had Belus entered the 
 Rue de la Ferronnerie, when Weber, 
 still hooted by the populace, remarked 
 that groups of persons formed them- 
 selves to obstruct the progress of the 
 cabriolet; several of them even began 
 'running after it to stop it. 
 
 But Weber did not wish to make his 
 mistress uneasy. He remarked the 
 coolness and great skill which she 
 evinced; how adroitly she managed to 
 glide in between those obstacles, whe- 
 ther inert or living, which form at once 
 the de.spitir or the triumph of the Paris 
 driver. 
 
 \s 10 Belus, whose limbs were firm 
 a.- t-teei, he had not slipped even once, 
 so careful was the hand that guided 
 him, in aiding him whether in a descant 
 or over uneven ground. 
 
 The people no longer murmured 
 round the cabriolet, they vociferated : 
 
 the lady who held the reins perceived 
 it, and attributing this hostility to soraa 
 trivial cause, such as the severity of the 
 weather and the general discontent, she 
 resolved on shortening the trial as much 
 as possible. 
 
 She therefore cracked her whip, and 
 Belus changed his pace from a middling 
 trot to a most rapid one. 
 
 The shops seemed to fly by them, 
 the pedestrians rushed towards the 
 houses. The lady's cries of ' take care ! 
 take care !' were reiterated. 
 
 The cabriolet had almost reached 
 the Palais Royal, and had just passed 
 the end of the Rue du Coq Saint tlon- 
 ore, before which one of the most ele- 
 vated of the snow obelisks still raised 
 its diminished head. 
 
 This obelisk was surmounted by an 
 enormous ornament of various colore'd 
 ribbands, somewhat faded it is true- 
 ribbands which sustained a placard on 
 Which the penman of the quarter had 
 written, in letters of immense size, a 
 verse of four lines, highly compliment- 
 ary to the Queen, and which at nigfct 
 was illuminated by a lantern on each 
 side. 
 
 It was there that Belus encountered 
 the first serious obstacle ; the monu- 
 ment which they were justjighting up, 
 ha,d attracted a numerous crowd of 
 spectators; they were all in a mass, 
 and it was impossible to traverse' this 
 mass at a trot. 
 
 It was therefore necefcdary to put 
 Belus into a walk. 
 
 But they had seen Belus advancing 
 with the celerity of lightning, and had 
 heard the cries by which he was pur- 
 sued. And although on the appearance 
 of this obstacle he had' stopped short, 
 the sight of the cabriolet appeared to 
 produce the worst species of effect 
 upon the crowd. The crowd, howerer, 
 opened. 
 
 But beyond the obelisk there was 
 another motive for a c; jwd. 
 
 The gates of the Palais Royal were 
 open and in the court-yard immense 
 braziers had been plaCed. at \\bioh a 
 whole army of beggars were warming 
 themselves, and to whom ;he servants 
 of the Duki-. of Orleans were nistribut- 
 |i in I'lirtherT; howl?. 
 
 But the people who wore eating and 
 warming themselves, numerous us they 
 wore, were less .so than those who 
 were gazing at them. At Paris the 
 custom is wherever there is any thing 
 doing, a crowd immediately .assembles 
 to look on.
 
 38 
 
 THE QUEEN'S NECKLACE ; OR, THE 
 
 The cabriolet after having surmount- 
 ed the first obstacle was obliged to stop 
 on reaching the second, as'does a ship 
 in the midst of breakers. 
 
 At the moment the cries which had 
 before reached the ears of the two la- 
 dies but vaguely and confusedly, be- 
 came loud and distinct in the centre of 
 the throng. The people cried 
 
 Down with the cabriolet ! down with 
 the women who crush the people !' 
 
 1 Can it be to us that these cries are 
 addressed ?' said the lady who was 
 driving, to her companion. 
 
 ' In good truth, madam,' replied the 
 latter, ' I fear soi' 
 
 Did we run over any one ?' 
 
 ' Certainly not.' 
 
 ' Down with the cabriolet ! down 
 with the murderers ." furiously howled 
 the mob. 
 
 The storm was approaching, the 
 horse had already been seized by the 
 bridle, and Belus who appeared not to 
 relish the contact of those rude hands, 
 pawed the ground and foamed furiously. 
 
 ' To the Commissary of police ! To 
 the Commissary of police !' cried a 
 voice. 
 
 The two ladies gazed at each other 
 petrified with asto'nishment. 
 
 A thousand voices repeated, 
 
 'Take them to the Commissary. Take 
 them to the Commissary.' 
 
 Some inquisitive faces poked them- 
 selves under the head of the cabriolet. 
 
 New commentaries were made 
 among the crowd. 
 
 ' They are women !' said a voice. 
 
 ' Yes, some of Soubise's dolls ; some 
 of d'Hennin's mistresses.' 
 
 1 Opera girls who think they have a 
 right to ride over people because they 
 have ten thousand livres a month to pay 
 hospital expenses.' 
 
 A furious ' hurrah !' welcomed this 
 last observation. 
 
 The two ladies evinced their feelings 
 in H very different manner ; the one 
 drew back into th$ corner of the cabri- 
 olet, pule and trembling. The other bent 
 resolutely forward, with brows knit and 
 lips compressed. 
 
 ' Oh ! madam,' cried the other, draw- 
 ing her back, ' what are you doing ?' 
 
 1 To the Commissary's ! to the Com- 
 missary's!' again shouted the infuriated 
 mob ; ' let us know who they are.' 
 ' Ah ! madam, we are lost,' cried the 
 youngest, whispering into the ear of 
 her companion. 
 
 4 Courage ! Andree, courage !' ex- 
 claimed the other. 
 
 ' But you will be'seen be recogniz- 
 ed, perhaps.' 
 
 ' Just look through the glass behind 
 you and see if Weber be still there ?' 
 
 ' He is endeavoring to get down ; but 
 he is beset on all sides. Ah ! now he is 
 coming.' 
 
 'Weber! Weber!' said the lady in 
 German, ' let us out.' / 
 
 The servant obeyed, and, thanks to 
 two shoves of his brawny shoulders, 
 which threw aside the assailants, he 
 raised the apron of the cabriolet. 
 
 The two ladies sprang lightly to the 
 ground. During this time the mob 
 were occupied with the horse and tho 
 cabriolet, the body of which they were 
 beginning to smash in. 
 
 ' But what does all this mean, in the 
 name of Heaven !' continued the elder 
 of the two ladies ; 'can, you understand 
 it, Weber?' 
 
 ' Not I, upon my word, madam,' re- 
 plied Weber, much more at ease in 
 speaking his native language, than in 
 French ; and he continued kicking right 
 and left to clear a passage for his mis- 
 tress. 
 
 ' Why, they are not men, but wild 
 beasts,' continued the lady still in Ger- 
 man. ' What do they reproach me for ? 
 Let me know.' 
 
 At the same moment a gentle and 
 polite voice which contrasted singularly 
 with the threats and the revilings of 
 which the two ladies were the subject, 
 replied in the purest Saxon : 
 
 ' They reproach you, madam, with 
 having set at defiance an ordinance of 
 the police, published in Paris this very 
 morning, and which prohibits until next 
 spring, the use of cabriolets, dangerous 
 even when the pavement is in a good 
 state, but which is mortal to the pedes- 
 trian when the snow and ice prevent , 
 him from avoiding the wheels.' 
 
 The lady turned round to ascer- 
 tain whence proceeded this courteous 
 voice urnid the hundreds of threatning 
 ones. 
 
 She then perceived a young officer 
 who in order to approach her must un- 
 doubtedly have battled as valiantly as 
 Weber had done to maintain his po- 
 sition near her. 
 
 The graceful and distinguished coun- 
 tenance, th,e elegant figure and elevated 
 stature and the martial air of the young 
 man, pleased the lady, who hastened 
 to reply in German. 
 
 ' Oh ! good heaven, sir ! I knew no- 
 thing of that ordinance, I was complete- 
 ly ignorant of it.'
 
 MYSTERIES OF THE COURT OF LOUIS XVI. 
 
 39 
 
 ' You are a foreigner, madam ?' said 
 the young officer interrogatively. 
 
 Yes, sir ; but tell me what I am to 
 do, they are demolishing my cabriolet.' 
 
 ' You must let them destroy it, ma- 
 dam, and you must slip away while 
 they are so occupied. The people of 
 Paris are furious against the rich who 
 display their luxury in the very faces 
 of the general misery. And^ in pur- 
 suance of the ordinance published this 
 morning you will be taken before a Com- 
 
 missary of police.' 
 ' Oh ! never, never !' 
 
 exclaimed the 
 
 v youngest of the two ladies. 
 
 ' Then,' said the young officer, laugh- 
 ing, ' take advantage of the opening I 
 am about to make ID the crowd, and 
 vanish as quickly as possible.' 
 
 These words were pronounced in so 
 light a tone, that the two ladies at once 
 perceived that the officer had heard 
 the commentaries of the populace on 
 the kept mistresses of Messieurs de 
 Soubise and d 'Hennin. 
 
 But this was not a moment in whic h 
 to be punctilious. 
 
 4 Give us your arm, then, till we can 
 procure a hackney-coach,' said the el- 
 der of the two ladies in a voice of au- 
 thority. 
 
 1 1 was about to make your horse 
 rear,' replied the officer, ' and in the 
 confusion which this would have oc- 
 casioned, you could have escaped, for,' 
 continued the young man who perhaps 
 would have wished to decline the re- 
 sponsibility of a dangerous protection, 
 4 the people are getting tired of hearing 
 us speak in a language which they do 
 
 not understand. 
 
 ' Weber,' cried the lady 
 tone, ' make Belus rear, that this crowd 
 
 may be terrified and make an opening 
 for us.' 
 
 ' And then, madam ?' 
 
 4 And then remain here till we get 
 away ?' 
 
 ' And if they break the body of the 
 
 carriage ?' 
 
 4 Let them break the 
 
 carriage, what 
 
 matters that to you ? Save Belus, if 
 you can, and above all yourself that is 
 the only thing I recommend to you.' 
 
 '"Pis well, madam.' 
 
 And at the same moment he tickled 
 the irritable Irish horse in such a man- 
 lier, that he sprang into the midst of 
 the crowd, and overturned the most 
 furious among them who were hanging 
 on his bridle and on the shafts. 
 
 4 Your arm, sir !' then said the lady 
 to the officer, 4 come on, my young 
 friend,' said she turning to Andree. 
 
 4 1 will, for thou art a courageous 
 woman,' murmured the officer, to him- 
 self, immediately, and with feelings of 
 real admiration, offering his arrn to her 
 who had asked for it. 
 
 In a few minutes he had conducted 
 the ladies to a stand of hackney-coaches, 
 where the coachmen were sleeping on 
 their boxes, and the horses with half- 
 closed eyes and drooping heads were 
 awaiting their meagre evening feed. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 THE ROAD TO VERSAILLES. 
 
 THLE two ladies were for the moment 
 saved from any outrage from the mob, 
 but it was still to be feared that some 
 prying person might have followed 
 them and might again denounce them, 
 thus causing a renewal of the fright- 
 ful scene and from which, perhaps, 
 they might find it still more diffiult to 
 escape. 
 
 The youg officer foresaw this danger; 
 and this he evinced by the activity 
 which he displayed in awakening a 
 coachman, who more benumbed with 
 cold than asleep could with difficulty be 
 aroused. The cold was so dreadfully 
 intense, that contrary to the usage of 
 coachmen, generally on the alert to 
 rob each other of customers, not one of 
 the automatons, at twenty -four sous the 
 
 hour, stirred a finger, not even the one 
 in a loud^to whom the officer addressed himself. 
 The officer jumping upon the box, 
 
 seized the poor coachman by the col- 
 lar of his great-coat, and shook him so 
 violently that he at length aroused him 
 from his lethargy. 
 
 4 Hallo ! ho !' bawled the young offi- 
 cer in his ear, perceiving that he gave 
 some signs of life. 
 
 4 Here, master, here !' replied the 
 coachman, still dreaming and rolling on 
 his box like a drunken man. 
 
 4 Where are you going, ladies?' in- 
 quired the officer, still in German- 
 
 4 To Versailles,' replied the elder of 
 the two ladies. 
 
 4 To Versailles,' cried the coachman, 
 4 did you say to Versailles ?' 
 
 4 Undoubtedly.' 
 
 '' Oh ! I dare say ; to Versailles in- 
 
 Great at that moment were the ter- ' deed, and the roods covered with ice 
 ror and confusion. ' oh ! no, no.'
 
 40 
 
 THE QUEEN'S NECKLACE ; OR, THE 
 
 4 He will be well paid,' said the elder 
 of the two ladies. 
 
 * You will be well paid,' repeated the 
 officer in French. 
 
 And how much will they pay,' asked 
 the coachman from his box, for he did 
 not appear to have an extravagant con- 
 fidence in the promise. ' It is not all, 
 my officer, to get to Versailles, but once 
 there we must get back again.' 
 
 ' Will a louis be enough ?' inquired 
 the youngest of the two ladies to the 
 officer, continuing to' speak in German. 
 
 'You are offered a louis,' repeated 
 the young man. 
 
 A louis, that is little enough,' said 
 the coachman, ' for I run the risk of 
 breaking my horses legs.' 
 
 ' Rascal ! your fare is only three livres 
 from this to La Muette, which is half 
 way. Therefore, by this calculation, 
 you have only a right to twelve livres 
 lor going to Varsailles and back again, 
 and you are offered twenty-four.' 
 
 4 Wo do not wish to bargain,' said the 
 elder of the two ladies, ' two, three, 
 twenty louis even provided he will start 
 this moment, and not stop on the way.' 
 
 ' One louis is sufficient, madam,' re- 
 plied the officer, then again addressing 
 the chachman, 
 
 ' Ccfme now, rascal, jump off your box 
 and open the carriage door.' 
 
 1 1 will be paid beforehand,' said the 
 coachman. 
 
 'You will!' 
 
 ' It is my right.' ' 
 
 The officer moved a step forward. 
 
 ' Let us pay beforehand,' said the el- 
 der of the two German ladies. 
 
 And she rapidly plunged her hand in- 
 to her pocket. 4 
 
 ' Oh ! good heaven !' said she whis- 
 pering to her companion, ' I have not 
 my purse.' 
 
 ' Really ?' 
 
 ' And you, Andree, have you yours 
 with you?' 
 
 The young lady searched her pock- 
 ets with the same anxiety. 
 
 ' No, nor I neither.' 
 
 Search all your pockets.' 
 
 4 It is useless !' exclaimed the young la- 
 dy with much vexation, for she perceived 
 that the officer wns attentively observ- 
 ing hor. 
 
 The coachman grinned with distend- 
 ed mouth, perhaps congratulating him- 
 self on his sagacious precaution. 
 
 It was in vain thut the two ladies 
 rummaged their pockets, neither the 
 one cor the other could find a single 
 BO us. 
 
 The officer saw them become impa- 
 tient, blush and again turn pale ; the 
 position was becoming more and more 
 perplexed. 
 
 The ladies were about to offer a 
 chain or some article of jewelry as a 
 pledge, when the officer to prevent 
 them from suffering such a species. of 
 degradation, took from his purae a 
 louia which he held to the coachman 
 
 The coachman took the louis, ex- 
 amined it and weighed it on his finger 
 while one of the two ladies was thank- 
 ing the officer ; and then he opened the 
 coach door into which the lady got fol- 
 lowed by her companion. 
 
 ' Arid now, you scoundrel,' said the 
 officer, * you will drive these ladies at 
 a round pace and and above all, faithful- 
 ly to Versailles.' 
 
 ' Oh ! my good officer,' said the 
 coachman, 'you need not recommend 
 that to me ; that is perfectly well un- 
 derstood.' 
 
 During this short colloquy the ladies 
 were consulting with each other. 
 
 And in truth, it was with terror that 
 they thought their guide, their pro- 
 tector, was about to leave them. 
 
 ' Madam,' said the youngest to her 
 companion, ' he must not leave us.' 
 
 4 And why not ? Let us ask him for 
 his name and his address. To-morrow 
 we will send him his louis whith a small 
 note of thanks which you shall write to 
 him.' 
 
 4 No, madam, no ; let us keep him 
 with us I entreat you. If the coach- 
 man should be unfaithful : should he 
 make any difficulties on the way ; with 
 such weather the roads are bad ; and 
 then, to whom could we apply for as- 
 sistance ?' 
 
 ' Oh ! we have bis number.' 
 
 4 That is all very well madam, and I 
 doubt not that should he misconduct 
 himself, you would be sure to have him 
 beaten soundly, but in the meantime 
 you would not arrive nt Versailles to- 
 night ; and gracious heavens ! what 
 would then be said '/' 
 
 The elder ef the two ladies reflected . 
 for a moment. 
 
 4 That is true,' ebe said. 
 
 But the officer was already bowing 
 to take leave. 
 
 1 Sir, sir,' said Andree in GernituJ. 
 'one word more, if you'plose.' 
 
 4 1 am at your orders, madam,' re- 
 plied the officer, visibly annoyed, but 
 maintaining in his manner, hie tone, 
 'and even the accent of his voice, the 
 raoet exquisite politeness.
 
 MYSTERIES OF THE COURT OF LOUIS XVI. 
 
 41 
 
 Sir,' continued Andree, 'you cannot corner of the carriage opposite the 
 refuse us a favor, after the many ser- elder of the two ladies, his greatcoat 
 vices you have already rendered.' carefully spread over the knees of the 
 
 ' Spoak.' lady v . 
 
 4 Well, then, we will acknowledge to A most profound silence reigned 
 you, we are in dread of this coachman,' within the carriage. 
 
 ' You are wrong in feeling any alarm,' The coachman, whether it was that 
 observed the officer ; ' I know his num- he wished faithfully to perform his part 
 be i", 107, and :he letter of his adminis- of the bargain, or that the presence of 
 tra'ion, Z. If he should in any way the officer inspired him with a due por- 
 misbc.havo himself, only let me know it.' tion of respect, perseveringly urged on 
 
 'Let you know it!' cried Andree, his half starved jades along the slipjte- 
 forgi-ttiiig herself for the moment, for ry pavement of the quays and the road 
 she spoke in French ; ' and how can called ' La Conference.' 
 we do that, when we do not even know The breath of the three travellers by 
 your name ?' insensible degrees warmed the ktmos- 
 
 The young man started back a step, phere of the carriage. A delicate pe,r- 
 
 ' You speak French,' cried he with fume thickened the ah 1 and conveyed to 
 amazement, ' and you have condemned the brain of the young man impressions 
 me during a whole half hour to murder which from moment to moment became 
 the German language. Ah ! really, that ' less unfavorable to his companions. 
 is too bad !' ' They are,' thought he, ' women 
 
 ' Pray forgive us,' rejoined the other who have been detained too late in some 
 lady, also speaking French, and who rendezvous, and they are now ne.turu- 
 thus courageously came forward to the ing to Versailles, rather alarmed, and 
 succor of her confused companion, somewhat ashamed ; and yet how does 
 4 You see, sir, although not foreigners, 1 it happen, if they are women of distinc- 
 perhaps, we are not altogether at home I tion, that they wero in a cabriolet, and 
 in Paris ; and certainly not at all at , driving it themselves ? But that is very 
 home in a hackney-coach. You are easily answered. The cabriolet was 
 sufficiently a man of the world to com- too narrow for th.ree persoug, and two 
 prebend at once that we are not in our j ladies would not inconvenience them 
 natural position ; to oblige us only by selves by allowing a lackey to sit be- 
 tween them. 
 
 But that neither of them should 
 
 halves, would be to disoblige us. To 
 be less discreet than you have been, up 
 
 to the present moment, would be show- 
 ing yourself indiscreet. We judge well 
 of you, sir; be pleased not to judge ill 
 
 have any money about them !' continued 
 the officer to himself; ' this is really a 
 serious objection, and deserves reflec- 
 
 of us, and if you can do us a service, do I tion. Ah ! doubtless, the lackey had the 
 
 it at once, and without hesitation, or 
 you must permit us to thank you, and 
 to seek assistance elsewhere.' 
 
 ' Madam,' replied the officer, struck 
 with the tone, at once charming and 
 dignified, of the lady, 4 1 am entirely 
 at your service, order me as you will.' 
 
 ' Then, sir, be so obliging as to get in 
 here.' 
 
 1 Into the coach ?' 
 
 'And to accompany us.' 
 
 ' As far as Versailles ?' 
 
 ' Yes, sir.' 
 
 The officer, without saying another 
 word, got into the coach, took his place 
 on the front, seat and called to the coach- 
 man to ' Drive on !' 
 
 The door being closed, the cloaks and 
 furs spread equally over the travellers, 
 the coachman drove through the rue 
 Saint Thomas du Louvre, crossed the 
 place du Carrousel, and then rolled along 
 the Quays. 
 
 The officer ensconced himself in one 
 
 puree. The cabriolet, which by this 
 time is probably smashed to pieces, 
 was a most perfectly elegant one. And 
 the horse! if I know any thing of a 
 horse, was worth at least one hundred 
 and fifty louis. None but rich persons 
 could have abandoned such a cabriolet 
 and such a horse, without regretting 
 them.' 
 
 ' Their being without money, then, 
 is n consideration of no importance 
 whatsoever.' 
 
 ' i'es, but that fancy of speaking in a 
 foreign language, when they are actu- 
 ally French! Well, what does that 
 prove? Only tha. ihoy have received 
 a superior education. It is not common 
 that women of intrigue should speak 
 the German language with such teutonic 
 purity, and the French like native Pa- 
 \B.' 
 
 ' Moreover, thore is an inherent air 
 of distinction in these women. The 
 entreaty of the younger one ws per-
 
 42 
 
 THE QUEEN'S NECKLACE; OK, THE 
 
 fectly touching. The request of the it was we ourselves, who requested 
 
 other was nobly imperious.' 
 
 ' And then, in truth,' continued the 
 young man, arranging his sword in such 
 
 you to accompany us?' 
 
 4 And even exacted it,' added the 
 younger of the two ladies.' 
 
 a manner that it could not inconvenience ' Pray do not overwhelm me, madam, 
 the ladies, ' would not one say that it is and excuse my momentary hesitation, 
 dangerous for an officer to spend two ; You know, Paris, do you not? Paris is 
 hours in a coach with two pretty wo- full of snares, disasters and deception.' 
 men. Pretty and discreet,' he added, ; ' And therefore you took us fpr 
 ' for they do not speak, and are waiting ; come, now, speak frankly ?' 
 
 for me to commence a conversation.' 
 
 On their part, the ladies, doubtless, 
 were thinking of the young officer as 
 he was thinking of them ; for at the 
 moment that he had concluded this lu- 
 cubration, one of the two ladies, ad- 
 dressing her companion, said to her in 
 English, 
 
 4 Really, dear friend, this coachman 
 drives as if he were attending a funeral. 
 We shall never reach Versailles at 
 this pace. I would wager that our 
 poor companion finds this mortally te- 
 dious.' 
 
 4 And in fact,' replied the younger 
 one, ' our conversation is not excessively 
 amusing.' 
 
 Do you not think that he has an air 
 particularly comme ilfaut ?' 
 4 That is my opinion, madam.' 
 'Besides, you will.have observed that 
 he wears a naval uniforms.' 
 4 1 know but little of uniform.' 
 4 Well, as I was saying, he wears the 
 uniform of an officer in the navy ; and 
 all the officers in the navy are of good 
 family. Besides which, his uniform 
 becomes him well. He is a handsome 
 cavalier, is he not ?' 
 
 The ycung girl was about to reply, 
 and, doubtless, would have said some- 
 
 This gentleman conceived us to be 
 snares, and that is all.' 
 
 ' Oh ! ladies,' criid the young man, 
 quite humiliated, 4 I can assure you 
 that nothing of the kind ever offered it- 
 self to my imagination.' 
 
 ' I beg your pardon, what can be the 
 matter? the coach has stopped.' 
 
 4 What has happened ?' 
 
 'I will soon see, ladies.' 
 
 4 1 think the coach is upsetting. 
 Pray take care, sir.' 
 
 And the hand of the young lady be- 
 ing suddenly extended fell on the shoul- 
 der of the officer. 
 
 The pressure of the hand thrilled 
 through every 'vein. By a very natural 
 movement he endeavored to clasp it ; 
 but Andree, who had yielded to a mo- 
 mentary impulse of fear, had thrown 
 herself back again into her seat. 
 
 The officer, whom nothing now de- 
 tained, alighted and found the coach- 
 man very busily occupied in getting 
 one of the horses on his feet again, the 
 animal having slipped down, and hia 
 legs had become entangled in- the har- 
 ness and under the pole. They had 
 crossed the bridge at Sevres, and were 
 near the village. 
 
 Thanks to the assistance which the 
 
 thing still more flattering, when the i young officer gave to the coachman, the 
 young officer made a gesture which at poor horse was soon on his legs again, 
 once made her pause. | and the young man resumed his seat 
 
 4 1 beg your pardon, ladies,' said the in the coach. 
 
 officer, in excellent English, ' but it is As to the coachman, congratulating 
 necessary I should inform you that I himself for having so amiable a custom- 
 speak and understand English with tol- ' er, he gaily cracked his whip, with the 
 erable facility ; but I do not know a i double purpose probably of animating 
 word of Spanish, and if you are ac- j his horses and warming his own fin- 
 quainted with it, and should wish to ] gers. 
 
 converse in it, you will be at least cer- I But it might have been thought that 
 tain of not being understood.' from the door having been opened, the 
 
 ' Sir,' replied the lady, laughing, ' we cold air which had entered had chilled 
 did not wish to speak ill of you, and that j the conversation and congealed the 
 you must have perceived. Therefore, growing intimacy in which the young 
 do not let us stand on any ceremony, man had begun to feel a charm for which 
 but speak in French, if we have any he could not account, 
 thing to say to each other.' 4 The ladies merely asked him the 
 
 Many thanks for this favor, madam; nature of the accident; and he related 
 and yet should my presence be in any to them what had happened. And this 
 way inconvenient to you ' was all, and silence once more afflicted 
 
 4 You cannot imagine that, sir, since the trio of travellers.
 
 MYSTERIES OF THE COURT OF LOUIS XVI. 
 
 43 
 
 The pressure of that warm and pal- 
 pitating hand had so much occupied the 
 mind of the officer, that he wished at 
 least to have foot in exchange for it. 
 
 He therefore stretched forth one 
 leg, but however carefully and skilfully 
 this was managed, he could not find 
 any thing to press against it, or rather 
 when he did, he had the grief to ascer- 
 tain that, it retreated precipitately from 
 the contact. 
 
 Once even, having scarcely grazed 
 the foot of the elder of the two ladies, 
 the latter saidwith the greatest possi- 
 ble sang froid, 
 
 'I am sadly inconveniencing you, 
 sir, am I not .' you have not room 
 enough ; pray excuse me.' 
 
 The young man blushed up to the 
 ears, and congratulated himself that the 
 night was dark enough to conceal his 
 blushes. 
 
 And that was all ; and there terminat- 
 ed his adventurous explorations. 
 
 Having onpe more become mute, 
 motionless and respectful, as if he 
 had been in a church, he feared even 
 to breathe, and squeezed himself up in 
 his corner not taking more room than a 
 child. 
 
 But by degrees and in spite of him- 
 self, a strange impression invaded his 
 thought, and even his whole being. 
 He felt without touching them the two 
 lovely women ; he saw them though 
 his eyes were closed ; it appeared to 
 him that a particle of their existence 
 had, as it were, melted into his. He 
 would have given the world to have re- 
 newed the conversation, and he did not 
 dare to venture upon it, for he was 
 afraid of falling into any common-place 
 remark, he, who on their departure 
 from Paris disdained even to utter one 
 of those every day sayings so usual in 
 the world. He was alarmed at the 
 idea of appearing simple or impertinent, 
 in the eyes of these women, to whom, 
 but an hour before, he thought he was 
 doing too much honor, by charitably 
 giving them a louis and being common- 
 ly polite to them. 
 
 In a word, as all the sympathies in 
 this life are explained by the affinity of 
 the fluids, brought into contact at an 
 auspicious moment, a powerful mag- 
 netic influence, emanating from the 
 perfume and the juvenile warmth of 
 those three bodies so accidentally 
 thrown together in so small a space, 
 enchained the senses of the young man 
 and controlled his thoughts while it 
 dilated his heart. 
 
 And thus are sometimes engender- 
 ed, although they live and die in a few 
 fleeting moments, the most real, the most 
 sweet, and the most ardent passions. 
 They have a charm, because they are 
 ephemeral ; they are powerful because 
 they are restrained. 
 
 The officer said not another word. 
 The ladies conversed in whispers. 
 
 However, as his ears were neces- 
 sarily on the stretch, he now and then 
 caught a disjointed word, which pre- 
 sented some sort of meaning to his im- 
 agination. The words he heard were 
 of the following purport : 
 
 'The late hour the gates what 
 pretext for going out ' 
 
 The coach had again stopped. This 
 time it was neither a horse that had 
 fallen, nor a broken wheel. After three 
 hours of courageous efforts, the worthy 
 coachman had managed to warm his 
 hands, which meant to say that he had 
 lashed his horses till they were in a 
 complete foam and had at length 
 reached Versailles, whose large ave- 
 nues were seen by the red, though by 
 no means brilliant, glare of a few lamps 
 whitened by the hoar frost. 
 
 The young man comprehended that 
 i they had reached the end of their jour- 
 ney. By what magic had the time ap- 
 peared so short to him ? 
 
 The coachman leaned down towards 
 i the front window. 
 
 ' Master,' said he, ' we are at Ver- 
 sailles.' 
 
 ' Where shall I order him to drive, 
 ladies ?' inquired the officer. 
 
 4 To the Place d'Armes.' 
 
 ' To the Place d'Armes!' cried the 
 officer to the coachman. 
 
 4 1 must go to the Place d'Armes ?' 
 I asked the latter. 
 
 4 Yes, undoubtedly, since you are or- 
 dered to do so.' 
 
 ,. 4 There will be something extra to 
 drink I hope ?' said the Auvergnese 
 chuckling. 
 
 4 Never fear ; drive on.' 
 
 And the crackings of the whip were 
 again heard. , 
 
 4 1 must, "however say something,' 
 thought the officer, or I shall oe con- 
 sidered a simpleton after having been 
 impertinent.' 
 
 'Ladies,' said he, aloud, though still 
 with some degree of hesitation, you 
 have now reached your home.' 
 
 ' Thanks to your generous assistance,' 
 
 ' What trouble Ave have occasioned 
 you,' added the younger of the two la- 
 dies.
 
 44 
 
 THE QUEEN'S NECKLACE ; OR, THE 
 
 1 Oh ! I have more than forgotten it, 
 madam.' 
 
 ' And we, air, we shall never forget 
 it, your name if you please, sir ?' 
 
 1 My name ? Oh !' 
 
 4 It is the second time that we have 
 asked you for it. Take care ." 
 
 ' And you do not wish to make us a 
 present of a louis, surely ?' 
 
 Oh ! if thaj; is the case,' replied the 
 officer somewhat piqued, ' I yield ; I am 
 the Count de Charny, and, as madam 
 has before observed, an officer in the 
 navy.' 
 
 ' Charny ." replied the elder of the 
 two ladies in a tone that signified, ' I 
 ahull not forget it.' 
 
 'George, George de Charny,' added 
 the officer. 
 
 4 George !' murmured the younger of 
 the two ladies. 
 
 ' And you reside ?' 
 
 ' At the Hotel dea Princes, Rue de 
 Richelieu.' 
 
 The coachman pulled up. 
 
 The elder of the two ladies opened 
 the left hand door, sprang actively to 
 the ground, and then held out her hand 
 to assist her companion. 
 
 Bui at least,' cried the young man, 
 about to follow them, '.you will accept 
 .my arm, Indies : you have not yet 
 reached your house, and the Place 
 i'Anries is not a residence.' 
 
 1 Do not stir !' cried the two ladies 
 simultaneously. 
 
 4 How ? I must not stir !' 
 
 No ; remain in the coach.' 
 
 ' But, to : Jlow you to walk alone, and 
 in sucii weather ! It is impossible !' 
 
 Good ' so that, after having almost 
 refused to oblige us at all, you would 
 now insist on obliging us too much,' 
 g;iil> syi'1 the elder of the two ladies. 
 
 But still,' 
 
 ' There is no but in the case. Be to 
 ,-iud faithful Knight, 
 ieur de Charny, the most 
 iuMiilVI (winks ; and, as you are a gal- 
 taut ;;nu, I'liuil'ul Knight, as I just now 
 s^iil, wo v.ill not even ask you to pledge 
 your vvon^' 
 
 .vi.rii, ami for what, purpose ?' 
 you will shut the door and or- 
 .mrhiii -.ti to return at once to 
 Pari ;. This \uu will do. \viilyou not, 
 -ingle glance af- 
 tor u* .' - 
 
 4 Vou are right, ladies ; it would be 
 utioltteiii to pledge my word. Conch - 
 uiuu, my friend, turn about at once.' 
 
 And In- slipped a second louin into the 
 driver's brawny hand. 
 
 The worthy Auvergnese bounded 
 with joy. 
 
 'Gadzooks!' cried he, 'the horses 
 may founder if they will.' 
 
 ' And no wonder,' murmured the offi- 
 cer, ' for you have received their full 
 value.' 
 
 The coach rolled on, and rolled on 
 rnpidly. A sigh which escaped ihe 
 young man was smothered by the noise 
 of its wheels a voluptuous sigh, for 
 the Sybarite had stretched himself on 
 the cushions stiM warm from the pres- 
 sure of the two lovely, unknown ladies. 
 
 As to them, they renfaiued standing 
 on the same spot; and it was only when 
 the coach had disappeared that they 
 directed their steps towards the Cha- 
 teau. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 AT the momenfflnat they commenced 
 their walk, the gusts of the rude north 
 wind wafted to the ears of the tra- 
 vellers the sonorous chimes of the 
 Church Saint Louis, then striking the 
 three-quarters. 
 
 ' Good Heaven ! three-quarters past 
 eleven,' cried both the ladies. 
 
 ' But see, all the gates are closed,' 
 added the younger of the two. 
 
 4 Oh ! as to that,' replied the other, 
 4 that imports but little, my dear An- 
 dree, for had the gates been open I 
 should not, certainly, have entered the 
 palace by the court-yard of honor. 
 Come now, quick, quick, lot us go by 
 the reservoir.' 
 
 And they hastened towards the right 
 of the paliice. 
 
 Everybody knows that there is pri- 
 vate passage on that side, leading to tho 
 gardens. They soon reached that pas- 
 sage . 
 
 ' And the small gate is also closed, 
 Audree,' anxiously said the elder of tho 
 two ladies. 
 
 'Let us knock, madam.' 
 
 4 No, let us call. Laurent must be 
 waiting for me. I let him know that I 
 should, perhaps, return late.' 
 
 4 Well, then, I will call.' 
 
 And Andriie drew near the gate. 
 
 4 Who goes there ?' cried a voice 
 from tho interior, which did not wait 
 to be called. 
 
 4 Oh ! that is not Laurent's voice,' 
 said the young lady with alarm. 
 
 ' No, indeed.'
 
 MYSTERIES OF THE COURT OF LOUIS XVI. 
 
 The other lady then approached the 
 gate. 
 
 4 Laurent !' murmured she, but no 
 one answered. 
 
 Laurent !' again cried the lady, 
 knocking against the gate. 
 
 There is no Laurent here,' gruffly 
 replied the voice. 
 
 ' But,' s;ii(3 \ndreeeagerly, 'whether 
 it be Laurent or another, open the 
 gate at once.' 
 
 'I shall not open ic.' 
 
 'But, my friend, do you n<?t know 
 that Laurent \ertn the habit of opening 
 the gate for us?' 
 
 ' I care not a fig for Laurent ; I have 
 my orders.' 
 
 ' Who are you, then ?' 
 
 'Who ami?' 
 
 ' Yes, who are you ?' 
 
 ' And you, who are you ?' said the 
 roice. 
 
 The question was a brutal one ; but 
 that was no time for hesitation it was 
 necessary to reply. 
 
 We are ladies of Her Majesty's 
 suite ; we live in the palace, and we 
 wish to go to our apartments.' 
 
 ' And I, ladies, am a Swiss, belonging 
 to the First Company Salischaraade, 
 and I shall, contrary to the habit of 
 Laurent, allow you to remain at the 
 door.' 
 
 ' O'l !' murmured the two ladies, one 
 of them grasping the hands of the other, 
 with concentrated anger. 
 
 And then making an effort to restrain 
 her feelings, 
 
 My friend,' said she, ' I perfectly 
 understand that you are right in obey- 
 ing your orders ; every good soldier 
 should do so, and it is not my wish to 
 make you fail in that. Only do me the 
 
 . service I beg of you, to call Laurent, 
 who cannot be far off.' 
 
 I cannot leave my post.' 
 Then, send some one.' 
 
 ' I have nobody ,to send.' 
 
 Pray do not refuse.' 
 
 ' Dear me, madam, you can sleep in 
 the town. A terriblo affair, truly. Oh ! 
 if they were only to shut the door of 
 our barracks in my face, I would soon 
 find a sleeping-place, I warrant you !' 
 
 ' Grenadier, listen to me,' resolutely 
 said the elder of the two ladies, ' twen- 
 ty louis for you if you will open the 
 gate.' 
 
 ' Oh ! yes, and ten years in irons. No, 
 I thank you. Forty-eight livres a year 
 is not quite enough.' 
 
 ' I will get you made sergeant imme- 
 diately.' 
 
 ' Yes, and he who gave me my or- 
 ders would have me shot at once : much 
 obliged to you.' 
 
 ' Who was it, then, gave you this order ? ' 
 ' The King.' 
 
 'The king." exclaimed the two ladies 
 with terror. ' Oh ! we are lost.' 
 
 The youngest of the two appeared al- 
 most bereft of her senses. 
 
 ' Let us see ! let us see !' said the 
 other, is there not some other gate ?' 
 
 'Oh! iimdani, if this one has been 
 closed upon us, the other will likewise 
 be so and if we cannot find Laurent 
 here, the one at which he was order- 
 ed to wait, where else shall we find 
 him ?' ' Oh ! no, it is a preconcerted 
 matter.' 
 
 ' That is true ; you are right, Andree. 
 Oh ! what a horrible trick on the part 
 of the king, oh ! oh !" 
 
 And the lady pronounced these lat- 
 ter words in a contemptuous and almost 
 threatening tone. 
 
 This gate, called the gate of the 
 Reservoirs, was affixed in a wall of 
 such thickness, that it formed a sort of 
 vestibule. 
 
 There was a stone seat on each side 
 of it. 
 
 The ladies seated themselves upon 
 one of them agitated even to despair. 
 
 A gleam of light could be perceived 
 beneath the door, and the sentry's step 
 could be distinctly h'eard, as well as the 
 noise he made with his musket, which 
 he would sometimes shotRder and again 
 strike upon the ground. 
 
 On the inner side of this thin oaken 
 obstacle, was safety and honor ; with- 
 out it, shame and the most opprobrious 
 scandal, worse tlian death. 
 
 'Oh! to-morrow, to-morrow, when 
 it shall be known,' murmured the elder 
 of the two ladies. 
 
 ' But you will only have to speak the 
 truth.' 
 
 'And will it be believed ?' 
 
 You have proofs, madam ; the soldier 
 cannot keep guard all night,' said the 
 younger, who appeared to gain courage 
 in the same pnoportion that her com- 
 panion gave way to fear, ' he must be 
 relieved at some hour or other, and his 
 successor may perhaps be more com- 
 plaisant. Let us wait.' 
 
 ' Yes, but immediately after twelve 
 o'clock the patroles go their rounds ; 
 and 1 shall be found outside the palace, 
 waiting, concealing myself. Oh ! this 
 is infamous ! Indeed, Andree, the blood 
 is mounting to my head and ruflbcaling 
 I me.'
 
 46 
 
 THE QUEEN'S NECKLACE ; OR, THE 
 
 Oh! take courage, madam; you who 
 are usually so firm, and I, who but now 
 was nearly fainting, am now supporting 
 you.' 
 
 'There is some plot under all this, 
 Andree, and we are the victims of it. 
 This has never before happened, never 
 has this gate been closed, It will kill 
 me, Andree, I am dying.' 
 
 And she threw herself back against 
 the wall, her feelings amounting almost 
 to suffocation. 
 
 At the some moment was heard upon 
 the dry white pavement that surrounds 
 the palace, so little trodden in these 
 days, a slow and measured footstep, 
 and immediately afterwards was heard 
 the light and joyous voice of a young 
 man, singing. 
 
 He was singing one of those songs 
 the affected style of which appertains 
 peculiarly to the period we are endea- 
 voring to describe. 
 
 'That voice !' exclaimed the two la- 
 dios at the same moment. 
 
 ' I recognize it,' said the elder. 
 
 ' It is that of' 
 
 The song was again resumed. 
 
 ' 'Tis he !' whispered the lady who 
 had been so much agitated, into the ear 
 of Andree,' 'tis he ; he will save us. 
 
 At this moment a young man, wrap- 
 ped up in a well furred great coat, en- 
 tered the vestibule, and without per- 
 ceiving the two ladies knocked at the 
 gate, calling out ' Laurent.' 
 
 ' Brother !' ^aid the elder of the la- 
 dies touching the shoulder of the young 
 man. 
 
 'The queen!' exclaimed the latter, 
 starting back, and taking off his hat. 
 
 ' Hush ! good evening, brother.' 
 
 4 Good evening, madam : good even- 
 ing, sister, but you are not alone.' 
 
 ' No, I am with Mademoiselle An- 
 dree de Taverney.' 
 
 ' Ah ! very well, good evenihg, Ma- 
 demoiselle.' 
 
 ' My lord,' murmured Andree, curt- 
 seying ceremoniously.' 
 
 'Are you going out ladies?' inquire i 
 the young man. 
 
 'Oh! no.' 
 
 You are then returning to the pal- 
 ace ?' 
 
 ' We should be very hnppy to get in.' 
 
 ' Have you not called Laurent?' 
 
 ' Assuredly.' 
 
 Well, then ?' 
 
 'Just you call Laurent in your turn, 
 and you will see.' 
 
 'Yes, yes, call him, Monseigneur, and 
 you will see.' 
 
 The young man, whom our readers 
 have no doubt already recognized as the 
 Count d' Artois, in his turn called out. 
 
 ' Laurent !' at the same timo knock- 
 ing at the gate. 
 
 ' Good now ! they are playing the 
 same farce again,' cried the voice of the, 
 Swiss. ' I warn you if you torment me 
 any longer in this way, I will call my 
 officer.' 
 
 ' What is the meaning of all this ?' 
 cried the young man with astonishment 
 and turning round towards the queen. 
 
 ' It is a Swiss soldier ^hom they have 
 stationed in Laurent's place.' 
 
 ' And who has done this ?' 
 
 ' The king.' 
 
 'The king?' 
 
 The Swiss himself told us so !uat 
 now.' 
 
 And with an order ?' 
 
 ' A precise one, as it would appear.' 
 
 The deuse ! we must capitulate.' 
 ' And how so ?' 
 
 ' Let us give the rascal money.' 
 
 'That! have already offered, and he 
 refused it. 
 
 ' Well, we will offer him some laced 
 stripes.' 
 
 ' Those I have already offered.' 
 
 ' And' 
 
 He would not listen to any thing.' 
 
 ' There is only one means left then.' 
 
 'And what is that?' 
 
 ' T must make a tremendous noise.' 
 
 ' You will expose us by so doing. Do 
 not, my dear Charles, I entreat you.' 
 
 ' I shall not expose you in the slight- 
 est degree.' 
 
 'Oh !' 
 
 ' Stand behind me out of sight ; I 
 will knock like a blind man, I will call 
 out like a deaf one ; and at last they 
 will open the gate and you can slip in 
 after me.' 
 
 Well then, mtike the attempt.' 
 The young prince then called out 
 
 lustily for Laurent, knocked loudly 
 against the door, and' then made such 
 a clatter with the hilt of his sword, that 
 the Swiss cried out in a rage. 
 
 ' Ah ! if that'* the way you are going 
 on I will call my officer.' 
 
 For some moments they heard steps 
 moving on the opposite side of the door. 
 The queen mid Andree placed them- 
 selves close behind the Count d' Artois, 
 ready to take advantage of the oppor- . 
 tunity which according to all probability 
 was about to be offered. 
 
 They heard the Swips explaining the 
 whole cause of the noise. 
 
 ' My lieutenant,' said he, ' there are
 
 MYSTERIES OF THE COURT OF LOUIS XVI. 
 
 47 
 
 ladies, and with them is a man, who 
 just now called me rascal. They want 
 to enter the palace even by force.' 
 
 ' Well !' cried the Count d'Artois, 
 and is there any thing so very aston- 
 ishing in our wishing to get in, since 
 we belong to the palace ?' 
 
 ' That may be a very natural desire, 
 sir,' said the officer, ' but it is forbid- 
 den.' 
 
 4 Forbidden ! and by < whom, if you 
 please ?' 
 
 4 By the King.' 
 
 4 1 beg your pardon, but the King 
 cannot wish that an officer of the palace 
 should sleep outside.' 
 
 4 Sir, it is not for me to scrutinize 
 the intentions of the King ; my duty is 
 to obey his orders and nothing more.' 
 
 4 Come now, lieutenant, open the gate 
 a little, that we may converse more 
 conveniently than through a board.' , 
 
 4 Sir," I again repeat, that my express 
 order is to keep this door closed. Now, 
 if you are an officer, as you say you are, 
 you ought to know what an express or- 
 der is.' 
 
 4 Lieutenant, you are speaking to the 
 Colonel of a regiment.' 
 
 4 Colonel, excuse me, but my order is 
 a formal one.' 
 
 4 The order could not be given against 
 a prince. Come now, sir, a prince can 
 not sleep without the palace, and I am 
 a prince.' 
 
 4 My prince, I am in despair at being 
 compelled to it, but there is the King's 
 order.' 
 
 4 Did the King order you to drive 
 away his brother like a beggar or a rob- 
 ber ? I am the Count d'Artois, sir ! 
 Zounds, you are running a great risk, 
 sir, by keeping me here, freezing at the 
 gate.' 
 
 ' My lord the Count d'Artois,' replied 
 the lieutenant, ' God is my witness that 
 I would give every drop of my blood to 
 serve your Royal Highness ; but the 
 King did me the honor to tell me, when 
 he confided to me the care of this gate, 
 to open it to no one, not even to the 
 King himself, should he present himself 
 here after eleven o'clock. Therefore, 
 in all humility, my lord, I ask your par- 
 don ; but I am a soldier, and should I 
 even see Her Majesty the Queen, in- 
 stead of you, standing behind that gate 
 and shivering with cold, I should reply 
 to Her Majesty in the same terms J;hat 
 I have had the grief of replying to 
 you.' 
 
 Having siiid this, the officer, in the 
 most respectful innnner, bade the prince 
 
 good night, and withdrew to his guard- 
 room. 
 
 As to the soldier who was standing 
 against the gate itself, he did not dare 
 even to breathe, and his heart beat so 
 violently that the Count d'Artois, had 
 he placed his back against the gate, 
 might have counted the pulsations. 
 
 4 We are lost ." said the Queen to her 
 brother-in-law, taking his hand. 
 
 He remained musing for a moment. 
 
 4 Is it known that you are out ?' said 
 he at length. 
 
 4 Alas ! I know not,' replied the 
 Queen.' 
 
 4 Perhaps, it was only against me that 
 the King has given this order. The 
 King knows that I go out at night that 
 I return late sometimes. The Countess 
 d'Artois may have known of this too, 
 and she may have complained to the 
 King, and thus originated this tyranni- 
 cal order.' 
 
 4 Oh ! no, no, my brother ; I thank 
 you with all my heart for the delicacy 
 with which you endeavor to quiet my 
 apprehensions. But it is too truly for 
 me, or rather against me, that this mea- 
 sure has been taken.' 
 
 4 Impossible, *iy sister, the King has 
 too much esteem' 
 
 4 But in the meantime I am out of 
 doors, and to-morrow a most frightful 
 scandal will be the result of a most in- 
 nocent affair. Oh ! I have an enemy 
 near the King's person ; of that I am 
 convinced.' 
 
 4 That you have an en*emy, my little 
 sister, is very possible. Well, now, an 
 idea has struck me.' 
 
 4 An idea ! let us hear it quickly.' 
 
 4 An idea, which will make your ene- 
 my look more stupid than an ass hanged 
 in his own halter.' 
 
 4 Oh ' provided you can only save us 
 from the ridicule of this position, is all I 
 ask of you.' 
 
 ' If I can save you ! There is no 
 doubt of that. Oh ! I am not more of 
 a simpleton than he is, although he is 
 more learned than I am.' 
 
 ' Who is it, then?' 
 
 4 Why, by heaven, his highness the 
 Count de Provence.' 
 
 4 Ah! then you have also perceived 
 that he is my enemy.' 
 
 4 Why, is he not the enemy of every 
 one that is young of every one that is 
 handsome of every one that can do- 
 that which he cannot do.' 
 
 4 My brother, you know something of 
 this order.' 
 
 4 Perhaps : but, first of all, let us gel
 
 48 
 
 THE QUEEN'S NECKLACE; OR, THE 
 
 away from this windy place, for it is as 
 cold as charity. Come with me, my 
 sister.' 
 
 1 But where to?' 
 ' You will sen ; it is a place where al 
 least you will be warm. Come, and 
 on the way I will tell you what; I think 
 of this closing of the gnte. Ah ! Mon- 
 sieur de Provence, my dear and un- 
 worthy brother ! Take my arm, sister; 
 take my other arm, Mademoiselle de 
 Taverney, and let us turn to the right. 
 And they began their walk. 
 ' You were saving that M. de Prov- 
 ence' obseiTed the Queen. 
 
 Well ! thus it was. This evening, af- 
 ter the King's supper, lie came into the 
 grand cabinet; the King had been con- 
 versing during the day with the Count 
 de Haga, and you had not made you/ 
 appeal-awe e.' 
 
 ' I had set out for Paris at two 
 o'clock.' 
 
 . ' I know fhat well. The King, per- 
 mit me to tell you, dear sister the 
 King was no more thinking of you than 
 of Haroun Alraschid and Giaffir, his 
 grand vizier, and was talking on geo- 
 graphy : I WHS listening to him impa- 
 tiently, I confess, for I had to go out 
 also. Ah ! pardon me. we probably did 
 not go out with the same object, so that 
 I am wrong.' 
 
 in, say what you please.* 
 ' Pir-a.sc t,o turn to the left.' 
 'But where are yon leading me ?' 
 
 ^iircely twenty stops farther. Take 
 can -if snow. Ah ! 
 
 Maclemoiselfe uo T.af- ii;;y, il'yun leave 
 my arm you \viil lutve n fall, T warn 
 yon. vlnrn to the King, 
 
 whd ,i;jly of latitude and 
 
 longitude, when M. .le Provenr;- nud- 
 denly said to him, 'I should, however, 
 much \vi my respects to the 
 
 Queen.' 
 
 , %Ah ! ah !' exclaimed Marie Antoin- 
 ette. 
 
 'The Queen sups in her own apart- 
 ments,' replied (ho King. 
 
 'Indeed. I thought she was at Paris,' 
 added my brother. 
 
 her own apartments,' 
 qu'Vtly replied !]<o King. 
 
 ; nd was not 
 received,' rejoined M. de Provence. 
 
 saw the King knii II'IH brows. 
 Ho >thor and my- 
 
 self, and\\ tun he, doubt- 
 
 iUiru. Louis is jealous 
 - ;;iid thi.- ) .in k . 
 
 :shod to see you ; they, 
 pen ,'d 10 admit him, and 
 
 from (hat he will have suspected some 
 thing.' 
 
 ' Precisely ; Madame de Misery wa 
 so directed. 
 
 ' That is just it ; and to assure him- 
 self of your absence, the King will have 
 given that severe order to turn us out 
 of doors.' 
 
 ' Oh ! you must acknowledge, Count, 
 that this is a frightful trick.' 
 
 ' I do acknowledge it ; but we ha** 
 reached our quarters.' 
 
 'This house?' 
 
 1 Does it riot , i. sister ?' 
 
 'Oh! I do not say that; on the con- 
 trary, it quite charms me. But your 
 servants ?' 
 
 ' Well ?' 
 
 ' Should they see me ?' 
 
 ' Go in, dear sister, and I will engage 
 that no one shall see you.' 
 
 ' Not even the one who will open the 
 door 1' 
 
 ' Not even that one. 
 
 ' Impossible.' 
 
 ' Well, we will tiy it,' replied the 
 Count laughing, and he stretched forth 
 his hand toward the door. The Queen 
 caught his arm. 
 
 ' Be careful, dear brother, I entreat 
 you.' 
 
 The prince pressed with his other 
 hand against a panel of the door which 
 was elegantly sculptured. The door 
 immediately flew open. 
 
 The Queen could not restrain a move- 
 ment of apprehension. 
 
 ' Come in, sister, I conjure you,' said 
 the prince ; 'you see that so far Wrt have 
 met no one.' 
 
 The Queen looked at Mdllo. d 
 erney with the expression of one who 
 was about to incur some risk. "She, 
 however, crossed the threshold with 
 one of those gestures so delightful in 
 woman, and which mean to say, 'well, 
 venture, come what may.' 
 
 The door swung noiselessly upon its 
 binges and closed again. 
 
 Then she found herself iira stuccoed 
 Mile, with a marble. l>:--'iriRnt; it 
 was not very extensive, but. in excellent 
 : it #as p-ivi-d with -labs of mosaic, 
 representing bouquets of flowers, while 
 a hundred dwarf rose-bushes, in japan 
 . were placed on n !>les 
 
 around its walls, shedding their per- 
 fumed leaves around, so rare at such a 
 season. 
 
 -nth' lit'rt and those sweet odors, 
 so fully captivated the senses, that 
 when thoy reached the vestibule the 
 two ladiHH not only forgot a portion of
 
 MYSTERIES OF THE COURT OF LOCHS XVI. 
 
 49 
 
 their fears, but also some portion of 
 their scruples. 
 
 4 And now, all is well, we are under 
 shelter,' said the Queen, and even, if 
 we must acknowledge it, the shelter is 
 sufficiently commodious. But would it 
 not be well to pay at once attention to 
 one thing, brother ?' 
 
 ' And what is that ?' 
 
 To send away all your servants.' 
 
 'Oh ! nothing can be more easy.' 
 
 And the Prince, taking hold of a bell 
 pull, which hung in the fluting of a col- 
 umn, pulled it and x instantly was heard 
 a single stroke which vibrated mys- 
 teriously in the depths of the stair-case. 
 
 The two ladies uttered a slight cry 
 of alarm. 
 
 ' Is that the manner in which you 
 send away your servants, brother?' ask- 
 ed the queen ; ' I should have thought 
 on'the contrary, that you were calling 
 them.' 
 
 Vere I to ring a second time, y^s, 
 one of them would come; but as 1 
 touched the bell but once, you mny 
 be tranquil, sister, none of them will 
 stir.' 
 
 The queen began to laugh. 
 
 'Well, well, it must be acknowledged 
 that you are a man of precaution,' she 
 said. 
 
 'And now my dear sister,' continued 
 the Prince, ' you cannot take up your 
 abode in a vestibule ; be pleased to walk 
 up stairs. 
 
 'Let us obey,' said the queen, ^'the 
 genius of this house does not appear to 
 be particularly malevolent.' 
 
 She ascended the stairs,, the Prince 
 preceding her. 
 
 Their footsteps were not heard as 
 they ascended the stair-case, which was 
 covered with Aubusson carpeting. 
 
 When they had reached the first sto- 
 ry, the prince rang a second bell, the 
 sound of which again startled the 
 queen and Mademoiselle de Taverney, 
 who were not aware of his intention. 
 
 But their astonishment redoubled 
 when they saw the doors swing open 
 as of their own accord. 
 
 4 Really, Andree,' cried the queen ' I 
 begin to tremble ; do not you ?' 
 
 ' As to me, madam, so long as your 
 Majesty continues to advance, I shall 
 with confidence follow you.' 
 
 ' Nothing, my sister,' said the Prince, 
 can be more simple than all that is 
 now happening ; the door which is op- 
 posite to you is that of your apartment. 
 Only look into it.' 
 
 And he pointed out to the queen a 
 7 
 
 charming little apartment of which we 
 iinnot avoid giving a description. 
 
 A small ante-chamber with rose- 
 wood panels, the ceiling painted by 
 Boucher, the floor of which was inlaid 
 with rose-wood, led to a boudoir hung 
 with white cashmere spotted with flow- 
 ers, embroidered by the most skilful! 
 artists of the country. 
 
 The furniture of this boudoir was of 
 Gobelins tapestry shaded with that art 
 which renders the tapestry of that man- 
 ufacture, executed in those days, equal 
 to the works of the great painters. 
 
 Beyond the boudoir, was a handsome 
 bed-chnmber with blue drapery, and 
 hung with curtains of fine lace and 
 Tours silk, a sumptuous bed in a dark 
 alcove, a dazzling fire was crackling 
 on the hearth, the chimney piece being 
 of white marble, twelve perfumed wax 
 lights were burning in candelabra made 
 by Claudion, a screen of blue lacquer 
 with Chinese figures in gold, such were 
 the marvels which struck the eyes of 
 the two ladies when they timidly enter- 
 ed this elegaut retreat. 
 
 Not a living soul was to be seen, 
 wherever they advanced there was 
 warmth and light without their being 
 able to discover the cause of such for- 
 tunate effects. 
 
 The queen who had with some de- 
 gree of reserve entered the boudoir, 
 paused for a moment on the threshold 
 of the bed-chamber. 
 
 The prince excused himself in the 
 most happy manner on the necessity 
 which compelled him to make his sister 
 the confidantof a secret unworthy of her. 
 
 The queen replied by a half smile 
 which expressed more than nil the 
 words she might have used on the oc- 
 casion. 
 
 ' My sister,' then added the Count d' 
 Artois, ' this apartment is my bachelor 
 retreat ; I alone enter it and I always 
 enter it alone.' 
 
 4 Almost always,' said the queen. 
 
 ' No, always.' 
 
 ' Ah !' exclaimed the queen.' 
 
 ' Moreover," continued he, ' there are 
 as you see in this boudoir, a sofa and 
 an easy chair, in which many a time 
 after the fatigues of the chase I have 
 slept as well as in a bed.' 
 
 ' I can now comprehend,' said the 
 queen, 4 that the Countess d* Artois may 
 now and then be anxious.' 
 
 ' Undoubtedly, but you must acknowl- 
 edge that if the Countess be anxious 
 with regard to me, to-night she would 
 be in the wrong.'
 
 50 
 
 THE QUEEN'S NECKLACE; OR, THE 
 
 ' Oh ! as regards to-night, I say no- 
 thing, but the other nights ' 
 
 ' My sister, who is wrong once is al- 
 ways wrong.' 
 
 ' Well, let us conclude,' said the 
 queen seating herself in an arm-chair, j 
 ' I am dreadfully tired, and you my poor j 
 Andree.' 
 
 4 Oh ! I am absolutely falling from fa- 
 tigue, and if your majesty will per- 
 mit ' 
 
 4 In fact, you are turning pale, Ma- 
 demoiselle,' said the Count d' Artois. 
 
 4 Do not stand on ceremony, my dear,' 
 said the queen ; ' sit down, or even lie 
 down, the Count d' Artois, abandons 
 this apartment to us ; is it not so, 
 Charles?' 
 
 ' As your own property, madam.' 
 
 ' One moment,, Count, a last word.' 
 
 ' And what is that ?' 
 
 1 As you are going to leave us, how 
 can we call you back again ?' 
 
 ' You can have no need of me, sister 
 being installed, dispose of the house as 
 you please.' 
 
 ' There are other rooms then, beside 
 these.' 
 
 4 Uunoubtedly ; in the first place 
 there is a dining room which I advise 
 you to visit.' 
 
 ' With a table ready served, of 
 course :' 
 
 4 Why, certainly ; and on which Ma- 
 demoiselle de Taverney, who appears 
 to me to have great need of it. will find 
 some good warm soup, the wing of a 
 chicken and a glass of sherry, and you, 
 my sister, a collection of those prepared 
 fruifs you are so fond of.' 
 
 4 And all this without servants ?' 
 
 4 Not a soul.' 
 
 4 We shall see. And besides ' 
 
 ' What is there besides?' 
 
 1 Whyj our return lo the palace.' 
 
 ' You must not think of returning 
 there during the night since such an or- 
 der has been gjven. But the order giv- 
 en for the night will cease at daybreak ; 
 at six o'clock the gates are opened. 
 Leave this at a quarter before six ; you 
 will find in tliosc wardrobes cloaks of 
 all colors, and of every shajfe, if you 
 wish to disguise yourself; return there- 
 fore at that hour to the paluce, and do 
 not be anxious with regard to any thing 
 else.' 
 
 4 But you ?' 
 
 ' And what of me ?' 
 
 4 Yes, what will you do*?' 
 
 I am going to leave the house.' 
 
 ' How ? we are then driving you 
 away, my poor brother.' 
 
 4 It would not be decorous that I 
 should pass the night under the same 
 roof with you, my sister.' 
 
 4 But you must have some resting 
 place, and we are depriving you of your 
 own.' i 
 
 ' Why I have three other similar to 
 this.' 
 
 The queen laughed. 
 
 4 Aiid, yet he says that the Countess 
 d' Artois is wrong in being anxious ; I 
 will let her know it,' she said with a 
 charming threatening gesture. 
 
 4 Oh ! then I will tell the King the 
 whole story,' replied he in the same 
 tone. 
 
 ' He is right ; we are completely in 
 his power.' 
 
 4 Altogether ; it is very humiliating ; 
 but how is it to be avoided." 
 
 ' By submitting to it. Thus, you say 
 that in order to leave the house to-mor- 
 row morning without meeting with any 
 one ^ 
 
 ' A single pull of the bell, at the co- 
 lumn below.' 
 
 ' At which ? the one on the right hand 
 or the left.' 
 
 4 It matters not which.' 
 
 4 And the door will open ?' 
 
 ' And will close again.' 
 
 4 Of itself?' 
 
 4 Of itself.' 
 
 4 Thanks. Good night brother.' 
 
 4 Good night, sister.' 
 
 The Prince bowed and disappeared. 
 Andree closed the doors after him. 
 
 "CHAPTER VII. 
 
 THE qUEEN's ALCOVE. 
 
 THE next *day, or rather the same 
 morning, for pur last chapter closed at 
 about two o'clock after midnight, the 
 same morning, we say, King Louis 
 XVI, in a violet morning undress, wear- 
 ing no orders, and unpowdered, just as 
 he had risen from his bed in short, tap- 
 ped at the queen's nnte-chamber. 
 
 A waiting woman half opened the 
 door ahd recognized the king. 
 
 4 Sire, ' said she. 
 
 4 The Queen ?' inquired the King 
 sharply. 
 
 4 Her Majesty sleeps, Sire.' 
 
 The king made a gesture to the wo- 
 man to let him pass, but she did not stir. 
 
 4 Well !' cried the King, ' do you in- 
 tend to move ; you must see that I wish 
 to pass by.' 

 
 
 MYSTERIES OF THE COURT OF LOUIS XVI. 
 
 61 
 
 The king had at times a promptitude 
 of gesture which his enemies called 
 brutality. 
 
 ' The queen is sleeping, Sire,' timid- 
 ly remonstrated the waiting woman. 
 
 'I told you to make way for me.' 
 
 And in fact he pushed the woman on 
 one side and entered the apartment. 
 
 When he reached the door of the 
 queen's bed-room, the king saw Ma- 
 dam de Misery, first feinnie de chambre 
 to the queen, who was reading mass in 
 her prayer book, 
 
 This lady immediately rose on per- 
 ceiving the king. 
 
 ' Sire,' said she in a half whisper, at 
 the same time curtesying, ' her Majesty 
 has not yet rung her bell.' 
 
 ' Ah ! indeed,' said the king, in a jeer- 
 ing tone. 
 
 ' But, Sire, it is, I believe not more 
 than half past six o'clock, and her Ma- 
 jesty never rings till seven.' 
 
 ' And you are certain that the queen 
 is in bed ? you are certain that she is 
 asleep ?' 
 
 ' I would not affirm that her Majesty 
 is asleep, but I am certain that she is 
 in bed.' 
 
 ' She is there, then ?' 
 
 'Yes, Sire.' 
 
 The king could not restrain himself 
 any longer, he walked straight on and 
 turned the gilded door handle with pre- 
 cipitation. 
 
 The queen's bed-room was as dark 
 as in the middle of the night; the shut- 
 ters, blinds and curtains were hermeti- 
 cally closed, excluding the smallest ray 
 of light. 
 
 A night lamp which burned upon a 
 small table in the remotest corner of 
 the room, left the queen's alcove in 
 shadow, and immense white silk cur- 
 tains embroidered^ with lilies in gold, 
 fell in waving folds upou the bed. 
 
 The king advanced with rapid steps 
 towards the bed. 
 
 4 Oh ! Madame de Misery." exclaim- 
 ed the queen, 4 how noisy you are this 
 morning, you have awakened me.' 
 
 The king stopped suddenly, perfectly 
 astounded. 
 
 * It is not Madame de Misery,' mur- 
 mured he. 
 
 4 Ah ! it is you, Sire,' added Marie 
 Antoinette raising herself on one elbow. 
 
 ' Good morning, madam !' said the 
 king in rather a tart tone. 
 
 4 What good wind has brought you 
 here, Sire ?' inquired the queen, ' Ma- 
 dame de Misery, Madame de Misery, 
 open the windows.' 
 
 The two women entered the room, 
 and pursuant to the habit which the 
 queen had made them adopt, they open- 
 ed not only the windows but the door 
 in order to give free passage to the fresh 
 air, which Marie Antoinette always in- 
 haled with great delight on first awak- 
 ening. 
 
 ' You appear to enjoy your sleep,' 
 said the king, seating himself by the 
 bed, after having looked around the 
 room with a scrutinizing glance. 
 
 ' Yes, Sire ; 1 was reading till very 
 late, and if your Majesty had not awak- 
 ened me, I should have been sleeping 
 still.' 
 
 4 And how happened it, madam, that 
 you did not receive yesterday ?' 
 
 4 Receive, and who ? your brother 
 Monsieur de Provence !' exclaimed the 
 queen with presence of mind, at once 
 encountering the king's suspicions. 
 
 4 Precisely so ; my brother,' replied 
 the King ; 4 he wished to pay his re- 
 spects to you, and was not allowed to 
 enter your door.' 
 
 ' Well ?' 
 
 4 They told him you were absent. 
 
 4 Ah ? did they tell him so ?' asked 
 the Qneen, in a careless tone, 4 Mad- 
 ame de Misery, Madame de Misery.' 
 
 The first femme de chambre appear- 
 ed at the door, bearing a golden salver, 
 on which were a number of letters ad- 
 diessed to the Queen. 
 
 4 Did her Majesty call me ?' inquired 
 Madame de Misery. 
 
 Yes ; was M. de Provence told yes- 
 terday that I was not in the palace ?' 
 
 * Madame de Misery, in order not to 
 step before the King, went behind his 
 chair, and held the salver, on which 
 were the letters, to the Queen. She 
 held under her thumb one of the let- 
 ters, the handwriting of which the 
 Queen instantly recognized. 
 
 4 Give your answer to the King, Ma- 
 dame de Misery,' continued the Queen 
 in the same tone of indifference ; 4 tell 
 His Majesty what reply was given to 
 M. de Provence yesterday, when he 
 presented himself at my door. As to 
 myself, 1 do not now remember what 
 it was.' 
 
 4 Sire,' said Madame de Misery to the 
 King, while the Queen was unsealing 
 the lette?^' my lord the Count de Prov- 
 ence called yesterday to pay his re- 
 spects to Her Majesty, and I replied 
 that Her Majesty did not receive visit- 
 ors.' 
 
 4 And by whose order ?' 
 
 4 By order of the Queen.'
 
 
 52 THE QUEEN'S NECKLACE ; Oil, THE 
 
 Oh !' exclaimed the King. 
 
 During that time the Queen had 
 
 opened the letter, and had read these 
 
 1 .. 
 two lines : 
 
 ' You returned from Paris yesterday, 
 and re-entered the palace at eight o'- 
 clock, jfliaurent saw you come in.' 
 
 And then, still in the same nonchalant 
 way, the Queen had unsealed half a 
 dozen notes, letters and petitions, which 
 he scattered over her eiderdown. 
 
 ' Well !' said she, raising her head 
 and looking at the King. 
 
 ' 1 thank you, madam,' said the King 
 to the first femme de chambre. 
 
 Madame de Misery withdrew. 
 
 Pardon, Sire,' said the Queen, ' I 
 wish you to eplighten me on one sub- 
 ject.' 
 
 ' And what is that, madam ?' 
 
 ' Am I or am I not free to see or not 
 to see M. de Provence ?' 
 
 'Oh ! perfectly free, madam, but' 
 
 * But, his wit fatigues me ; how can 
 I help that ; besides which he does not 
 like me, and it is true that I return 
 the compliment. I expected his disa- 
 greeable visit, and I went to bed for the 
 sole purpose of avoiding it. What is 
 the matter, Sire ?' 
 
 'Nothing; nothing.' 
 ' One would imagine that you doubt- 
 ed' 
 
 * But' 
 
 4 But what ?' 
 
 * But I thought you were in Paris 
 yesterday.' 
 
 1 At what o'clock V 
 
 ' At the veiy hour when you pretend 
 you went to bed.' 
 
 ' Undoubtedly, I went to Paris ; and 
 do not people return from Paris ?' 
 
 * Of course. But all depends on the 
 hour at which they return.' 
 
 ' Ah ! nh ! you wish to know precisely 
 the hour at which I returned from Paris, 
 then?' 
 
 ' Why yes.' 
 
 ' Nothing can be more easy, Sire.' 
 
 The Queen called Maritime de Mis- 
 ery. The femme de chambre re-ap- 
 peared. 
 
 1 What time was it yesterday, Ma- 
 dame de Misery, when 1 returned from 
 Paris V 
 
 'About eight o'clock, your Majesty.' 
 
 ' 1 do not believe that,' Siiid the King, 
 'you must be mistaken, Madame de 
 Jliaery. Inquire.' 
 
 The femme de chambre remained 
 erect and impassible. She turned to- 
 wards ihe door. 
 
 * Madame Duval !' she cried. 
 
 ' Madam,' replied a voice. 
 
 ' At what o'clock did Her Majesty 
 return from Paris, last night?' 
 
 ' It mny have been eight o'clock," re- 
 plied the second femme de chambre. 
 
 Madame Duval put her head out of 
 the window of the ante-chamber, and 
 called out ' Laurent !' 
 
 ' Who is this Laurent ?' inquired the 
 King. 
 
 ' He is the keeper of the gate by 
 which Her Majesty re-entered the 
 palace.' 
 
 ' Laurent !' cried Madame Duval, 'at 
 what time did Her Majesty return to 
 the palace, yesterday ?' 
 
 ' It was near eight o'clock,' replied 
 the gate- keeper, who was on the ter- 
 race, under the windows. 
 
 The King bent down his head. 
 
 Madame de Misery dismissed Ma- 
 dame Duval, who dismissed Laurent. 
 
 The King and Queen remained alone. 
 
 Louis X^ felt perfectly ashamed, 
 and was ma Jang every effort to conceal 
 this feeling. 
 
 But the Queen, instead of triumphing 
 in the victory she had gained, said coldly 
 to him, 
 
 Come now, Sire, tell me what more 
 you wish to know ?' 
 
 ' Oh ! nothing,' cried the King, press- 
 ing his wife's hand. ' And yet par- 
 don me, madam I know not what had 
 got into my head. You see my joy, it 
 is almost as great as my repentance. 
 You are not offended with me, are 
 you ? Do not look so out of humor 
 upon the word of a gentleman, it would 
 afflict me much.' 
 
 The Queen withdrew her hand from 
 that of the King. 
 
 ' And why this ?' inquired Louis. 
 
 ' Sire,' replied Marie Antoinette, ' a 
 Queen of France cannot utter false- 
 hood.' 
 
 ' What can this mean ?' said the as- 
 tonished King. 
 
 ' I mean to say that I did not return 
 at eight o'clock last night.' 
 
 The King drew back surprised. 
 
 ' I mean to say,' continued the Queen, 
 with the same sangfroid, 'that I re- 
 turned this morning, and at six o'clock.' 
 
 ' Madam !' 
 
 ' And that but for the Count d'Artois, 
 who Coffered me an asylum, and from 
 compassion lodged me in a house be- 
 longing to him, I should have remained 
 at the palace gate like a mendicant.' 
 
 ' Oh ! then, you had not returned, 1 
 said the King with a gloomy air. 'Then, 
 after all, 1 was right.'
 
 MYSTERIES OF THE COUET OF LOUIS XVI. 
 
 ' I beg your pardon, Sire, you are 
 drawing from what I have said an arith- 
 metical conclusion, but not the conclu- 
 sion of a gentleman.' 
 
 1 And in what manner, madam ?' 
 
 ' In this : that, in order to assure 
 yourself whether I returned early or 
 late, it was not necessary either to have 
 closed your gate, or to give your orders; 
 but simply to have come to me and have 
 asked me, at what time did you return, 
 madam .'" 
 
 Oh !' cried the King. 
 
 ' It is no longer permitted to you to 
 doubt, Sire, your spies were either de- 
 ceived or bribed ; your gates either 
 forced or opened, your apprehensions 
 combated, your suspicions dispelled. I 
 saw you ashamed at having used violent 
 measures towards a woman who was in 
 the right. I might have continued t to 
 enjoy my victory. But I consider your 
 proceedings disgraceful in a King, un- 
 becoming in a gentleman, and I will not 
 refuse myself the satisfaction of ex- 
 pressing my opinion.' 
 
 The King dusted the snufl" off his 
 frill, like a man who is meditating a 
 reply. 
 
 ' Oh ! do what you will, Sir> 
 the Queen shaking her head, ' you will 
 never be able to excuse your conduct 
 towards me.' 
 
 'On the contrary, madam,' replied 
 the King, ' I shall be able to do so with- 
 out difficulty. In the palace, for exam- 
 ple, was there a single person who sus- 
 pected that you had not returned ? No 
 one could have imagined that the order 
 which I gave to close the gates was di- 
 rected against you. That it may have 
 been attributed to the dissipation of the 
 Count d'Artois, or of any other person, 
 you will readily cotnprehend it affects 
 me not.' 
 
 4 Continue, Sire,' said the queen. 
 
 ' Well then I sum up, and I say that 
 if I have been careful of appearances 
 with regard to you, that I um in the 
 right, and I will tell you that you are 
 in the wrong, you who have not acted 
 with the same caution with regard to 
 me ; and if I wished merely to give 
 you a secret lesson, and if ,.the lesson 
 should be of use to you, and which I 
 believe it will, from the irritation yuu 
 have evinced, it proves still more clearly 
 that I am right and I do not at all re- 
 gret that which I hare done.' 
 
 The queen had listened to the reply 
 of hm- august husband, calming down 
 her feelings by degrees ; not that she 
 Wits any tho lest< irritated, but that sho. 
 
 wished to reserve her full power for the 
 struggle which instead of being termi- 
 nated ehe conceived had scarcely com- 
 menced. 
 
 ' 'Tis very well !' said she. ' So you do 
 do not offer any excuse for having com- 
 pelled the daughter of Maria Theresa, 
 your wife, the mother of your children, to 
 dance attendance at your door, as you 
 j might have done to any woman from the 
 I street. No, in your eyes it is quite a 
 j royal jest, full of uttic wit, the morality 
 ! of which, moi-eover, only redoubles its 
 i value. In your eyes it is a perfectly 
 natural thing to have forced the Queen 
 of France to pass the night in a house 
 in which the Count d'Artois- receives 
 his opera dancers and the women of 
 doubtful reputation belonging to your 
 court. Oh ! all this is nothing, a king 
 soars above ah 1 such trifles a philoso- 
 phical king more than another ; and you 
 are a philosopher, Sire ! Observe, 
 however, that in this M. d'Artois has 
 played the most generous part, observe 
 that he has rendered me a signal ser- 
 vice ; observe, that I have on this oc- 
 casion to offer my thanks to heaven, 
 that my brother-in-law is a dissipated 
 man, since his dissipation has served as 
 a cloak to my own shame, since his 
 vices have been the means of saving my 
 honor.' 
 
 The king blushed and bounded un- 
 easily in his chair. 
 
 'Oh!' continued the queen with a 
 bitter laugh, ' I well know that you are 
 a moral king, Sire ; but have you re- 
 flected on the result your morality will 
 produce ? No one, you say, was aware 
 that I had not returned, and you, your- 
 self, believed that I was here. Does 
 the Count de Provence, your instiga- 
 tor, believe this ? Can you say that M. 
 d'Artois believes it? Can you say that 
 my women, who this morning and by 
 my order replied falsely, believe it ? 
 Can you say that Laurent, bribed by 
 the Count d'Artois and myself, believes 
 it ? Be assured that although the king 
 must always be in the right, the queen 
 may. sometimes, be in the right ulso. 
 Let us adopt this habit, Sire, shall we? 
 you to set spies and Swiss guards about 
 me, and I to bribe your Swiss guard* 
 I and y#nr*6pies ; and let me tell you be- 
 | fore a month has elapsed, for you know 
 me, and know that I will not be con- 
 i strained, well then before the lapse of 
 a month, the Majesty of the throne and 
 the dignity of the married state will 
 have disappeared, and we will sum it 
 all up some morning, as we are doing
 
 54 
 
 THE QUEEN'S NECKLACE ; OR, THE 
 
 BOW, and we shall then find what it will 
 cost us both. 
 
 It was evident that these words had 
 produced a great effect on him to whom 
 they were addressed. 
 
 4 You know,' said the King in an agi- 
 tated voice, 'you know that I am sin- 
 cere, and that I always acknowledge 
 any wrong 1 have done. Will you 
 prove to me, madam, that you were 
 right in leaving Versailles in sledges, 
 with gentlemen of your suite ? a set 
 of hair-brained youths, whose society 
 may injure your reputation in the seri- 
 ous times in which we are living. Will 
 you prove to mo that you were right in 
 disappearing with them in Paris, like 
 masks at a ball, and not to make your 
 appearance again but in the dead of 
 night, scandalously late ; while my 
 lamp was becoming exhausted with my 
 long labors, and all the rest of the world 
 was asleep ? You have spoken of the 
 dignity of the married state, of the ma- 
 jesty of the throne, and of your posi- 
 tion as a mother. Is what you have 
 done becoming in a wife, a Queen, a 
 mother ?' 
 
 ' I will reply to you in two words, 
 ir, and shall I say beforehand, I am 
 about to reply more disdainfully than I 
 have done until now, for it appears to 
 me, in truth, that some parts of your 
 accusation are deserving only of my 
 disdain.' 
 
 4 1 left Versailles in a sledge, that I 
 might the more quickly arrive in* Paris. 
 I was accompanied by Mademoiselle de 
 Taverney, whose reputation, thank hea- 
 ven ! is one of the purest of the court, 
 and I went to Paris to ascertain per- 
 sonally whether it was true that the 
 King of France, the father of his peo- 
 ple, the Philosopher King, the moral 
 support of every conscience who has 
 fed the hungry, warmed poor mendi- 
 cants, and deserved the love of his peo- 
 ple by his beneficence I wished to 
 ascertain, as I said, whether the King 
 could possibly allow an individual of his 
 family, as royal us rhr King himself a 
 desendant, in short, of Kings who have 
 reigned over France to perish from 
 starvation, stagnate in oblivion, and to 
 be exposed to every attack of vice and 
 misery.' 
 
 ' I !' cried the King with much sur- 
 prise. 
 
 ' 1 ascended,' continued the Queen, 
 into a sort of garret, and there I found, 
 without fire, without light, without mo- 
 ney, the grand-daughter of a great 
 prince. I gave a hundred louis to this 
 
 victim of royal forgetfulnesa and neglect. 
 And, as the time passed swiftly and un- 
 heededly by while I was reflecting on 
 the nothingness of all our grandeur, for 
 I also am sometimes a philosopher ; as 
 the frost was severe, and as in such 
 weather horses cannot travel quickry, 
 and, above all, hackney-coach horses.' 
 
 'Hackney-coach horses!' exclaimed 
 the King, did you return in a hackney- 
 coach ?' 
 
 4 Yes, Sire, the number was 107.' 
 
 ' Oh ! oh !' muttered the King, wav- 
 ing to and fro his right leg, crossed over 
 the left, which with him was a sign of 
 great impatience. 
 
 ' Yes, and but too happy to be able to 
 procure this hackney-coach.' 
 
 4 Madam,' said the King interrupting 
 her, ' you have acted well ; your inspi- 
 rations are always noble perhaps too 
 hasty in their mode of execution ; but 
 the fault lies in that warmth of gener- 
 osity by which you are distinguished.' 
 
 ' I thank you, Sire,' replied the queen, 
 in a tone of raillery. 
 
 4 Remember,' said the King, 4 that I 
 have never suspected you of any thing 
 that was not perfectly honorable and 
 faithful ; the step alone and the adven- 
 turous bearing of the Queen displeased 
 me-. You have been benificent, as you 
 always are ; but in doing good to others 
 you have found the means of doing 
 harm to yourself, and it is this that I 
 reproach you with. But now, as it ap- 
 pears that I have some forgetfulness to 
 remedy, that I have to watch over the 
 fate of a family of royal descent J am 
 ready ; give me the names of these un- 
 fortunates, and my assistance shall not 
 be delayed.' 
 
 4 The name of Valois, Sire, is suffici- 
 ently illustrious, I should think, to keep 
 it present in your memory.' 
 
 4 Ah !' said Louis XVI, bursting into 
 a loud laugh, 4 1 now know what you 
 are aiming at. That little Valois is 
 she not Countess of something wait, 
 wait, let me see.' 
 
 The Countess de Lamothe.' 
 
 4 Precisely, de Lamothe: her hus- 
 band is a gendarme ?' 
 
 Ves, Siije.' 
 
 4 And the wife is an intriguing wo- 
 man. |[Oh ! be not angry. She moves 
 heaven and earth, she overwhelms the 
 ministers, harrasses my aunts ; she 
 even overwhelms me with petitions, 
 memorials, and geneaological proofs.' 
 
 4 Well, Sire, this only proves that all 
 her claims have hitherto been useless.' 
 
 ' I do not say to the contrary.'
 
 MYSTERIES OF THE COURT OF LOUIS XVI. 
 
 55 
 
 ' Is she or is she not really a Valois ?' 
 ' Oh ! I believe she is.' 
 
 Well, then ! a pension. An honor- 
 able pension for her ; a regiment for 
 her husband ; a position, in fine, for the 
 scions of a royal house.' 
 
 ' Oh ! softly, madam. The deuse ! 
 how quickly you are going ! That lit- 
 tle Valois will always pluck feathers 
 enough from me without your aid. Lit- 
 tle Valois has a good beak, I can assure 
 you.' 
 
 ' Oh ! I do not fear for you, Sire ; 
 your feathers are hard to pluck.' 
 
 ' An honorable pension, with God's 
 grace ! How quickly would you move. 
 Do you know the dreadful bleeding my 
 private purse has had during this hor- 
 rid winter? A regiment to that petty 
 gendarme, who married a Valois from 
 speculation. Ah ! madam, I have not 
 now a regiment to give, even to those 
 who would pay for them and are deserv- 
 ing of them. A position worthy of the 
 Kings from whom they have descended 
 to these beggars ? 'Tis not to be thought 
 of, and at a time when we who are 
 Kings have not a position worthy of 
 rich, private individuals. The Duke of 
 Orleans has sent his horses and mules 
 to England to dispose of them, and has 
 dismissed two-thirds of his household. 
 I have been obliged to retrench and to 
 put down my wolf-hunting establish- 
 ment. M. de Saint Germain has made 
 me diminish my household troops. We 
 are all surrounded by privations, my 
 dear Marie, both great and small.' 
 
 ' But yet, Sire, people who bear the 
 name of Valois must not die of hunger.' 
 
 'JDid you not tell me that you had 
 given a hundred louis ?' 
 
 A poor alms indeed !' 
 
 'Tis royal.' 
 
 ' Then, you give as much more.' 
 
 ' Not I indeed. What you have giv- 
 en suffices for us both.' 
 :C ' A small pension then ' 
 
 ' By no means; nothing fixed. Those 
 people will manage to drag enough out 
 of us without that : they belong to -the 
 family of the nibblers ; when I shiill 
 feel an inclination to give, well then ! 
 I will give a sutn, but without allowing 
 it to be considered as a precedent, 
 without any obligation as to the future. 
 In a word I will give when I have too 
 much money. That little Valois, but 
 really I cannot relate to you all that I 
 know of her. Your good heart has 
 fallen into a snare my dear Antoinette. 
 I ask your good heart's pardon.' 
 
 And saying these words Louis held 
 
 out his hand to the queen who yield- 
 ing to a first impulse, was about to raise 
 it to her lips. Then suddenly pushing 
 it away. 
 
 You,' said she, ' you are not kind 
 towards me. I am angry with you.' 
 
 ' You are angry with me you ? 
 Well then, I on the contrary, I ' 
 
 Oh ! yes, say that you are not an- 
 gry with me, you who shut the gate of 
 Versailles against me ; you who come 
 at six in the morning into my ante- 
 chamber, who push open my door by , 
 main force and come into my room 
 rolling your eyes so furiously.' 
 
 The king laughed heartily. 
 
 No,' said he, * I am not angry with 
 you.' 
 
 4 You are no longer angry with me, 
 if you will ' 
 
 ' What will you give me if I prove to 
 you that even when I came here I bore 
 no ill will towards you.' 
 
 'Let us first see the proof.' 
 
 ' Oh ! that is by no means difficult,' 
 replied the King, the proof, is in my 
 pocket.' 
 
 ' Really,' cried the Queen, rising and 
 setting up in bed, with some degree of 
 curiosity, ' you have something to give 
 me ? Oh ! really then you are very 
 amiable ; but, understand me, I will 
 not believe you unless you show me 
 the proof at once. Oh ! no subter- 
 fuge. I would almost wager that it is 
 again something you are about to prom- 
 ise.' 
 
 Then with a smile replete with kind- 
 ness the King put his hand into his coat 
 pocket, but with that slowness which 
 redoubles curiosity, and such as makes 
 children stamp wth impatience -when 
 expecting to receive some toy. At 
 length he drew forth from his pocket a 
 red morocco case, artistically worked 
 and ornamented with rich gilding. 
 
 1 A casket !' exclaimed the Queen, 
 ' ah ! let me see it.' 
 
 The King placed the casket on the 
 bed. 
 
 The Queen seized it eagerly and 
 drew it towards her. 
 
 She had scarcely opened the box 
 when delighted, dazzled, she exclaim- 
 ed. 
 
 ' Oh ! how beautiful ! Gracious 
 heaven ! how beautiful !' 
 
 .The King felt a thrill of delight rush- 
 ing through every vein. 
 
 4 You think so,' said he. 
 
 The Queen made no reply, she was 
 almost breathless. She then drew from 
 the case a diamond necklace, the atones
 
 58 
 
 THE QUEEN'S NECKLACE; OR, THE 
 
 in which were so large, BO pure, so 
 sparkling and so skilfully assorted, that 
 it appeared to her a river of phosphoric 
 Sanies. 
 
 The necklace undulated in her lovely 
 hands like the rings of a serpent each 
 scale of whose skin emitted lightning. 
 
 'Oh! 'tis magnificent,' cried the 
 Queen at last able to speak, ' magnifi- 
 cent,' she repeated, her eyes increasing 
 in animation whether it was from the 
 contact of those splendid diamonds or 
 at the thought that there was not anoth- 
 er woman in the world who could have 
 such a necklace. 
 
 ' Then, yon are pleased ?' said the 
 King. 
 
 ' Enthusiastically so, you make me 
 but too happy.' 
 
 Really ." 
 
 ' Observe but this first row, the dia- 
 monds are as large as hazelnuts.' 
 
 ' They are so, really.' 
 
 ' And so well matched, that they could 
 not be distinguished the one from the 
 other. How skilfully has been man- 
 aged their gradation in size ! What 
 artisticul proportion between the differ- 
 ence in the first and second, and from 
 the second to the third. The jeweller 
 who selected these diamonds and form- 
 ed this necklace is an artist. 
 
 4 There are two of them.' 
 
 4 1 would wager then that it is Boeh- 
 mer and Bossange.' 
 
 ' You have guessed rightly.' 
 
 1 Really, no one but they could have 
 ventured on such an undertaking. 
 How beautiful it is, Sire, oh ! how 
 beautiful.' 
 
 ' Madam, madam,' said the King, ' you 
 are paying too much for that necklace 
 take care.' 
 
 4 Oh !' exclaimed the Queen, 'oh ! 
 Sure.' 
 
 And suddenly her radiant brow was 
 clouded and bent down. 
 
 This change in her countenance was 
 so rapid, and so rapidly effaced that 
 the King had not time to remark it. 
 
 4 Come,' said he, 4 let me enjoy one 
 pleasure ?' 
 
 4 And what is that ?' 
 
 'That of fastening these diamonds 
 round your neck.' 
 
 The Queen held back his hand. 
 
 4 It costs an immense sum, does it 
 not ?' she said, sorrowfully. 
 ' 4 In truth it does,' replied the King, 
 laughing; "but I have already tnlil 
 you that you have iu^t piiid more than 
 U is worth, and it will only be when 
 it is fixed in its place, that is around 
 
 your neck, that it will attain it* real 
 value.' 
 
 And saying these words, Louis ap- 
 proached the Queen, holding in each 
 hand an end of the magnificent neck- 
 lace, in order to fix the snap, composed 
 of a large diamond. 
 
 4 No, no,' said the Queen, 4 no child- 
 ishness. Put the necklace back into the 
 casket, Sire.' 
 
 And she shook her head. 
 
 4 You refuse, then, to allow me to be 
 die first to see you wear it ? r 
 
 4 God forbid that I should refuse you 
 that pleasure, Sire, were I to accept the 
 necklace; but ? 
 
 4 But ' cried the King, much sur- 
 prised. 
 
 4 But neither you, nor any other per* 
 soa, Sire, shall ever see a necklace of 
 that value on my neck.' 
 
 ' You will not wear it, madam ?' 
 
 'Never.' 
 
 4 You refuse to accept it from me ?' 
 
 * I refuse to hang round my neck a 
 million, perhaps a million and a half, 
 for I estimate that necklace at fifteen 
 hundred thousand livres; am I not right?* 
 
 4 1 do not say to the contrary.' 
 
 4 And I refuse to wear upon my neck 
 a million and a half when the coffers 
 of the King are empty, when the King 
 is obliged to calculate his resources, and 
 to say to the starving poor, 44 1 have 
 no more money, may ( God succor you." ' 
 
 ' How ! can that which you are say- 
 ing be meant seriously ?' 
 
 4 Listen, Sire ; Monsieur de Sartineg 
 one day told me that for fifteen hundred 
 thousand livres a ship of the line could 
 be built and fitted out ; and, in truth, 
 Sire, the King of France stands more in 
 need of a ship of the line than the 
 Queen of France does of a diamond neck- 
 lace.' 
 
 4 Oh !' exclaimed the King, enrap- 
 tured with delight,, his eyes streaming 
 with tears, 4 Oh ! this action of yours 
 is perfectly sublime. Thanks, thanks, 
 thanks ! Antoinette, you are an excel- 
 lent woman.' 
 
 And to crown worthily this cordial 
 and citizen-like demonstration, the good 
 King threw his arms round Marie An- 
 toinette's neck and kissed her tenderly. 
 
 4 Oh ! what blessings will be shower- 
 ed upon your head, madam !' exclaimed 
 he, 4 when the words you have just ut- 
 tered shall be repeated.' 
 
 Tin- Queen sighed. 
 
 ' It is ,-int. yet too late.' said, the King, 
 eagerly ; 4 that sigh was one of re- 
 gret'
 
 MYSTERIES OF THE COURT OF LOUIS XVI. 
 
 No, Sire, it was a sigh of relief; 
 shut up that casket and return it to the 
 jewellers.' 
 
 ' I had already arranged with them 
 my terms of payment; the money is 
 ready ; come now, what shall I do with 
 it. 13e not so disinterested, madam.' 
 
 ' No ; I have well considered it. No, 
 decidedly I will not have that necklace, 
 Sire ; but there is something else I 
 wish.' 
 
 ' The deuse ! My sixteen hundred 
 thousand francs are already in danger.' 
 
 ' Sixteen hundred thousand franea ? 
 Only see now ! Why, does it cost so 
 much as that ?' 
 
 4 In good faith, madam, as the word 
 escaped me, I will not deny it.' 
 
 ' Be not alarmed ; what I am about 
 to ask will be less dear than that.' 
 
 1 What do you ask of me ?' 
 
 ' To Jet me go once more to Paris.' 
 
 Oh ! that is^easy enough, and, above 
 all, not expensive.' 
 
 4 To Paris, to the Place Vendome.' 
 
 The deuse ! the deuse ." 
 
 ' To M. Mesmer's house.' 
 
 The King scratched hia ear. 
 
 'Well, well,' said he, 'you have re- 
 fused a caprice of mine of sixteen hun- 
 dred thousand livres, I may surely in- 
 dulge you in this one. Go then to visit 
 M. Mesmer ; but, in my turn, I shall 
 add a condition.' 
 
 ' And what is that ?' 
 
 ' That you shall be accompanied by a 
 princess of the blood royal.' 
 
 The Queen reflected for a moment. 
 
 ' Shall it be Madame de Lamballe ?' 
 said she. 
 
 1 Madame de Lamballe ; well, be it so.' 
 
 ' It is agreed, then.' 
 
 ' I sign it.' 
 
 'Thanks.' 
 
 ' And on leaving you, madam, I go 
 forthwith to order my ship of the line, 
 and will baptize it ' The Queen's Neck- 
 lace.' You shall be its god- mother, 
 madam, and when built I will send it to 
 Laperouse.' 
 
 The King kissed his wife's hand, and 
 left her apartment in an ecstacy ,of joy. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 THE qUEEN'S PRIVATE LEVEE. 
 
 THE King had scarcely left the room, 
 when the Queen rose and went to the 
 window to inhale the purn and frosty 
 morning air. 
 
 S 
 
 All announced a brilliant morning, 
 full of that charm which the arrival of 
 spring gives to some April days. To 
 the frost of the night had succeeded the 
 balmy warmth of a sun already sensibly 
 felt. The wind had changed since the 
 previous evening, from north to south- 
 east. 
 
 If it remained in that direction, win- 
 I tA, that terrible winter of 1784, was at 
 ' an end. 
 
 Already, in factt was to be seen on 
 the rosy hovi/.on that greyish vapor, 
 which is nothing more than humidity, 
 driven before it by the BUD. 
 
 The hoar frost was falling by degrees 
 from the branches into the flower-beds, 
 and the email birds begun to light upon 
 the new-formed buds and clasp them 
 with their delicate feet. 
 
 In the avenues, upon the statues, 
 upon the balustrades of the railings, the 
 ice was gliding down in glittering dia- 
 monds ; it had not yet dissolved to wa- 
 ter, but it was no longer solid ice. 
 
 All announced the genial struggle of 
 spring against the silvery rime, and pre- 
 dicted the speedy defeat of winter. 
 
 ' If we wish to take advantage of the 
 ice,' cried the Queen, observing the 
 state of the atmosphere, ' I think we 
 must be speedy ; do you not think so, 
 Madame de Misery?' she added, turn- 
 ing towards her, ' for spring is rapidly 
 approaching.' 
 
 ' Your Majesty has for a long time 
 desired to form a party upon the Swisn 
 pond,' replied the first femme de cham- 
 bre. 
 
 'Well, then, we will get up a party 
 for this very day,' said the Queen, * for 
 to-morrow it would, perhaps, be too 
 late.' 
 
 ' Then, at what hour will your Ma- * 
 jesty please to dress ?' 
 
 ' Immediately ; I will take a light 
 breakfast and then go out.' 
 
 ' Are these the only orders your Ma- 
 jesty has to give ?' 
 
 ' You will send to inquire whether 
 Mademoiselle de Taverney 1ms risen, 
 and let her be informed I wish to speak 
 with her.' 
 
 ' Mademoiselle de Taverney is alrea- 
 dy in the ante-chamber.' replied the 
 femme de ch/iinbre. 
 
 ' Ak-eady !' exclaimed the Queen, for 
 she knew more accurately than any one 
 at what hour Andree must have gone to 
 bed. 
 
 Oh ! madam, she has been waiting 
 monj than twenty minutes.' - 
 
 4 Introduce her.'
 
 58 
 
 THE QUEEN'S NECKLACE; OR, THE 
 
 And Andree accordingly entered the 
 Queen's room just as the clock in the 
 marble court-yard was striking nine. 
 
 Already dressed with care like every 
 other lady of the court, who was not 
 entitled to appear en neglige before her 
 sovereign, Mademoiselle de Taverney 
 presented herself smiling but somewhat 
 agitated. 
 
 The Queen also smiled, which traa- 
 quillized Andrea's fears. 
 
 ' That will do, my good Misery,' said 
 the Queen ; ' now send me Leonard, 
 and my tailor.' 
 
 Then having with her eyes followed 
 Madame de Misery to the door, and ob- 
 served that it was closed after her.' 
 
 ' Nothing unpleasant has occurred,' 
 said she, ' the King was really charm- 
 ing ; he laughed, and was altogether 
 disarmed.' 
 
 ' But did he know ?' inquired An- 
 dree. 
 
 ' You can understand Andree, that 
 one speaks not falsely having committed 
 no wrong, and when one is Queen of 
 France.' 
 
 ' That is true, madam,' replied An- 
 dree.' 
 
 ' But yet, my dear Andree, it appears 
 we have committed a fault.' 
 
 ' A fault, madam,' said Andree, ' oh ! 
 doubtless more than one.' 
 
 'That may be possible; but in short the 
 greatest one is having pitied Madame 
 de Lamothe ; the King does not like 
 her ; I, notwithstanding, acknowledge 
 she pleased me.' 
 
 ' Oh ! your Majesty is too good a 
 judge for any one to presume not to 
 bow before your decrees.' 
 
 Here is Leonard,' said Madame de 
 Misery, returning to the room. 
 
 The Queen seated herself before her 
 toilet-table, and the celebrated hair 
 dresser commenced his office. 
 
 The Queen had the finest hair ima- 
 ginable, and her coquetry consisted in 
 making people admire her hair. 
 
 Leonard knew this, and instead of 
 proceeding rapidly, as he would have 
 done with any other woman, allowed 
 the Queen time enough to admire her- 
 self. 
 
 That morning Marie Antoinette was 
 happy, even joyful; she > was more 
 beautiful than usual. She would first 
 gaze at her mirror, then at Andree to 
 whom she addressed the most affec- 
 tionate looks. 
 
 ' You have not been scolded, you,' 
 said ehe, ' you who are free and proud, 
 you of whom all the world is rather 
 
 afraid, because, like the divine Minerva, 
 you are too prudent.' 
 
 ' Afraid of me, madam ?' stammered 
 Andree. 
 
 ' Yes, you ; you who are the terror 
 of all the giddy pated fellows about the 
 court. Oh ! good heaven ! how hap- 
 py are you to be unmarried, Andree, 
 and above all in feeling happy that you 
 are so.' 
 
 Andree blushed, and 'endeavoured to 
 smile. 
 
 4 It is a vow that I have taken,' she 
 said. 
 
 4 And which you mean to observe, 
 my lovely vestal ?' asked the Queen. 
 
 ' I hope so.' 
 
 ' By-the-by,' cried the Queen, ' I 
 now recollect.' 
 
 ' What, your Majesty ?' 
 
 ' That, without being married, you 
 have, nevertheless, since yesterday, a 
 master.' 
 
 ' A master, madam ?' 
 
 ' Yes, your dear brother. What is his 
 name ? Philippe, I believe.' 
 
 ' Yes, madam, Philippe.' 
 
 4 He is arrived ?' 
 
 4 But yesterday, as your Majesty did 
 me the honor to say.' 
 
 ' And ^ou have not yet seen him ? 
 What an egotist I am. I tore you from 
 him yesterday to take you with me tp 
 Paris. Really, that was unpardonable.' 
 
 ' Oh ! madam,' said Andree, ' I par- 
 don you with all my heart, and so will 
 Philippe too.' 
 
 'Is that certain?' 
 
 ' I will answer for it.' 
 
 ' That is, as to yourself? 
 
 ' For myself and him also.' y 
 
 4 How is he ?' 
 
 'Always handsome and good, ma- 
 dam.' 
 
 ' How old is he now ?' 
 
 4 Thirty -two, madam.' 
 
 4 Poor Philippe ! Do you know that 
 it will soon be fourteen years that I 
 have known him, and that during those 
 fourteen years, I hnve passed nine or 
 tenflvithout seeing him ?' 
 
 When your Majesty sluill be pleased 
 tb receive him, he will tie hiippy to 
 assure your Majesty that absence has 
 not in any .wny diminished the feelings 
 of respectful devotedness which he hus 
 .vowed to the Queen.' ' 
 
 ' Cap I see him immediately ?' 
 
 ' In a quarter of an hour he will be 
 at your Majesty's feet, if your Majesty 
 permits it.' 
 
 4 'Tis well ! I permit it ; it is even 
 my will.'
 
 MYSTERIES OF THE COURT OF LOUIS XVI. 
 
 The Queen had scarcely uttered 
 these words, when some one of a lively, 
 rapid, and noisy nature glided, or rather 
 bounded over the carpet of the dressing 
 room, and placing his head behind the 
 Queen's, his laughing, mocking face was 
 reflected from the same looking-glass 
 in which Marie Antoinette was smiling 
 at her own. 
 
 ' My brother d'Artois !' cried the 
 Queen, ' in truth, you frightened me.' 
 
 Good morning to your Majesty,' 
 said the young Prince ; ' how has your 
 Majesty passed the night ?' 
 
 ' Very badly ; I thank you, brother.' 
 
 4 And the morning ?' 
 _ ' Very well.' 
 
 That is the essential point. I just 
 now thought that the trial had fortu- 
 nately passed off, for I met the King 
 who smiled most deliciously at me. 
 What a happy thing is confidence.' 
 
 The Queen laughed, the Connt d'Ar- 
 
 Atois who knew nothing further, laugh- 
 ed from a very different motive. 
 
 'But now I think of it,' said he, 
 what a hair brained fellow am I. 1 did 
 not even question Mademoiselle de 
 Taverney, as to how she had employed 
 her time.' 
 
 The Queen was looking in her mir- 
 ror, thanks to which, nothing that hap- 
 pened in the dressing-room could es- 
 cape her notice. 
 
 Leonard had just completed his task, 
 and the Queen, relieved from her muslin 
 dressing-gown, put on a morning dress. 
 
 The door opened. 
 
 'See now,' she said to the Count d'- 
 Artois, ' if there is any thing you have 
 to ask Andree, here she is.' 
 
 Andree, in fact, entered the room at 
 that moment, leading by the hand a 
 handsome gentleman of dark complex- 
 ion, with black eyes, expressive of no- 
 bleness and melancholy ; a vigorous sol- 
 dier with an intelligent face, of austere 
 deportment, like to one of those portraits 
 painted by Coypel or Gainsborough. 
 
 Phillipe de Taverney was attired in a 
 dark grey coat, handsomely embroider- 
 ed with silver, but the grey was iilinost 
 black, and the silver seemed like iron ; 
 his white cravat and his shirt frill con- 
 traste^i with the dark colored waistcoat, 
 and his hair being powdered gave a re- 
 lief to the manly enegery of his com- 
 plexion and his features. 
 
 Philippe advanced, one hand in his 
 sister's the other holding his hat. 
 
 ' Your Majesty,' said Andree with a 
 respectful inclination, ' here is my 
 brother.' 
 
 Philippe bowed gravely and slowly. 
 
 When he raised his head, the Queen 
 was still looking in her glass. It is true 
 she saw as plainly in her mirror as if she 
 had looked directly at Philippe. 
 
 ' Good morning, Monsieur de Taver- 
 ney,' said the Queen turning round. 
 
 Her beauty was of that royal bril- 
 liancy that it drew around her throne 
 the friends of royalty and the adorers 
 of the woman. She had the power of 
 beauty, and, may we be excused the in- 
 version of the idea, the beauty of power. 
 
 Philippe on seeing her smile, and 
 feeling that limpid eye, at once proud 
 and benignant, fixed upon him, Philippe 
 turned pale, and the agitation which 
 shook his frame was plainly percepti- 
 ble. 
 
 ' It appears, Monsieur de Taverney/ 
 continued the Queen, ' that you have 
 devoted your first visit to us ? We 
 thank you.' 
 
 ' Your Majesty deigns to forget that 
 it is I who ought to thank you,' replied 
 Philippe. 
 
 ' How many years,' said the Queen, 
 ' how much time has elapsed since we 
 last met ? Alas the best days of our 
 life.' 
 
 ' For me, yes, madam ; but not for 
 your Majesty ; for all your Majesty's 
 days are happy ones.' 
 
 ' You must have imbibed a great taste 
 for America, Monsieur de Taverney, to 
 have remained there after every one 
 else had returned. 
 
 ' Madam,' said Philippe, ' M. de La- 
 fayette, on leaving the new world, re- 
 quired an officer of confidence to whom 
 he could leave the command of a part 
 of the auxiliaries. M. de Lafayette 
 therefore presented me to General 
 Washington in that capacity, who was 
 plciiscd to accept me. 
 
 ' It appears to me,' said the Queen, 
 ' that a number of great heroes are re- 
 turning to us from the new world you 
 have spoken of.' 
 
 ' It is not in my regard that your Ma- 
 jesty is pleased to say that,' replied 
 Philippe smiling. 
 
 'And why not?' said the Queen. 
 
 Then turning to the Count d'Artois. 
 
 ' Look then, brother, see the martial 
 air and galltfnt bearing of Monsieur de 
 Taverney.' 
 
 Philippe, seeing himself thus put in 
 ^communication with the Count d'Ar- 
 tois whom he did not before know, ad- 
 vanced a step towards him solicting the 
 Prince to allow him the honor of mak- 
 ing his bow to him. 

 
 60 
 
 THE QUEEN'S NECKLACE; OR, THE 
 
 ^ t 
 
 The Count made a sign with his hand 
 and Philippe bowed. 
 
 4 A fine officer !' exclaimed the Prince, 
 a noble gentleman, whose acquaintance 
 I am happy to make. With what in- 
 tentions have you returned to France ?' 
 
 Philippe looked at his sister. 
 
 ' My lord, my interests are subjected 
 to those of my sister ; whatever she 
 wishes me to do, I will do.' 
 
 ' But I believe,' said the Count d'- 
 Artois, ' Monsieur de Taverney, your 
 father, is still living.' 
 
 ' That matters not,' said the Queen, 
 eagerly interrupting him; 'I would 
 rather that Andree should be under the 
 protection of hei* brother, and her 
 brother under yours, Count ; you will 
 therefore take charge of M. de Taver- 
 ney. It is agreed, is it not ?' 
 
 The Count made an assenting sign. 
 
 ' Do you know,' continued the Queen, 
 that we are bound by sacred ties.' 
 
 ' By sacred ties ; you, my sister. 
 Oh ! tell me how that can be, I pray 
 you.' 
 
 'Yes, M. Philippe de Taverney was 
 ;he first Frenchman whom my eyes 
 fell upon on entering France, and I 
 had vowed sincerely that I would make 
 the fortune of the first Frenchman I 
 flhould meet on the French territory.' 
 
 Philippe felt the blood rushing to his 
 forehead ; he bit his lips in order to ap- 
 peiir unconcerned. 
 
 Andree looked at him and bent down 
 her head. 
 
 Marie Antoinette caught the look in- 
 terchanged between the brother and 
 sister. How conld she have guessed 
 ah 1 that such a look concealed of har- 
 rowing and compHcated secrets. She 
 knew nothing of the events we have 
 related in the former part of our his- 
 tory. 
 
 The apparent sorrow which the 
 Queen had thus perceived, she attribut- 
 ed to another cimse. And why mi^ht 
 it not be, seeing that so many persons 
 had fallen #o desperately in love with 
 her when Dauphiness, ya 1774. that M. 
 de Tavorney had suffered a little from 
 that epidemic passion of all Frenchmen 
 for tin ir of Maria Theresa. 
 
 Therr was nothing to render tlii* 
 supposition unlikely, not even the in- 
 spection of her glass which reminded 
 her of the beauty of the young girl now 
 become wife and mother. 
 
 Mario Antoinette therefore attributed 
 Philippe's sigh to some confidential 
 secret of this nature imparted to the 
 sister by the brother ; she smiled kind- 
 
 ly at the brother, and in the most ami- 
 able and affectionate manner at the 
 sister. She had not guessed rightly al- 
 together, neither was she altogether 
 mistaken, and let no one imagine even 
 the shadow of criminality in this inno- 
 cent coquetry ; the Queen was a wo- 
 man in her heart. She gloried in be- 
 ing loved. Certain souls are endowed 
 with an aspiration, a yearning for th 
 sympathy of all those, who surround 
 them. They are not the least gener- 
 ons souls in the world. 
 
 Alas ! the moment will arrive, poor 
 Queen, when that smile which you are 
 reproached for bestowing on those who 
 love you, you shall in vain address to 
 those who no longer love you ! 
 
 The Count d'Artois approached Phi- 
 lippe and entered into conversation with 
 him while the Queen consulted An- 
 dree on the trimming of a hunting dress. 
 
 ' Tell me, seriously,' said the Count 
 d'Artois, ' is Mr. Washington a great 
 General ?' 
 
 ' A great man, yes, my lord.' 
 
 ' And what effect did the French pro-* 
 duce out yonder.' 
 
 ' In good, the effect which the En- 
 glish produced in evil.' 
 
 ' Agreed ; you are a partisan of the 
 new ideas, my dear Monsieur Philippe 
 de Tavejney. But have you well re- 
 flected on one thing?' 
 
 ' And what is that, my lord ? I will 
 acknowledge to you that when out 
 yonder on the tented fields, in the Sa- 
 vannahs by the margin of those great 
 lakes, I frequently had time to reflect 
 on many subjects.' 
 
 ' Well then ! on this one, for exam- 
 ple, that while making war out yonder, it 
 was neither against the Indians, nor the 
 English that you were waging it.' 
 
 ' Against whom then, my lord ? 
 
 ' Against us.' 
 
 ' Ah ! my lord, I will not contradict 
 you ; the thing is very possible.' 
 
 4 You acknowledge ' 
 
 ' I acknowledge the unfortunate re- 
 action of an event which saved the 
 monarchy.' 
 
 * Yes, but a reaction may be mortal 
 to those already cured of the primitive 
 disease.' 
 
 ' Alas ! my lord ' 
 
 ' And, for this reason it is that I do 
 not consider the victories of M. Wash- 
 ington and the Marquis de Lafayette 
 'so fortunate as people pretend they 
 are. This is egotism, if you will, but 
 you must excuse me for it, for it is not 
 egotism for myself alone.'
 
 MYSTERIES OF THE COURT OF LOUIS XVI. 
 
 61 
 
 ' My lord, whatever may be you 
 reason for so doing believe me, I aha 
 feel the most lively gratitude toward 
 your royal Highness.' 
 
 ' It is, my denr Monsieur de Taverney 
 because you are not one of those whost 
 heroism 1 has been trumpeted forth in 
 the high ways. You have bravely per 
 formed your duty, but you have not in 
 cessantly crammed your name inta the 
 trumpet's mouth. You are not known 
 iff Paris, and therefore 'tis I like you 
 
 ' Oh ! my lord.' 
 
 'And do you know why I mean to 
 nse every effort ip your behalf?' 
 Had it been otherwise upon my faith 
 Monsieur de Taverney had it been 
 otherwise but as I have said, I am an 
 egotist. 
 
 Whereupon the Prince kissed the 
 Queen's hand, bowed to Andree in a 
 more affable and cordial manner than 
 he was woat to do to the ladies, then 
 the door was opened and he disappear- 
 ed. 
 
 The Queen, on this, abruptly broke 
 off the conversation she had begun with 
 Andree, and turning towards Philippe 
 aid to him, 
 
 ' Have you seen your father, sir ?' 
 
 1 Before coming here, madam, I 
 found him in the ante-chambers ; my 
 sister had sent to me.' 
 
 4 Why did you not go to see your fa- 
 ther, in the first instance ?' 
 
 * I had sent my servant to his house, 
 madam, with my slender baggage ; but 
 Monsieur de Taverney ordered the lad 
 back to me, desiring him to tell me that 
 I should at once present myself to the 
 king or to your majesty.' 
 
 ' And this you obeyed.' 
 
 ' With delight, madam, for it gave 
 me the opportunity of embracing my 
 sister.' 
 
 'The weather is magnificent,' cried 
 the Queen, with inexpressible glee. 
 4 Madame de Misery, to-morrow the ice 
 will be melted ; I must have a sledge 
 instantly.' 
 
 The first femme de chambre was 
 leavirig the room to execute this order, 
 when the queen added, 
 
 1 And my chocolate, here in this 
 room.' 
 
 'Your Majesty will not take your 
 breakfest !' exclaimed Madame de Mis- 
 6ry, ' and last night your Majesty did 
 not sup.' 
 
 In that you are much mistaken, my 
 good Misery. We did sup last night ; 
 ask Mademoiselle de Taverney if we 
 did not.' 
 
 'And we supped well too, 1 replied 
 Andree. 
 
 ' But that shall not prevent me from 
 taking my chocolate,' ndded the queen. 
 ' Quick, quick, my good Misery ; this 
 beautiful sunshine is positively enticing. 
 There will be quite a crowd on the 
 Swiss pond.' 
 
 ' Does your Majesty propose to 
 skate ?' inquired Philippe. 
 
 ' Oh ! you are going to make game of 
 us, M. American,' cried the queen, 
 ' you who have traversed those im- 
 mense lakes, upon which you travel 
 more leagues than we can here number 
 steps.' 
 
 * Madam,' replied Philippe, ' in this 
 country your Majesty makes an amuse- 
 ment of the frost ; out yonder, they die 
 of it.' 
 
 1 Ah ! here is my chocolate ; Andree, 
 you will take a cup of it.' 
 
 Andree blushed with pleasure and 
 bowed. 
 
 You see, Monsieur de Taverney, I 
 am still the same ; I have as great a 
 aorror of etiquette as formerly. Do 
 you remember those bygone days, Mon- 
 sieur Philippe, and are you still un- 
 changed ?' 
 
 These words struck deep into the 
 leart of the young man. Frequently 
 the regret of a woman is the blow of a 
 dagger to persons interested. 
 
 ' No, madam,' replied he quietly ; 
 no, I am not changed ; my heart at 
 east is still the same.' 
 
 Then, if your heart is still unchang- 
 ed,' said the queen playfully, ' and as 
 ;hat heart was good, we will thank you 
 n our own way. A cup for M. de Tar- 
 erney, Madame de Misery.' 
 
 Oh! madam,' cried Philippe, quite 
 confounded, ' your Majesty cannot sure- 
 y mean it ; such an honor to a poor, 
 ibscure soldier like myself.' 
 ' An old friend !' cried the queen, 
 and that is all. This day all the per- 
 ume of my youthful feelings is mount- 
 ng to my brain, for I feel happy, free, 
 >roud, elated ! This day recalls to my 
 nind my first happy hours in my be- 
 oved Trianon, and the mud pranks An 
 Iree and I used to play there. This 
 !ay recalls the memory of my rosc-s, 
 ny strawberries, my vervains ; the 
 irds I usedto try to recognize in my 
 ;irden walks. All, even to my deur 
 ardeners, whose honest faces smiled 
 vhen bringing me some new flo\vr or 
 ome deliciously flavored fruit ; and M. 
 e Jussieu, and that original Rousseau, 
 who is dead. This day I tell you this
 
 62 
 
 THE QUEER'S NECKLACE; UK, THE 
 
 day almost makes me wild with joy. 
 But what is the matter with you, Mon- 
 sieur Philippe ? You are pale.' 
 
 The countenances of the two young 
 people but too well expressed the effect 
 of these cruel recollections, which 
 brought before them the hated form of 
 Gilbert. But both of them, on hearing 
 the last words uttered by the queen, 
 recovered their self-possession. 
 
 ' I have burned my mouth with the 
 chocolate,' said Andree, ' pray excuse 
 me, madam.' 
 
 'And as to me, madam,' said Philippe, 
 ' I cannot yet reconcile myself to the 
 idea of your Majesty honoring me as if 
 I were one of the first nobles of the 
 land.' 
 
 Come, come,' said Marie Antoinette, 
 pouring out the chocolate with her own 
 hand into Philippe's cup, ' you say you 
 are a soldier, and being so, must be 
 well accustomed to an enemy's fire ; 
 now burn yourself gloriously with that 
 chocolate, for I have no time to wait.' 
 
 And she laughed joyously ; but Phi- 
 lippe took the matter seriously, as a 
 country bumpkin might have done, the 
 only difference being that what the lat- 
 ter would have done from mere confu- 
 sion, he did from heroism. 
 
 The queen was observing him mi- 
 nutely and her laughter redoubled. 
 
 ' You have a character of uncommon 
 firmness,' said she, rising. 
 
 Her attendant had already given her 
 a very elegant hat, an ermine cloak and 
 her gloves. Andree's toilet was as ra- 
 pidly completed. 
 
 f Philippe put his hat under his arm 
 and followed the Indies. 
 
 M onsieur de Taverney, I cannot con- 
 sent to your leaving me,' said the queen, 
 1 for it is my intention to-day, from po- 
 licy, to confiscate an American. Come 
 on my right hand, Monsieur de Taver- 
 ney.' 
 
 Taverney obeyed; Andree went to 
 the left of the queen. 
 
 *When the Queen descended the 
 grand staircase, when the drums beat 
 to arms, when the clarion of the house- 
 hold tioops and the clashing of their 
 arms, borne by the wind through the 
 vestibules and passages of the palace 
 (his royal pomp, this respect from all, 
 the murmurs of adoration which rose 
 to the heart of the queen and met Tav- 
 erney as he accompanied her ; this tri- 
 umph, we*were saying, struck the 
 senses of the young man as it were 
 with a vertigo, his knees shook beneath 
 him, and but for the strong current of! 
 
 cold aii- rushing through the widely 
 opened portals, he would inevitably 
 have fainted. 
 
 After so many years so mournfully 
 spent in grief and exile, this sudden 
 return to the great joys of pride and of 
 the heart were too overwhelming. 
 
 While every one, as the queen, 
 sparkling with, beauty, passed by, bow- 
 ed their heads or presented arms, a 
 little old man, whose eagerness ren- 
 dered him forgetful of etiquette, re- 
 mained with outstretched neck, his 
 eyes riveted upon the queen, instead of 
 bowing his head and casting down his 
 eyes. 
 
 When the queen had passed on, and 
 the hedge of human faces which had 
 surrounded him was beginning to break 
 up, the little old man was seen running 
 as fast as his two little legs, which had 
 borne him some seventy-six years, 
 could carry him. 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 THE SWISS LAKE. 
 
 EVERT one knows that long, square 
 piece of water, green and parti-colored 
 during the summer,' white and frothy 
 during the winter, which even to our 
 days has retained the name of the Swiss* 
 Lake or pond. 
 
 An avenue of lime-trees, joyously 
 stretching forth their reddening branch- 
 es in the sunshine, runs along each side 4 
 of the pond ; this avenue is thronged 
 with pedestrians of all ranks nnd of nil 
 ages, who have assembled there to en- 
 joy the spectacle of sledge-driving and 
 skating. 
 
 The dress of the women offers to the 
 view that brilliant pell-mell of rather 
 inconvenient ostentation of the old court, 
 with the slightly capricious freedom of 
 more modern fashions. 
 
 The high head-dresses, with veils 
 casting a shadow over young faces, 
 bonnets chiefly composed of stulf, furred 
 cloaks and the vast fur-belows on their 
 silk gowns, form a rather striking med- 
 ley" with orange-colored coats and sky- 
 blue surtouts, yellow liveries, and capa- 
 cious white greatcoats. 
 
 Servants in red nnd blue are pass- 
 ing in and out this throng, like so many 
 field poppies or blue-bells waving in the 
 wind among the ears of corn or a field 
 oi' clover. 
 
 From time to time a shout of admira-
 
 MYSTERIES OF THE COURT OF LOUIS XVI. 
 
 63 
 
 tion escapes from the vast assemblage ; 
 Saint George, the bold skater, has just 
 traced so perfect a circle, that a geome- 
 trician, were he to measure it, could 
 not find any sensible defect in it. 
 
 While the margin of this sheet of 
 water is covered with so great a con- 
 course of persons that they keep each 
 other warm by their mere contact, and 
 present from afar the appearance of a 
 richly variegated carpet, above which is 
 suspended a vaporous cloud, being their 
 breath, which the frost condenses, the 
 sheet of water itself, smooth as a mir- 
 ror, though congealed, presents an or- 
 namented, and aBove all a very moving 
 spectacle. 
 
 Here a sledge drawn by three enor- 
 mous bloodhounds, harnessed like Rus- 
 sian Troikas, is flying along the ice. 
 The dogs, caparisoned with velvet, rich- 
 ly emblazoned with armorial bearings, 
 their heads adorned with flowing 
 plumes, somewhat resemble those chi- 
 merical animals which are seen in the 
 extravagant drawings of Callot or the 
 witcheries of Goya. 
 
 Their master, the Duke de Lauzun, 
 carelessly lolling in his sledge, well 
 lined with tiger-skins, leans on one 
 side, in order to breathe more freely 
 than he could do if placing himself in 
 full contact with che piercing wind. 
 
 Here and there a few sledges of less 
 assuming appearance, seem to be seek- 
 ing a more retired spot ; a lady, wear- 
 ing a mask, doubtless to protect her 
 delicate skin from the cold, is seated in 
 one of these sledges ; while a handsome 
 skater, wearing a velvet greatcoat with 
 gold frogs and buttons, is leaning over 
 the back of it, to give a more rapid im- 
 pulsion to the sledge which he at the 
 same time pushes and directs. 
 
 The conversation which takes place 
 between the masked lady and the hand- 
 some skater is carried on in whispers, 
 and no one would ever think of blaming 
 their rendezvous under the canopy of 
 heaven and in full sight of all Versailles. 
 
 Of what importance can their con- 
 versation be to others, since they are 
 seen ; and what care they for bfling 
 seen, since they cannot be heard? a lt 
 is evident that although in the midst of 
 a gay and busy throng, they are com- 
 pletely isolated ; they pass through the 
 throng like migratory birds. Where 
 go they ? To that unknown world 
 'which every soul is in search of, and 
 which is called Happiness. Suddenly, 
 amid all these sylphs, who may be said 
 to glide rather than to walk, is observed 
 
 an eager movement; a tumultuous sound 
 is heard. 
 
 The queen had just made her ap- 
 peavance on .the side of the lake ; she 
 was immediately recognized, and the 
 skaters and sledge-drivers were about 
 to withdraw from the ice, to leave it 
 for her sole use, when she made signs 
 to the whole of them to remain. The 
 cry of ' Long live the Queen' resounded 
 on every side, and then, animated by 
 this permission, the skaters and sledge- 
 drivers, flying around with electrical 
 rapidity, formed circles about the spot 
 where the august visitor had placed 
 herself. Every eye was fixed upon j| 
 her. 
 
 The men drew near to hear by skil- 
 ful manoeuvres. The women arranged 
 their dresses with respectful decency ; 
 in fact, all found some means of ming- 
 ling almost with the group of noble- 
 men and great officers of the crown, 
 who hastened forward to offer their 
 homage to the queen. 
 
 Among the principal personages that 
 the public had re marked, there was one 
 of high distinction, who, instead of fol- 
 lowing the general impulse and pre- 
 senting himself to the queen, as soon 
 as he had recognized her and her suite, 
 leaped from his sledge and hurried into 
 a side-walk, by which he disappeared, 
 together with the persons of his suite. 
 
 The Count d'Artois, who had been 
 observed as one of the most elegant and 
 most active of the skaters, was not the 
 last to hasten towards his sister-in-law, 
 on her arrival, and to kiss her hand. 
 
 Then, while kissing her hand, he said 
 to her in a whisper, 
 
 ' Do you observe how our brother- 
 in-law, Monsieur de Provence, avoids 
 you ?' 
 
 And saying these words, he pointed 
 with his finger to his royal highness, . \ 
 who with rapid strides was walking 
 through a thicket still covered with 
 hoar-frost, in order to regain his car- 
 riage.. 
 
 4 He does not wish to hear me re- 
 proach him,' said the queen. 
 
 4 Oh ! as to those reproaches, that is 
 my affair, and it is not on that account 
 he fears you.' 
 
 ' It is his conscience, then, that up- 
 braids him,* gravely said ths queen. 
 
 ' Something more than that, my sis- 
 ter.' 
 
 4 What can it be, then ?' 
 
 'I will tell you. He has just been 
 informed that M. de Suffren, the glori- 
 ous conqueror, is to arrive to-night; 

 
 THE QUEEN'S NECKLACE; OR, THE 
 
 and, as the news is important, he wishes 
 to leave you iu ignorance of it.' 
 
 The queen saw .there was around 
 them some inquisitive persons, whose 
 respect had not induced them to keep 
 their ears at such a distance as not to 
 allow them to overhear her conversa- 
 tion with her brother-in-law. 
 
 ' Monsieur de Taverney,' said she, 
 ' will you be kind enough to see that 
 'my sledge be at once brought here ; 
 and if your father is there, go and em- 
 brace him ; I give you a respite of a 
 quarter of an hour.' 
 
 The young man bowed and passed 
 'through the crowd to execute the 
 queen's order. 
 
 The crowd had also understood, for 
 it has sometimes a marvellous instinct; 
 and, in consequence, the circle was im- 
 mediately enlarged, and the queen and 
 the Count d'Artois were left more at 
 their ease. 
 
 ' Brother, 1 then said the queen, ' I 
 beg you will explain what M. de Prov- 
 ence can gain by not informing me of 
 the arrival of M. de Suffren.' 
 
 ' Ah ! sister, can it be possible that 
 you, a woman, a queen, and an enemy, 
 you do not immediately see the drift of 
 this cunning politician. M. de Suffren 
 arrives, no one in the court knows a 
 word about the matter ; M. de Suffren 
 is the hero of the Indian seas, and, in 
 consequence, is entitled to a magnifi- 
 cent reception at Versailles. Well, M. 
 de Suffren arrives; the king is not 
 aware of his arrival ; the king neglects 
 him without knowing, and consequently 
 without intending, it ; you do the same, 
 my sister, while during this time M. de 
 Provence, who knows of the arrival of 
 M. de Suffren, welcomes the admiral, 
 smiles upon him, writes verses in his 
 praise, and thus attaching himself to 
 the hero of the Indies, becomes the 
 hero of France.' 
 
 ' That is clear,' said the Queen. 
 
 4 Assuredly !' cried the Count. 
 
 4 There is but one point you have for- 
 gotten, my dear newsmonger.' 
 
 ' And what is that?' 
 
 * The way in which you became in- 
 formed of this fine project of our dear 
 brother and brother-in-law.' 
 
 ' How I discovered it ! As I discover 
 all he does ; a very simple iftTair. Hav- 
 ing perceived that M. de Provence 
 makes a point of knowing all 1 do, I 
 have people whom I pay to inform me 
 of all his movements. And this may 
 be useful to me, and to you also, dear 
 later.' 
 
 ' Many thanks for your alliance, deal 
 brother ; but the King ?'- - 
 ' Oh ! the King is forewarned.' 
 'By you?' 
 
 ' Oh ! by no means ; but by his minis- 
 ter of marine, whom I sent to him. 
 Such matters do not regard me ; I am 
 too frivolous, too much of a spendthrift, 
 too wild to occupy myself with matters 
 of so serioua a nature.' 
 
 ' And was the minister of marine 
 also ignorant of the arrival of M. de 
 Suffren in France ?' 
 
 ' Why, good heaven, sister, you have 
 known ministers enough during the last 
 fourteen years that you have been 
 Dauphiness or Queen of France, to be 
 well convinced that they are most ignor 
 ant of those matters that it imports them 
 most to know. Well, then ! I gave this 
 information to our friend, and he was 
 perfectly enthusiastic in his thanks.' 
 
 ' I can well believe it.' 
 
 ' You will readily understand, dear 
 sister, that this man will be gratefuJ..to 
 me all his life, and just at this moment 
 I stand in need of bis gratitude.' 
 
 'And for what ?' 
 
 ' To negotiate a Joan for me.' 
 
 ' Oh !' cried the queen, laughing, 
 ' now all the merit of your good action 
 is destroyed.' 
 
 ' Sister,' said the Count d'Artois, af- 
 fecting a grave air, ' you will soon be in 
 want of money ; and by the honor of a 
 son of France, I will place at your 
 disposal one-half of the sum I shall 
 receive.' 
 
 ' Oh ! my brother,' exclaimed Marie 
 Antoinette, ' keep it, keep it. Thank 
 heaven ! I am not at this moment in 
 want of money.' 
 
 The deuse ! you must not wait too 
 long before you claim the performance 
 of my promise, sister.' 
 
 ' And for what reason ?' 
 
 ' Because it might happen, should 
 you delay too long, I should no longer 
 be able to perform it.' 
 
 ' Well, then, should that be the case, 
 I must aiso arrange matters in such a 
 way as to discover some state secret.' 
 
 ' Sister, you are getting cold,' said 
 the prince, 'your cheeks are turning 
 blue.' 
 
 'Oh! here is M. de Taveruey re- 
 turning with my sledge.' 
 
 ' Then, you have no longer need of 
 me .'' 
 
 'No.' 
 
 ' In that case, order me off, I beg of 
 you.' 
 
 'And why so? Do you imagine,
 
 MYSTERIES OF THE COURT OK LOUIS XVI. 
 
 65 
 
 perchance, that you inconvenience me 
 in the slightest degree ?' 
 
 ' By no ineuns ; it is I, on the con- 
 trary, who require to be at liberty.' 
 
 Adieu, thon.' 
 
 1 Till we meet again, dear sister.' 
 
 'When?' 
 
 1 This evening.' 
 
 4 What is going forward, then, this 
 evening ?' 
 
 'There will be a numerous assem- 
 blage at the king's card party.' 
 
 ' And for what reason ?' 
 
 ' Because the minister will this even- 
 ing bring M. de SufFren there.' 
 
 ' Very well. Till this evening, then.' 
 
 Upon which the prince bowed to the 
 queen, with that charming courtesy 
 which was natural to him, and disap- 
 peared among the crowd. 
 
 The elder Taverney had followed his 
 son with his eyes, while he retired 
 from the queen's presence to order her 
 sledge. But his scrutinizing gaze was, 
 after a feV seconds, again fixed upon 
 the queen. 
 
 The animated conversation of Marie 
 Antoinette with her brother-in-law, 
 could not but cause him some degree 
 of uneasiness, for that conversation ap- 
 peared to him to militate against the fa- 
 miliarity which the queen had but just 
 before evinced towards his son. 
 
 And therefore was it that on Phi- 
 lippe's return, when lie had concluded 
 the necessary preparations with regard 
 to the sledge, the young man wishing, 
 in obedience to the queen's intimation, 
 to embrace his father, whom he had 
 uot seen for ten years, he limited him- 
 self to a mere friendly gesture, waving 
 him off with his hand, and saying, 
 
 ' By-and-by, by-and-by; come back 
 after your duty is performed, and then 
 we will talk together.' 
 
 Philippe therefore left him, and the 
 baron perceived with delight that the 
 prince had taken leave of the queen. 
 
 The latter then got into the sledge, 
 and made Andree get into it with her ; 
 and, as two tall heiduques presented 
 themselves and were about to place 
 themselves behind the sledge to push it 
 forward, 
 
 4 No, no,' cried the queen, ' I do not 
 wish to travel in that manner. Do you 
 not skate, Monsieur de Taverney ?' 
 
 4 1 beg your pardon, madam,' replied 
 Philippe, ' I do.' 
 
 4 Give some skates to the chevalier,' 
 ordered the queen. 
 
 Then turning towards him, she added, 
 
 4 1 know not why it is, but I have ;m 
 9 
 
 idea that you can skate as well us Saint 
 George.' 
 
 ' In former times,' snid Andree, 4 Phi- 
 lippe skated with much elegance.' 
 
 4 And now, you will not even ac- 
 knowledge that you have a rival, is it 
 not so, Monsieur de Taverney.' 
 
 4 Madame,' replied Philippe, 4 since 
 your Majesty has such confidence in 
 me, I will do my best.' 
 
 While saying these words, Philippe 
 had already buckled on a pair of skates, 
 cutting, and slender as sword blades. 
 
 He placed himself behind the sledge, 
 impelled it wi h one hand, and thus be- 
 gan the drive. 
 
 There was then seen a curious spec- 
 tacle. 
 
 Saint Georges, the king of gymnastic 
 performers, Saint Georges, the elegant 
 mulatto, the man most in fashion of 
 those days, the man superior to all oth- 
 ers in all bodily exercises, Saint Georges 
 surmised he had found a rival in the 
 young man who dared to compete with 
 him on this his own peculiar domain. 
 
 And he therefore .instantly began by 
 flying around the Queen's sledge, with 
 such respectful and such elegant salu- 
 tations, that no courtier upon the solid 
 floors of Versailles palace could have 
 executed such seducing or such grace- 
 ful ones, He described around the 
 sledge the most rapid and at the same 
 time the most perfect circles, interven- 
 ing them by a succession of rings, mar- 
 vellously melting one into the other and 
 in such a manner that each new curve 
 always preceded the arrival of the 
 sledge, which, then leaving him be- 
 hind, he with a vigerous stroke of hia 
 skate, regained by the ellipsis that 
 which he had lost by the circumfer- 
 ence. 
 
 No one could even follow this manoeu- 
 vre with their eyes without being gid- 
 dy, dazzled, struck with wonder. 
 
 Philippe, becoming excited by these 
 feats, and resolved to outdo them, adopt- 
 ed a measure of exceeding boldness, 
 he pushed forward the sledge with such 
 terrible rapidity, that twice Saint 
 Georges instead of being in advance 
 completed his circle behind him ; but 
 as the velocity of the sledge caused 
 many of the spectators to utter cries of 
 terror which* might alarm the Queen, 
 Philippe snid. 
 
 ' If her Majesty desires it 1 will stop, 
 or at all events slacken my pace.' 
 
 4 Oh ! no, no,' cried the Queen with 
 I that impetuous ardor natural to her in 
 i all things, whether of business or of
 
 66 
 
 THE QUEEN'S NECKLACE; OR, THE 
 
 pleasure ; no, no, I am not alarmed. 
 Faster, if you can, chevalier, faster !' 
 
 Oh ! so much the better. Thanks 
 for the permission -; I hold you firmly, 
 you may rely on me.' 
 
 And his robust hand clutched the 
 sledge still more firmly, giving it such 
 an additional impetus that it fairly 
 trembled. 
 
 It might have been thought that he 
 had raised it with his extended arm. 
 
 Then placing his other hand upon the 
 sledge which he had before disdained 
 to use, he launched forward the sledge, 
 which seemed but a plaything in his 
 iron grasp. 
 
 From that moment he crossed every 
 one of the circles made by Saint Georges, 
 by larger circles still, so that the sledge 
 seemed to move like the most supple 
 man, turning and returning on its whole 
 length, as if it had been as flexible as 
 the slight soles on which Saint George 
 was gliding over the ice. Despite its 
 weight, despite its length, the Queen's 
 sledge had become a skate. It turned, 
 it flew, it pirouetted like a dancer. 
 
 Saint Georges, more graceful, more 
 delicate, more correct in his serpentine 
 figures, began to feel alarmed ; he had 
 already been skating nearly a whole 
 hour. Philippe seeing tliat the per- 
 spiration was streaming from him, and 
 observing the efforts of his trembling 
 knees, determined on overcoming him 
 at once by fatigue. 
 
 He therefore changed his mode of 
 action, and abandoning the circles which 
 obliged him to raise the sledge by main 
 force, he impelled it forward in 
 a straight line. 
 
 The sledge flew forward more rapid- 
 ly than an arrow. 
 
 Saint Georges, with a single effort 
 could have easily caught up with it, but 
 Philippe had seized the moment when 
 the second impulsion multiplies the ve- 
 locity of the first, he therefore pushed 
 the sledge over a new layer of ice 
 smooth as glass itself, and it was with 
 such a force that he himself remained 
 /. behind. 
 
 Saint Georges then rushed forward 
 to catch the sledge. But Philippe mus- 
 tering all his strength, glided along so 
 quickly on the extreme edge of his skate 
 that he passed before Saint Georges 
 and placed both his hands on the back 
 of the sledge. Then by an herculean 
 effort he turned the sledge compli -trly 
 round in the Opposite direction, while 
 Saint Georges carried u \vny by the im- 
 mense effort he had made, not being 
 
 able to restrain his course and losing 
 an irrecoverable space, remained com- 
 pletely distanced. 
 
 The air resounded with such shouts 
 and aclammations that Philippe blushed 
 with confusion. 
 
 But he was greatly surprised when 
 the Queen after having clapped her 
 hands with excitement and delight, 
 turned towards him and with the tone 
 of most voluptuous expression, said to 
 him. 
 
 ' ! Monsieur de Taverirey, now that 
 you have gained the victory, mercy ! 
 mercy ! you would kill me.' 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 THE TEMPLE. 
 
 PHILIPPE on hearing this order or 
 rather the entreaty of the Queen, knit- 
 ted his iron nerves, fixed his heels firm- 
 ly in the ice, and the sledge stopped 
 short, like an Arabian horse when 
 thrown trembling upon its haunches up- 
 on the sandy desert by the powerful 
 hands of its skilful rider. 
 
 ' Oh ! now pray rest yourself,' said 
 the Queen alighting from the sledge, 
 trembling with excitement. ' I really 
 could never have believed that there 
 could be such an intoxication in rapidity 
 You have nearly driven me mad.' 
 
 And still tottering with emotion, she 
 leaned on Philippe's arm for support. 
 
 A shudder of stupefaction which ran 
 through all this crowd of gilt-laced and 
 decorated courtiers, warned her that 
 she had once more been guilty of one 
 of those breaches of etiquette, so enor- 
 mously culpable in the eyes of the en- 
 vious and the servile. 
 
 As to Philippe, completely astounded 
 by this excess of honor, he trembled 
 more and felt more abashed than if his 
 sovereign had publicly insulted him. 
 He cast down his eyes ; his heart beat 
 as though it would burst from his bo- 
 som. 
 
 A singular emotion, arising doubtless 
 from the rapid race, also agitated the 
 Queen, for she immediately withdrew 
 her arm and took that of Mademoiselle 
 de Taverney, asking for a seat. 
 
 A camp-chair was instantly handed 
 to her. 
 
 ' Excuse me, Monsieur de Taverney,' 
 she said, and then continued abruptly, 
 but in a half whisper, 'Good heavens ! 
 what a misfortune it is to be continual-
 
 MYSTERIES OF THE COURT OF LOUIS XVI. 
 
 67 
 
 ty surrounded by prying persons and 
 simpletons !' 
 
 The gentlemen in waiting and the 
 ladies of honor had approached her, and 
 were devouring Philippe with their 
 eyes, who to conceal his blushes and 
 confusion , was unbuckling his skates. 
 
 Having taken off his skates, Philippe 
 retired to make room for the courtiers. 
 
 The Queen remained pensive for 
 Borne moments. Then raisingher head, 
 
 4 Oh ! I feel I shall catch cold if I re- 
 main here motionless,' she said, ' I must 
 take another turn.' 
 
 And she again got into the sledge. 
 
 Philippe awaited, but uselessly, an 
 order. 
 
 Then twenty gentlemen hastened 
 forward to offer their services. 
 
 4 No, my heiduques,' she' said, ' I 
 thank you, gentlemen.' 
 
 4 Go gently,' she said, ' go gently.' 
 
 And closing her eyes, she appeared 
 to be indulging in meditation. 
 
 The sledge moved off slowly as the 
 Queen had ordered, followed by eager, 
 inquisitive, or envious crowds. 
 
 Philippe remained alone wiping from 
 his forehead the perspiration which was 
 streaming from it. 
 
 He was looking in every direction 
 for Saint George to say something con- 
 soling as to his defeat, by paying him 
 some pleasing coraplimentt on his skill. 
 But the latter had received a message 
 from his protector, the Duke of Orleans, 
 and had left the field of battle. 
 
 Philippe, who was rather sorrowful, 
 a little fatigued, and almost alarmed at 
 what had taken place, had remained 
 motionless on the spot, and was going 
 after the Queen's sledge as it moved 
 away, when he felt something strike 
 him in the side. 
 
 He turned round and saw his father 
 standing by him. 
 
 The little old man, shrivelled up like 
 one of Hoffman's figures, enveloped in 
 furs like a Samoyede, had given his 
 son a nudge with his elbow in order 
 not to be obliged to withdraw his hands 
 from his muff. 
 
 His eyes, dilated by the cold or by a 
 sudden gladness appeared to Philippe 
 to dart fire. 
 
 ' Will you not embrace me, my son ?' 
 said he, and he pronounced these 
 words in the tone which the father of a 
 Grecian athlete would have used when 
 thanking his son for the victory he had 
 gained in the circus. 
 
 'My dear father, with all my heart,' 
 replied Philippe. 
 
 Bat it could plainly have been per- 
 ceived that there was no harmony be- 
 tween the accentuation of these words 
 and their literal meaning. 
 
 4 There, there, that will do ; and now 
 that you have embraced me, go, go, 
 quickly. 
 
 And he pushed him forward. 
 
 4 But where is it you would have me 
 to go ?' inquired Philippe. 
 
 4 Why yonder, to be sure.' 
 
 Yonder.' , 
 4 Yes, after the Queen.' 
 
 4 Oh ! no my father, no, I thank yon.' 
 
 4 What do you mean by no, what do 
 you mean by, no, I thank you ? Are 
 you mad ; you do not wish to rejoin the 
 Queen?' 
 
 4 Why no, it is impossible ; you can- 
 not think of it, my dear father.' 
 
 4 How ! impossible to go and rejoin 
 the Queen who is expecting you ?' 
 
 ' Who is expecting me ?' 
 
 4 Why, yes, yes, the Queen who de- 
 sires to see you,' 
 
 4 Desires to see me ?' 
 
 And Taverney looked fixedly at hia 
 father. 
 
 4 In truth, my father,' said he coldly, 
 4 1 believe you are forgetting yourself.' 
 
 4 He is astonishing ! upon my word 
 of honor,' said the old man drawing 
 himself up and stamping his foot. 
 4 Zounds Philippe, do me the pleasure 
 to tell me whence you come.' 
 
 4 Sir,' said the chavelier mournfully, 
 4 1 am in truth afraid to be convinced 
 of one thing.' 
 
 And what is that ?' 
 
 That you are pleased to make game 
 of me or ' 
 
 4 Or what ?' 
 
 4 Nay pardon me, my father, or that 
 you are going mad.' 
 
 The old man seized his son's arm 
 with so violent and energetic a grasp 
 that the young man knit his brow with 
 pain. 
 
 4 Listen to me, Monsieur Philippe,' 
 said he. 'America is I know a country 
 situated at a great distance from. 
 i France.' 
 
 4 Yes, my father, at a very great dia- 
 i tance,' repeated Philippe, 4 but I do not. 
 comprehend what you mean to imply. 
 j Explain yourself, I beg.' 
 
 ' A country where there is neither 
 king nor queen.' 
 
 4 Nor subjects.' 
 
 4 Oh ! very well ! nor subjects, my 
 
 good Mr. Philosopher. I do not deny 
 
 that. That is not a point which inter- 
 
 . ests me in any way, but altogether in-
 
 THE QUEEN'S NECKLACE: OR, THE 
 
 drffbvent ; there is, however, otte thing 
 wlrieh rs not indifferent to me, which 
 gives ine pnin, which humiliates me ; 
 and that is, that I also nm afraid of be- 
 ing convinced of one thing.' 
 
 ' And what is that, my father ? At 
 all events, I feel persuaded that our 
 convictions differ completely from each 
 tfttier.' 
 
 ' Mine is that you are a ninny, my 
 son, and that is hardly to be allowed in 
 a tall fellow with such a shape as you 
 have. Look then, only look down yon- 
 der.' 
 
 ' [ see, sir,' 
 
 1 Well ! the queen is turning round, 
 and it is for the third time. Yes, sir, 
 the queen has turned round three times. 
 And see now, she is turning round 
 again ; and who is she looking for Mr. 
 Simpleton, M. Puritan, M. American 
 Oh!' 
 
 And the little old man bit his doeskin 
 glove, not with his teeth, for he had 
 none left, but with his gums, in a par- 
 oxysm of rage ; the grey doeskin glove 
 would have contained two such wither- 
 ed hands as his. 
 
 4 Well, sir,' said the young man, and 
 eten if this were true, and which prob- 
 ably it is not ; supposing that the queen 
 Were seeking me.' 
 
 'Oh!' cried -the old man, stamping 
 ^"Mi rnge, 'h* has said supposing it 
 were true ! Why, this man cannot be 
 of my blood ; this man cannot be a Tuv- 
 etfley ?' 
 
 ' I am not of your blood !' muttered 
 Philippe, and then in a whisper to him- 
 self, he added, with his eyes raised to 
 heaven, 
 
 ' Ought I not to thank God for it, 
 Wete It so.' 
 
 ' Sir,' said the old man, ' I tell you 
 that the queen wants you that the 
 queen is searching for you.' 
 
 ' Your eyesight is good, my father,' 
 said Philippe drily. 
 
 ' Come, now,' said the old man in a 
 gtetitler tone, and endeavoring to re- 
 strain his own impatience, 'come, now, 
 let me explain to you : 'Tis true, you 
 may have your reasons ; but I, on the 
 ether side, have great experience. 
 Come now, tell me, Philippe, are yon 
 or are you not a man ?' 
 
 Philippe slightly shrugged his shoul- 
 ders, but made no reply. 
 
 The old man seeing it was in vain to 
 wait for ;tn answer, ventured, more 
 from contempi than any other feeling, 
 to fix hi- ;ii= <=on ; and it was 
 
 then 1 he observed ail tiif dignity, all the 
 
 impenetrable reserve, all the itiexplica- 
 ble will with which his features were* 
 imprinted. 
 
 He restrained his vexation, pressed 
 his muff to his red nose, and in a voice 
 soft HS that with which Orpheus ad- 
 dressed the Thessalian rocks, 
 
 ' Philippe, my friend,' said he, < now 
 listen to me.' 
 
 ' Why, it appears to me, father,' re- 
 plied the young man, ' that I have been 
 doing nothing else for the last qunrtei 
 of an hour.' 
 
 ' Oh !' thought the old man, ' I wiH 
 soon tumble you down from the height 
 of your majesty, Mr. American. You 
 have your weak side, Colossus as you 
 are. Let me only clutch that weak 
 side with my old claws, and you wiP 
 see.' 
 
 Then, addressing him aloud : 
 
 ' There is one thing which you have 
 not perceived,' said he. 
 
 ' And what is that ?' 
 
 ' A thing which does great honor to 
 your ingenuousness.' 
 
 ' Well, sir, say on.' 
 
 ' It is quite natural, you arrive from 
 America; when you left this, there 
 was but a King and no Queen here, 
 with the exception of Dubarry, a not 
 very respectable majesty. You return ; 
 you find a Queen here and you say t* 
 yourself, she must be respected.' 
 
 * Undoubtedly.' 
 
 ' Poor child !' cried the old man con^ 
 temptuously, and with his muff endea- 
 vored to stifle a coughing fit, and an out- 
 burst of laughter. 
 
 ' How ." cried Philippe, ' you pity me 
 because I respect royalty ; yon, a Tav- 
 erney, Maison Rouge, you the head of 
 one of the most ancient families of 
 France.' 
 
 Be not so hasty ; I said not a word 
 of royalty, 1 was speaking to you of the 
 Queen.' 
 
 ' And you make a distinction between 
 them ?' 
 
 4 Yes, by heavens ! what is royalty ? 
 a crown. The deuse ! We must not 
 touch that. What is the Queen ? A 
 woman ; and a woman is a very differ- 
 ent matter, you may touch her.' 
 
 1 You may touch her ?' cried Philippe, 
 blushing at once with anger and indig- 
 nation, and accompanying these words 
 with so superb a gesture, that no wo- 
 man would have seen it without loving 
 him. no Queen without adoring him. 
 
 ' You do not believe a word of it, oh ! 
 no. Well then,' continued the old man 
 with a vile and almost a savage ticcoDt,
 
 MYSTERIES OF THE COURT OF LOUIS XVI. 
 
 80 cynical was his derision, 4 ask M. de 
 Coigny, M. de Lauzun, M. de Van- 
 dreuil.' 
 
 4 SUence ! silence ! my father,' cried 
 Philippe in a low tone, ' or, for those 
 three blasphemies, as I cannot strike 
 you three times with my sword, I swear 
 to you that I will pierce my own body 
 with it and that instantly.' 
 
 Old Taverney started back, shaking 
 his muff angrily at Philippe, and whirl- 
 ing round on his heel, 
 
 4 Oh! in plain truth the animal is 
 stupid,' exclaimed he, 'the horse is but 
 an ass, the eagle but a goose, the cock 
 a capon. Good day ! you have much 
 amused me. I thought myself the an- 
 cestor, vthe Cassandra, and I turn out 
 only a Valere. Good day, my Adonis, 
 my Apollo !' 
 
 And he made another pirouette upon 
 his heel. 
 
 Philippe had become gloomy, he 
 caught the old man's arm as he was 
 whirling round. 
 
 ' You were not speaking seriously, 
 were you, my father,' said he, ' for it is 
 impossible that a nobleman of so dis- 
 tinguished a race as you are, could 
 continue to give currency to such cal- 
 umnies, invented by the enemies not 
 only of the Queen, but of royalty itself.' 
 
 4 He doubts it, the double brute !' 
 exclaimed Taverney. 
 
 ' You have spoken to me as you 
 would speak before God?' 
 
 ' In truth I have.' 
 
 * As you would speak before God 
 when hastening every day towards the 
 tomb ?' 
 
 The young man had renewed the 
 conversation he had so disdainfully brok- 
 en off; this was a point gained by the 
 Baron, and he drew nearer. 
 
 4 Why it appears to me, my son,' 
 said he, 4 that 1 am a tolerable gentle- 
 man, as times go, and that I do not al- 
 ways lie.' 
 
 This always was somewhat laughable, 
 and yet Philippe did not even smile. 
 
 'Thus, sir,' said he, it is your opin- 
 ion that the Queen has had lovers.' 
 
 ' A wonderful piece of news, indeed!' 
 
 4 Those whom you have named ?' 
 
 * And others, what know I. Ques- 
 tion the court, the city ; a man must 
 have arrived but recently from Ameri- 
 ca, to be ignorant of what is said.' 
 
 * And who has said this, sir? Some 
 vile pamphleteers?' 
 
 4 Oh ! oh ! so you take use, perchance, 
 for one rof these scribblers ?' 
 
 4 No : and there lies the misfortune, 
 
 for such njen as you to repeat such in- 
 famy, which without that would fade 
 away like those unwholesome vapors 
 which sometimes obscure the sun. It 
 is you, and people of your rank, who 
 give a terrible consistency to such vile 
 slanders by repeating them, oh ! sir, 
 for religion's sake do not speak of such 
 matters.' 
 
 4 I repeat it, notwithstanding.' 
 . 4 And why do you repeat it?' cried 
 the young man, stamping his foot. 
 
 4 Why,' said the old man clutching 
 his son's arm and looking at him with 
 his demon-like smile, 4 to prove to you 
 that I was not wrong in saying to you, 
 Philippe the Queen is looking back, 
 Philippe, the queen is searching foryou, 
 Philippe, the queen is expecting you.' 
 
 4 Oh !' cried the young man, conceal- 
 ing hifl face with both hands, 4 in the 
 name of Heaven say not another word, 
 for you will drive me mad.' 
 
 4 In truth Philippe, I do not under- 
 stand you,' said the old man, ' is it a 
 crime to love ; that only proves one 
 has a heart; a-ndin the eyes of that wo- 
 man, in her voice, in her every motioa 
 cannot her heart be seen ? She loves, 
 is it you she loves ? That I know not :' 
 is it another ? That is possible ; but 
 trust to my old experience in these 
 matters, at this moment she loves, or 
 begins to love, some one, I tell you. 
 But you are a philosopher, a puritan, a 
 quaker, an American just dropped from 
 the clouds. You do not love, you. 
 Well then let her look back, let her 
 gaze after you, let her expect you. In- 
 sult her, repulse her, despise her, -Phi- 
 lippe, I should have said Joseph, de 
 Taverney.' 
 
 And after these words accentuated 
 with bitter irony, the little old man see- 
 ing the effect he had produced, vanish- 
 ed like the Tempter, after he had given 
 his first counsel to com mitt crime. 
 
 Philippe remained alone, with a swel- 
 ling heart and throbbing temples; he 
 did not even remember that he had 
 stood there half an hour as if uaiied to 
 the spot ; that the Queen had complet- 
 ed her turn upon the lake and was com- 
 ing back ; on approaching him ahe look- 
 ed at him, and from the midst of her 
 numerous retinue she called .-him 
 
 You have had good time to rest 
 yourself, Monsieur de Taverney! 
 !ome .then, none but you can royally 
 conduct the sledge of a Queen. Make 
 room, gentlemen.' 
 
 Philippe ran to her dazsled, stunned, 
 ntoxicated.
 
 
 THE QUEEN'S NECKLACE; OR, THE 
 
 On placing his hand on the back of 
 the sledge a burning thrill pervaded all 
 his being ; the Queen had negligently 
 thrown back her head, the fingers of the 
 young man had slightly grazed the hair 
 of Marie Antoinette. 
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 
 THE SUFFRKN. 
 
 CONTRARY to all the customs of the 
 court the secret of Louis XVI and the 
 Count d'Artois had been faithfully pre- 
 served. 
 
 No one knew at what hour nor by 
 what road M. de Suffren was to arrive. 
 
 The King had ordered a card party 
 for that evening. 
 
 At seven o'clock he entered the room 
 with the friends and Princesses of his 
 family. 
 
 The Queen arrived, leading by the 
 hand the Princess Royal, who was then 
 only seven years old. 
 
 The assemblage was numerous and 
 brilliant. 
 
 During the preliminaries of the meet- 
 ing, at the moment when every one 
 was about to take his place, the Count 
 d'Artois very softly approached the 
 Queen, and said to her. 
 
 ' My sister, look carefully around 
 you.' 
 
 'Well!' she replied, 'lam looking.' 
 
 ' And what do you see?' 
 
 The Queen carefully cast her eyes 
 around her, looked in every direction, 
 and meeting every where but well 
 known and friendly faces, or those of 
 faithful servants, among whom were 
 Andree and her brother ; 
 
 ' Why,' she said, 'I see none but ev- 
 ery agreeable face, and above all the 
 faces of friends.' 
 
 ' Do not observe those we have here, 
 sister, but, those who are missing.' 
 
 ' Ah ! that is true, indeed,' she ex- 
 clnimed. 
 
 The Count d'Artois laughed, 
 
 ' Again absent,' rejoined the Queen. 
 ' But tell me am I always thus to drive 
 him away.' 
 
 ' No,' said the Count, ' only the joke 
 has been rather prolonged. Monsieur 
 has gone to the barrier to await the ar- 
 rival of M. de Suffren.' 
 
 ' But, that being the case, I do not 
 see why you should laugh, dear bro- 
 ther.' 
 
 ' You do not see why I should laugh ?' 
 
 ' Certainly not ; if Monsieur has gone 
 to the barrier to wait for M. de Suffren, 
 he has been more cuning than you, for 
 he will be the first to see him, and con- 
 sequently to compliment; him, before 
 everybody.' 
 
 ! 'Well, really, dear sister,' replied 
 the young prince, laughjng, ' you have 
 but a mean idea of our diplomacy. 
 Monsieur is gone to wait for the admi- 
 ral at the barrier of Fontainebleau, that 
 is undoubtedly true, but we have some 
 one waiting for him at the. Villeguif 
 post-house.' 
 
 'Really?' 
 
 ' So that,' continued the Count d'Ar- 
 tois, ' Monsieur will be freezing at the 
 barrier, while, upon an 'order from the 
 king, M. de Suffren, instead of going 
 through Paris, will come direct to Ver- 
 sailles, where we nre waiting for him.' 
 
 ' 'Tis marvellously well imagined.' 
 
 ' Why, not so badly ; I am tolerably 
 well satisfied with myself in this mat- 
 ter. But make up your game, dear sis- 
 ter.' 
 
 There were at that moment in the 
 card-room at least a hundred persons of 
 the highest rank, M. de Conde, M. de 
 Penthieore, M. de la Tremouille, and 
 the princesses. 
 
 The King alone perceived that the 
 Count d'Artois was making the queen 
 laugh, and in order to let them know he 
 understood the subject of their mirth, he 
 gave them u most significant glance. 
 
 The news of the arrival of the Com- 
 mandant de Suffren had not, as wo have 
 before stated, been spread abroad, and 
 yet there seemed to be some sort/rf 
 presentiment which occupied the minds 
 of the assembled company. They seem- 
 ed to feel that there was something 
 hidden, which was about to appear 
 something new, on the eve of bursting 
 forth ; some unknown interest awak- 
 ened the attention of every one, and 
 this in a court where every trifle as- 
 sumes importance, whenever the mas- 
 ter knits his brow in disapprobation, or 
 distends his lips to smile. 
 
 The King, who was in the habit of 
 staking only a six livres piece, in order 
 to moderate the play of the princes and 
 the lords of the court the King, with- 
 out in the least intending it, had placed 
 all the gold he had in his pockets upon 
 the table. 
 
 The Queen, who played her part 
 more perfectly, diverted the attention 
 of the circle, by politically appearing 
 to take an excessive interest in her 
 game.
 
 MYSTERIES OF THE COURT OF LOUIS XVI. 
 
 71 
 
 Philippe, who was admitted into the 
 party, and seated opposite to his sister, 
 was reflecting on the astounding, un- 
 heard-of degree of favor which had thus 
 so unexpectedly shone upon him. 
 
 The words of his father recurred to 
 his mind, whether he would or not. 
 He asked himself whether, in fact, the 
 old maq, whohad witnessed the reign 
 of three or four favorites, was not well 
 informed of the history and morals of 
 the court. 
 
 He asked himself whether that pu- 
 ritauisin, so closely allied to religious 
 adoration, was not an additional ridi- 
 culous quality he had imported with 
 him from a far distant country. 
 
 The Queen, in herself so poetical, so 
 beautiful, so sisterly in her manner to- 
 wards him, was she but a finished and 
 terrible coquette, anxious to add ano- 
 ther passion to her list of triumphs, as 
 the eutymologist attaches another in 
 sect or butterfly to his collection, with- 
 out at all considering the sufferings of 
 the poor flutterer which he Has pinned 
 to his card ? 
 
 And yet the queen was no ordinary 
 woman, no every-day character ; her 
 lock always meant something she who 
 never let fall a look without calculating 
 its effect. 
 
 ' Coigny, Vandreuil,' repeated Phi- 
 lippe, ' they have loved the queen and 
 been beloved by her. Oh ! why is this 
 calumny of so dark a nature. Why 
 does not some ray of light illumine that 
 profound abyss which is called the 
 heart of woman, and deeper still, when 
 it is the heart of a queen ?' 
 
 And when Philippe had sufficiently 
 rung the changes on these two names, 
 he looked to the other end of the table 
 where were seated Messrs, de Coigny 
 and Vandreuil, who by a singular coinci- 
 dence were sitting side by side, their 
 eyes turned in an opposite direction to 
 where the queen then was, indifferent, 
 not to say forgetful. 
 
 And Philippe said to himself, that it 
 was impossible these two men could 
 have loved and now be so indifferent ; 
 that they had been loved, and could 
 now be so forgetful. Oh! did the 
 queen but love him, he would go mad 
 from happiness. If she could forget 
 him, after having loved him, he would 
 kill himself from despair. 
 
 And, after looking at Messieurs de 
 Coigny and de Vandreuil, he turned 
 his eyes from them to Marie Antoinette. 
 
 And still dreaming on, he questioned 
 that pure forehead, ihat so imperious 
 
 mouth, that so majestic look, and asked 
 of all these beauties a revelation of the 
 secrets of the queen. 
 
 ' Oh ! no, 'tis calumny! 'tis calumny,' 
 cried he mentally, ' all these vague ru- 
 mors, which are beginning to circulate 
 among the people have arisen from the 
 base interests, the hatred, and the in- 
 trigues of the court, and these alone 
 have given them consistency.' 
 
 Philippe had advanced thus far in his 
 reflections, when the clock in the guard- 
 room struck three-quarters past seven. 
 At the same moment a rushing noise re- 
 sounded from the guard-room, steps 
 were hurrying to and fro, the butts of 
 muskets ringing on the marble pave- 
 ment and a confusion of voices was 
 heard through the opened door, which 
 excited the attention of the king, who, 
 throwing his head back to listen more 
 attentively, then made a sigc to the 
 queen. 
 
 The latter understood it, and imme"- 
 diately broke up the card-table. 
 
 Every player gathering up the money 
 which was before them, awaited, in 
 order to know what next to do, a signal 
 from the queen. 
 
 The queen went into the grand sa- 
 loon appropriated to receptions. 
 
 The king had reached it before her. 
 
 An aide-de-camp of M. de Castries, 
 the Minister of Marine, approached the 
 king and whispered a few words in his 
 ear. 
 
 ' 'Tis well,' replied the king, ' go.' 
 
 Then, turning to the queen, ' All is 
 proceeding well,' said he. 
 
 Every one interrogated his neighbor 
 with a look the ' all is proceeding 
 well' setting them all to thinking and 
 imagining what was about to happen. 
 Suddenly the Marshal de Castries en- 
 tered the saloon, saying in a loud voice, 
 
 ' Will his Majesty receive Monsieur 
 le Bailly de* Suffren, who has just ar- 
 rived from Toulon ?' 
 
 On hearing this name pronounced, in 
 a loud, joyous, and triumphant tone, an 
 inexpressible murmur of curiosity was 
 raised in the assembly. 
 
 ' Yes, sir,' replied the king, 'and with 
 great pleasure.' 
 
 M. de Castries then went out. 
 
 The company moved almost in a mass 
 towards the door through which M. de 
 Castries had disappeared. 
 
 To explain this sympathy of France 
 for M. de Suffren, to explain tne inter- 
 est which a king, a queen, and princes 
 of the blood royal felt in being the first 
 to obtain a sight of M. de Suffren, few
 
 72 
 
 THE QUEEN'S NECKLACE: OR, THE 
 
 words will suffice. Suffren is a name 
 as essentially French as that of Tur- 
 enne, Cut mat. and Jean Bart. 
 
 Since the war with England, or ra- 
 ther since the lust combat which had 
 preceded pence, the Commandant de 
 Sulfren had fought seven great naval 
 buttles, without sustaining a defeat. 
 He had taken Trincomalee and Gonda- 
 lore, assured the French possessions, 
 cleared the seas, and taught Hyder Ali 
 that France was the first power of Eu- 
 rope. He had, in the exercise of his 
 profession as a peaman, evinced all 
 the diplomacy of an astute and honest 
 negociator, all the bravery" and all the 
 tactic of a soldier, and the skill of a 
 wise administrator. Bold, indefatigable, 
 proud, wheneverthe honor of the French 
 flag was in question, he had harrassed 
 the English by sea and land to such a 
 point that those proud sailors never 
 dared to complete a victory commenced, 
 or to attempt an attack upon Suffren, 
 when the lion showed his teeth. 
 
 Then, after the action, during which 
 he had been as prodigal of his own life 
 as the lowest sailor, he proved himself 
 humane, generous, compassionate ; he 
 was the type of a real seaman, some- 
 'what forgotten since the days of Jean 
 Bart and Duguay-Trouin, but which 
 France had once more found in de Suf- 
 fren. 
 
 We will not attempt to describe the 
 noise and the enthusiasm which, on this 
 first notice of M. de Suflfren's arrival, 
 burst forth from the gentlemen and no- 
 blemen who had been convoked to at- 
 tend this meeting. 
 
 Sutfren was then about fifty-six years 
 old, short, and stout, with flashing eyes, 
 and of noble and easy manners. Active, 
 notwithstanding his obesity majestic, 
 notwithstanding his affability he car- 
 ried his head-dress, or rather his mane, 
 proudly ; as a man accustomed to deride 
 all sorts of difficulties, he had managed 
 to have his hair dressed in his travelling 
 carriage. 
 
 He wore a blue coat embroidered 
 with gold, a red waistcoat, and blue 
 small clothes. He had retained his 
 military stock, upon which his potent 
 chin rounded itself us the necessary 
 finish to his colossal head. 
 
 When he entered the guard-room 
 some one had whispered a word to M. 
 de Castries who was impatiently pacing 
 up and down the room, .and instantly 
 the latter exclaimed, 
 
 4 Monsieur de Suffren, gentlemen.' 
 
 Immediately the guards seizing their 
 
 musketoons drew themselves up in 
 line as if they had been about to receive 
 the King of France, and de Suffren 
 having passed them, they formed be- 
 hind him, four abreast, as if to serve 
 him as an escort. 
 
 De Suffren, shook hands heartily 
 with M de Castries, and endeavored to 
 embrace him. 
 
 But the Minister of Marine gently re- 
 pulsed him. 
 
 ' No, no, sir,' said he to him, ' I will 
 not deprive one who is more worthy 
 than myself of the happiness of being 
 the first to embrace you.' 
 
 And he conducted M. de Suffren into 
 the presence of Louis XVI. 
 
 ' Monsieur de Suffren,' exclaimed the 
 King, his countenance beaming with 
 joy, as soon as he perceived him, ' you 
 are welcome to Versailles. You bring 
 glory with you, you bring all that heroes 
 can give to their contemporaries on 
 jearth ; I speak not to you of the future, 
 that is your property. Embrace me, 
 M. de Suffren.' 
 
 The Commandant had bent his knee; 
 the King raised him and embraced him 
 so cordially that a long murmur of joy 
 and triumph ran through the whole as- 
 semblage. 
 
 But for the respect due to the King, 
 every person present would have vied 
 in shouts of bravo and iipplause. 
 
 The King then turned towards the 
 Queen. 
 
 ' Madam,' said he, ' this is Monsieur 
 de Suffren the conqueror of Trincomalee 
 and of Gondalore, the terror of our 
 neighbors the English : my own Jean 
 Bart.' 
 
 ' Sir,' said the Queen, ' I will not at- 
 tempt to speak in praise of you. But 
 let me only tell you that you never fired 
 a shot for the glory of France that my 
 he^rt did not beat with Admiration and 
 gratitude towards you.' 
 
 The Queen had scarcely finished 
 speaking when the Count d'Artois, ad- 
 vanced with his son, the duke d'An- 
 godletnfe. 
 
 ' My son,' said he, you see a hero. 
 Look well at him for it is a rare sight.' 
 
 ' Monsieur,' repHed the young Prince 
 to his father, 'I was jnst now reading 
 Plutarch's lives of great men, but I did 
 not see them ; I thank you for having 
 shown me M. de Suffren.' 
 
 From the murmur of approbation 
 which arose aronnd him the child could 
 comprehend" that he had uttered a say- 
 ing which would not be forgotten. 
 
 The King then took M. de Snffren by
 
 MYSTERIES OF THE COURT OF LOUIS XVI. 
 
 73 
 
 the arm and was about to lead him off to 
 his cabinet to converse with him on geo- 
 graphy, on his voyage and expedition. 
 
 But M. de Sufferen made respectful 
 resistance. 
 
 'Sire,' said he, 'please to permit me, 
 since your Majesty has evinced such 
 goodness towards me ' 
 
 1 Oh !' cried the king, ' what is it that 
 you ask, M. de Suffren ?' 
 
 i. one of my officers has com- 
 mitted so serious a fault with regard to 
 discipline, that I thought your Majesty 
 alone should judge the cause.' 
 
 ' Oh ! Monsieur de Suffren, I had 
 hoped that your first request would be 
 for fiivor not for punishment.' 
 
 ' Sire, I have had the honor to inform 
 your Majesty that you shall be the 
 judge.' 
 
 4 1 am listening.' 
 
 'During the last combat, the officer 
 of whom lam speaking was on board 
 the Sfvere. 1 
 
 ' Oh ! the vessel that struck her 
 flag,' said the king frowning. 
 
 'Sire, the " captain of the Severe had 
 in fact hauled down his colors,' replied 
 M. de Suffren bowing, ' and the English 
 Admiral had already sent a boat to man 
 the prize ; but the Lieutenant of the 
 ship, who commanded the batteries on 
 the gun-deck, having perceived that the 
 fire had ceased, and having received an 
 order to discontinre firing, came on the 
 upper-deck; he saw that the colors 
 were hauled down and that the captain 
 wns about to surrender. I beg your 
 Majesty's pardon for the act, Sire, but 
 at this sight all the French blood in his 
 veins revolted at it. He seized the 
 flag which happened to be -within reach, 
 caught up a hammer, and while he or- 
 dered the fire to be continued, mounted 
 aloft and nailed the flag to the mast 
 close under the pennant. It was by 
 this* act, Sire, that the Severe was saved 
 to your Majesty. 
 
 ' A magnificent trait,' cried'the king. 
 
 4 A brave action,' said the queen. 
 
 ' Yes, Sire ; yes, madam ; but a se- 
 rious breach of discipline. The order 
 had been given by the captain, the /lieu- 
 tenant ought to have obeyed. 1, there- 
 fore ask you to grant this officer's par- 
 don. And I ask it of you, Sire, with 
 greater earnestness, for he is my ne- 
 phew.' 
 
 ' Your nephew !' exclaimed the king, 
 4 and you had not mentioned this to me ? 
 
 4 To the king, no ; but I Had the hon- 
 or to report it to the Minister of Marine, 
 begging him not to mention it to your 
 10 
 
 Majesty until I had obtained the pardon 
 of the offender.' ' 
 
 ' Granted ! granted !' exclaimed the 
 king, ' and I promise at once my pro- 
 tection to all who may commit such 
 breach of discipline, and thus avenge 
 the honor of the flag and of the king of 
 France. You ought to have presented 
 this officer to me, M. de Suffren.' 
 
 ' He is here,' replied M. de Suffren, 
 'and since your Majesty permits me ' 
 
 M. de Suffren turned round. 
 
 Approach, Monsieur de Charny,' 
 said he. 
 
 The Queen started. This name 
 awakened in her mind a recollection 
 which was too recent to be effaced. 
 
 A young officer then stepped forward 
 from the group standing behind M. de 
 Suffren, and suddenly appeared before 
 the kicj. 
 
 The Queen on her side had made a 
 movement to advance towards the 
 young man from the enthusiasm with 
 which the recital of his noble action had 
 inspired her. 
 
 But on hearing his name, and .on see- 
 ing the officer whom M. .de Saffron. pre- 
 sented to the king, she paused, tunned 
 pale and uttered a slight murmur. 
 
 Madamoiselle de Taverney, hid also 
 turned pale, and looked anxiously at the 
 queen. 
 
 As to M. de Charny, without seeing 
 any thing, his features expressing no 
 other feeling but that of respect, he 
 knelt down before the king who gave 
 him his hand to kiss, then he retired 
 modest and trembling beneath the eager 
 looks of the assembly, within the circle 
 of officers who loudly congratulated 
 him and overwhelmed him with ca- 
 ressesT 
 
 There wae then a momentiof silence 
 and emotion ; during which the king 
 appeared radiant with happiness, the 
 queen smiling and undecided, M. de 
 Charny with downcast eyes, and Phi- 
 lippe, whom the queen's emotion had 
 not ettcaped, anxious and inquiring. 
 
 'Come,' at length said the king, 
 4 come with me, Monsieur de Sulfren, 
 that we may converse together ; I am 
 dying with desire to hear you and to 
 prove to you how much I have thought 
 of you.' 
 
 Sire, so .much goodness ' 
 
 4 Oh ! you shall see my charts ; you 
 shall see that every phase of your ex- 
 pedition was foreseen and marked out 
 by my solicitude. Come, come.' 
 
 Then after going a few steps drag- 
 ging M. de Suffren with him, he ud-
 
 THE QUEEN'S NECKLACE; OR, THE 
 
 denly turned round towards the queen. 
 
 4 By-the-by, madam,' said he, ' I have, 
 as you well know, ordered a ship of one 
 hundred guns to be built ; I have chang- 
 ed my mind with regard to the name. 
 Instead of calling her as we had 
 agreed ' 
 
 Marie Antoinette, who had somewhat 
 recovered her self posession, at once 
 caught the king's idea. 
 
 4 Yes, yes,' she said, ' we will call 
 the ship the Suffren, nnd I will be the 
 god-mother with M. de Suffren.' 
 
 Acclamations which until then had 
 been restrained now loudly burst forth. 
 4 Long live the King ! long live the 
 Queen ." 
 
 ' And long live the Suffren /' added 
 the king with exquisite delicacy, for no 
 one could shout long live M. de Suffren, 
 in presence of the king, while the most 
 minute observer of etiquette might ciy 
 1 Jong live his Majesty's ship I' 
 
 ' Long live the Suffren,' shouted the 
 whole assembly with enthusiasm. 
 
 The King made a sign to thank them 
 for having so well understood his mean- 
 ing, and led M. de Suffren to his cabi- 
 net. 
 
 CHAPTER XIT. 
 
 MONSIEUR DE CHARNY. 
 
 As soon as the king had disappeared, 
 all the princes and princesses in the 
 drawing-room formed a group around 
 her Majesty. 
 
 De Suffren on going out had made a 
 sign to his nephew to await his return. 
 
 The Queen, who had exchanged sev- 
 eral significant glances with Andree, 
 did not lose sight of the young man, 
 and every time she looked at him, said 
 to herself, 
 
 ' It is he ; there cannot be a doubt of 
 it.' 
 
 To which Mademoiselle dc Taverney 
 replied in pantomime in such a way as 
 not to leave a doubt in the queen's mind, 
 for it meant, 
 
 ' Oh! good heavens ! yes, madam, 'tis 
 he, 'tis he himself." 
 
 Philippe, as we have before said, had 
 observed this pteoccupation of the 
 queen : he saw it and felt if not the 
 actual cause, a vague sense of it. 
 
 Never can he who loves be mistaken 
 as to the impression of her he loves. 
 
 He guessed therefore that the queen 
 had just been struck by some singular 
 
 event, mysterious, unknown to all the 
 world excepting herself and Andree. 
 
 In fact, the queen had become con- 
 fused and had sought refuge behind her 
 fan. She who habitually made every 
 one cast down their eyes before her 
 gaze. 
 
 While the young man was asking 
 himself what could be the meaning of 
 this strange preoccupation of her Ma- 
 jesty, while he was endeavoring to 
 sound the features of Messieurs de 
 Coigny and de Vandreuil to ascertain 
 whether they were in any way con- 
 nected with this mystery, and observ- 
 ed that they were carefully occupied 
 in conversing with M. de Haga, who 
 had come to Versailles to pay his re- 
 spects to their Majesties, a person at- 
 tired in the majestic robes of a cardinal, 
 followed by a numerous suite*of officers 
 and prelates, entered the drawing-room. 
 
 The Queen recognized M. Louis de 
 Rohan; she -saw him the moment he 
 appeared at the opposite end of the 
 room, and immediately turned away 
 her head, without even taking the trou- 
 ble to conceal the frown that clouded 
 her fair forehead. 
 
 The prelate traversed the whole of 
 the assembly without noticing any one, 
 and went straight to the queen, before 
 whom he bowed more with the air of 
 a man of the world paying his devoirs to 
 a lady, than a subject who pays homage 
 to a queen. 
 
 Then he addressed a veiy gallant 
 compliment to her Majesty, who scarce- 
 ly turning her head towards him, mur- 
 mured two or three words, freezingly 
 ceremonious, nnd then resumed her 
 conversation with Madame de Lamballe 
 and Madame de Polignac. 
 
 Prince Louis did not appear to have 
 perceived the uucourteous reception of 
 the queen. He went through the usual 
 number of bows, then turned round 
 without precipitation, and with the 
 grace of -a perfect courtier, he address- 
 ed Mesdames, the king's aunts, with 
 whom he conversed a considerable time, 
 seeing that by virtue of the game of see- 
 saw, so long played at court, he obtain- 
 ed from them a welcome as cordial as 
 that of the queen had been freezing. 
 
 The Cardinal Louis de Rohan was a 
 man in the prime of life, of an impos- 
 ing figure and noble deportment ; his 
 features beamed with intelligence and 
 softness ; his mouth was small and ex- 
 pressive of circumspection ; his hands 
 were admirable ; his forehead, rather 
 bald, gave token of the man of pleasure
 
 MYSTERIES OF THE COURT OF LOUIS XVI. 
 
 75 
 
 or of study : the Prince de Rohan was, 
 in fact, both one and the other. 
 
 He was a man much sought after by 
 women who were fond of gallantry un- 
 accompanied by insipidity and noise ; 
 he was proverbial for his magnificence, 
 and had in fact discovered the means of 
 believing himself poor while possessing 
 an income of sixteen hundred thousand 
 livres. 
 
 The King liked him because he was 
 learned ; the Queen, on the contrary, 
 hated him. 
 
 The reasons for this hatred have ne- 
 ver been perfectly ascertained, butthey 
 may have arisen from the two following 
 causes : 
 
 In the first place, in his quality of 
 Ambassador to Vienna, Prince Louis, 
 it is said, had written to the King, 
 Louis XV, letters so full of irony, with 
 regard to her mother Maria Theresa, 
 that Marie Antoinette could never for- 
 give the diplomatist. 
 
 In the second, and this is more hu- 
 man and at the same time more prob- 
 able, the ambassador, when writing to 
 Louis XV on the subject of the mar- 
 riage of the Archduchess with the 
 Dauphin, which letter was read aloud 
 by the king at a supper at Madame Du- 
 barry's house, had mentioned certain 
 peculiarities hostile to the self-love of 
 the young lady, who was remarkably 
 thin at that period. 
 
 Thes% attacks, it is said, had severely 
 wounded the self-love of Marie An- 
 toinette, who could not publicly ac- 
 knowledge that she was the victim of j 
 them, and had vowed she would, soon- j 
 er or later, punish the author of them, i 
 
 And beneath all this there was natu- I 
 rally a vast field for political intrigue. 
 
 The embassy to Vienna had been I 
 withdrawn from M. de Breteuil. 
 
 M. de Breteuil, too feeble to contend ! 
 openly against the prince, had then em- 
 ployed what, in diplomacy is called ad- 
 dress. He had procured copies, or 
 perhaps the originals, of the prelate's 
 letters, who was then ambassador, and 
 balancing the real services rendered by 
 the diplomatist with the petty hostility 
 he had declared against the Imperial 
 Austrian family, he had found in the 
 Dauphinessan auxiliary decided on one 
 day overthrowing the Prince de Rohan. 
 
 This hatred was smouldering but not 
 'extinguished ; it rendered the cardi- 
 nal's position at court a very difficult 
 one. 
 
 Every time he saw the queen he was 
 compelled to undergo the sirne ice-like 
 
 coldness, of which we have just endea- 
 vored to give an idea. 
 
 But, rising above this disdain, whe- 
 ther it was that he was really superior 
 to it, or that some irresistible feeling 
 constrained him to forgive all his ene- 
 my could do, Louis de Rohan never 
 omitted an opportunity of presenting 
 himself before Marie Antoinette, op- 
 portunities which were not wanting to 
 him, for the Prince de llohan Avas grand 
 almoner of the court. 
 
 He had never complained had never 
 avowed any thing to any one. A small 
 circle of friends, among whom the prin- 
 cipal was the Baron de Planta, a Ger- 
 man officer, his most trusty confidant, 
 served to console him for those royal 
 rebuffs, when the ladies of the court, 
 who, on the point of severity towards 
 the cardinal, did not all adopt the queen 
 as their model, had not effected this de- 
 sired result. 
 
 The cardinal had just passed as a 
 shadow over the pleasing picture which 
 the queen's imagination had conjured 
 up. Therefore, as soon as he had re- 
 tired, Marie Antoinette's brow became 
 once more serene. 
 
 ' Do you know,' said she to the Prin- 
 cess de Lamballe, ' that the action of 
 this young officer, M. de Suffren's 
 nephew, seems to me one of the most 
 remarkable that has occurred during 
 the war. What was the name they 
 mentioned ?' 
 
 4 M. de Charny, I believe,' replied 
 the princess. 
 
 Then turning towards Andree, to as- 
 certain if she was right, 
 
 ' Was not that the name, Mademois- 
 elle de Taverney?' 
 
 4 It was, your highness, Charny,' re- 
 plied Andree.' 
 
 ' M. de Charny,' said the queen, 
 4 must relate to us ourselves the epi- 
 sode, without sparing the slightest de- 
 tail. Let him be sought for. Is he 
 still here ?' 
 
 An officer immediately stepped for- 
 ward from the circle, and hastened to 
 execute the queen's order. 
 
 At the same moment, as she was 
 looking around her, she perceived Phi- 
 lippe, and, impatient, as she always 
 was 
 
 ' Monsieur de Taverney,' she aaid, 
 ' why do you not search for him ?' 
 
 Philippe blushed ; he thought, per- 
 haps, he ought to have anticipated the 
 desire of his sovereign. He therefore 
 set about to search for that thrice hap- 
 py officer, upon whom he had kept his
 
 THE QUEEN'S NECKLACE ; OR, THE 
 
 eyes continually fixed from the moment 
 of his presentation. 
 
 It therefore was not a search of much 
 difficulty. 
 
 M. de Charny advanced, a moment 
 ifierwards, between the two messen- 
 gers of the queen. 
 
 The circle immediately widened to 
 
 admit him. The queen had then an 
 
 opportunity of examining him with 
 
 M attention than had been possible 
 
 tin; previous evening. 
 
 He was a young man, from twenty- 
 pven to twenty-eight years of age, 
 upright ;-,nd thin, but with broad shoul- 
 ders and perfectly well-formed limbs. 
 His teatifres, at once soft and regular, 
 assumed an expression of singular ener- 
 gy each time that his large blue eyes 
 dilated. And what was most astonish- 
 ing in a man just returned from the 
 wars in India, his complexion was as 
 fnir as that of Philippe was dark. 
 Round his nervous neck, which was 
 'beautifully formed, he wore a white 
 muslin cravat, but it was less white 
 than his fair skin. 
 
 When he approached the group, in 
 l he centre of which stood the queen, he 
 had not in the slightest manner inti- 
 
 ud that he had recognized either 
 Mademoiselle de Taverney or the queen 
 
 Surrounded by officers, .asking all 
 sorts of questions, to which he civilly 
 replied, he appeared to have forgotten 
 that tnere was a king who had spoken 
 to him, a queen who had deigned to 
 look upon him. 
 
 That politeness, that reserve, were 
 of a nature io attract more than ever 
 she attention of the queen, who was so 
 delicate herself in all that regarded the 
 observances of society. ' 
 
 It was not only with regard to others 
 tihat M. de Charny WHS right in con- 
 cealing his surprise at the so unexpect- j 
 ed sight of the lady of the hackney j 
 coach. The acme of delicacy and gal- i 
 Ian try WH* i<> allow her, if that were 
 possible, to remain ignorant of his hav- 
 ing recognized her. 
 
 De Charny advanced naturally into 
 the centre of the circle, with ej'es cast 
 liuvn with a timidity at. once respectful \ 
 and in good taste; he did not raise 
 tii- -m till tke queen addressed him. 
 
 Monsieur de Charny,' said she to j 
 him, 'these ladies feel a desire which! 
 is very natural, for I also participate I 
 in it, to learn the whole affair of the j 
 ship, and in all its details ; I beg of you . 
 to relate it to us.' 
 
 4 Madam,' replied the young seaman, 
 amid the most profound silence, ' I en- 
 treat your Majesty, not from any /also 
 feeling of modesty, but from humanity, 
 to excuse me fiom entering into this 
 recital. That which f did as lieutenant 
 of the Severe, ten officers, rny comrades, 
 had also thought of doing. I was the 
 first to execute it, and in that lies all 
 my merit. As to giving to that which 
 was done the importance of a narrative 
 addressed to your Majesty no, madam, 
 that is impossible, and your generous 
 heart, your royal heart, will compre- 
 hent it. The commandant of the Severe 
 is a brave officer, who, on that day. had 
 unfortunately lost his reason. Alas ! 
 madam, you must have heard it said by 
 the most courageous, that a man is not 
 always brave. It required but ten mi- 
 nutes for him to recover his self-pos- 
 session ; our determination not to sur- 
 render afforded him a respite, and his 
 courage returned ; from lhat moment, 
 he was the bravest of us all. It is for 
 this reason that I conjure your Majesty 
 not to exaggerate the merit of my ac- 
 tion ; it would be the means of forever 
 crushing this poor officer, who evqry 
 day deplores the forgetfulness of H tan- 
 gle minute.' 
 
 'Right! right!' exclaimed the queen 
 with mnch emotion; and beaming with 
 delight on hearing the murmur of satis- 
 faction which the generous words of 
 the young officer had excited in all 
 around her: 'you are right, Monsieur 
 de Charny, you are an honorable man, 
 and as such I have known you.' 
 
 On hearing these words the officer 
 raised his head ; a juvenile blush pur- 
 pled his face ; his eyes wandered from 
 the queen to Andree, in a species, of 
 affright. He dreaded the sight of a so 
 generous nature, and which was so 
 impetuous in its generosity. 
 
 But M. de Charny had still more t 
 suffer. 
 
 4 For,' continued the intrepid queen, 
 4 it is well thai you should all know that 
 M. de Charny, this young officer, who 
 only arrived yesterday, this unknown, 
 was already well known to us before 
 being presented here this evening, and 
 tlnit. he merits being known and admir- 
 ed by every woman.' 
 
 It was at once foreseen that the quaen 
 was wbout to relate some story, from 
 which every one might glean either 
 some petty scandal, or some little se- 
 cret. They therefore drew more closely 
 around her, listened with eager ears, and 
 crowded toger.fa.er in anxious expectation.
 
 MYST>:RIK.S OF THE COURT OF LOUIS xvi. 
 
 77 
 
 Figure to yourselves ladies,' rejoined 
 the queen ' thnt M. de Charuy is us 
 indulgent towards the ladies as he is 
 pitiless towards the English. I have 
 
 ry related of him which I 
 (!< lure to you beforehand, 1ms ' 
 
 in !' stammered the young 
 officer. 
 
 If wi!l be readily imagined that these 
 words uttered by tiie queen in presence 
 of the persou to whom they alluded, 
 o*f seemed- to redouble the general 
 curiosity. 
 
 A sort of anxious thrill ran through 
 the auditory. 
 
 Charny, his forehead streaming 
 with perspiration, would have given one 
 year of his life to have been at that mo- 
 ment in India. 
 
 4 The following is the fact,' pursued 
 the queen. ' Two ladies, whom I know, 
 happening to be delayed one evening, 
 found themselves surrounded by a fu- 
 rious mob. They were in danger, in 
 real imminent danger. M. de Char- 
 ny happened by chance, I should say 
 providentially, ro be passing at that mo- 
 ment. He thrust aside the crowd, and 
 without knowing them and although it 
 was difficult to recognize their rank, he 
 at once took them under his protection 
 accompanied them to a great distance, 
 t*n leagues, I believe, from Paris.' 
 
 Oh .' your Majesty exaggerates,' 
 said Charny laughing, being reassured 
 by the turn which the queen had given 
 to the story. 
 
 ' Come now, let us set it down at 
 five leagues and say no more about it,' 
 added the Count d'Artois, suddenly 
 joining in the conversation. 
 
 Be it so, my brother,' continued the 
 queen. 'But that which is most noble 
 in the matter is that M. de Charny did 
 not even endeavor to ascertain the 
 names of the two ladies to whom he had 
 rendered this service, that he set them 
 down at a spot which they had indicat- 
 ed to him, that he withdrew without 
 even turning his head ; so that they es- 
 caped from his protecting hands with- 
 out having endured a moment's anx- 
 iety.' 
 
 The whole assembly exclaimed, ad- 
 mired, Chsirny was complimented by 
 twenty ladies at the same moment. 
 
 'This was noble, was it not?' added 
 the queen, ' a knight of the round table 
 could not have done better!' 
 
 ' It is superb!' exclaimed the chorus. 
 
 Monsieur de Charny.' continued tho 
 queen, ' the king is at this time occu- 
 pied in rewarding your uncle; I, on my 
 
 part, would wish to do something for 
 the nephew of that gentleman.' 
 
 And sh held out her hand to him. 
 
 While Charny, pnle with joy, waa 
 pressing it to his lips, Philippe, pale 
 with grief, concealed himself behind 
 the ample curtains of the drawing- 
 room. 
 
 Andree also had turned pale, and yet 
 she could not have conceived all that 
 her brorhcr suffered. 
 
 The voice of the Count d'Artois broke 
 in upon the scene, which would have 
 been so curious to an observer. 
 
 ' Ah ! my brother of Provence,' cried 
 he aloud, ' approach, sir, approach, you 
 have missed a most magnificent specta- 
 cle, the reception of M. de Suffren ; in 
 truth it was a moment which French 
 hearts never can forget. How the 
 dense could you happen to miss it, you 
 who in general are so exact, exactitude 
 par excellence. 
 
 Monsieur pursed up his lipa, bowed 
 absently to the queen, and replied by 
 some common place expression. 
 
 Then in a whisper to M. de Favras, 
 the captain of his guards, he said 
 
 ' How does it happen that he is at 
 Versailles ?' 
 
 ' Ah ! Monsieur,' replied the latter, 
 ' that is a question I have been asking 
 myself for the last hour, and I have not 
 yet been able to comprehend it ' 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 THE QUEEN'S HUNDRED LOUIS. 
 
 i 
 
 Now that we have introduced to, or 
 i renewed the acquaintance of our read- 
 ers, with the principle personages in 
 i this history, now that we have led them 
 ! to the private dwelling of the Count 
 i d'Artois, and to the palace of King Lou- 
 ! is XVI, at Versailes, we will take them 
 ' back to the house in the Rue Saint 
 < ' and" into which the queen of France 
 entered incognito and accompaned 
 by Andree de Taverney climbed up to 
 the fifth story. 
 
 As soon as the queen had disappear- 
 ed Madame de Lamothe, as we already 
 know, counted over and over again the 
 hundred louis, which had so miracu- 
 lously fallen, as it were, from heaven. 
 Fifty beautiful double louis each 
 worth forty-eight livers, which spread 
 out. upon the miserable table and glisten- 
 ing in the rays of the lamp appeared to 
 i humiliate by their aristocratic presence,
 
 78 
 
 THE QUEEN'S NECKLACE; OR, THE 
 
 the wretched furniture of the poverty- 
 stricken garret. 
 
 Next to the pleasure of possessing, 
 Madame de Lamothe knew no greater 
 than that of displaying what she pos- 
 sessed. Possession was nothing to her 
 if unaccompanied by the satisfaction of 
 creating envy in others. 
 
 It had for some time been very re- 
 pugnant to her feelings to be compelled 
 to make her waiting woman the confi- 
 dant of her misery. She therefore re- 
 turned to mil ke her the confidant of her 
 good fortune. 
 
 She therefore called Dame Clothilde, 
 who had remained in the ante-chamber, 
 and placed the lamp in such a position 
 as to make the gold shine still more 
 brilliantly. 
 
 4 Clothilde,' said she. 
 
 The waiting woman advanced one 
 etep into the chamber. 
 
 ' Come here, and look,' added Ma- 
 'dame de Lamothe. 
 
 ' Oh ! madame,' exclaimed the old 
 woman clasping her hands and stretch- 
 ing out her neck. 
 
 ' You were uneasy with regard to 
 your wages,' said the Countess. 
 
 4 Oh ! madame, J never said a single 
 word as to that. Indeed, I did ask you 
 madam, when you thought you would 
 be able to pay me, and that was very 
 natural not having received any thing 
 for three whole months.' 
 
 ' Do you think there is enough there 
 to pay you ?' , 
 
 4 Holy Jesus ! madam, if I had all 
 that, I should think myself rich for all 
 my life.' 
 
 Madame de Lamothe looked at the old 
 woman and shrugging up her shoulders 
 with an expression of indescribable dis- i 
 dain. 
 
 ' It is very fortunate,' said she, that 
 certain persons have some recollection 
 of the name I bear, while others who 
 ought to remember it appear to forget 
 it altogether.' 
 
 ' And what use are you going to make 
 of sill that money ?' 
 
 ' All sorts of uses.' 
 
 In the first place, madam, the most 
 important thing in my opinion is to put 
 my kitchen in proper order, and buy 
 Home sauce-pans and other articles, for 
 I suppose you mean to give dinners 
 now you have so much money.' 
 
 ' Hush !' said Madame de Lamothe, 
 4 there is some one knocking ?' 
 
 4 Madam is mistaken,' said the old 
 woman who was always very economi- 
 cal of her steps. 
 
 4 But I tell you there is.' 
 
 ' Oh ! I am quite sure, madam.' 
 
 ' Go and see.' 
 
 4 1 did not hear any thing.' 
 
 ' Oh ! yes, it was the same just now , 
 then you heard nothing. And only 
 imagine, if the two ladies had gone 
 away ' 
 
 This reason appeared convincing to 
 dame Clothilde who then moved to- 
 wards the door. 
 
 ' Do you hear now ?' cried Madame 
 de Lamothe. 
 
 ' Ah ! it is true. I am coming ! I am 
 coming !' cried she in a loud tone to the 
 person outside. 
 
 Madame de Lamothe hastened to 
 snatch up the hundred louis that were 
 on the table, and threw them into a 
 drawer. 
 
 And she murmured while closing^ the 
 drawer, 
 
 ' Oh ! Providence, send me another 
 hundred louis !' 
 
 And these words were pronounced 
 with an expression of such skeptical 
 avidity that they would have made Vol- 
 taire smile. 
 
 During this time the door on the land- 
 ing had been opened and the steps of a. 
 man were heard in the ante-chamber. 
 
 A few words were exchanged be- 
 tween the man and dame Clothilde, of 
 which the Countess could not catch the 
 meaning. 
 
 Then the door was again closed, steps 
 were heard descending the stair-case 
 and the old woman returned into the 
 Countess's room with a letter in her 
 hand. 
 
 4 There,' said she, handing the letter 
 to her mistress. 
 
 The Countess attentively examined 
 the hand-writing, the envelope and the 
 seal, then raising her head. 
 
 4 Brought by a servant ?' inquired she. 
 
 4 Yes, madam.' 
 
 What livery ?' 
 
 4 He did not wear any.' 
 
 4 A grison then ?'* 
 
 4 Yes.' 
 
 4 1 know these arms,' rejoined Ma- 
 dame de Lamothe, again examining the 
 
 seal. 
 
 Then holding the seal close to the 
 
 lamp. 
 
 4 Nine mascles, or, on a field gules, 
 
 "The noblemen and gentlemen of those days 
 when employing ihtir ueiVints on a-j secret 
 commission, made them wear a fuit of gr e y 
 instead of their liveries. They were termed 
 grisons [Trans.
 
 MYSTERIES OF THE COURT OF LOUIS XVI. 
 
 79 
 
 aaid she, ' who is that bears nine ma 
 scles, or, on a field gules ?' 
 
 She endeavored for some moments 
 to recollect what family bore these arms, 
 but uselessly. 
 
 ' But let us see what the letter says,' 
 said she, musingly. 
 
 And having opened it with great care 
 that she might not injure the seal, she 
 read, 
 
 4 Madam, the person whom you have 
 solicited will be able to see you to-mor- 
 row evening, should you pe pleased to 
 open your doors to him.' 
 
 And that was all. 
 
 The Countess again ransacked her 
 memory. 
 
 . ' I have written to so many persons,' 
 she said, 4 let me see, now, to whom 
 have I written ?' 
 
 1 To everybody.' 
 
 ' Is it a man or is it a woman who re- 
 plies to me ?' 
 
 4 The writing gives me no clue ; it is 
 insignificant, the true hand-writing of 
 a secretary.' 
 
 ' The style ? it has a protecting style 
 stupid and old.' 
 
 Then she repeated, 
 
 4 The person whom you have soli- 
 cited ' 
 
 4 The phrase has the intention of be- 
 ing humiliating ; undoubtedly it is from 
 a woman.' 
 
 She continued : 
 
 * will be able to see you to-morrow 
 evening should you be pleased to open 
 jour door to him.' 
 
 4 A woman would have said, you will 
 wait to-morrow evening.' 
 
 ' It must be from a man ' 
 
 ' And yet those ladies yesterday, they 
 came ; and they were certainly ladies 
 of high rank.' 
 
 1 There is no signature !' 
 
 4 Who can it be then who bears "nine 
 mascles, or, on a field gules .'" ' 
 
 1 Oh !' exclaimed she suddenly, 4 have 
 I lost my wits ? Why the Rohans to be 
 sure.' 
 
 4 Yes, I wrote to M. de Gu^menee 
 and to Mons. de Rohan ; and one of 
 them has replied to me, that is quite 
 plain.' 1 
 
 4 But the shield has no quarterings ! 
 the letter is from the Cardinal.' 
 
 4 Ah ! the Cardinal de Rohan, the gal- 
 lant, che lady-hunter, the ambitious ! 
 He will come to see Madame de La- 
 mothe, if Madame de Lamothe will 
 open her door to him.' 
 
 4 Good ; he may rest easy, the door 
 aha' be opened to him.' 
 
 4 And when ? To-morrow evening.' 
 
 She then fell into a revery. 
 
 4 A Sister of Charity who gives a 
 hundred louis to be received in a garret, 
 she may freeze upon my cold tiles, 
 suffer from my chairs as hard as 
 the grid-iron of Saint Lawrence, though 
 without the accompaniment of fire. 
 But a prince of the church, a man of 
 the boudoir, a lord of hearts. No, no, 
 the misery visited by such an almoner 
 must be of a more luxurious nature 
 than many rich indulge in.' 
 
 Then turning towards her waiting 
 woman who had just finished preparing 
 her bed, 
 
 4 Good night, dame Clothilde,' said 
 she, 4 but do not forget to wake me ear- 
 ly to-morrow morning.' 
 
 Thereupon, doubtless that she might 
 be more at liberty to meditate, the 
 Countess made a sign to the old wo- 
 man to leave her. 
 
 Dame Clothilde raked up the embers 
 which had been covered with ashes in 
 order to give a more miserable appear- 
 ance to tfie room, closed the door and 
 retired into the loft in which she slept. 
 __ Jeanne de Valois instead of sleeping 
 was cogitating over her plans during 
 the whole night. She made notes in 
 pencil by the light of her night lamp ; 
 and then having determined on all she 
 had to do the next morning, she al- 
 lowed herself to be overcome by sleep, 
 which dame Clothilde, who had not 
 slept much more, disturbed at break of 
 day, attending faithfully to the orders 
 she had received. 
 
 Towards eight o'clock, the Countess 
 had completed her toilette, which con- 
 sisted of a very elegant silk gown and a 
 very tasteful head-dress. 
 
 Her shoes were such as a pretty 
 woman and a lady of rank ouglft to 
 wear ; she wore a patch on her left 
 cheek; and gloves embroidered at the 
 wrist. 
 
 She sent for a species of carriage 
 very like a wheelbarrow, to a stand 
 where such locomotives were to be 
 found, that is to say, in the Rue Pont 
 aux Choux. 
 
 She would bave preferred a se^lan- 
 chair ; but it would have been neces- 
 sary to send a great distance to procure 
 one. 
 
 This wheelbarrow, a sort of rolling 
 chair, was dragged by a brawny Au- 
 vergnese, who was ordered to convey 
 the Countess to the Place Royale, 
 where, under the arcades on the south- 
 ern side, in the ground floor of an old,
 
 80 
 
 THE QUEEN'S NECKLACE ; OR, THE 
 
 abandoned mansion, dwelt M. Pingret, 
 an upholsterer, who kept large stores of 
 second-hand furniture, which he either 
 sold or let out on hire at the lowest 
 prices. 
 
 The Anvergnese wheeled his fair 
 customer as rapidly as possible from 
 the Rue Sainte Claude to the Place 
 Royale. 
 
 Ten minutes after leaving her own 
 house, the Countess reached the ware- 
 houses of Master Pingret, where we 
 shall find her presently in the sort of 
 pandemonium of which we are about to 
 endeavor to give a sketch, admiring and 
 choosing the articles of which she was 
 in quest. 
 
 Let the reader imagine warehouses 
 about fifiy feet in depth, by thirty feet 
 in width, and about seventeen in height; 
 upon the walls are hanging tapestry of 
 the time of Henri IV ind Lours XIII; 
 from the ceiling, almost concealed by 
 the numerous objects suspended from 
 it, such as lustres, with girondoles of 
 the seventeenth century, side by side 
 with stuffed lizards, church lamps, and 
 flying fish. 
 
 Upon the floor nre heaped carpets 
 and matting, furniture with twisted pil- 
 lars and square feet, buffets of sculptur- 
 ed onk, Louis XV" consoles with gilt 
 chrws, sofas covered with rose-colored 
 damnsk or crimaon Utrecht velvet, 
 couches, vast leathern e.^y chairs, such 
 as Sully liked, ebony warbrooes with 
 panels in relief and brass mouldings. 
 Boule tables with poroelnin or enamelled 
 tops, backgammon tables, toilette 
 pleleiy f'l red up, bureaux inluid with do- 
 signs of nr.isical instruments or flower?, 
 rends in rosewood or in onk, 
 with eatrades or canopies, while cur- 
 tains in every -h;i|>e. of HV.M-V 
 of every species of stuff, are hanging 
 pell-mell in rich confusion, the!,- 
 harmonizing or contrasting in every 
 corner of the wareh" 
 
 Harpsichord*, :-pi mdn. hnrps. lyres, 
 and tin- dog Marlborongh stuffed with 
 straw ;md emnriel eyes. 
 
 . I'm! n tif every quality, silk 
 dresses, side by side with velvet coats, 
 awojrds with hilts of steel, or silver, or 
 mother of pearl. 
 
 Immense candlesticks, portraits of 
 ancestors, framed engravings with nil 
 the imitations of Vernet. then M> much 
 in vo<nie of thnt Vernet to wlm-i 
 que* f find HO wittily, 
 
 i msieur Vernrt, there 
 is rx >:tnce but you who can at 
 
 will ;K ' in or flue wear: 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 MASTER PINGRET. 
 
 WE have described all that was se- 
 ductive to the eyes and consequently to 
 the imagination of people of small for- 
 tune in the warehouses of Master Pin- 
 gret, Place Roy, 
 
 The whole of these goods were not 
 new, and the sign over the door stated 
 this fnithfully : but being thus gathered 
 into one place, they gave additional va- 
 lue the one to the. o<.her, and formed an 
 aggregate greater than even the most 
 disdainful purchasers could have re- 
 quired. 
 
 Madame de Lamothe, on being ad- 
 mitted to examine nil these relics, for 
 the first time perceived fhtit which was 
 deficient at the Rue Sainte Claude. 
 
 She would require a drawing-room, 
 in which to put a sofa, arm-chaire and 
 settees. 
 
 A dining-room for these buffet?, tables 
 and side-tables. 
 
 A boudoir for the Persian curtains, 
 the ornamental tables, and the fire- 
 screens. 
 
 And in short another thing was want- 
 ing, had she even the drawing-room, 
 dining-room, and boudoir, and this was, 
 money to purchase the furniture 'to put 
 nto this nice apartment. 
 
 But there has always been an easy 
 mode of conducting negociiitions with 
 the upholsterers of Pans : and wb 
 have never yet heard that a young nttd 
 pretty woman has died on the threshold 
 of a door which she was unable to get 
 opened for her. 
 
 in P;iri what ciinnot be purchased 
 can be hired, and it is ihe renters of 
 furnished apartments who have given 
 rise to the proverb, 'to see is to have.' 
 
 ^ladame de La Mothe, in the hope of 
 procuring a suitable apartment, after 
 having measured some articles, looked 
 nt a net of furniture covered with yellow 
 silk which pleased her at first sight. 
 She was a brunette. 
 
 But this set of furniture consisting of 
 ten pieces could never find room in the 
 fifth story of the rue Sainte Claude. 
 
 To combine every thing properly, it 
 would be necessary to rent the third 
 story, which consistedof dining-room, 
 ;m juite-chamber, a small drawing-room 
 and a bed-chamber. 
 
 And by this nrnmgement she would 
 receive on the. third story the alma of 
 cnnK' fifth those of 
 
 the churitf.'ole establishments, th... is to
 
 MYSTERIES OF THE COURT OF LOUIS XVI. 
 
 81 
 
 By, in luxury the alms of people who 
 are charitable from ostentation, and in 
 misery the offerings of those more pre- 
 judiced in their views and who do not 
 like to give to such us do not stand in 
 absolute need of receiving. 
 
 The Countess having settled her 
 plans turned her eyes towards the dark- 
 er side of the warehouse, that is t say, 
 to the side where the richest furniture 
 was stored, splendid crystals, gildings 
 and looking glasses. 
 
 She saw there standing, hat in hand, 
 with an important air and rather a 
 mocking smile, the figure of a Parisian 
 citizen who was twirling a key between 
 his two fore fingers. 
 
 This worthy inspector of second 
 hand furniture was no less a personage 
 than M. Pingret himself, whose clerks 
 had announced to him the visit of a 
 handsome lady who had come in a 
 brouette, 
 
 The same clerks might be seen in 
 the court yard dressed in camlet or 
 coarse cloth, their clothes being too 
 narrow and too short for them, the mi- 
 nute calves of their legs exposed to the 
 air from the large holes in their hose. 
 They were occupied in renovating with 
 old furniture, furniture that was less 
 old, or to speak more clearly, in disem- 
 bowelling old sofas, arm chairs and set- 
 tees, by pulling out the horse hair or 
 the feathers they contained that they 
 might stutf their successors. 
 
 One of them carded the hair gener- 
 ously mixing it with tow, and with this 
 stuffed a new piece of furniture. 
 
 Another was varnishing some arm 
 chairs. 
 
 A third was ironing out some newly 
 scoured stuffs which had been washed 
 with aromatic soaps. 
 
 And with these old ingredients they 
 composed the beautiful second-hand 
 furniture which Madame do La Muthe 
 was at that moment admiring. 
 
 Monsieur Pingret perceiving that his 
 customer might perhaps see the opera- 
 tions of his clerks and get a greater in- 
 sight into the mode of manufacture 
 than was expedient with his interests, 
 closed a door which opened on the 
 court yard, ' for fear the dust might blind 
 madame'- 
 
 unclasp his fingers, put his key in his 
 pocket, anfl approach the Countess. 
 
 ' Oh !' said he, ' then* is nothing here 
 which can suit you, madam. I have 
 new, beautiful, magnificent furniture, 
 you must not my lady Countess ima- 
 gine, because you are in the Place 
 Royale, that the firm of Pingret has not 
 as good furniture as the King's uphols- 
 terer. Leave all this, madam, if you 
 please, and let me show you the other 
 warehouse.' 
 
 Jeanne blushed. 
 
 All that she had seen had appeared 
 very handsome to her, so good indeed 
 that she did not even hope to be able to 
 o btain it. 
 
 Flattered no doubt by being so favor- 
 ably considered by M. Pingret, she 
 could not avoid fearing that he consid- 
 ered her but too highly. 
 
 She felt anndyed at her own vanity 
 and regretted that she had not announc- 
 ed herself as a plain hourgeoise. 
 
 But a skilful mind knows how to ex- 
 tricate itself even with advantage, from 
 the most awkward of dilemmas. 
 
 ' I want nothing new, sir,' said she, I 
 would not have it.' 
 
 ' Madam doubtless wishes to furnish 
 an apartment for some friend.' 
 
 ' Precisely las you say, sir, an .apart- 
 ment for a friend. Now you will 
 understand that an apartment for a 
 friend t 
 
 4 Oh ! certainly. Take your choice, 
 madam,' replied Pingret, as cunning as 
 any Paris dealer, who would not from 
 self love rather sell new than old, pro- 
 vided he can make as much profit by 
 the latter. 
 
 ' That small set of furniture with the 
 yellow coverings, for example,' said the 
 Countess. 
 
 ' Oh ! but that cannot be sufficient, 
 madam there are but ten pieces.' 
 
 4 The room is but small,' replied the 
 Countess. 
 
 * It is quite new, as you may perceive, 
 madam.' 
 
 ' New yes, for second-hand.' 
 
 ' Undoubtedly,' replied Pingret, 
 laughing, ' but, such as it is, it is worth 
 eight hundred Hvres.' 
 
 This price made the Countess start ; 
 how could she acknowledge that the 
 
 He stopped short on uttering this j heiress of the Valois could be satisfied 
 madame which made it a sort of inter- with second-hand furniture and could 
 
 not pay eight hundred livres for it. 
 She therefore thought it fitting to ap- 
 
 rogatory. 
 
 Madame la Comtesse de La Mothe 
 Volois,' negligently replied Jeanne. i pear angry. 
 
 On hearing this high sounding title, j But,' she exclaimed, ' no one is talk- 
 11. Pingret was seen immediately to ing to you of purchasing, sir. How 
 11
 
 
 THE QUEEN'S NECKLACE; OR, THE 
 
 could you imagine that I would purchase 
 this old trumpery. The point in ques- 
 tion is to hire, and besides ' 
 
 Pingret.made a wry face, for insen- 
 sibly the speculation was diminishing 
 in value. He &ad no longer to hope 
 that he would sell new nor even second- 
 hand furniture ; .it had dwindled down 
 to hiring. 
 
 ' You wish to have all that furniture 
 with the yellow silk cushions,' said he, 
 'is it for a year?' 
 
 ' No, for a month. It is for a country 
 friend of mine.' 
 
 ' It will be a hundred livres a month, 
 said Master Pingret. 
 
 ' You are jesting, I should suppose, 
 for at that calculation, at the end of eight 
 months the whole value of the furniture 
 would be paid.' 
 'Agreed, madam.' 
 4 Well, and what then ?' ' 
 1 Why then, madam, if it belonged to 
 you it would no longer belong to me, 
 and consequently I should not have to 
 trouble myself about renovating it, fresh- 
 ening it up, all which costs money.' 
 . Madame de Lamothe reflected. 
 
 ' A hundred livres for a month,' said 
 she to herself, ' that is a great deal, but 
 let us consider ; either it will be too 
 dear in a month, and then ,-I return the 
 articles, and the upholsterer will form a 
 great opinion of me, or in a month I 
 may be able to order completely new 
 furniture ; I thought of laying out five 
 or six hundred livres, let us do things 
 grandly and spend three hundred.' 
 
 ' I will take,' she said aloud, ' the yel- 
 low furniture for a drawing room, with 
 curtains to match.' 
 ' Yes madam.' 
 ' And the caipets ?' 
 ' Here they are.' 
 
 ' What can you give me for another 
 room?' 
 
 ' These green seats, that large oaken 
 press, that table with twisted logs, and 
 green damask curtains.' 
 
 ' Very well ; and for a bed room.' 
 ' A large and handsome bed, with ex- 
 cellent feather bed and mattresses, a 
 counterpane of velvet embroidered in 
 rose -color and silver, blue curtains, 
 chimney ornaments of rather gothic 
 fashion, but very richly gilt.' 
 ' A toilette table ?' 
 
 ' Ornamented with real Mechlin lace. 
 Look at it, madam. A chest of drawers 
 of beautifully inlaid wood, of very deli- 
 cate design, chitVonier to mutch, a sofu 
 covered with tapestry, with chairs of 
 the same patterns elegant chimney or- 
 
 naments, which belonged to the bed 
 chamber of Madame de Pompadour, at 
 
 /"ii * * 
 
 C noisy.' 
 
 ' And the price of all this ?' 
 'For one month?' 
 ' Yes.' 
 
 ' Four hundred livres.' 
 ' Come now, Monsieur de Pingret, I 
 beg you will not take me for a grisette. 
 People of my quality are not to be daz- 
 zled with merely shining colors. Be 
 pleased to consider, I beg of you that 
 four hundred livres a month amounts to 
 four thousand and eight hundred livres 
 a year, and that for such a price I could 
 hire an hotel completely furnished.' 
 Master Pingret scratched his ear. 
 ' Your mode of acting completely 
 disgusts me with the place Royal,' con- 
 tinued the Countess. 
 
 ' That would really cause me much 
 regret, madam.' 
 
 ' Well then prove what you say at 
 once. I will not give more than three 
 hundred livres for. the whole of the fur- 
 niture.' 
 
 Jeanne pronounced these last words 
 with so much authority, that the dealer 
 could not help thinking of the future. 
 ' Well madam, he it so,' said he. 
 ' And on one condition, master Pin- 
 gret.' 
 
 ' And what is that, madam?' 
 It is, that every thing shall be deliv- 
 ered and properly arranged in the apart- 
 ments I shall point out to you, between 
 this time and three o'clock this after 
 noon.' 
 
 ' It is now ten o'clock, madam ; pray 
 consider 'that ; it is now striking ten.' 
 
 ' Well, you have only to say, yes, or 
 no.' 
 
 Where must it be taken madam ?' 
 To the Rue Saint Claude in the 
 Marais.' 
 
 Oh ! that is only two steps from 
 this ?' 
 
 ' Precisely.' 
 
 The upholsterer opened the door in- 
 to the yard calling out : Sylvain ! Lan- 
 dry I Re,my. Three of his apprentices 
 ran in delighted at having un excuse 
 for leaving their dusty work, and a pre- 
 text for seeing the handsome lady. 
 
 ' The hand-barrows, my lads and two 
 or three trucks.' 
 
 ' Remy you will load the furniture 
 with yellow cushions. Sylvain take 
 charge of that for the ante-chamber; 
 and you. Landry, as you are a careful 
 fellow, will look to -the things for the 
 bed-room.' 
 
 ' We will now make out the list, ma
 
 MYSTERIES OF THE COURT OF LOUIS XVI. 
 
 dam, and if you please I will sign a re- 
 ceipt.' 
 
 ' Here are six double and one single 
 Jouis,' said the Countess, ' give me die 
 change.' 
 
 ' Here are two crown pieces of six 
 livres each, madam.' 
 
 ' Of which I will give one to these 
 young men, if they do their work prop- 
 erly,' said theCountess. 
 
 And having given her address, she 
 hurried off to her wheeled chair. 
 
 In an hour from that time she had 
 hired the apartment on the third story, 
 and two hours had ndt elapsed before 
 the drawing-room, the ante-chamber 
 and the bed-room were being simulta- 
 neously furnished. 
 
 The six livres piece was earned by 
 Messrs. Landry, Remy and Sylvain 
 within ten minutes of the time proposed. 
 
 The apartment thus transformed, the 
 windows cleaned, and good fires lighted 
 in every room, Jeanne seated herself 
 at her toilette-toble and for two hours 
 enjoyed the satisfaction of placing her 
 feet on a good thick carpet, of feeling 
 herself surrounded by well furnished 
 walls in a comfortable warm atmos- 
 phere, and of inhaling the perfume of 
 some gilly-flowers whose stems were 
 bathing themselves joyously in japan 
 
 vases, their heads 
 of the apartment. 
 
 in the warm vapor 
 
 Master Pingret had not forgotten the 
 gilded candelabra for wax lights ; on 
 each side of the looking-glasses were 
 lusties of glass girandoles which when 
 lighted up, radiated with all the colors 
 of the rainbow. 
 
 Fire, flowers, rose colored perfumed 
 wax lights, Jeanne omitted nothing to 
 embellish the paradise which she had 
 destined to his Eminence. 
 
 She even took care that the door of 
 the bed-chamber should be coquettishly 
 left half open, giving a view of the fire- 
 place in which was burning a soft red 
 fire, the reflection of which darted up- 
 on the gilded feet of the arm-chairs, 
 the bedstead and the chimney orna- 
 ments of Madame de Pompadour, heads 
 of Chimeras upon which the lovely feet 
 of the Marchioness had so often rested. 
 
 But Jeanne's coquetry was not limit- 
 ed to this. 
 
 If the blazing fire brought out in re- 
 lief the interior of this mysterious 
 chamber, if the perfumes revealed the 
 woman, the woman herself revealed 
 high birth, beauty, a mind, a taste, 
 worthy of his Eminence. 
 
 so much elegance and care, that M. de 
 La Mothe her absent husband might 
 have required some explanation on the 
 subject. 
 
 The woman was worthy of the apart- 
 ment and of the furniture hired of 
 master Pingret. 
 
 After a slight repast, for she would 
 not indulge too much in order that she 
 might retain all her powers of mind, 
 and not endanger the elegant palor of 
 her features, Jeanne threw herself in- 
 to a large easy chair by the fire -side in 
 her bed-room. 
 
 With a book in her hand and one foot 
 upon a stool, she waited anxiously, list- 
 ening at once to the pendulum of the 
 clock and the distant rumbling of car- 
 riages which very seldom troubled the 
 tranquillity of that deserted quarter of 
 the town. 
 
 She waited ; the clock struck nine, 
 ten, eleven, and no one came either in 
 a carriage or on foot. 
 
 ' Eleven o'clock ! and that is the hour 
 for gallant prelates who have sharpened 
 their charity by a supper in the su- 
 burbs, and who, having only twenty 
 turns of their carriage wheels to perform 
 in order to reach the Rue Saint Claude, 
 congratulate th emselves on being at 
 once humane, philanthropic and reli- 
 gious with so "little trouble. 
 
 Midnight resounded lugubriously from 
 the steeple of the Filles du Calvaire ; 
 but no prelate, no carriage. The wax- 
 lights began to wane, some of them 
 were already overflowing with diaphon- 
 ous flakes their gilded stands. 
 
 The fire, renewed with many sighs, 
 was now reduced to ashes. The heat 
 of the two rooms was perfectly Afri- 
 can. 
 
 The old servant who had dressed her- 
 self out in her best, grumbled with re- 
 gret at the damage "to her Sunday cap, 
 decked with glaring ribbands and which, 
 bending with her head as she every 
 now and then nodded drowsily over a 
 wax-light in the ante-chamber, did not 
 recover an erect position without being 
 somewhat injured by the caresses of 
 the flame, or soiled by the contact of 
 the liquid wax. 
 
 At half-past twelve Jeanne rose in 
 great fury from her easy chair, which 
 during the evening she hud left at least 
 a hundred times to open the window 
 and gaze along the dimly lighted street. 
 
 The whole neighborhood was as tran- 
 quil as before the creation f the world* 
 
 She called Cloihilde to undress her, 
 
 Jeanne' s toilette wab arranged with I refused to take any supper, and dis-
 
 THE QUEEN'S NECKLACE ; OR, THE 
 
 missed the old woman whose questions 
 bettame irksome to her. 
 
 Left alone amid her silken draperies, 
 her fine curtains and in a luxurious bed, 
 she did nor sleep better than on the 
 previous night, fofr the night before her 
 watching was more happy, it had been 
 cradled by hope. 
 
 However, by dint of turning and 
 twisting and steeling her mind against 
 this untoward event, Jeanne at length 
 hit upon a reason for excusing the Car- 
 dinal. 
 
 ' In the first place that he was a Car- 
 dinal, Grand Almoner of the Court, that 
 he had a thousand exciting affairs, and 
 consequently of more importance than 
 a visit to the rue Saint Claude.' 
 
 And then there was another excuse. 
 
 ' He does not knoto the little Coun- 
 tess de Valois,' an excuse which was 
 very consoling to Jeanne's vanity ; as- 
 suredly she would have been incon- 
 solable if M. de Rohan had failed in 
 his promise after paying her a first 
 visit. 
 
 This reason with which Jeanne con- 
 soled herself needed a proof in order to 
 ascertain its validity. 
 
 Jeanne could restrain herself no 
 longer ; she instantly jumped out of 
 bed and lighted the wax candles by the 
 night lamp, and with no other dress 
 thfen her white bed-gown, went to the 
 lofcking-glass and there during some 
 time examined herself attentively. 
 
 After this examination, she smiled, 
 blevfr out the wax-lights and again be- 
 took herself to bed. 
 
 The last excuse was a good one. 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 THE CARDINAL DE ROHAIt. 
 
 next day, Jeanne, without any 
 feeling of discouragement, once more 
 arranged her apartment with great 
 care, find dressed herself with the same 
 elegance as before. 
 
 Her glass had assured her M. de Ro- 
 han would come, if he had ever heard 
 heir spoken of. 
 
 It was just striking seven o'clock, "and 
 the drawing-room fire Was burning with 
 great brilliancy, When she heard a car- 
 riage rolling down the rne St. Claude. 
 
 Jeanne had not even had time enough 
 to place herse'lf at the window and to 
 become impatient. 
 
 From this carriage alighted a Man 
 
 muffled up in a large great cont ; theo 
 the door of the house being closed after 
 admitting this man, the carriage drove 
 into a small by-street there to await the 
 return of its master. 
 
 Soon, Madam9 de La Mothe heard 
 the bell ring, and her heart beat with 
 such violence that its pulsations might 
 have been heard. 
 
 But ashamed of yielding to such un- 
 seasonable emotion, Jeanne commanded 
 her heart to remain silent, arranged 
 some embroidery upon the table, placed 
 a new air upon her harpischord, and a 
 newspaper on the corner of the chim- 
 ney-piece. 
 
 In a few seconds dame Clothilde came 
 in and announced to the Countess : 
 
 ' The person who had written the 
 day before yesterday.' 
 
 ' Ask him to step in,' replied Jeanne. 
 
 A light step, creaking shoes, a hand- 
 some person dressed in silk and velvet, 
 carrying his head erect and appearing 
 ten feet high in this small apartment, 
 such was the personage presented to 
 Jeanne's view on rising to receive him. 
 
 She had been disagreeably impressed 
 by the incognito which this personage 
 had retained ; therefore decided upon 
 taking all the advantage which previous 
 reflection had given her. 
 
 ' To whom have I the honor of speak- 
 ing ?' said she, with a curtsey, not of a 
 person protected but a protectress. 
 
 The prince looked at the drawing- 
 room door through which dame Clo- 
 thilde had disappeared. 
 
 4 1 am the Cardinal de Rohan,' he re- 
 plied. 
 
 Upon which Madame de La Mothe 
 feigning to brash and quite abashed by 
 her humility, made another curtsey as 
 reverential as if it had been to the king. 
 
 Then she drew forward an arm- 
 chair, and instead of seating herself 
 upon a common chair as etiquette re- 
 quired, she threw herself back into the 
 one she had already occupied. 
 
 The Cardinal perceiving this free and 
 easy mode of operation, placed his hat 
 upon the table and looking at Jeanne 
 full in the face as she did at him. 
 
 ' It is then true, mademoiselle ' said 
 he. 
 
 'Madame,' snid Jeanne, interrupting 
 him. 
 
 'I beg your pardon ; I had foi gotten. 
 It is then true, madurne -' 
 
 1 My husband is culled the Count de 
 La Mothe, Monseigneur.' 
 
 ' Precisely, precisely -a gendarme of 
 the king or the queen.' 

 
 MYSTERIES OF THE COURT OF LOUIS XVI. 
 
 85 
 
 'Yes, Monseigneur.' 
 
 ,' And you, madam,' said he, 'you are 
 born a Valois.' 
 
 ' Yes, Monseigneur.' 
 
 1 A great name !' observed the Car- 
 dinal, placing one knee over the other, 
 a rare name, extinct.' 
 
 Jeanne guessed the doubt insinuated 
 by the Cardinal. 
 
 1 Oh ! no Monseigneur, not extinct, 
 since I bear it, and have a brother who 
 is Baron de Valois.' 
 
 ' Acknowledged ?' 
 
 4 It is not necessary that it should be 
 acknowledged, Monseigneur ; my broth- 
 er may be rich or poor, but he would still 
 be what he was born, Baron de Valois.' 
 
 1 Will you, madam, be pleased to re- 
 laty to me this descent ? You interest 
 me, I have a taste for heraldry.' 
 
 Jeanne related plainly, and with in- 
 difference, that which the reader al- 
 ready knows. 
 
 The Cardinal looked and listened. 
 
 He did not take the trouble to con- 
 ceal his impressions. What end would 
 it have served ? He did not. believe 
 either in the merit of Jeanne or her 
 rank ; he thought her pretty and poor ; 
 he looked at her and that sufficed. 
 
 Jeanne, who was alive to everything, 
 perceived the unfavorable opinion which 
 her future protector had formed. 
 
 ' So that,' said M. de Rohan, negli- 
 gently, ' you have really been un- 
 happy ?' 
 
 ' I do not complain, Monseigneur.' 
 
 ' In fact, the difficulties of your posi- 
 tion were much exaggerated to me by 
 my informant.' 
 
 He looked around him. 
 
 This lodging is commodious, and very 
 agreeably furnished.' 
 
 For a grisette, undoubtedly,' replied 
 Jeanne, harshly, impatient to begin the 
 Attack. ' Oh ! yes, Monseigneur.' 
 
 The Cardinal made a gesture of sur- 
 prise. 
 
 'What,' cried he, 'do you call this 
 furniture the furniture of a grisette ?' 
 
 ' I do not imagine, Monseigneur,' she 
 said, ' that you can call it the furniture 
 of a princess.' 
 
 ' And you are a princess,' said he, 
 with that almost imperceptible tone of 
 irony, which only persons of very dis- 
 tinguished wit. or of high rank have the 
 secret of mingling with their language, 
 without becoming altogether imperti- 
 nent. 
 
 ' I was born a Valois, Monseigneur, 
 as you were born a Kohnn', and that is 
 all I know. 
 
 And these words were pronounced 
 with that mild majesty of offended mi- 
 sery the majesty of a woman who feel* 
 she is not duly appreciated ; they were 
 at once so harmonious and so dignified, 
 that the prince was not wounded in his 
 self love, and the feeling s of the man 
 were moved. 
 
 Madam,' said he, ' I have not re- 
 membered that my. first word to you. 
 ought to have been an apology. I wrote 
 to you that I should be here yesterday, 
 but I wns detained at Versailles on ac- 
 count of the reception of M. de Suffren. 
 I was therefore compelled to forego the 
 pleasure of paying you a visit.' 
 
 ' You do me but too much honor, 
 Monseigneur, in having thought of me 
 to-day, and the Count de La Mothe, my 
 husband, will the more poignantly re- 
 gret the exile to which our misery con- 
 demns him, since that exile prevents 
 him from enjoying so illustrious a pre- 
 sence.' 
 
 The word husband attracted the in- 
 tention of the Cardinal. 
 
 ' You live alone, madam ?' said he. 
 
 'Completely so, Monseigneur.' 
 
 That is praiseworthy in a young and 
 pretty woman.' 
 
 1 It is very natural, Monseigneur, in 
 a woman who would feel herself out of 
 her place in every other society, ex- 
 cepting that from which her poverty 
 estranges her.' 
 
 The Cardinal remained silent for a 
 moment. 
 
 ' It appears,' rejoined he, ' that the 
 genealogists do not dispute you genea- 
 logy ?' 
 
 'And in what does that avail me ?' 
 said Jeanne, disdainfully, and raising 
 with a charming gesture the small pow- 
 dered ringlets on her temples. 
 
 The Cardinal drew his arm-chair 
 nearer, as for the purpose of placing his 
 feet nearer to the fire. 
 
 ' Madam,' said he, I have wished, 
 and still wish, to know in what I can be 
 useful to you.' 
 
 ' Why, in nothing, Monseigneur.' 
 
 ' How, in nothing?' 
 
 1 Your eminence certainly overwhelm* 
 me with honor.' 
 
 ' Let us speak more frankly.' 
 
 ' I know not how I can be more frank 
 than I now am, Monseigneur.' 
 
 'You were complaining just now,' 
 said the Cardinal, looking around him, 
 as if to remind Jeanne of what she had 
 said with regard to the griscltc furni- 
 ture. 
 
 > Undoubtedly, I did complain.'
 
 THE QUEEN'S NECKLACE; OR, THE 
 
 Well then, madam * 
 
 Well then, monseigneur, I see that 
 your Eminence wishes to give me an 
 alms, is it not so ?' 
 
 'Oh ! madam ' 
 
 1 'Tis neither more nor less, I have 
 received alms, but I will no longer re- 
 ceive them.' 
 
 What can you mean ?' 
 
 Monseigneur, for some time past I 
 have been sufficiently humiliated ; it is 
 not possible that I can endure it longer.' 
 
 ' Afadam, you misconstrue the mean- 
 ing of words. When in misfortune a 
 person is not dishonored ' 
 
 Not even with the name I bear? 
 tell me now would you beg, Monsieur 
 de Rohan ?' 
 
 'I am not speaking of myself,' replied 
 the Cardinal, with somewhat of con- 
 fusion mingled with hauteur. 
 
 Monseigneur, I know but of two 
 ways of asking alms ; in a carriage or 
 at the door of a church, in gold and vel- 
 vet, or in rags. Well, then! just now 
 I did not expect the honor of your visit. 
 I thought myself forgotten.' 
 
 ' Ah ! then, you knew that it was I 
 who had written ?' said the Cardinal. 
 
 4 Did I not see your arms upon the 
 seal of the letter which you did me the 
 honor to address to me ?' 
 
 4 And yet you feigned not to recog- 
 nize me ?' 
 
 ' Because you did not do 'me tho 
 honor to allow yourself to be announced 
 by name.' 
 
 ' Well ! this pride pleases me,' eager- 
 ly exclaimed the Cardinal, looking with 
 complacency at the animated eyes and 
 haughty countenance of the Countess. 
 
 4 1 was saying, then,' rejoined the 
 latter, 'that, before seeing you, I had 
 formed the resolution of I In-owing aside 
 this miserable mantle which conceals 
 my wretchedness ami to jjo forth in rags 
 like every Christian mendicant mid beg 
 my bread, not from the pride but from 
 the clmrily of each passer by.' 
 
 ' You have not I trust exhausted all 
 your resources, madam ?' 
 
 Jeanne made no reply. 
 
 ' You have some estate left, even 
 though it may be mortgaged ; some 
 family jewels ? This one for exam- 
 ple.' 
 
 He pointed to a box with which the 
 vrhitb and delicate fingers of the young 
 woman had boen playing. 
 
 'This ?' cried she. 
 
 4 A very singular box, upon my wprd,' 
 aid he. ' Will you allow me?' 
 
 Ho took it. 
 
 ' Ah ! a portrait .* 
 
 And he made a movement of sur- 
 prise. 
 
 ' Do you know the original of that 
 .portrait ?' inquired Jeanne. 
 
 ' It is the portrait of Maria Theresa.' 
 
 'Of Maria Theresa?' 
 
 ' Yes, the Empress of Austria.' 
 
 'Really!' exclaimed Jeanne. 'Do 
 you believe it is so, Monseigneur ?' 
 
 The Cardinal examined the box with 
 more earnest attention. 
 4 Where did you get this ?' inquired he. 
 
 ' From a lady who came here the day 
 before yesterday.' 
 
 ' To your house ?' 
 
 ' To my house.' 
 
 4 From a lady?' f 
 
 And the Cardinal looked at it again 
 still more eagerly. 
 
 4 1 am mistaken, Monseigneur;' re- 
 joined the Countess, 4 I should have said 
 two ladies.' 
 
 'And one of the two ladies gave you* 
 this box?' inquired he, mistrustfully. 
 
 4 No ; she did not give it to me.' 
 
 4 How then did it come into your pos- 
 session ?' 
 
 'She left it here accidentally.' 
 
 Tlie Cardinal remained pensive, ao 
 pensive that the Countess de Va- 
 lois was puzzled, and thought it would 
 be better that she should be on her 
 guard. 
 
 Then the Cardinal raised his head, 
 and looking attentively at the Countess, 
 said : 
 
 And what is the name of that lady ? 
 you will pardon me, will you not, for 
 addressing such a question to you ; I 
 am, myself, quite ashamed of it, for it 
 appears to me that I am playing the 
 part of a judge.' 
 
 'In fact Monseigneur,' said Madame 
 de La Mothe, ' the question is a strange 
 one.' 
 
 4 Indiscreet, perhaps ; but strange ' 
 'Strange; I repeat the word. If I 
 had known the lady who left this com- 
 fit box' 
 
 \Veii r 
 
 4 1 should already have sent it back to 
 her* No doubt she values it, and I 
 would not repay her gracious visit by 
 causing her anxiety during eight and 
 forty hours.' 
 
 4 Then you do not know her ? 
 
 4 No, all that I know is, that she is 
 the superior of a charitable institution.' 
 
 4 ln Paris ?' 
 
 4 In Versailles.' 
 
 'In Versailles the superior of a 
 1 charitable institution ?'
 
 MYSTERIES OF THE COURT OF LOUIS XVI. 
 
 87 
 
 Monseigneur, I accept from women ; 
 women do not humiliate a poor lady by 
 affording her assistance, and this lady, 
 whom charitable persons had informed 
 of my position, placed a hundred louis 
 on my chimney piece when she paid 
 me a visit.' 
 
 ' A hundred louis !' cried the Cardi- 
 nal with surprise ; and then fearing 
 that h'e might wound Jeanne's suscept- 
 ibility, who had in fact made an indig- 
 nant gesture. 
 
 'Pardon me, madam,' said he, 'I am 
 not astonished that this sum was given 
 you, you are on the contrary deserving 
 of all the solicitude of charitable per- 
 sons, and your birth renders it a duty 
 on their part to be useful to you. It 
 is merely the title of lady of charity, 
 that astonishes me; ladies of charity 
 are in the habit of bestowing lighter 
 alms. Could you not trace me the 
 portrait of that lady, Countess ?' 
 
 ' With difficulty, Monseigneur,' re- 
 plied Jeanne, to sharpen the curiosity 
 of her questioner. 
 
 How can it be difficult, since you 
 say that she came here ?' 
 
 1 Undoubtedly. This lady, who proba- 
 bly did not wish to be recognized, con- 
 cealed her face in a rather capacious 
 hood ; besides which she was muffled 
 up in furs. However ' 
 
 The Countess appeared to be remem- 
 bering. 
 
 ' However,' repeated the Cardinal. 
 
 I thought I saw but I do not affirm 
 it, Monseigneur.' 
 
 ' What did you think you saw ?' 
 
 4 That she had blue eyes.' 
 
 .'Her mouth ?' 
 
 1 Small, although her lips were rather 
 thick, the lower one particularly.' 
 
 ' Tall or of middling height ?' 
 
 ' Of middling height.' 
 
 ' Her hands ?' 
 
 'Beautiful.' 
 
 'Her neck?' 
 
 4 Long and thin.' 
 
 ' Her countenance ?' 
 
 ' Rather austere and noble." 
 
 ' Her accent?' 
 
 ' Somewhat embarrassed. But you 
 perhaps are acquainted with this lady, 
 Monseigneur ?' 
 
 1 How can you imagine that I should 
 know her madam ?' exclaimed the pre- 
 late sharply. 
 
 ' Why, from the mode in which you 
 question me, Monseigneur ; or even 
 from the sympathy which the doers of 
 good works always feel towards each 
 other.' 
 
 4 No, madam, no ; I do not know 
 her.' 
 
 'And yet, Monseigneur, you might 
 have some idea ' 
 .'And from what circumstance?' 
 
 ' Suggested by that portrait, for ex- 
 ample.' 
 
 ' Ah !' eagerly exclaimed the Cardi- 
 nal, who feared that he had allowed too 
 much to be suspected, . ' yes certainly, 
 that portrait ' 
 
 ' Well then ! that portrait, Monseig- 
 neur?' 
 
 Oh ! that portrait still appears to me 
 to be that of-' 
 
 ' Of the Empress Maria Theresa, is 
 it not so ?' 
 
 ' Why I really cannot but believe it.' 
 
 ' Then you think ' 
 
 'I think you have received a visit 
 from some German ladies, who have 
 themselves founded a charitable institu- 
 tion.' 
 
 4 At Versailles.' 
 
 Yes, madam, at Versailles.' 
 
 And the Cardinal said nothing more. 
 
 But it was clearly to be perceived that 
 he still doubted, and that the presence 
 of that box in the apartment of the 
 Countess had renewed all his mistrust. 
 
 But there was one thing which 
 Jeanne could not comprehend, and this 
 was the foundation of the Prince's sus- 
 picions ; suspicions which were evi- 
 dently unfavorable to her, and which 
 went even so far as to make him believe 
 that she was spreading a snare for him 
 under false appearances. 
 
 And indeed any one might have 
 known the interest which the Cardinal 
 took in the queen's affairs ; it was a 
 court rumor which was far from hav- 
 ing remained even a whispered secret, 
 and we have already adverted to the 
 industrious efforts of certain enemies 
 to keep up the animosity which existed 
 between the queen and her grand al- 
 moner. 
 
 That portrait of Maria There> 
 box which the queen constantly carried 
 with her, and which the Cardinal had 
 seen her use a hundred times that he 
 should now find it in f the hands of 
 Jeanne the mendicant! 
 
 Had the queen really visited that 
 poor apartment ? 
 
 And if she had in fact been there, 
 had she remained unknown to Jeanne ? 
 Had the latter from any motive what- 
 soever concealed the honor which had 
 thus been done to her ? 
 
 The prelate doubted ; he had already 
 doubted the da}' before. The name of
 
 88 
 
 THE QUEEN'S NECKLACE : OR, THE 
 
 Valois had cautioned him to be upon his 
 guard, and now, the question regarded 
 not a poor penniless woman, but a Prin- 
 cess relieved by a queen, who person- 
 ally had conferred her benefits. 
 
 Was Marie Antoinette charitable to 
 such a degree as this ? 
 
 While the Cardinal was thus doubt- 
 ing and surmising, Jeanne, who kept 
 her eyes constantly upon him ; Jeanne, 
 whom not a feeling of the Prince es- 
 caped; Jeanne was in perfect agony. 
 It is undoubtedly a perfect martyrdom to 
 a conscience, having some hidden view, 
 to find the persons whom it is wished 
 to convince by the actual truth doubt- 
 ing on subjects where there is no 
 ground for suspicion. 
 
 The silence became embarrassing for 
 both ; the Cardinal was the first to 
 break it by a new question. 
 
 And did you remark the lady who 
 accompanied your benefactress ? Can 
 you describe her to me ?, 
 
 ' Oh ! I saw her very plainly,' re- 
 plied the Countess, ' she is tall and 
 handsome. She has a resolute coun- 
 tenance, a beautiful conplexion and her 
 shape is fine and richly developed.' 
 
 ' And did not the other lady call her 
 by her name ?' 
 
 4 Oh ! yes, once, but it was only by 
 her Christian name.' 
 
 ' And her Christian name was ?' 
 
 ' Andree.' 
 
 4 Andree !' exclaimed the Cardinal 
 Btarting. 
 
 This emotion did not escape unno- 
 ticed like all the others, the Countess 
 de La Mothe observed it. 
 
 The Cardinal now knew all he desired 
 to know ; the name of Andree at once 
 dispelled all his doubts. And indeed it 
 was known that the queen had been to 
 Paris, two days before*, with Mademoi- 
 selle de Taverney. A certain story 
 of a late return, closed doors, a con- 
 jugal quarrel between the King and 
 Queen, had been whispered about Ver- 
 sailles. 
 
 The Cardinal breathed again. 
 
 There was neither snare not' plot in 
 the rue Saint Claude. Madame de La 
 Mothe appeared as beautiful and pure 
 to him, as the angel of truth. 
 
 And yer it was necessary to obtain 
 one last proof. The Prince was a di- 
 plomatist. 
 
 4 Countess,' said he, ' I must acknowl- 
 edge that there is one thing, above all, 
 which astonishes me.' 
 
 4 And whnt is that, Monseigneur ?' 
 
 1 1 is that with your name, and your 
 
 rights, you , have never applied director 
 to the king.' 
 
 4 To the king ? 
 
 4 Yes.' 
 
 ' Why, Monseigneur, I have sent 
 twenty petitions, twenty memorials to 
 thte king.' 
 
 And without effect?' 
 4 Without effect.' 
 
 ' But, failing with the king, any 0f 
 the princes of the royal family would 
 have furthered your claims. Th* 
 duke of Orleans for instance, is ehari 
 table, and besides, he often likes to do 
 that which the king refuses.' 
 
 4 1 have solicited his higiiness the 
 duke of Orleans, Monseigneur, hut ucu 
 lessly.' 
 
 4 Uselessly ! That surprises me.' 
 
 4 How can it be otherwise ; when -a 
 person is not rich and has no powerful 
 recommendation, every petition gets no 
 farther than the ante-chamber of a 
 prince.' 
 
 4 Then there is the Count d'Artcas. 
 Men who are fond, of dissipation are 
 sometimes capable of greater actions 
 than even charitable persons.' 
 
 4 It was the same with the Count 
 d'Artois, as with his Majesty the King 
 of France.' 
 
 4 But besides all these, there a** 
 Mesdames, the king's aunts. Oh ! 
 Countess, I am much mistaken or they 
 must have given you a favorable repjy.' 
 
 4 No, Monseigneur.' 
 
 4 Oh, I 1 cannot believe that Madame 
 Elizabeth, the king's sister, can have 
 been insensible to your misfortunes.' 
 
 44 That is true, Monseigneur ; her 
 royal highness, on my solicitation, 
 promised to receive me : but I know 
 not how it happened that after receiv- 
 ing my husband, she changed her mind, 
 and notwithstanding the- numerous en- 
 treaties I addressed to her, she did not 
 deign to reply to me.' 
 
 4 That is indeed strange,' said th 
 Cardinal. 
 
 Then suddenly and as if the idea had 
 only at that moment presented itself to 
 his mind. 
 
 But good Heaven !' exclaimed he, 
 4 we are altogether forgetting.' 
 
 ' What ?' 
 
 Why the person to whom above all 
 others, you ought to have first applied.' 
 
 4 And to whom else ought I to hawe 
 apptied ?' 
 
 4 To the disposer of favors, to her who 
 has never refused assistance when it 
 was deserved, to the queen.' 
 
 To the queen ?'
 
 MYSTERIES OF .THE COURT OF LOUIS XVI. 
 
 Yes, to the queea ; hajre you seen 
 her?' 
 
 * Never,' replied Jeanne, with perfect 
 simplicity. 
 
 1 How ! you have never presented a 
 petition to the queen?' 
 
 4 Never.' 
 
 1 You have not endeavored to obtain 
 un audience of her majesty ?' 
 
 ' I have endeavored but did uot suc- 
 ceed.' 
 
 4 At least you must have attempted to 
 place yourself in her way; that she 
 might remark you and aend for you to 
 court. That would have been a means.' 
 
 'I have not employed it.' 
 
 4 Indeed, madam, you tell me things 
 that are almost incredible.' 
 
 4 No ; for in truth I have been but 
 twice to Versailles, and then I saw but 
 two persons, Doctor Louis, the physi- 
 cian who attended my unfortunate 
 father at the Hotel Dieu and the Baron 
 de Taverney, to whom I was recom- 
 mended.' 
 
 4 And what did Monsieur de Taverney 
 ay to you ? He could with great fa- 
 cility have put you in a way to see the 
 queen.' 
 
 4 He told 'me that I had managed 
 matters very unskilfully.' 
 
 And how so?' 
 
 4 To urge as a title to the benevolence 
 of the king, a relationship which could 
 not but be annoying to his majesty, for 
 poor relations were never known to 
 please.' 
 
 4 That is completely the brutal and 
 egotistical baron.' 
 
 Then reflecting on the visit which 
 Andree had paid to the countess. 
 
 4 A strange contradiction,' thought he, 
 * the father dismisses the petitioner and 
 the queen brings the daughter to the 
 house something must surely arise 
 from such an anomaly.' 
 
 4 By the honor of a gentleman,' he 
 rejoined, 4 it much amazes me to hear 
 a petitioner, a woman of the highest 
 nobility, say that she has never seen 
 either the king or the queen.' 
 
 4 Excepting in a painting,' said Jeanne, 
 smiling. 
 
 4 Well,' said the Cardinal, now fully 
 convinced of the ignorance of the coun- 
 tess, 4 1 will, myself take you to Ver- 
 auilles, should it be necessary, and I 
 will engage that the doors shall be open- 
 ed to you.' 
 
 ' Oh ! monseignevu:, what unexpected 
 kindness ." exclaimed the Couutese, 
 transported with joy. 
 
 The Cardinal drew nearer to her. 
 
 4 It is impossible,' said he, 4 but that 
 in a very short time everybody will feel 
 interested for you.' 
 
 'Alas! monseigneur,' said Jeanne, 
 with a languishing sigh, 4 do you believe 
 that sincerely ?' 
 
 4 Oh ! I am positive it will be so.' 
 
 I believe you flatter me, monseig- 
 neur.' And she fixed her eyes sted- 
 fastjy upon him. 
 
 Indeed, this sudden change was well 
 calculated to surprise the countess ; she 
 who, but ten minutes previously, he 
 had treated with princely levity. 
 
 Jeanne's look, darted with the rapid- 
 ity of an arrow from the archer's bow, 
 struck the Cardinal to the heart, or ex- 
 cited his sensuality. M. de Rohan, 
 who was a connoisseur in women, must 
 have acknowledged to himself that he 
 had seen few so seducing. 
 
 4 Ah ! by my faith,' said *he to him- 
 self, with that eternal reservation com- 
 mon to all courtiers and men educated 
 for diplomacy. 4 Ah ! by my faith, it 
 would be too extraordinary or too for- 
 tunate, that I should meet in the same 
 person, a virtuous woman wno had all 
 the appearance of an intrigante, and in 
 abject misery an all-powerful protec- 
 tress.' 
 
 4 Monseigneur,' suddenly said the 
 syren, 4 you every now and then remain 
 silent, and in a manner which makes 
 me feel quite anxious. I trust you will 
 pardon me for saying so.' 
 
 And how so, Countess ?' inquired 
 the Cardinal. 
 
 4 In this, Monseigneur : a man like 
 you is never wanting in politeness, ex- 
 cepting to two classes of women.' 
 
 4 Oh ! good heavefl, what are you 
 about to say, Countess. Upon my word, 
 you quite alarm me.' 
 
 And he took her hand. 
 
 4 Yee,' said the Countess, with two 
 classes of women ; I have said it, and I 
 repeat it.' 
 
 And what are they ? Come, now, 
 let un hear.' 
 
 4 Women that are too much beloved ( 
 or women that are not sufficiently es- 
 teemed.' 
 
 4 Countess ! Countess ! you make me 
 blush. Can I have been wanting in po- 
 liteness towards you?' 
 
 'Why ' 
 
 4 Do not say that ; it would be horrible. 1 
 
 4 It would, indeed, Monseigneur, for 
 you cannot love me too much ; and I 
 have not, at all events, up to the present 
 moment, given you any reason not to 
 esteem ra/e.'
 
 90 
 
 THE QUEEN'S NECKLACE; OR, THE 
 
 The Cardinal again took her hand. 
 'Ah! Countess, really, you speak to 
 me as if you were angry with me 
 
 ' Ah ! this seems like confidence,' ex- 
 claimed he, still drawing nearer to 
 Jeanne. ' Ah ! so much the better ! BO 
 
 ' No, Monseignem% for you have not j much the better.' 
 as yet deserved my anger.' ' I feel confidence : yes, Monseigneur f 
 
 * And I never will deserve it, madam, 
 from this duy, on which I have first had 
 the pleasure of seeing and of knowing 
 you.' 
 
 Oh ! my looking-glass ! my looking- 
 
 glass !' thought Jeanne, ' you spoke 
 truly.' 
 
 ' And, from this day, my care shall 
 always be devoted to you.' 
 
 4 Oh ! pray no more,' said the Count- 
 ess, who had not withdrawn her hand, 
 ' that is quite enough.' 
 
 ' What can you mean ?' 
 
 4 Speak not to me of your protection.' 
 
 4 Heaven forbid that I should pro- 
 nounce that word protection. Ah! 
 madam, it is not you that it would hu- 
 miiliate, but myself.' 
 
 4 Then, Cardinal, let us admit one 
 thing, and which will flatter me ex- 
 ceedingly.' 
 
 4 If that be the case, madam, we will 
 at once admit it.' 
 
 4 Let us admit, Monseigneur, that 
 you have paid a visit to Madame de 
 La Mothe Valois, and nothing more.' 
 
 4 But nothing less, at all events,' re- 
 plied the gallant Cardinal. 
 
 And, raising Jeanne's hand to his 
 lips, he impressed upon it a long and 
 fervent kiss. 
 
 The Countess withdrew her hand. 
 
 ' Oh ! mere politeness,' said the Car- 
 nal with infinite gravity and grace. 
 
 Jeanne again gave her hand to him, 
 upon which, this time, the prelate ap- 
 plied a most respectful kiss. 
 
 All ! that, indeed, is as it should be, 
 Monseigneur.' 
 
 The Cardinal bowed. 
 
 To know,' continued the Countess, 
 * that I possess a place, however small 
 it may be, in the mind of a man so oc- 
 cupied and so eminent as yourself, is 
 
 because I feel assured that yur emin- 
 ence' 
 
 4 You said Cardinal, just now, Count- 
 ess.' 
 
 4 You must forgive me, Monseigneur, 
 I know not the usages of the court. I 
 say I feel confidence, because you are 
 capable of comprehending a mind like 
 mine, adventurous, courageous ; and a 
 heart altogether pure, despite the trials 
 of poverty, despite the attacks made 
 upon me by vile enemies. Your emin- 
 ence will know how to appreciate in 
 me, that is, in my conversation, that 
 which is worthy of you ; your emin- 
 ence will be indulgent with regard to 
 whatever is deficient in me.' 
 
 ' We are friends forever, then, ma 
 dam ; it is signed and sworn.' 
 
 4 1 have no objection.' 
 
 The Cardinal rose and advanced to- 
 wards Madame de La Mothe, but as he 
 extended his arms wider than was ne- 
 cessary, to take a simple oath, the 
 Countess, light and agile,' slipped from 
 within their circle. 
 
 4 A treaty of amity between three,' 
 she exclaimed, with an inimitable ac- 
 cent of raillery and innocence. 
 
 ' What can you mean by three ?' 
 asked the Cardinal. 
 
 ' Undoubtedly ; is there not wander 
 ing somewhere in this world, a poor 
 
 Ssndarme, an exile, who is called the 
 ount de La Mothe ?* 
 4 Oh ! Countess, what a deplorable 
 memory you possess.' 
 
 4 Why, in good truth, I must speak 
 to you of him, since you do not even 
 mention him.' 
 
 ' Do you know, Countess, why I have 
 not spoken of him ?' 
 4 Well, just tell me.' 
 4 It is because he will well know how to 
 
 enough to console me during a whole j speak for himself; believe me, husbands 
 year. ' i are never forgetful of themselves.' 
 
 1 A year ; that is but short space ; let 
 us hope more than that, Countess.' 
 
 1 Well, Cardinal, I will not say no,' 
 replied sin- smiling, 
 
 Cardinal, without any addition ~ 
 
 Mothe had twice been guilty. The 
 
 'And should he speak of himself?' 
 ' Why, then, we will speak of you, 
 and then people will speak of us.' 
 ' And how so ?' 
 4 It will be said, for instance, that M- 
 
 a familiarity of which Madame de La de La Mothe was pleased, crthatM. de 
 
 La Mothe was displeased, because the 
 
 prelate, who was irritable in his pride, I Cardinal de Rohan came three, four, 
 might have been astonished at it ; but or five times a week to visit Madame de 
 things had arrived ar such a point, that ! La Mothe, in the Rue Saint Claude. 1 
 be was not only not surprised, but, on ' 4 <^h ' hn\v vnn mn fWHinoi 
 the contrary considered it as a favor. 
 
 Oh ! how you run on, Cardinal- 
 three, four, or five times a-week V
 
 MYSTERIES OF THE COURT OF LOUIS XVI. 
 
 91 
 
 4 Of what use would our treaty o: 
 amity be otherwise, Countess ? I sale 
 five times, but made a great mistake. ] 
 should have said, six or seven times.' 
 
 Jeanne laughed very heartily. 
 
 The Cardinal remarked that for the 
 first time, she had paid this compliment 
 to his jokes, and he felt flattered by it. 
 
 4 Can you prevent people talking?' 
 said she. You well know that is im- 
 possible.' 
 
 ' I can effect it,' he replied. 
 
 'And how ?' 
 
 ' Oh ! by a veiy simple method. By 
 some means or other, all Paris knows 
 me.' 
 
 4 Oh ! certes, and with good reason 
 too, Monseigneur.' 
 
 ' But you ; it has the misfortune ol 
 not knowing you.' 
 
 And what, then ?' 
 
 4 Let us reverse the matter.' 
 
 ' Reverse it what means that ?' 
 
 4 It shall be as you please if, for in- 
 stance' 
 
 4 Go on.' 
 
 4 Were you to go out, instead oi 
 making me come out' 
 
 ' That I should go to your hotel I, 
 Monseigneur ?' 
 
 4 You would, without objection, call 
 on a minister.' 
 
 4 A minister is not a man, Monseign- 
 eur.' 
 
 4 You are adorable. Well, then, my 
 hotel is altogether out of the question ; 
 I have a house.' 
 
 4 A pleasure house, to speak plainly.' 
 
 4 By no means, a house that is your 
 own.' 
 
 4 Ah !' cried the countess, 4 a house 
 of mine ? and where is it situated ? I 
 did not know I had such a property.' 
 
 The Cardina. who had again sat down, 
 rose from his chair. 
 
 4 To-morrow morning at ten o'clock, 
 I will send you the address.' 
 
 The Countess blushed, the Cardinal 
 gallantly took her hand. 
 
 And this time the kiss was at once 
 respectful, tender and bold. 
 
 They then bowed to each other with 
 that residue of smiling ceremony which 
 indicates an approaching intimacy. 
 
 4 Light raonseigneur to the door,' cried 
 the countess. 
 
 The old woman appeared with a wax 
 light in her hand. 
 
 The prelate withdrew. 
 
 4 Well,' thought Jeanne, 4 it appears 
 to me that I have made a great step in 
 the world.' 
 
 4 Well, well,' thought the Cardinal, 
 
 as he threw himself upon the cushion* 
 of his carriage, ' I have succeeded 
 doubly. That woman has too much wit 
 not to entrap the queen as she has en- 
 trapped me.' 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 MESMER AND SAINT MARTIN. 
 
 There was a time when Paris free 
 from business, Paris full of leisure, be- 
 came altogether-impassioned for ques- 
 tions which, in our days, are the mono- 
 poly of the rich, who are termed the 
 useless, and men of science, who are 
 termed the idle. 
 
 In 1784, that is to say, the period at 
 which we have now arrived, the fashion- 
 able topic, that which rose above all 
 others which floated in the air, its 
 course being arrested by heads that 
 towered somewhat above the common 
 herd, as are the vapors by high moun- 
 tains, was Mesmerism ; that mysterious 
 science so ill defined by its inven- 
 tors, who, not feeling the necessity 
 of rendering a discovery democratic 
 from its very birth, had allowed it 
 to assume the name of a man, that 
 is to say, an aristocratic title, in- 
 stead of one of those scientific names 
 derived from the Greek, by the aid of 
 which the bashful modesty of modern 
 men of science, in these days popular- 
 ize all scientific elements. 
 
 And indeed, what purpose would it 
 have answered in 1784 to have vulgarised 
 a science ? The people, who for more 
 than a century and a half ha.9 not beon 
 consulted by those "trno governed them, 
 did they count for any thing in the 
 State ? No, the people were the fer- 
 tile soil which produced every thing, 
 they were the rich harvest that was 
 mowed down; but the proprietor of the 
 soil was tne King the reapers were the 
 nobility. 
 
 In our days, all this is changed. 
 France resembles a secular sand-glass ; 
 during nine hundred years it h.is mark- 
 ed the hours of royalty ; the powerful 
 band of the Lord' has turned it; for 
 ce'nturieft it will mark the era of the 
 people. 
 
 In 1784 the name of a man was there- 
 fore a recommendation ; in these days, 
 on the contrary, success depends on the 
 name of a thing. 
 
 But let us abandon to-day to cast back 
 our eyes on yesterday. In the vast ex-
 
 92 
 
 THE QUEEN'S NECKLACE; OR, THE 
 
 tent of eternity what is the lapse of only 
 half a century? Not even that which 
 to our limited vision exists between the 
 day and the morrow. 
 
 Doctor Mesmer was at Paris, as 
 Marie Antoinette has, herself, informed 
 us, by asking the king's permission to 
 pay him a visit. Let us therefore be 
 permitted to say a few wqrds of Doctor 
 Mesmer, whose name remembered now 
 by only a few adepts, was at the time 
 we are attempting to describe, in every 
 mouth. 
 
 Doctor Mesmer had, about the year 
 1777, brought withiiim from Germany, 
 that land of misty dreams, a science all 
 beswollen with clouds and lightnings. 
 By the flashings of this lightning, the 
 scientific man saw but the clouds ranged 
 in dark canopy above his head ; the vul- 
 gar saw the lightning only. 
 
 Mesmer had commenced in Germany 
 by a thesis on the planets. He had en- 
 deavored to prove that the celestial 
 bodies, by virtue of that power which 
 produces their mutual attraction, exer- 
 cise an influence over animated bodies, 
 and particularly on the nervous system, 
 through the medium of a subtle fluid 
 which fills the universe. But this first 
 theory was extremely abstruse. It was 
 necessary, in order to comprehend it, 
 to be initiated in the science of Galileo 
 and of Newton. It was a mixture of 
 great astronomical truths, with as- 
 trological reveries which could not, 
 we will not say be popularized, but 
 aristocracized ; for to effect this it 
 would have been necessary tha,t the 
 whole body pf the nobility should have 
 been converted into n scientific society. 
 Mesmejj there fore abandoned this first 
 system to throw himself into that of 
 magnetic influei. 
 
 Magnets, at that time, were much 
 studied, their sympathetic or anti-pa- 
 thetic faculties gave to minerals a life 
 somewhat similar to human life, by ac- 
 cording to them the two great passions 
 of human life, love and hatred. To 
 magnets were consequently attributed 
 surprising qualities for the cure of ma- 
 ladies. Mesmer therefore added the 
 action of the magnet to his first system, 
 and tried to discover what he could 
 gain by this adjunction. 
 
 Unfortunately for Mesmer, on arriv- 
 ing at Vienna he found a rival already 
 established there. This rival, whose name 
 was Hall, pretended that Mesmer had 
 robbed him of his discoveries ; upon this 
 Mesmer, being a man of great imagina- 1 
 tion, and that he was undoubtedly, de- 
 
 clared at once, that he had abandoned 
 magnets as altogether useless, and that 
 he qo longer effected cures by mineral, 
 but by animal magnetism. 
 
 This word, pronounced as a new 
 word, did not, however, designate a 
 new discovery ; magnetism, known to 
 the ancients, employed in the Egyptian 
 initiations and in Grecian pythism, had 
 been preserved through the^ middle 
 ages as a tradition ; some remnants 
 gathered from this science, had created 
 the sorcerers of the thirteenth, four- 
 teenth, and fifteenth centuries ; many of 
 whom were burnt at the stake, who 
 avowed amid the flames, the strange 
 religion of which they were the mar- 
 tyrs. 
 
 Urbain Grandier was nothing more 
 than a magnetizer. 
 
 Mesmer had heard of the miracles of 
 this science. 
 
 Joseph Balsamo, the hero of one of 
 our works, has left some traces of his 
 passage in Germany, and more parti-, 
 cularly at Strasbourg. Mesmer set 
 out in search of this science, scattered 
 and flitting as those will-o'-the-wisps 
 which are seen at night hpvering over 
 bogs and marshes, and upon it he fqjm- 
 ed a complete theory, an uniform sys- 
 tem, to which he gave the name of 
 Mesmerism. 
 
 Mesmer, when he had attained this 
 point, communicated his system to the 
 Academy of Sciences at Paris, to the 
 Royal Society of London, and to the 
 Academy of Berlin. The two first did 
 not even deign to reply to him : the 
 third told him that he was a madman. 
 
 Mesmer remembered the Grecian 
 philosopher who denied there was mo- 
 tion, and whom his antagonist at once 
 confounded by walking away from him. 
 He came to France, took out of the 
 hands of Dr. Storck, and Wenzel the 
 occulist, a young girl, seventeen years 
 of age, afflicted with a disease in the 
 liver, and gutta serena, and after at- 
 tending her three months, the invalid 
 was cured, the blind saw plainly. 
 
 This cure had convinced numbers of 
 persons, and among others, a physiq\an 
 named Deslon, who, from being an an- 
 tagonist, became an apostle. 
 
 From that moment the reputation of 
 Mesmer rapidly increased. The Aca- 
 demy had declared itself against the .in- 
 novator ; the court declared itself in his 
 favor. Negociatiuns were opened by 
 the ministry to induce Mesmer to en- 
 rich humanity by the publication of hi* 
 doctrine. 

 
 MYSTERIES OF THE COURT OF LOUIS XVI. 
 
 93 
 
 The doctor fixed his price. There 
 was some haggling. M. de Breteuil of- 
 fered him, in the name of the king, an 
 annuity of twenty thousand lirres, and 
 ten thousand livres in addition, for the 
 instruction of three persons, to be nam- 
 ed by the government, in the practice 
 of hia system. But Mesmer, indignant 
 at this roy.;.I parsimony, refused, and 
 set out for the Baths at Spa, with sev- 
 eral of his patients. 
 
 An unexpected catastrophe threaten- 
 ed Mesmer. Deslon, his pupil ; Des- 
 lon, possessor of the famous secret, 
 which Mesmer had refused to sell for 
 thirty thousand livres a year : Deslon 
 opened an establishment for public 
 treatment, by the Mesmerian method. 
 
 Mesmer was soon apprised of this 
 painful news ; he called it robbery, 
 treason, fraud it almost drove htm 
 mad. Then one of his patients, M. de 
 Bergasse, had the fortunate idou of 
 forming a company upon the science of 
 the illustrious professor. A hundred 
 persons united in the scheme, the ca- 
 pital for which was three hundred nnd 
 forty thousand livres, the condition be- 
 ing that he should reveal his system to 
 the shareholders. Mesmer engaged to 
 do this, received the amount, and re- 
 turned to Paris. 
 
 The hour was propitious ; there are 
 instants in the existence of a people, 
 when near a period of transition, and 
 on the approach of which the whole, 
 nation pauses as before some unknown 
 obstacle hesitates, and appears to have 
 a presentiment of the abyss, on the 
 brink of which it has arrived, and which 
 it divines although it sees it not. 
 
 France was in one of those moments 
 she presented the aspect of a com- 
 munity, calm to all appearance, but the 
 mind of which was agitated ; it was, in 
 a measure, slumbering in factitious hap- 
 piness, the termination of which wns 
 dimly seen, as when about to issue from 
 some extensive forest, we guess there 
 is a plain before us, from the light break- 
 ing at a distance through the interstices 
 of the trees. That culm which had no- 
 thing stable in it, nothing real, was fa- 
 tiguing ; all sought for something that 
 would create excitement, and novelty, 
 of whatsoever description, was eagerly 
 welcomed. The upper classes had be- 
 come too frivolous to occupy themselves 
 as in former times, with serious ques- 
 tions as to government or Moliiiis'r.. 
 But they contended furiously with re- 
 gard to music ; parties were formed, 
 bearing the standard of Gluck or of Pic- 
 
 cini they became impassioned for the 
 Encyclopedia, or inflamed for the me- 
 moirs of Beaumarchais. 
 
 The appearance of a new opera oc- 
 cupied men's minds more than a treaty 
 of peace with England, or the recogni- 
 tion of the Republic of the United 
 States. It was, in short, a period in 
 which men's minds, led by philosophers 
 towards the truth, that is to say, to- 
 wards the destruction of illusions, be- 
 come fatigued with the limpidness of 
 the possible, which allows the depth 
 of everything to be clearly seen, and by 
 a sudden bound endeavor to spring be- 
 yond the limits of the real world, to 
 enter into one of dreams and fiction. 
 
 In fact, if it has been proved that 
 clear, lucid truths, are the only ones 
 which can become promptly popular, it 
 has not the less been proved that mys- 
 teries have a most powerful attraction 
 for every people. 
 
 The people of France were, there- 
 fore, carried away, attracted, in an irre- 
 sistible manner, by the strange mystery 
 of the Mesmerinn fluid, which, accord- 
 ing to the assertions of the adepts, re- 
 stored health to the sick, gave mind to 
 the madman, and folly to the wise. 
 
 Ip every quarter Mesmer wns the 
 man who most attracted attention. 
 'What has he done ? On whom has he 
 performed his divine miracles ? To 
 what great lord has lie restored sight 
 and health ? What lady's nerves, fa- 
 tigued with late hours and gambling, 
 has he soothed and quieted ? What 
 young girl has he compelled to predict 
 the future during a magnetic crisis?' 
 
 The future ! the great word of all 
 nges ; the great interest to all minds; 
 the solution of all problems. *nd ia 
 fact, what was then the present ? 
 
 A royalty without refulgence, a nobil- 
 ity without authority, a country with- 
 out commerce, a people without rights, 
 society without confidence. 
 
 From the royal family, uneasy and 
 isolated upon its throne, down to the 
 i plebeian family starving in its wretched 
 ' liovel misery, shame and fear, per- 
 vaded every class. 
 
 To forget others and to think of self 
 alone ; to dive into strange, new and 
 mysterious sources, to attain the as- 
 surance of pjjbUmged life and of inalter- 
 1 able health during this prolongation of 
 existence ; to 'snatch something from 
 avaricious fate, WHS not that the object 
 'of an aspiration easily comprehended, 
 : which impelled nil towards that unknown 
 ' good which Mesmor promised ?
 
 
 94 
 
 THE QUEEN'S NECKLACE; OR, THE 
 
 Voltaire was dead and there was not 
 in France a single burst of laughter, ex- 
 cepting the laugh of Beaumiirchais more 
 bitter than that of the master. Rous- 
 seau was dead ; there was no longer 
 any religious philosophy in France. 
 Rousseau had wished to sustain God ; 
 but since Rousseau had censsd to exist, 
 no one dared to venture on it, fearing 
 to be crushed beneath the weight. 
 
 In former times war had been a 
 serious occupation to the French. 
 Kings had for their own interests, ex- 
 cited national heroism ; but now the 
 only war in which France was engaged, 
 was an American war, and in this the 
 king had personally no interest. In 
 short were not people fighting for that 
 unknown thing which the Americans 
 call independence, a word which the 
 French translate by an abstract term, 
 Liberty ? 
 
 And even this distant war, which was 
 one not only of another people but of 
 another world, had just terminated. 
 
 Considering all things duly, was it 
 not much better that people should oc- 
 cupy their minds with Mesmer, the 
 German doctor, who for the second time 
 in six years had enraptured the whole 
 of France, than with Lord Cornwallis 
 or General Washington, who were at 
 such a distance that it was probable that 
 neither the one nor the other would 
 -ever be seen by the people of Paris ? 
 Whereas Mesmer was there; he could 
 be seen, be touched, and what was the 
 supreme ambition of three-fourths of 
 the inhabitants o Paris, they rould be 
 touched by him. 
 
 Thus this man, who, on his arrival in 
 Paris had not been countenanced by 
 any oneftnot even by the queen his 
 countrywoman, ><Pho nevertheless af- 
 forded great assistance to people from 
 her country ; this man who but for Dr. 
 Deslon, who afterwards deceived him, 
 would have remained in obscurity ; this 
 man reigned supremely over public 
 opinion, leaving far behind the king, of 
 whom no one had ever spoken, M. de 
 Layfayette of whom nothing was yet 
 spoken, and M. de Necker, of whom 
 people no longer spoke. 
 
 And as if that age was bent upon award- 
 ing food to every mind according to its 
 aptitude, to every heart according to its 
 sympathies, to every soul according to 
 its necessities, there iiniscii opposition 
 to Mesmer, the advocate of materialism, 
 Saint Martin, the apostle of spiritu- 
 alism, wliose doctrines comforted and 
 healed all those souls which were 
 
 wounded by the positivism of the Ger 
 man doctor. 
 
 Let any one imagine an atheist with 
 a religion more gentle than religion it- 
 self; a republican replete with polite- 
 ness and attention towards kings; a 
 gentleman belonging to the privileged 
 classes, affectionate, tender and loving 
 towards the people ; imagine only the 
 triple attack of this man, endowed with 
 the most logical the most seductive elo- 
 quence, preaching against the worship 
 of all the religions of the earth, which 
 le terms senseless, merely because they 
 are divine. 
 
 Let any one imagine, in short, Epi- 
 curus wearing hair powder, in an era- 
 jroidered coat, a spangled waistcoat, 
 satin small-clothes, silk stockings and 
 shoes with red heels. Epicurus not 
 satisfying himself with overturning the 
 ods in whom he does not believe, but 
 shaking governments to their founda- 
 tions,treating them as he does the various 
 eligions, because they never can agree 
 among themselves, and almost always 
 end in causing theunhappiness of man- 
 kind. 
 
 Acting against social law, which he 
 invalidates with this sole saying : ' that 
 it awards similar punishments to faults 
 that are altogether dissimilar: it pun- 
 ishes the effect without appreciating the 
 cause.' 
 
 Let us now suppose that this tempter 
 who assumes the title of the unknown 
 philosopher, combines, to draw men into 
 !i circle of new opinions, all that imagi- 
 nation can devise that is delightful in 
 addition to the promises of a moml pa- 
 radise, and instead of saying that all 
 men are equal, which is an absurdity, 
 he invents the following formula, which 
 appears to have escaped the lips even of 
 the person who denies it : 
 
 INTKLLIUKNT BKKNGS ARK ALL KINGS.' 
 
 And then conceive the effect of such 
 a moral sentiment falling suddenly in 
 the midst of a society without hope, 
 without a director; of a society an 
 archipelago strewn with ideas, that, is 
 to say witli rocks. Remember that at 
 the time we are speaking of women 
 were tender and extravagant, the men 
 eager after power, honors and pleasure ; 
 in short, a time when kings allowed 
 their crowns to sit loosely on their 
 hends, upon which people standing in 
 obscurity, for the first time cast a look 
 at once inquisitive and threatening. 
 Will it be thought strange that such a 
 doctrine should find proselytes, when it 
 said to men : 

 
 MYSTERIES OF THE COURT OF LOUIS XVI. 
 
 95 
 
 Choose from among yourselves a 
 tool of superior stamp, but one superioi 
 in love and charity, by its powerful will 
 of loving well and of rendering others 
 happy ; then when this soul shall be 
 clearly revenled to you, bend down the 
 knee, humble yourselves, annihilate 
 yourselves all ye inferior souls, in order 
 to leave space enough for the dictator- 
 ship of that soul, whose mission it is to 
 restore you to your essential principle, 
 that is to say, to the equality of suffer- 
 ing in the midst of the forced inequality 
 of aptitudes and occupations. 
 
 Add to this also that this unknown phi- 
 losopher surrounded himself with mys- 
 teries ; that he preferred the deepest 
 obscurity in order that he might peace- 
 ably discuss, aloof from spies and para- 
 sites, that great social theory which 
 might become the policy of the whole 
 world. 
 
 * Listen to me,' said he, ' faithful 
 souls, believing hearts, listen to me and 
 endeavor to understand me ; or rather 
 listen not to me if you feel not sufficient 
 interest and curiosity to understand me, 
 for you will find it difficult, and I will 
 not impart my secrets to whomsoever 
 is not capable of tearing the veil from 
 them. 
 
 ' I say things that I do not wish to 
 appear to say, and therefore it will often 
 appear that I say other things than those 
 I really say.' 
 
 And Saint Martin was right, and he 
 was really surrounded by silent, gloomy 
 and jealous defenders of his ideas ; a 
 mysterious tabernacle of which no one 
 could penetrate the dark and religious 
 mysticity. 
 
 Thus worked for the glorification of the 
 soul and of matter, while dreaming of 
 the annihilation of God and the annihi- 
 lation of the religion of Christ, these 
 two men, who had divided into two se- 
 parate camps all the intelligent minds, 
 all the chosen natures of France. 
 
 And these were grouped around the 
 vat of Mesmer, from which gushed forth 
 health and comfort, all that was sensual, 
 all the elegant materialism of that de- 
 generated nation. Whilst around the 
 book of errors, were united the pious, 
 charitable loving souls, who thirsted for 
 the realization of their hopes after hav- 
 ing so long tasted only of chimeras. 
 
 If beneath these privileged spheres, 
 ideas either diverged or became con- 
 fused ; if these rumblings when escap- 
 ing were transformed into loud thunder, 
 aa the first rays they emitted had be- 
 come lightnings, it will be naturally at- 
 
 tributed to the state of roughness or 
 rather want of finish in which the in- 
 ferior grades of society remained, that 
 is to say the citizens and the people, 
 since called the third estate ; who only 
 guessed that something was being done 
 in which they were concerned, and who 
 in their impatience and resignation 
 burned with a desire to steal the sacred 
 fire, and with it like Prometheus, ani- 
 mate a world which should be all their 
 own, and in which they would have the 
 management of their own affairs. 
 
 Alas ! now that the veils have been 
 torn assunder, now that the people have 
 been ten times dashed to the earth by 
 the Promethean fire they had them- 
 selves purloined, tell us what the think- 
 ing man could have seen at the conclu- 
 sion of thjs extraordinary eighteenth 
 century, if it was not the decomposition 
 of a world, if it was not something simi- 
 lar to that which happened after the 
 death of Caesar and before the advent of 
 Augustus to power. 
 
 Augustus was the man who separated 
 the pagan from the Christian world, as 
 Napoleon was the man who separated 
 the feudal from the democratic world. 
 
 Perhaps we have thrown ourselves, 
 and led our readers after us, into a di- 
 gression which has appeared to them 
 rather of the longest, but, in truth, it 
 would have been difficult to touch upon 
 the events of this period without giving 
 a slight sketch of these grave questions 
 which form the life and marrow of the 
 time. 
 
 And now the effort has been made ; 
 an effort similar to that of a child, who 
 scratches off with his feeble nails the 
 rust which has gathered upon an antique 
 statue, in order to read beneath the rust, 
 an inscription three parts of which are 
 altogether effaced. 
 
 Let us therefore return to our story. 
 For if we continue to occupy ourselves 
 with these realities, we shall say too 
 much for the novelist, too little for the 
 historian. 
 
 CHAPTER XVH. 
 
 
 * THE VAT. 
 
 THE picture we have attempted to 
 trace in the preceding chapter, of the 
 then existing times and of the men who 
 most occupied the public mind in that 
 moment, may, in the eyes of our read- 
 ers, warrant the inexpressible eager-
 
 THE QUEEN'S NECKLACE; OR, THE 
 
 ness of the Parisians to witness the 
 cures publicly performed by M. Mes- 
 mer. 
 
 And therefore was it, that King 
 Louis XVI, who, if he had not per- 
 sonal curiosity, at all events duly ap- 
 preciated the novelties which caused 
 any stir in his good city of Paris, had 
 given permission to the queen, on the 
 condition, it will be remembered, that 
 the august visitor should be accom- 
 panied by a Princess, the king, we say, 
 had permitted the queen to go once, in 
 her turn to see that which all the world 
 had already seen. 
 
 It was just two days after the visit 
 which the Cardinal de Rohan had paid 
 to Madame de La Mothe. 
 
 The weather had become milder ; a 
 general thaw hu'd at last taken place 
 An army of street sweepers, happy and 
 proud to give a last blow to the winter, 
 their most cruel enemy, were manfully 
 shoving towards the sewers, and with 
 the ardor of soldiers when opening a 
 trench, the last snow which had fallen, 
 dark as mud and melting into thick 
 blaek streams. 
 
 The heavens, blue and clear, were 
 just lighting up their first stars, when 
 Madame de La Mothe, elegantly and 
 fashionably attired, offering the appear- 
 ance of a wealthy person, arrived in a 
 hackney-coach, which Dame Clothilde 
 had taken care should be of the most 
 modern form, in the Place Vendome, 
 and stopped before a house of magnifi- 
 cent appearance, its high windows, 
 along the whole front, being splendidly 
 illuminated. 
 
 This house was the one occupied by 
 M. Mesmer. 
 
 Besides Madame de La Mothe's 
 hackney-coach, a goodly number of 
 equipages and sedan chairs were 
 standing in array before the house, and 
 ia addition to these equipages and se- 
 dan chairs, three or four hundred gaz- 
 ers were gathered round its door, 
 trampling in the mud, watching the 
 exit of patients who had been cured, 
 or the entrance of others on their way 
 to be so. 
 
 The latter, almost all rich and titled 
 people, arrived in their carriages, with 
 armorial bearings, whom tb*jr lackies 
 lifted out and- .curried into the house ; 
 and these new bales of goods, wrapped 
 up in fur pellisses or in well-wadded 
 satin cloaks, did not convey a slender 
 consolation to those half-starved, liulf- 
 naked wretches, who were watching ut 
 the door, by this convincing proof, that 
 
 God made men healthy or unhealthy, 
 without consulting their genealogical 
 tree. 
 
 When one of these patients, with 
 pallid features and emaciated members, 
 had been carried through the principal 
 gate, a murmur was heard spreading 
 throughout the crowd, and it was rare- 
 ly that this crowd, at once inquisitive 
 and intelligent, (who had seen pressing 
 into mansions where balls were given, 
 and under the porticos of theatres, all 
 this aristocracy so eager alter pleasure 
 of every description,) did not recognize, 
 as the case might be, such and such a 
 duke with one arm or a leg paralyzed, 
 or such and such a general, whose feet 
 refused to bear him any longer, less on 
 account of the fatigues of his long 
 marches and military life, than from 
 the benumbing effects of the halts he 
 had made at the houses of theatrical 
 ladies or those of the Italian opera. 
 
 It is not necessary to state that the 
 investigations of the crowd were not 
 limited to the male sex. 
 
 That woman also, whom they had 
 seen carried from her equipage in the 
 arms of her heyduques, her head re- 
 clining on one side, with lack lustre 
 eyes, like to the Roman dames, whom 
 their Thessalians carried off after the 
 banquet ; this lady, subject to nervous 
 pain, or debilitated by her excesses and 
 sleepless nights, and who had not been 
 able to procure relief or resuscitation 
 from the fashionable players of the day, 
 or from those vigorous angels of whom 
 Madame Dugazou could give such mar- 
 vellous accounts, came to Mesmer's vat 
 in search of that which she had vainly 
 sought elsewhere. 
 
 And let it not be believed that we at 
 pleasure exaggerate this degraded state 
 of morals. We cannot but avow that 
 at this period there existed a sort oi 
 rivalry between the ladies of the court 
 and the women of the several theatres. 
 The latter took the lovers and the hus- 
 bands of the court ladies from them, 
 while these in turn robbed the theatre 
 goddesses of their fellow-actors and 
 Bretagne cousins, as they used to call 
 them. 
 
 Some of these ladies were as well 
 known as the men, and their names 
 circulated among the crowd in quite as 
 noisy a manner ; but many of them, 
 and certainly uot those whose names 
 would have given rise to the smallest 
 amount of scandal many of them, we 
 say, on that evening,' at least escaped 
 noisy scandal of the mob by repair-
 
 MYSTERIES OF THE COUKT OF LOUIS XVI. 
 
 97 
 
 ing to Mesmer's house, their faces cov- 
 ered with a satin mask. 
 
 One reason for this was, that this 
 particular day was that of mid-Lent, 
 and there being a masked ball at the 
 Opera, these ladies had calculated on 
 leaving the Place Vendome to repair at 
 once to the ball. 
 
 It was through the centre of this 
 crowd, venting their complaints, their 
 irony, their admiration, and, above all, 
 their murmurs, that the Countess de 
 La Mothe walked erect and firm, a 
 mask upon her face, and leaving no 
 other traces of her passage than this 
 phrase frequently repeated. 
 
 Ah ! that one, at all events, cannot 
 be very ill !' 
 
 But it must not be imagined that this 
 phrase implied any absence of the usual 
 comments. 
 
 For if Madame de La Mothe were 
 not ill, what had she to do at Mesmer's ? 
 
 If the crowd had been apprised, as 
 we have been, of the events we have 
 before related, they would have consi- 
 dered that nothing could be more natu- 
 ral than this visit. 
 
 In fact, Madame de La Mothe had 
 reflected deeply on her conversation 
 with the Cardinal de Rohan, and above 
 ail on the very particular attention with 
 which the Cardinal had honored the 
 box with the miniature, which 'had 
 been forgotten, or rather lost, in her 
 room. 
 
 And, as in the name of the proprietor 
 of this box, lay the whole reason for 
 the sudden graciousness of the Cardi- 
 nal, Madame de La Mothe had thought 
 of two methods by which she might en- 
 deavor to ascertain it. 
 
 She had, in the first instance, re- 
 course to the more simple of the two. 
 
 She had been to Versailles to inquire 
 for the charitable establishment to 
 which the two German ladies belonged. 
 
 There, as will be readily conceived, 
 he had not been able to gain any infor- 
 mation. 
 
 There were a great number of Ger- 
 man ladies who resided at Versailles, 
 on account of the avowed sympathy of 
 the queen for her own country women ; 
 they were calculated at between a hun- 
 dred and fifty and two hundred. 
 
 But they were all considered very 
 charitable, and yet none of them had 
 entertained the idea of putting a sign 
 over their doors to indicate a charitable 
 establishment. 
 
 Jeanne had, therefore, vainly at- 
 tempted to gain any clue to the two 
 
 13 
 
 ladies who had paid her a visit ; she 
 had vainly stated that the name of one 
 of them.,was Andr6e. No one knew 
 any German lady in Versailles who bore 
 that name, which, moreover, was by 
 no means German. 
 
 Her researches in that quarter, there- 
 fore, had been altogether fruitless. 
 
 To ask M. de Rohan himself to men- 
 tion the name which he suspected, was 
 in the first place, to allow him to per- 
 ceive that she had views upon him, and 
 secondly, would detract from the plea- 
 sure and the merit of a discovery made 
 in despite j)f the whole world and con- 
 trary to every possibility. 
 
 Therefore, as there was mystery in 
 the conduct of those ludies when ut her 
 house mystery in the astonishment 
 and reserve of M. de Rohan it was by 
 mystery she must proceed to discover 
 the word which would solve all these 
 enigmas. 
 
 There was, besides, in the character 
 of Jeanne, a powerful attraction in this 
 species of struggle with the unknown. 
 
 She had heard that there was in Pa- 
 ris a man of wondrous learning, a work- 
 er of miracles, who had discovered the 
 means of expelling from the human 
 body all maladies and pains, as Christ, 
 in former days, had expelled demons 
 from the bodies of the possessed. 
 
 She knew that this man cured not 
 only physical evils, but that he wormed' 
 from the soul the painful secret which 
 undermined it. Under his all-powerful 
 conjuration, the most tenacious will 
 had been seen to soften and become do- 
 cile as a slave. 
 
 Thus, in the sleep which succeeded 
 the pains after the scientific physi- 
 cian had calmed the most irritable or- 
 ganization, by plunging it into complete 
 forgetfulness the soul, delighted with 
 the repose it owed to the enchanter, 
 placed itself at the entire disposal of 
 this new master. From that moment, 
 he directed all its operations ; from that 
 moment it was altogether subservient 
 to him, and every thought of this grate- 
 ful soul was communicated to him in a 
 language which had this advantage over 
 human language, or disadvantage it 
 might be thought by politicians, of 
 never uttering a lie. 
 
 And, mucn more than all, this soul, 
 issuing from the body which enclosed 
 it as a prison, would, on the first order 
 of him who momentarily controlled it, 
 fly around the world, mingling itselt 
 with other souls, sound them inces- 
 santly, ferret out their deepest secrets,
 
 THE QUEEN'S NECKLACE; OR, THE 
 
 and then, like the pointer dog, who at 
 a signal makes the game break cover 
 from the bush which had concealed it, 
 and where it thought itself in safety, 
 this soul succeeds at length in extract- 
 ing the secret from the heart in which 
 it was buried, and bringing it with it, 
 deposits it at the master's feet. A tol- 
 erably faithful picture of the well-train- 
 ed fulcon or sparrow-hawk, which soars 
 to the clouds and, for the benefit of the 
 falconer its master, pursues the heron, 
 the partridge, or the lark, destined .to 
 afford a proof of its ferocious servilit)'. 
 
 And hence proceeded the revelation 
 of a great number of marvellous se- 
 crets. 
 
 Madame de Duras had in this man- 
 ner discovered a child of hers which 
 had been stolen when out at nurse ; 
 Madame de Chantone a little English 
 lap-dog, not bigger than her hand, and 
 for which she would have given all the 
 children upon earth and Monsieur de 
 Vandreuil a lock of hair, for which he 
 would have given half his fortune. 
 
 These secrets had been discovered 
 through the instrumentality of clair- 
 voyants of both sexes, after having been 
 operated upon magnetically by Doctor 
 Mesmer. 
 
 And thus persons could proceed to 
 the house of the illustrious Doctor, and 
 suggest secrets which were the best 
 calculated to test this faculty of super- 
 natural divination ; and Madame de La 
 Mothe conceived that by attending one 
 of his scientific meetings, she would 
 have an opportunity of addressing the 
 phenix of these singular discoveries, 
 and by his means ascertain who was the 
 real owner of the box which at that mo- 
 ment was the object of her most anxious 
 preoccupation. 
 
 And for this purpose she hastened 
 into the saloon where the invalids were 
 assembled. 
 
 We must ask pardon of our readers, 
 for the saloon will require a very parti- 
 cular description, and which we shall 
 immediately proceed to give. 
 
 The apartment was divided into two 
 principal saloons. 
 
 After having crossed the ante-cham- 
 bers and exhibited the necessary pass- 
 port to the ushers on service, the visiter 
 was admitted into a vast 'Saloon, the 
 windows of which were hermetically 
 closed, excluding light and air during 
 the day time find nil noise and air dur- 
 ing the night. 
 
 In tin- centre of the saloon, and under 
 a.chandrlW. the wax tapers of which 
 
 shed but a feeble and almost dying 
 light, could be observed an immense 
 vat or tub with a closed lid. 
 
 There was nothing elegant in the 
 form of this vat. It was not ornament- 
 ed no drapery concealed the bareness 
 of its metal sides. 
 
 It was this vat which was commonly 
 known by the name of Mesmer's tub. 
 
 And what virtue did this vat enclose ? 
 Nothing can be more simple than the 
 explanation. 
 
 It was almost completely filled with 
 water charged with sulphurous prin- 
 ciples, which water concentrated its 
 miasma under the lid, in order to 
 saturate with it bottles methodically 
 arranged at the bottom of the vat, in 
 inverse positions. 
 
 There was thus produced a crossing 
 of the mysterious currents, to the in- 
 fluence of which the invalids owed their 
 cure. 
 
 To the lid was affixed an iron ring, 
 sustaining a long rope, of which we 
 shall perceive the application by casting 
 a glance on the invalids. 
 
 Those whom we observed just now 
 entering the hotel, were seated, pale 
 and languishing, in arm-chairs ranged 
 around the vat. 
 
 .Men and women were intermingled, 
 some seated listlessly, others looking 
 grave, and some with anxious fea- 
 tures : they awaited the result of the 
 trial. 
 
 A servant, taking the end of the long 
 rope attached to the lid of the viit, coil- 
 ed it around the diseased limbs of the 
 patients, in such a manner, that being 
 bound by the same chain, they should 
 all, at the same moment, feel the effect 
 of the electricity contained in the vat. 
 
 Then, in order that the action of the 
 animal fluids, transmitted and modified 
 according to each nature, should not in 
 any way be interrupted, the patients, 
 under the instructions of the doctor, 
 managed to touch each other, either by 
 the elbow, the shoulder, or with their 
 feet, in such a way that the health-be- 
 stowing vat emitted simultanedusly to 
 all their bodies its heat and regenerat- 
 ing influence. 
 
 This medical ceremony was doubt- 
 less a very singular spectacle, and no 
 one can be astonished at its having ex- 
 cited the curiosity of the Parisians to so 
 intense a degree. 
 
 Twenty or thirty patients ranged 
 around this vat ; a valet, as mute as the 
 spectators themselves, and entwining 
 around them a rope, like Laocoon ana
 
 MYSTERIES OF THE COURT OF LOUIS XVI. 
 
 his sons in the folds of their serpents ; 
 and then this man retiring with a noise- 
 less step, after having pointed out to 
 the invalids some iron rods which, pass- 
 ing through holes into the vat, were to 
 serve as conductors of more immediate 
 local action to the salutary Mesmerian 
 fluid. 
 
 And in the first place, as soon as the 
 sitting was duly commenced, n certain 
 mild and penetrating warmth began to 
 pervade the room ; it softened the ra- 
 ther rigid fibres of the invalids ; by de- 
 grees it ascended to the ceiling, and 
 soon became charged with delicate per- 
 fumes, under the influence of which 
 the most rebellious brain was soon coni- 
 
 cal drowsiness of a satisfaction which 
 absorbs ; the silence, interrupted only 
 by rapturous sighs, which weighs up- 
 on this whole assemblage, and the most 
 exact idea may be formed of the scene 
 which we have endeavored to sketch 
 after the lapse of nearly two thirds of 
 a century from the day on which it ac- 
 tually took place. 
 
 But now we must say a few words, 
 and more minutely as to the actors in 
 this scene. 
 
 First of all the actors were divided 
 into two classes. 
 
 The one class sick, little anxious for 
 that which is termed respect, a boun- 
 dary much venerated by people of mid- 
 
 pelled to yield and bow down with hea- j dling condition, but always leaped over 
 
 by the very great or the very low ; the 
 
 viness before it. 
 
 Then the invalids were seen to aban- 
 don themselves to the voluptuous effect 
 of this atmosphere, when suddenly a 
 flood of delicious harmony, executed by 
 invisible musicians and instruments, 
 enchanted the senses, and then again 
 died away like a soft flame amid these 
 perfumes and this warmth. 
 
 Pure as the crystal from the rim of 
 which it had its birth, this music struck 
 upon the nerves with irresistible power. 
 It might have been deemed one of those 
 mysterious and unknown sounds in na- 
 ture, which astonish and delight even 
 wild animals the complainings of the 
 wind among the sonorous spirals of the 
 rocks. 
 
 Soon to the sounds of the harmonica 
 were joined harmonious voices, group- 
 ed as a mass of flowers and of which 
 soon after the distinct notes were scat- 
 tered like falling leaves above the heads 
 of the assembled company. 
 
 Upon every countenance, which sur- 
 prise had in the first instance animated, 
 was seen the evidence of material satis- 
 faction, induced by all these powerful 
 agents acting upon the senses. The 
 soul yielded ; it issued from the 
 labyrinth in which it conceals itself 
 when beseiged by the torments of the 
 flesh, and expanding itself, free and 
 joyous, throughout its whole organiza- 
 tion it overcomes matter and transforms 
 itself. 
 
 It was at that moment that all the 
 invalids had taken between their fingers 
 the iron rods and having placed them 
 against their chests, their heads or 
 their hearts, according to the seat of 
 their several maladies. 
 
 Imagine then a perfect ecstasy usurp- 
 ing on every visage the place of suffer- 
 ing and anxiety : conceive the egotisti- 
 
 one, we say really actors, had come to 
 that saloon for the sole purpose of be- 
 ing cured, and they endeavored with 
 all their hearts to attain their desired 
 end. 
 
 The other, skeptical, or simply cu- 
 rious, not suffering from any malady, 
 had penetrated into Mesmer's house 
 as they would have entered a theatre, 
 whether it was that they wished to as- 
 certain the effect produced by being 
 seated around Mesmer's enchanted vat, 
 or whether simply as spectators, they 
 wished to study this new system of 
 physicks, and merely occupied them- 
 selves in observing the real patients 
 and those who assisted in their cure. 
 
 Among the first, the ardent adepts of 
 Mesmer, bound to his doctrines per- 
 haps by gratitude, was a young woman 
 of fine form, beautiful face but some- 
 what extravagantly attired, who, being 
 submitted to the action of the fluid, 
 and applying by means of the iron rod, 
 the strongest dose she could obtain up- 
 on her head and the lower part of her 
 chest, began to roll about her lovely 
 eyes as if lanquishing and half fainting, 
 whilst her hands trembled under tho 
 first nervous titillations, which indicate 
 the invasion of the magnetic fluid. 
 
 When her head was leaning on the 
 back of the arm-chair, every person 
 present could at their leisure examine 
 that pale face, those convulsed lips, and 
 that lovely neck, which became mar- 
 bled by degrees by the more or less ra- 
 pid flow of the blood. 
 
 Among the spectators there were 
 many who kept their eyes fixed with 
 astonishment on that young woman, 
 and two or three heads bending towards 
 each other communicated an idea, 
 which doubtless must have been a
 
 100 
 
 THE QUEEN'S NECKLACE; OR, THE 
 
 trance one, fur it redoubled the atton 
 tion of these inquisitive persons. 
 
 Madame de La Mothe was among 
 the number of the inquisitive, who 
 without fearing to be recognized, or 
 perhaps indifferent on" the subject, helc 
 in her hand the satin mask with which 
 she had covered her face when coming 
 through the crowd. ' 
 
 Moreover, from the position in which 
 she had placed herself, she was not ex- 
 
 posed to observation. 
 She stood near the 
 
 door leaning 
 
 against a column, veiled by a curtain, 
 and from this spot she could see every 
 thing without being seen herself. 
 
 But amid all she saw, that which ap- 
 peared to her most worthy of attention 
 was doubtless the face of that young 
 woman electrified by the Mesmerian 
 fluid. 
 
 And indeed that face had struck her 
 o forcibly, that for several minutes she 
 remained motionless, riveted to the 
 pot by her eagerness to see and to as- 
 certain something further. 
 
 ' Oh !' murmured she, without taking 
 ff her eyes from the lovely patient, 
 there cannot be a doubt that it is the 
 sister of charity, who came to my apart- 
 ment the other evening, and who is the 
 only cause of all the interest which M. 
 de Rohan evinced towards me.' 
 
 And fully convinced that she was not 
 mistaken, anxious to take advantage of 
 . the chance which had obtained for her 
 that which her many inquiries had been 
 viable to effect, she approached the 
 lady. 
 
 But at that moment the young person 
 who was thus convulsed, closed her 
 eyes, contracted her mouth,, and faintly 
 beat the air with both her hands. 
 
 With both her hands, which it must 
 be acknowledged were not precisely 
 those small, beautiful hands with taper- 
 ing fingers, those hands white as ala- 
 baster, which Madame de La Mothe 
 had so ranch admired only a few days 
 before. 
 
 The contagion of this crisis was elec- 
 trical with the greater number of the 
 patients, their brain having become sa- 
 turated by perfumes and agitated by 
 music. Their whole nervous system 
 had been excited and worked upon. In 
 a short time, men and women, led away 
 by the example of their young compa- 
 nion, began to sigh, to utter undistin- 
 fuishabie murmurs, then cries, and 
 moving arms, legs and heads, gave them- 
 selves up fnmkly nnd irresistibly to one 
 f those attacks n> which the master 
 
 had given the rather solemn name of 
 crisis. / 
 
 At that moment a man appeared in 
 the saloon, no one having perceived 
 how he had entered it, nor could divine 
 whence he had sprung. 
 
 Had he arisen from the vat, as Phoe- 
 bus Apollo from the sea ? Was he the 
 balmy and harmonious vapor of the 
 room, which had thus become condens- 
 ed ? The fact was that there he was 
 and suddenly, that his lilac colored coat, 
 soft and refreshing to the eye, his hand- 
 some, pallid face, calm and intelligent, 
 did not belie the rather supernatural 
 character of this apparition. 
 
 He held in his hand a long wand, 
 applied or rather plunged into the fam- 
 
 ous vat. 
 
 He made a 
 thrown open, 
 
 sign ; the doors were 
 twenty robust ervants 
 
 entered the room, and with rapid ad- 
 dress seizing each of the patients, who 
 bad begun to lose their equilibrium, 
 even in their arm-chairs, in less than a 
 minute they transported them into a 
 neighboring room. 
 
 At the moment of accomplishing this 
 operation, which had become interest- 
 ng above all from th*e paroxysm of furi- 
 ous beatitude to which the young pa- 
 tient had abandoned herself, Madame 
 de La Mothe, who had gone with the 
 crowd of curious persons towards the 
 new room prepared for the patients, 
 leard a man exclaim : 
 'But it is she, it is she assuredly.' 
 Madame de La Mothe was just about 
 to ask this man whom he meant by 
 this expression, when suddenly two 
 women entered the lower part of the 
 irst saloon, leaning one upon the other, 
 ollowed at a certain distance by a man 
 who had all the appearance of a confi- 
 lential servant, although he was dis- 
 guised in plain citizen's clothes. 
 
 The figure of these ladies, of one of 
 hem particularly, so much struck the 
 >ountess, that she made a step towards 
 ner. 
 
 At that moment a loud cry, which 
 lad escaped the lips of the young pa- 
 tient, attracted every one's attention, 
 .nd all flocked towards her. And im- 
 mediately the man who had already 
 aid 'tis she !' and who was standing 
 lose by Madame de La Mothe, ex- 
 laimed in a hollow and mysterious 
 oice : 
 
 ' But only look, gentlemen, it us the 
 queen!' 
 
 On hearing these words, Jeanne 
 started.
 
 MYSTERIES OF THE COURT OF LOUIS XVI. 
 
 101 
 
 4 The queen !' cried several voices, 
 with terror and amazement. 
 
 ' The queen at Mesmer's !' 
 
 4 The queen in a crisis!' w as repeat- 
 ed by several other voices. 
 
 ' Oh!' said the one, ' it is impossible.' 
 
 ' Look at her,' said the unknown, 
 calmly ; ' do you know the queen, yes 
 or no ?' 
 
 4 In fact,' murmured the greater num- 
 ber of the spectators, ' the resemblance 
 is almost incredible.' 
 
 Madame de La Mothe had a mask 
 like all those ladies, who, on leaving 
 Meemer's house, were to proceed to the 
 ball at the opera, she could therefore 
 ask questions without any risk. 
 
 ' Sir,' said she to the man who had 
 made these exclamations, u etout portly 
 person, with a full and rather high col- 
 ored face, and eyes which were singu- 
 larly sparkling, ' did you not say that 
 the queen is here ?' 
 
 'Oh ! madam, that cannot be doubted,' 
 he replied. 
 
 ' And where ?' 
 
 ' Why that young woman . whom you 
 see yonder on the violet-colored cush- 
 ions in such an ardent crisis that she 
 cannot moderate her transports, that is 
 the queen.' 
 
 ' But upon what do you found your 
 opinion, sir, that the woman yonder is 
 the queen ?' 
 
 ' Why, only upon this, madam, that 
 that woman is the queen,' replied the 
 accuser with imperturbable gravity. 
 
 And he left his interrogator to mix 
 with the crowd and propagate his 
 news. 
 
 Jeanne turned away from the almost 
 revolting spectacle offered by the epi- 
 leptic person. But she had scarcely 
 advanced two steps towards the door 
 when she found herself face to face 
 with the two ladies, who before advanc- 
 ing to the room in which the patients 
 had been carried, were examining with 
 very lively interest the vat, the trin- 
 gles, and the lid. 
 
 Jeanne had scarcely caught a glimpse 
 of the elder of the two Indies, tha,n in 
 her turn, she uttered a loud cry. 
 
 1 What is the matter ?' said the lady. 
 
 Jeanne instantly took off her mask. 
 
 ' Do you recognize me ?' she said. 
 
 The lady started slightly but imme- 
 diately restrained herself. 
 
 1 No, madam,' said she, somewhat 
 confused. 
 
 ' Well then, madam, I recognize you 
 and I will immediately give you a proof 
 of it.' 
 
 The two ladies on hearing this asser- 
 tion clung to each other with some Ap- 
 parent degree of alarm. 
 
 Jeanne drew from her pocket the 
 box containing the portrait., 
 
 ' You forgot this at my house,' Mid 
 she. 
 
 'But even should that be the case, 
 madam,' observed the elder, ' why all 
 this emotion ?' 
 
 ' I am moved by the danger your Ma- 
 jesty is exposed to in this place.' 
 
 ' Explain yourself.' 
 
 ' But not before you have put on thi* 
 mask, madam.' 
 
 And she held out her mask to the 
 queen, who hesitated, thinking herself 
 sufficiently concealed by her hood. 
 
 ' For mercy's sake, do not loose a 
 moment,' continued Jeanne. 
 
 ' Put it on, "madam; put it on,' Mid 
 the second lady to the queen. 
 
 The queen negligently put the mask 
 on her face. 
 
 'And now,' said Jeanne, 'pray 
 come.' 
 
 And she dragged away the two la- 
 dies so eagerly that they only stopped 
 when they reached the street door. 
 
 1 But, tell me at length,' cried the 
 queen somewhat out of breath from the 
 haste in which they had descended. 
 
 ' Your Majesty has not been seen by 
 any one ?' 
 
 ' I do not think that any one observed 
 me.' 
 
 'So much the better.' 
 
 ' But, will you at length explain yr- 
 self?' 
 
 ' Let your Majesty for the moment 
 believe your faithful servant, when she 
 tells you that you are incurring the 
 greatest danger.' 
 
 ' And in what does this danger con- 
 sist ?' 
 
 ' I will have the honor of explaining 
 all to your Majesty if you. will deign to 
 grant me an hour's audience whenever 
 it may please you. But the story is a 
 long -one and your JMajesty might be 
 recognized, remarked.' 
 
 And as she observed that the queon 
 evinced some degree of impatience. 
 
 , Oh ! madam,' said she to the Prin- 
 cess de Lambalie, ' aid me, I entreat 
 you, to- persuade the queeu to leave 
 this house and instantly.' 
 
 The Princess made a supplicating 
 gesture. 
 
 Well then, as you will have it so,' 
 said the queen, then turning to Madame 
 de La Mothe, ' you asked me for an 
 audience,' she said.
 
 102 
 
 THE QUEEN'S NECKLACE ; OR, THE 
 
 4 1 aspire to have the honor of giving 
 to your Majesty an explanation of my 
 conduct.' 
 
 ' Well then, bring me back this box, 
 and ask for the door keeper Laurent, 
 who will be forewarned.' 
 
 And then turning towards the street, 
 
 'Kommen sie hier, Weber,' cried she 
 in German. 
 
 A carriage rapidly approached. 
 
 The Queen and the Princess de 
 Lamballe hastily jumped into it. 
 
 Madame de La Mothe remained at 
 the door until it was out of sight. 
 
 1 Oh !' said she to herself, ' I have 
 done well to act as I have done, but as 
 to the future, we must reflect.' 
 
 CHAPTER XVITI. 
 
 MADEMOISELLE OLJVA. 
 
 DURING this time the man who had 
 pointed out to the spectators the per- 
 son whom he pretended was the queen, 
 tapped one of them, whose eye was 
 eager and whose coat was thread-bare, 
 on the shoulder. 
 
 4 What a capital subject this would 
 be for you,' said he, ' who are the edi- 
 tor of a newspaper ; what a magnificent 
 article it would make.' 
 
 ' And how so ?' inquired the Gazet- 
 teer. 
 
 4 Would you like to have a summary 
 of it?' 
 
 ' Willingly.' 
 
 4 Well then, thus it should be: " On 
 the danger of being born a subject in a 
 country the king of which is governed 
 by the queen, the said queen being 
 fond of crisis." ' 
 
 The gazetteer laughed. 
 
 ' And the Bastille ?' said he. 
 
 4 Pooh ! nonsense. Are there not 
 anagrams by which all the royal censors 
 can be avoided. I wish to know whe- 
 ther any censor would prohibit you from 
 relating the history of Prince Silou and 
 the Princess Etteniotna, sovereign of 
 Narfec ? Hey ! What do you say to 
 that ?' 
 
 4 Oh ! yes,' said the gazetteer with 
 enthusiasm, ' the i<ieu is an admirable 
 one.' 
 
 4 And I beg you to believe, that a chap- 
 ter entitled 4 ' The crisis of the Princess 
 Etteniotna at the house of theFakir Rem- 
 $em" would meet with great success in 
 the drawing-rooms.' 
 
 4 1 believe it as firmly as you can.' 
 
 ' Well go then, and write all that 
 with your best ink.' 
 
 The gazetteer grasped the hand of 
 the unknown. 
 
 Shall I send you a few numbers of 
 it ?' said he. ' 1 will do so with great 
 pleasure, if you will tell me your name 
 and address.' 
 
 ' Yes, certes, the idea quite delights 
 me, and executed by you its value will 
 increase cent per cent. How many 
 copies do you usually print of your 
 small pamphlets ?' 
 
 4 Two thousand.' 
 
 'Do me a service, then.' 
 
 ' Most willingly.' j* % 
 
 4 Take these fifty louis, and strike off 
 six thousand.' 
 
 ' How, sir what you really over- 
 whelm me let me at least know the 
 name of so generous a patron of literature. 
 
 4 1 will let you know it when I send 
 to your office for a thousand copies at 
 two livres each it will be published 
 this day week will it not ?' 
 
 ' I will work at it day and night, sir.' 
 
 ' Take care to make it very amus- 
 ing.' 
 
 4 So much so that, with the exception 
 of one person, all Paris shall laugh 
 even to tears.' 
 
 And that one will weep tears of 
 blood, is it not so ?' 
 
 Oh ! sir, how brilliant is your wit !' 
 
 You are very good. By-the-by, 
 date the publication from London.' 
 
 4 Oh ! as usual.' 
 
 4 Sir, I am your obedient servant.' 
 
 And the stout unknown dismissed 
 the pamphleteer, who, his fifty louig 
 in his pocket flew off as lightly as a 
 bird of il! omen. 
 
 The unknown remained alone, or 
 rather without companion, looked once 
 more into the room in which were the 
 patients, and fixed his eyes upon the 
 young woman whose ecstasy had been 
 succeeded by a state of utter prostra- 
 tion. A femme de chambre nppointed 
 to wait upon ladies when undergoing 
 the crisis, was chastely occupied ill 
 smoothing down her clothes, which had 
 been somewhat disordered. 
 
 He remarked her delicate beauty, 
 her fine and voluptuous features, the 
 noble grace of her deep, sleep nnd then 
 retracing his steps : 
 
 4 Decidedly the resemblance is per- 
 fectly terrrifying,' said he, -God who 
 created her must hatJfe designed it, and 
 he has condemned, by anticipation, the 
 one down yonder to whom this one so 
 much resembles.'
 
 MYSTERIES OF THE COURT OF LOUIS XVI. 
 
 . ^^ 
 
 103 
 
 At the moment that he had imagined 
 this threatening thought, the young 
 woman raised herself slowly upon the 
 cushions of the sofa, and steadying her- 
 self by taking hold of the arm of a 
 neighbor already recovered from the 
 ecstasy, she began to arrange her dress 
 which was not in the most decent 
 plight. 
 
 She blushed a little on observing that 
 the attention of the spectators was fix- 
 ed on her, replied with coquettish po- 
 liteness to the serious though kindly 
 spoken questions of Mesmer ; then 
 stretching her round arms and her well 
 formed legs, like a cat when awaken- 
 ing, she walked across the three rooms, 
 noting, without loosing one of them, 
 .the glances whether of mockery, desire 
 or alarm, with which her passage was 
 greeted by the spectators. 
 
 But that which surpissed her so much 
 as to make her smile, was, that while 
 passing by a group who were whisper- 
 ing in one corner of the drawing-room, 
 she received instead of amorous glances 
 and gallant witticisms a volley of bows 
 so respectful, that no Fre'nch courtier 
 could have given more formal ones had 
 he been saluting the queen herself. 
 
 And in truth this stupified and rever- 
 ential group had beeu hastily brought 
 together by the indefatigable unknown, 
 who having placed himself behind them 
 said to thorn in a whisper. 
 
 ' That mutters not, gentlemen, that 
 matters not, she is not the less queen 
 of France. Let us bow to her ; bow, 
 bow.' 
 
 The little person, the object of so 
 much respect, hastened with some 
 anxiety through the last vestibule and 
 reached the court-yard. 
 
 There, her wearied eyes glanced 
 round to find a hackney coach or a se- 
 dan chair, but there was neither the 
 one nor the other ; then after about a 
 minute's indecision and when she was 
 about to venture her delicately small 
 feet upon the pavement a tall lackey ap- 
 proached her. 
 
 ' Madame is looking for her carnage ?' 
 said he. 
 
 I have no carriage,' she replied. 
 
 ' Madame came here in a hackney- 
 coach.' 
 ' Yes.' 
 4 From the Rue Dauphine.' 
 
 Yes.' 
 
 'I will conduct madame to her 
 house.' 
 
 ^ ' Well then, take me there,' said the 
 little person, with a very deliberate rip, 
 
 without retaining for more than a mo- 
 ment, the species of anxiety which this 
 unexpected proposal would have caused 
 in any other woman. 
 
 The lackey made a sign, which was 
 immediately replied to by a handsome 
 looking carriage driving up to the door 
 to receive the lady. 
 
 The lackey put up the steps and call- 
 ed aloud to the coachman, ' Rue Dau- 
 phine.' 
 
 The horses set oft' with rapidity. 
 When she reached the Pont Neuf, the 
 little lady, who much liked that mode 
 of going, as Lafontaine says, regretted 
 that she did not live as far off as the 
 Jardin des Plantes. 
 
 The carnage stopped, the steps were 
 again let down, and the well-instructed 
 lackey held out his hand for the key of 
 the street door, by aid of which the io- 
 habitancs of thirty thousand houses in 
 Paris, which are not hotels, and who 
 have neither door-keepers nor Swiss, 
 enter their dwellings. 
 
 The lackey therefore opened the door 
 in order to spare the fingers of the little 
 lady ; and then, at the moment the lat- 
 ter entered the dark passage, he bowed 
 to her and closed the door. 
 
 The carriage rolled off and soon dis- 
 appeared. 
 
 ' Well, really,' said the young woman 
 to herself, 'this is a very agreeable ad- 
 venture. It is very gallant on the part 
 of Mr. Mesmer oh ! how tired I am 
 he will have foreseen this. He is a 
 great physician.' 
 
 While saying these words she had 
 reached the second story of the house, 
 on the landing-place of" which there 
 were two doors. 
 
 She knocked at one of them, and it 
 was immediately opened by an old wo- 
 man. 
 
 'Ah! good evening, mother, is the 
 supper ready ?' 
 
 ; Yes, and even cold.' 
 
 Is he there ? he. 
 
 ' No, not yet ; but the gentleman \ 
 there.' 
 
 ' What gentleman ?' 
 
 'The one with whom you wish to 
 speak this evening.' 
 
 'I!' 
 
 'Yes, you.' 
 
 This dialogue had taken place in a 
 sort of ante-chamber with glazed* doors, 
 and separated the landing-place from a 
 large room which fronted on the street. 
 
 Through the panes of glass could be 
 distinctly seen the lamp by which thre 
 room was lighted, the Ipok of which, if
 
 THE QUEEN'S NECKLACE; OR, THE 
 
 m 
 au 
 
 104 
 
 - 
 
 not altogether pleasing, was at least 
 passable. 
 
 Old yellow silk curtains, which time 
 had blanched and veined in patches, a 
 few chairs covered with greent Urecht 
 velvet, and a large chest of twelve draw- 
 ers of inlaid wood, an old yellow sofa- 
 such was the magnificence of this apart- 
 ment. 
 
 There was an old clock upon the 
 chimney-piece, flanked by two blue 
 japan vases, visibly cracked. 
 
 The young woman abruptly opened 
 the glazed door and walked up to the 
 sofa, upon which she saw, and very 
 tranquilly seated, a good-looking man, 
 rather stout than lean, and who with 
 his very handsome white hand was 
 playing with a very rich lace frill. 
 
 She did not recognize this man, but 
 our readers will very readily recognize 
 him ; it was he who had assembled the 
 group of inquiring persons, to see the 
 pretended queen pass by ; the man who 
 had given the fifty louis to the seedy 
 pamphleteer. 
 
 The young woman had not even time 
 to commence the conversation. 
 
 That singular personage made a sort 
 of salutation, something between a nod 
 and a bow, and fixing his brilliant gaze, 
 replete with benevolence, on the mis- 
 tress of the lodging, said to her : 
 
 ' I know what you are about to ask 
 
 e, but but I shall reply better by 
 'questioning you myself. You are Ma- 
 demoiselle Oliva?' 
 
 ' Yes, sir.' 
 
 ' A charming woman, very nervous, 
 and much captivated by the system of 
 Mr. Mesmer.' 
 
 I have just left his house,' 
 
 ' That is very well ; but that does 
 not explain to you, as your fine eyes are 
 now asking of me, how it is thut you 
 find me upon your sofa, and that is what 
 you are at this moment most particu- 
 larly desirous to ascertain.' 
 
 4 You have guessed rightly, sir.' 
 
 ' Will you do me the favor to sit 
 down, for if you remain standing, I 
 shall be obliged to rise also, and then 
 we could not converse conveniently.' 
 
 1 You may congratulate yoursdi" on 
 having a very extraordinary mode of 
 proceeding,' replied the young woman 
 whom we shall lictu i-t'orward call Ma- 
 demoiselle Olivu, as she has deigned to 
 answer to that name. 
 
 4 Mademoiselle, I saw you just now 
 at Mr. Mesmer's house, and I found 
 you such as I wished to find you.' 
 
 Sir." 
 
 ' Oh ! do not alarm yourself, Made 
 moiselle, I do not say that I thought 
 you charming. No, that would have 
 the effect of a declaration of love, and 
 that comes not within my intention. 
 Do not withdraw so far from me, I beg 
 of you, or you will oblige me to bawl 
 like a deaf man.' 
 
 4 What is it you can want, then ?' 
 asked Oliva very ingenuously. 
 
 ' I am aware,' said the unknown, 
 ' that you are accustomed to hear that 
 you are beautiful. As to me, although 
 I really think so, I have something else> 
 to propose to you.' 
 
 ' Really, sir, you speak to me in .1 
 tone' 
 
 ' Do not alarm yourself before you 
 have heard me. Is there any one con- 
 cealed here ?' 
 
 1 There is no one concealed but, 
 proceed' 
 
 1 Then, if there is no one concealed, 
 we need not be cautious with regard to 
 what we say. What do you say to a 
 little partnership between us ?' 
 
 4 A partnership ah ! you see now ? 
 
 ' You are mistaking me once more. 
 I did not say a connection, but a part- 
 nership. I am not talking to you of 
 love, I am talking of business.' 
 
 What sort of business ?' inquired 
 Oliva, whose curiosity betrayed itself 
 by a very visible astonishment. 
 
 What do you employ yourself about 
 all day long ?' 
 
 ' Why' 
 
 I Do not be afraid ; I did not coma 
 here to blame you, tell me what yoa 
 please.' 
 
 I 1 do nothing, or at all events as Httfo 
 as possible.' 
 
 ' You are indolent, then ?' 
 
 'Oh!' 
 
 'That is quite right.' 
 
 4 Ah ! you say that it is right." 
 
 4 Undoubtedly ; what matters it to me 
 that you are indolent. Do you like go- 
 ing about ?' 
 
 4 Very much.' 
 
 ' Frequenting the theatres and balls'?' 
 
 4 Oh ! beyond every thing.' 
 
 4 Good living?" 
 
 ' Above nil.' 
 
 ' If I were to give you twenty-five 
 louis a month, would you refuse it ?' 
 
 4 Sir!' 
 
 4 My dear Mademoiselle Oliva, there, 
 you are beginning to doubt again. It 
 was, however, agreed between us, that 
 you were not to alarm yourself. I said 
 twenty-fwe louis, as .1 might have said 
 tiftv.'*
 
 MYSTERIES OF THE COURT OF LOUIS XVI. 
 
 106 
 
 I should like fifty better than twen- 
 ty-five ; but what I like still better than 
 even fifty, is to retain the right of choos- 
 ing my own lover.' 
 
 ' Zounds ! have I not already told you 
 that I have no wish to be your lover. 
 Wake your mind easy then.' 
 
 'And I say, zounds ! what do you 
 want me to do, then, to earn your fifty 
 louis ?' 
 
 Did we say fifty ?' 
 
 Yes.' 
 
 4 Well, be it fifty, then. You shall 
 receive me at your dwelling ; you shall 
 look at me as good naturedly as possi- 
 ble, you shall take my arm when I wish 
 you to do so ; you shall wait for me 
 where I tell you to wait for me.' 
 
 ' But I have a lover, sir.' 
 
 'And what then?' 
 
 ' What do you mean by what then V 
 
 4 Why, turn him off, by Jupiter,' 
 
 ' Oh ! Beausire is not to be turned off 
 TO easily.' 
 
 ' Would you wish me to help you to 
 , ut 
 
 
 doit? 
 
 ' No ; I love him. 1 
 'Oh!' 
 
 A little.' 
 
 ' That little is too much.' 
 
 4 But so it is.' 
 
 ' Well, then, we must let Beausire 
 be.' 
 
 ' You are accommodating, sir.' 
 
 4 Till I can do better. Do my condi- 
 tions suit you ?' 
 
 ' They do suit me, if you have told 
 me the whole of them.' 
 
 Listen to me, my dear, I have told 
 you all I have to tell for the present.' 
 
 ' Upon your word of honor ?' 
 1 Upon my word of honor ; but yet 
 there is one thing you must under- 
 stand.' 
 
 ' A*d what is that ?' 
 
 1 It is that should it be necessary, you 
 
 should really be my mistress' 
 
 4 Ah ! do you see ; there can never be 
 any necessity for that, sir.' 
 4 But only to appear so?' 
 ' Oh ! as to that, as you please.' 
 ' Well then, we are agreed.' 
 ' Perfectly.' 
 
 ' Here is the first month in advance.' 
 And ho held out to her a rouleau of 
 of fifty louis without even touching the 
 ends of her fingers, and as she hesitat- 
 ed he slipped the rouleau into the pock- 
 et of her dress, without even grazing 
 that round and beautifully formed waist 
 which the great connoisseurs of Spain 
 would not have disdained as he did. 
 The gold had scarcely reached th 
 14 
 
 bottom of her pocket, when two sharp 
 knocks at the street door made Oliva 
 spring to the window. 
 
 4 Good heaven ! save yourself at once, 
 'tis he." 
 
 4 He ! who ?' 
 
 4 Beausire my lover get up, sir, 
 quick !' 
 
 4 By my faith, BO much the worse.' 
 
 4 What do you mean by so much the 
 worse ? Why he will tear you to 
 pieces !' 
 
 4 Pooh !' 
 
 4 Do you hear how he knocks ? He 
 will break down the door.' 
 
 4 Order your woman to open it. 
 Why the deuse do you not give him a 
 key?' 
 
 And the unknown stretched himself 
 on the sofa, saying to himself: 
 
 4 1 must see this rascal, that I may 
 form an opinion of him.' 
 
 The knocks continued accompanied 
 by frightful oaths, the sound of which 
 ascended higher than the second story. 
 
 4 Go and open the door, mother!' 
 said Oliva in a violent passion ; ' and ua 
 to you, sir, so much the worse should 
 any accident befall you.' 
 
 4 Just as you say, so much the worse,' 
 tranquilly observed the unknown with- 
 out stirring from the sofa. 
 
 Oliva listened with a palpitating heart 
 on the landing place. 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 KONSIEDa BEAUSIRE. 
 
 OLIVA threw herself in the way of 
 a furious man, who with outstretched 
 hand:;, pale face, and clothes in great 
 disorder burst into the room uttering 
 hoarse imprecations. 
 
 4 Come now, Beausire,' said she iu a 
 voice which did not evince so much ter- 
 ror, as to wrong the innate courage of 
 this woman. 
 
 ' Let me go,' cried the new coiner, 
 releasing himself with brutal strength 
 from the hold of Oliva. 
 
 And he went on in a tone of pro- 
 gressive fury. 
 
 4 Oh ! it was because there was a man 
 here that the door was not opened ! 
 Ha! ha." 
 
 The unknown, as we are already 
 aware, had remained upon the sofa, in 
 an attitude at once calm and motionless, 
 which Monsieur Beausire might huve
 
 106 
 
 THE QUEEN'S NECKLACE; OR, THE 
 
 
 considered as arising from indecision 
 or even terror. 
 
 He placed himself before this man, 
 grinding his teeth, and with looks that 
 boded him no good. 
 
 4 1 suppose that you will answer me, 
 sir,' said he. 
 
 4 What would you have me say to 
 you, my dear Monsieur Beausire ?' re- 
 plied the unknown. 
 
 4 What business have you here 1 
 .But first of all who are you ?' 
 
 ' I am a quiet man on whom you are 
 glaring with most terrific eyes ; and 
 moreover I was conversing with ma- 
 dam, in a most proper and honorable 
 manner.' 
 
 4 Yes, undoubtedly, in a most proper 
 and honorable manner,' said Oliva. 
 
 4 As to you, keep your tongue quiet!' 
 vociferated Beausire. 
 
 4 There, there,' said the unknown, 
 4 do not scold the lady in such a way, 
 for she is perfectly innocent, and if you 
 are in a bad humor ' 
 
 4 1 a m all that ' 
 
 4 He has been losing at play,' said 
 Oliva, in a half whisper. 
 
 4 1 have been cleaned out by all the 
 devils !' bawled Beausire. 
 
 4 And you would not be sorry to clear 
 out somebody else,' said the unknown, 
 smiling, 4 that is readily conceived my 
 dear M. Beausire.' 
 
 4 A truce to your ill timed jokes, you, 
 and do me the pleasure to turn out of 
 this.' 
 
 4 Oh ! Monsieur Beausire, be a little 
 indulgent ' 
 
 4 By the death of all the devils ! get 
 up and be off, or I will smash the sofa 
 to pieces and all that is upon it.' 
 
 4 You did not tell me, Madamoiselle 
 that M. de Beausire was subject to 
 these red moons. Good Lord ! what 
 ferocity.' 
 
 The exasperated Beausire made a 
 most tragical gesture, and in drawing 
 his sword described with it and his arm 
 a circle at least ten feet in circumfer- 
 ence. 
 
 Once more I tell you to get up; if 
 not, I will nail you to the back of the 
 sofa.' 
 
 4 Really ; it is not possible to be more 
 disagreeable,' replied the unknown, 
 
 his sword in his hand without rising 
 from his seat. ' Be quiet or two thing* 
 will happen. The first is that you will 
 confuse M. Beausire and he will spit 
 himself upon my sword, and the second, 
 that the guard will come up stairs, will 
 beat you and will conduct you straight 
 to Saint Lazare.' 
 
 Oliva exchanged her cries for the 
 most expressive pantomime. 
 
 This formed a curious spectacle. On 
 the one side M. Beausire. unbraced, 
 half drunk, trembling with rage, waa 
 lunging straightforward, and thrusting 
 unskilfully and without the slightest 
 tactic, at an im-penetrable adversary. 
 
 On the other, a man seated upon a 
 sofa ; one hand on his knee, the other 
 armed with a small dress sword, parry- 
 ing with much agility, but without ex- 
 ertion, and laughing in such a way us 
 would have terrified Saint George him- 
 self. 
 
 Beausire's sword had not for a mo- 
 ment kept a forward line, diverted as it 
 was by the quick parries of his adver- 
 sary. 
 
 Beausire began to feel fatigued, to 
 breathe hard, but his rage had given 
 place to an involuntary terror ; he re- 
 flected that if that complaisant sword 
 were only to be thrust forward, after 
 some parry, that he, Beausire, was done 
 for. He became confused, retreated 
 a step, and his sword then struck but 
 the point of his adversary's. The latter 
 caught it vigorously in tierce and with 
 a jerk twitched it out of Beausire'a 
 hand, and sent it flying like a feather. 
 The sword whizzed across the room, 
 went through the window and disap- 
 peared. 
 
 Beausire no longer knew which way 
 to look. 
 
 4 Ah!M. Beausire,' said the un- 
 known, 4 you should be more careful. 
 Should your sword fall point downwards, 
 and any one be passing, he would be a 
 dead man.' 
 
 Beausire, recalled to himself, rushed 
 out of the door and precipitated himself 
 down the stairs in order to regain his 
 weapon, and prevent an accident which 
 might put him on bad terms with thn 
 police. 
 
 During this time Oliva had seizud 
 
 gently and with his left hand only, draw- j the hand of the vanquisher and 
 ing from its sheath a small sword which him: 
 he had placed behind him on the sofa. 
 Olivn uttered piercing shrieks. 
 
 <> 
 
 Oh ! .Mademoiselle, Mademoiselle, 
 be quiet I hog of you,' said the un- 
 
 known trHM(|uil!y, who at length held hat me.' 
 
 4 Oh ! sir, you are courageous, but 
 M. Beausire is treacherous, and besides 
 you expose me by remaining here, and 
 assuredly when you are gone lie will 

 
 MYSTERIES OF THE COURT OF LOUIS XVI. 
 
 107 
 
 ' Then, I will not stir.' 
 
 Oh! yes, yes, pray go. Besides 
 when he beats me, I beat him and I 
 am always the strongest, but then it is 
 because I have nothing to conceal. 
 "Withdraw I beg of you.' 
 
 'But pray attend to one thing, my 
 lovely one, and that is, if I go I shall find 
 him below waiting for me on the stair- 
 case : we shall fight again ; and on a 
 stair-case one cannot always parry 
 double against carte, double against 
 tierce and a half circle, as upon a sofa.' 
 
 And then ?' 
 
 'Then I shall kill Master Beausire 
 or he will kill me.' 
 
 ' Good heaven ! that is true and what 
 a dreadful scandal it would bring upon 
 the house.' 
 
 ' Which ought to be avoided ; there- 
 fore I remain.' 
 
 ' For the love of Heaven, stay not 
 here. You can go up to the next story 
 and wait there till he has come in. He, 
 who will think you still here, will not 
 seek for you elsewhere, and when once 
 he has put his foot inside this door, you 
 will hear me double lock it. My man 
 will then be imprisoned by me, as I 
 shall put the key in my pocket. Then 
 make good your retreat while I shall be 
 fighting courageously to gain time.' 
 
 ' You are a charming girl. Till we 
 meet again ' 
 
 ' Till we meet again ! and when shall 
 that be ?' 
 
 4 To-night, if you please.' 
 
 ' How ! to-night ; are you mad ?' 
 
 1 Assuredly. Is there not a ball at 
 the Opera to-night?' 
 
 But reflect a moment, it is already 
 midnight.' 
 
 'I know that, but what matters that 
 to me ?' 
 
 '" We must have dominos.' 
 
 Beausin- will go to fetch them if 
 you beat him well.' 
 
 ' You are right,' said Oliva, laugh- 
 ing. 
 
 And there are ten louis for the do- 
 minos,' said the unknown, laughing 
 also. 
 
 Adieu ! adieu ! thanks.' 
 
 And she pushed him towards the 
 landing place. 
 
 ' Good ! he is juat closing the door be- 
 low, 'said the unknown. 
 
 4 There is only a fetch, and a bolt in- 
 side.' 
 
 ' But if, by chance, you should be 
 beaten ; how will you let me know it.' 
 
 She thought for au instant. 
 
 ' You must have servants,' she eaid. 
 
 ' Yes, I will place one under your 
 window.' 
 
 ' Very well, and tell him to look up 
 until a small note falls upon his nose.' 
 
 ' Be it so, adieu.' 
 
 The unknown ascended to the story 
 above. Nothing was more easy, the 
 stair-case was dark and Oliva, calling af- 
 ter Beausire in a loud voice, managed 
 to drown the noise of her new accom- 
 plice's foot-steps. 
 
 ' Are you coming, madman ?' cried 
 she to Beaurise, who was slowly com- 
 ing up stairs reflecting on the moral 
 and physical superiority of this un- 
 known, who had so insolently establish- 
 ed himself in the domicile of another. 
 
 He at last however reached the land- 
 ing place where Oliva was waiting 
 for him. His sword was in its scab- 
 bard ; he was concocting a speech. 
 
 Olivia seized him by the shoulders 
 pulled him into the ante-chamber and 
 double locked the door, as she had 
 promised. 
 
 The unknown, as he descended the 
 stairs, could hear the beginning of a 
 struggle, in which resounded by the 
 sharpness of their sound, like brass in- 
 struments in an orchestra, that species 
 of blows which are called vulgarly and 
 from onomatopeia, slaps. 
 
 These slaps were mingled with re- 
 proaches and *shrieke. The voice oft* 
 Beausire thundered, that of Oliva was 
 shrill and terrifying. 
 
 ' I never could have imagined.' said 
 the unknown while effecting his retreat, 
 that this; woman who was so terrified 
 just now at the return of the master, 
 could have possessed such an astonish- 
 ing power of resistance.' 
 
 The unknown lost no time in await- 
 ing the conclusion of the scene. 
 
 ' The commencement has been too 
 warm,' thought he, ' for the winding 
 up to be prolonged.' 
 
 He turned the corner of the Rue 
 Anjou Dauphin, in which he found his 
 carriage waiting for him, having back- 
 ed into that court. 
 
 He whispered a word to one of his 
 servants who left the carriage and took 
 up a position in front of Oliva's win- 
 dows, concealing himself under the 
 shadow of a small arcade which jutted 
 out before the entrance to an antiquated 
 house. 
 
 Thus placed, the man who saw the 
 
 lighted windows could judge from the 
 
 shadows flitting on the window curtains, 
 
 ' of all that waa going on in the apart- 
 
 1 ment. 

 
 ,108 
 
 THE QUEEN'S NECKLACE; OR, THE 
 
 These shadows, at first greatly agi- 
 tated, became calm by degrees. At 
 last only one remained. 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 GOLD. 
 
 WE will now describe all that had oc- 
 curred behind those curtains. 
 
 In the first place, Beausire was sur- 
 prised at hearing the door double lock- 
 ed. 
 
 Then he was surprised at hearing 
 Mademoiselle Oliva call out so loudly. 
 
 And at last more surprised still on 
 entering the bed-room to find that his 
 savage rival was no longer there. 
 
 He searched, threatened, called out 
 loudly because he thought the man had 
 concealed himself, and if so, it was be- 
 cause he was afraid ; and if afraid 
 Beausire triumphed. 
 
 Oliva obliged him to discontinue his 
 perquisitions, and to reply to her ques- 
 tions. 
 
 Beausire feeling himself somewhat 
 harshly used, in his turn assumed a high 
 tone. 
 
 Oliva, who knew that she was no 
 longer culpable, as the substance of the 
 offence had disappeared, Quia corpus 
 delicti aberat, as the text says ; Oliva 
 called out &o loudly, that to silence her 
 Beausire applied his hand to her mouth, 
 or rather, wished so to apply it. 
 
 But he was mistaken ;** Oliva under- 
 stood this perfectly persuasive and con 
 ciliutory gesture in quite a different 
 light to that intended by Beausire. On 
 seeing that rapid hand directed towards 
 her face, she opposed a hand as skillful 
 and as agile as erewhile had been the 
 sword of the unknown. 
 
 Thiit hand parried carte and tierce, 
 tin-list forward, and gave Beausire a 
 riujiiiii; box on the ear. 
 
 Hfimsirc replied by a side thrust, 
 and with his right hand beat down both 
 Oliva's and reddened her left cheek 
 with a blow that made a most scanda- 
 lous noise. 
 
 This A-as the passage in the conver- 
 sation which the unknown had over- 
 hetml at ihe moment be was about to 
 depart. 
 
 An explanation commenced in such 
 a manner, as we have said before, soon 
 brings about a winding up ; but, the 
 winding up of a play, howerer good it 
 may be, always requires, in order to be ! 
 
 perfectly dramatic, a host of prepara- 
 tives. 
 
 Oliva responded to Beausire's violent 
 blow by a projectile at once heavy and 
 dangerous, an earthen-ware jug ; Beau- 
 sire replied to this projectile by whirl- 
 ing a thick cane, with which he broke 
 several cups, smashed a wax-candle 
 and it ended its course by alighting on 
 the shoulder of the young woman. 
 
 The latter becoming furious, sprang 
 upon Beausire and seized him by the 
 throat. The unfortunate wretch was 
 compelled to defend himself from this 
 dangerous pressure and he grasped the 
 first thing he could lay hold of. 
 
 He tore Oliva's gown, who deeply 
 feeling the affront and the loss to which 
 it subjected her, let go her hold and 
 sent Beausire rolling on the centre of 
 the floor. He got up foaming with 
 rage. 
 
 But as the valor of an enemy is 
 measured by the defence made, and as 
 a good defence must always be respect- 
 ed, even by the conqueror, Beausire, 
 who had conceived much respect for 
 Oliva, again took up the verbal conver- 
 sation where it had broken off. 
 
 ' You are,' said he, ' a wicked crea- 
 ture, you ruin me.' 
 
 ' 'Tis you who ruin me,' replied 
 Oliva. 
 
 ' Oh ! good, I ruin her, and she has 
 nothing.' 
 
 ' Say rather that I have no longer any 
 thing. Say that you have sold and 
 eaten, drank or gambled away all I had.' 
 
 ' And you reproach me for my pover- 
 ty?' 
 
 ' And*why are you poor? It is that 
 vice ' 
 
 ' I will correct you of all yours at a 
 single blow.' 
 
 ' By beating inc.' 
 
 And Oliva brandished a pair of pon- 
 derous tongs, tlu> -sight of which made 
 Beausire start back. 
 
 ' All tha,t was wanting to your infa- 
 my,' said he, ' was to have lovers.' 
 
 ' And you, what do you call those 
 miserable wretches who seat them- 
 selves beside you in those low gaming 
 houses in which you puss your night 
 and days ?' 
 
 4 1 play to live.' 
 
 1 And very prettily you succeed ; we 
 are almost starving ; a very charming 
 profession, to be sure.' 
 
 ' And you, with yours, you are oblig- 
 ed to cry when one has torn your gown, 
 because you have not the means to buy 
 another. A fine profession truly.' 

 
 MYSTERIES OF THE COURT OF LOUIS XVI. 
 
 109 
 
 Better than yours at all events,' cried 
 Oliva with excessive rage, ' and here's 
 a proof of it;' 
 
 And she snatched a handful of gold 
 from her pocket, which she threw 
 across the room. 
 
 The louis began to roll upon their 
 edges or trembled on their faces, some 
 of them hiding themselves under the 
 furniture, others continuing their so- 
 norous evolutions even under the doors. 
 Others iu short, falling flat as it were 
 from sheer fatigue, their effigies shin- 
 ing as brilliantly as if they were sparks 
 of fire. 
 
 When Beausire heard this metallic 
 rain jingling against the furniture and 
 on the tiled floor of the room, he was 
 seized with a vertigo, or we ought rath- 
 er to say, remorse. 
 
 ' ( Louis, double louis !' exclaimed he, 
 completely thunder struck. 
 
 Oliva took another handful from her 
 pocket. She threw them in Beausire's 
 face who was for the moment blinded 
 by them. 
 
 'Oh! oh!' he again exclaimed, 'is 
 she not rich, this dear Oliva.' 
 
 ' That is what my proffession brings 
 me in,' cynically replied the creature, 
 'kicking the gold from before her, and 
 at the same time giving a vigorous kick 
 to Beauiure who had knelt down to pick 
 up the gold, 
 
 Sixteen, seventeen, eighteen,' said 
 Beausire, panting with joy. 
 
 Wretch !' muttered Oliva. 
 
 , Nineteen, twenty, twenty-one, 
 twenty-two.' 
 
 ' Coward !' 
 
 ' Twenty-three, twenty -four,*twenty- 
 five,' 
 
 Villain !' 
 
 Whether it was that he had heard 
 her, or that he blushed without having 
 heard her, Beansire rose up. 
 
 \mi >o. Mademoiselle,' said he, in 
 so serious a tone that nothing could 
 equal its comicaluess, ' you have been 
 economising while you deprived me 
 even of necessaries.' 
 
 Oliva, who was confounded, could not 
 find a word in reply. 
 
 Thus,' continued the rascal, ' you 
 allow me to go about with stockings in 
 holes, with a hat that is almost brown, 
 with ragged clothes, while you have 
 been hoarding up louis in your secret 
 box. Where do these louis come from? 
 why from tht? sale of my furniture 
 when I associated my unhappy destiny 
 to yours.' 
 
 ' Rascal !' murmured Oliva in a 
 
 whisper. And she darted at him a look 
 of the most sovereign contempt. He did 
 not seem at all affected by it. 
 
 'I pardon you,' said he, 'not for your 
 atvarice, but for your economy.' 
 
 'And just now you wished to kill 
 me.' 
 
 4 1 was right just now, but now I 
 should be wrong.' 
 
 ' And why so, if you please.' 
 
 ' Because now you have proved your- 
 self a good house-keeper, and you give 
 something towards our house-keeping.' 
 
 ' I tell you that you are a wretch.' 
 
 ' My little Oliva.' 
 
 ' And that you shall return that gold 
 to me.' 
 
 ' Oh ! my beloved.' 
 
 ' You shall return it instantly, or I 
 will run you through with your own 
 Bword.' 
 
 ' Oliva ." 
 
 It is either yes, or no. 
 
 ' Then I say no Oliva, for I can nev- 
 er consent to your running me through 
 the body.' 
 
 ' Stir not an inch, or I run you 
 through at once.' 
 
 ' Oh ! give it to me.' 
 
 ' Ah ! coward ! ah ! vile craature ! 
 you beg for, yon solicit the price of my 
 bad conduct ! Oh ! and this is what is 
 called a man ! I have always despised 
 you ; despised all of you, do you under- 
 stand me ? And more the one who 
 gives than he who receives.' 
 
 ' He who gives,' gravely rejoined 
 Beausire, ' may give if he is fortunate, 
 and I also have given to you Nicole.' 
 
 ' 1 will not be called Nicole.' 
 
 ' Pardon, Oliva, I was only saying 
 then that I had given when I was able 
 to give.' 
 
 4 Very fine bounty, truly; a pair of sil- 
 ver buckles, six louis in gold, two silk 
 dresses, and three embroidered hand- 
 kerchiefs.' 
 
 ' That is a great deal for a soldier.' 
 
 ' Hold your tongue ; the buckles you 
 had stolen from some one else to offer 
 them to me : the gold was lent to you, 
 and that you never returned : the silk 
 dresses ' 
 
 'Oliva! Oliva!' 
 
 ' Give me back my money. 
 
 ' What will you have in lieu of it.' 
 
 ' Double the amount.' 
 
 ' Well then ! be it so,' said the ras- 
 cal with much gravity. ' I will go and 
 play it at the Rue de Bussy, and I will 
 bring you back not double, but quintu- 
 ple the amount.' 
 
 He made two steps towards the door,
 
 110 
 
 THE QUEEN'S NECKLACE; OR, THE 
 
 She seized him by the flap of his coat, 
 which was too tender. 
 
 4 There now,' cried he, 4 you have 
 torn my coat.' 
 
 4 So much the better, you shall have 
 a new one.' 
 
 4 Six louis ! Oliva six louis. For- 
 tunately at the Rue de Bussy, the 
 bankers and the players are not very 
 rigid with regard to dress.' 
 
 Oliva very quickly seized hold of the 
 other flap of his coat and tore that off 
 also. Beausire became furious. 
 
 4 By the death of all the devils !' ex 
 claimed he, 'you will get yourself kill- 
 ed. Has not this vixen completely un- 
 dressed me. And now I cannot even 
 go out of the house.' 
 
 ' On the contrary you must go out 
 and that immediately.' 
 
 4 That would be very droll without a 
 coat.' 
 
 4 You can put on your winter over- 
 coat.' 
 
 4 All in holes, and patches.' 
 
 4 Well then you shall not put it on if 
 it does not please you, but you must go 
 out.' 
 
 4 1 will not.' 
 
 Oliva took from her pocket the gold 
 she had left, about thirty-five louis, and 
 jingled them between her hands. 
 
 Beausire seemed almost wild ; he 1 
 once more knelt down. 
 
 4 Order,' cried he, 4 order, I will do 
 whatever you please.' 
 
 4 You will run instantly to the Magic 
 Capuchin in the rue de Seine, where 
 they sell dominos for the masked ball.' 
 
 4 Well ?' 
 
 ' You will buy me a complete dress, 
 mask and stockings to match.' 
 
 'Good.' 
 
 4 Get a black one for yourself, for me 
 a white satin one.' 
 
 ' Yes.' 
 
 ' And I will allow you only twenty 
 minutes to do this.' 
 
 4 We are going to the ball ? 
 
 ' Yes, to the ball.' 
 
 4 And will you give me a supper on 
 the boulevards ?' 
 
 4 Oh ! certainly, but upon one condi- 
 tion.' 
 
 ' And what is that?' 
 
 4 That you shall be obedient.' 
 
 4 Oh ! always, always.' 
 
 ' Come now. give me a proof of your 
 zeal.' 
 
 I run.' 
 
 4 What ! are you not gone yet.' 
 
 ' But the money for the dominos ?' 
 
 ' You have twenty-five loois.' 
 
 4 What do you mean by twenty-fife 
 louis ?' 
 
 4 Those which you picked up.' 
 
 4 Oliva ! Oliva ! this is not right.' 
 
 ' What do you mean by that?' 
 
 4 Oh! Oliva, you gave them to me.' 
 
 4 1 do not say that you shall not have 
 them, but if I were to give them to you 
 now, you would not return. Go, then, 
 and return quickly.' 
 
 4 She is right, by heaven !' said the 
 scoundrel, somewhat confused, ' it was 
 my intentiop not to return.' 
 
 4 Twenty-five minutes, do you hear ?' 
 cried Oliva as he was going out. 
 4 1 obey.' 
 
 It was at this moment that the valet, 
 who had been placed in ambuscade in 
 the niche opposite to the window, ob- 
 served that one of the two interlocutors 
 had disappeared. 
 
 This was M. Beausire, who left his 
 mansion without a skirt to his coat, his 
 sword insolently swinging from side to 
 side, while his shirt, bulging out be- 
 neath his waistcoat, gave him the ap- 
 pearance of a swaggerer of the times of 
 Louis XJII. 
 
 While the worthless seamp was hur- 
 rying towards the rue de Seine, Oliva 
 wrote the following lines upon a piece 
 of paper, which summed up the whole 
 of the episode : 
 
 4 Peace is signed ; the division is 
 made, the ball adopted. At two o'clock 
 we shall be at the opera. I shall be in 
 a white domino, and on the left shoul- 
 der shall wear a bow of blue ribband.' 
 
 Oliva wrapped the paper round one 
 of the fragments of the broken jug, put 
 her head out of the window, and threw 
 the note into the street. 
 
 The valet pounced upon his prey 
 picked it up, and ran off. 
 
 It is pretty certain that M. Beausire 
 was not absent more thnn half an hour ; 
 he returned, followed by two journey- 
 men tailors, who, for the price of eigh- 
 teen louis, had brought two dominos of 
 exquisite taste, as were all those which 
 were procured from the sign of the 
 Magic Capuchin, the most fashionable 
 costujne warehouse of the day, and 
 from which establishment her majesty 
 the queen, and all the ladies of honor 
 were supplied. 
 
 V
 
 MYSTERIES OF THE COURT OP LOUIS XVI. 
 
 Ill 
 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 THE PLEASURE HOUSE. 
 
 WE left Madame de La Mothe at 
 the door of Mr. Mesmer's hotel, look- 
 ing after the queen's carringe, which 
 was rapidly disappearing. 
 
 When its form ceased to be visible 
 when the rumbling of its wheels ceased 
 to be distinct, Jeanne, in her turn, got 
 into her hired carriage, and returned 
 home to take a domino and another 
 mask, and also to ascertain whether 
 any thing new had occurred during her 
 absence. 
 
 , Madame de La Mothe had promised 
 herself on that thrice happy night some 
 enjoyment, after all the emotions of the 
 day; she had resolved, as a strong- 
 minded woman, which she was, to 
 throw away all restraint, and adventure 
 alone to the opera, there to revel in all 
 the delights of a complete incognito. 
 
 But a disappointment awaited her at 
 the first step she was about to take- in 
 the path she had chalked out, and 
 which was so seductive to the lively 
 imagination of one who had so long suf- 
 fered from restraint. 
 
 The fact was, that a grison was wait- 
 ing for her in the porter's room. 
 
 This grison was in the service of the 
 Prince de Rohan, and was the bearer 
 of a note from his eminence, couched in 
 the following terms : 
 4 Madame la Comtesse : 
 
 'You have, doubtless, not forgotten 
 that we have some affairs to regulate 
 together. Perhaps you have a short 
 memory; for my part, I never forget 
 that which has pleased me. 
 
 ' I have the honor to be waiting for 
 you at the place to which the bearer, 
 if you will permit him, will conduct 
 you.' 
 
 This letter was signed with a pastoral 
 cross. 
 
 Madame de La Mothe, who at first 
 felt somewhat annoyed at this disap- 
 pointment, reflected for a moment, and 
 then made up her mind with that ra- 
 pidity of decision which so particularly 
 characterized her. 
 
 ' Get upon the box with my coach- 
 man,' said she to the grison, ' or give 
 him the address.' 
 
 The grison after assisting Madame 
 de La Mothe into the carriage seated 
 himself beside the coachman. 
 
 Ten minutes sufficed .to take the 
 Countess to tho entrance of the Fau- 
 bourg Saint Antoine, into a hollow 
 
 which had been but lately levelled, and 
 where the towering trees, old as the 
 faubourg itself, concealed from all eyes 
 one of those pretty houses built in the 
 reign of Louis XV, the exterior being 
 of the architecture of the sixteenth cen- 
 tury and the interior possessing the in- 
 comparable comfort of the eighteenth. 
 
 ' Ho ! ho ! a pleasure house,' mur- 
 mured the Countess ; ' that is very 
 natural as regards a great Prince ; it is 
 however very humiliating for a Valoia, 
 but patience !' 
 
 This word which resignation converts 
 into a sigh, or impatience into an ex- 
 clamation, revealed all the devouring 
 ambition of the woman, or the grasping 
 cupidity smouldering in her mind. 
 
 But she had hardly crossed the 
 threshold of the mansion when she re- 
 solved at once upon her line of con- 
 duct. 
 
 She was led from room to room, that 
 is to say, from surprise to surprise 
 until she reached a small dining-room 
 fitted up with extraordinary taste. 
 
 She there found the Cardinal await- 
 ing her arrival. 
 
 His Eminence was turning over some 
 pamphlets which had much the appear- 
 ance of a collection of those ephemeral 
 productions which fell in torrents upon 
 Paris whenever the wind set in from 
 the coasts of England, or from Hol- 
 land. 
 
 On seeing her he rose. 
 
 ' Oh ! you are here. Thanks, Coun- 
 tess, 'said he, and he approached to kiss 
 her hand. 
 
 The Countess drew back with a dis- 
 dainful and wounded air. 
 
 ' What : can this mean !' cried th 
 Cardinal, and what is it offends you t 
 madam ?' 
 
 ' You are not accustomed to receiv- 
 ing such serious looks from the women 
 to whom your Eminence does the hon- 
 or of inviting to this house ; is it not so, 
 Monseigneur ?' 
 
 ' Oh ! Madame la Comtesse !' 
 
 ' We are in your pleasure-house, are 
 we not, Monseigneur ?' said the Coun- 
 tess throwing a disdainful glance around 
 her.' 
 
 4 But, madam ' 
 
 ' I had hoped, Monseigneur, that 
 your Emiuence would have deigned to 
 remember the rank to which I was 
 born. I had hoped that your Emi- 
 nence would have deigned to recollect 
 that if God has made, me poor, he has 
 left me at least my pride of birth.' 
 
 ' Come, come, Countess, I had taken
 
 112 
 
 THE QUEEN'S NECKLACE ; OR, THE 
 
 you for a woman of superior judgment,' 
 did the Cardinal. 
 
 ' It appears that you consider as a 
 woman of judgement, she who laughs 
 at everything, even were it her own dis- 
 honor ; to such women, and I beg your 
 Eminence will pardon me for so doing, 
 I give quite a different name.' 
 
 ; No, Countess, you are mistaken ; I 
 call that woman a woman of judgement 
 who listens when she is spoken to, and 
 does not speak until she has- listened.' 
 
 4 I am listening, go on.' 
 
 ' I had to speak to you of serious mat- 
 ters.' 
 
 ' And for that purpose you have 
 brought me into a dining-room ?' 
 
 ' Why, yes ; would it have pleased 
 you better, had I received you in a 
 boudoir, Countess ?' 
 
 'The distinction is a delicate one.' 
 
 ' I think it so, Countess.' 
 
 Therefore, the question at issue is, 
 that I should sup with your Eminence ?' 
 
 4 Nothing more.' 
 
 ' I hope your Eminence will be per- 
 uaded that I appreciate this honor as I 
 ought.' 
 
 4 You are ironical, Countess.' 
 
 4 No, I only laugh.' 
 
 ' You laugh ?' 
 
 Yes. Would it better suit you if I 
 were angry ? Oh ! on my word you 
 are difficult to please, Monseigneur.' 
 
 ' Oh ! you are charming when you 
 laugh, and I ask nothing better than to 
 see you always laughing. But you are 
 not laughing at this moment : tbere is 
 anger behind those lovely lips and 'they 
 show their teeth.' 
 
 ' Not in the slightest degree, Mon- 
 seigneur, and this dining-room tran- 
 quillises me completely.' 
 
 4 That's as it should be.' 
 
 'And I hope you will sup heartily.' 
 
 ' What mean you by hoping I shall 
 sup well, and you ?' 
 
 4 As to myself I am not hungry,' said 
 the Countess. 
 
 1 How, madam, do you refuse to give 
 me H supper ?' 
 
 1 What did you say ?' 
 
 4 You turn me out !' 
 
 4 1 do not understand you, Monseig- 
 neur.' 
 
 4 Listen to me, dear Countess.' 
 
 ' I am listening.' 
 
 4 If you were less angry, I would tell 
 you that do as you will you cannot be 
 otherwise than charming, but as upon 
 every compliment I pay you, I am in 
 terror of being dismissed, I abstain.' 
 
 4 You fear to be dismissed ! In truth 
 
 Monseigneur, and I beg your Emi- 
 nence's pardon for so saying, you are 
 becoming altogether unintelligible.' 
 
 4 And yet all this is perfectly pellu- 
 cid.' 
 
 ' You must excuse my being dazzled 
 by it then.' 
 
 I will explain then. The other day 
 you received me with much embarrass- 
 ment, you thought that your apartment 
 was little suited to a person of your 
 rank and name. That compelled me 
 to shorten my visit ; and moreover that 
 also made yon rather cold towards me. 
 I then thought that to place you in 
 your due position, a condition of life 
 worthy your high birth, was to restore 
 air to the bird, which a chemist has 
 placed beneath a pneumatic glass.' 
 
 4 And then ?' anxiously demanded 
 the Countess, for she began to compre- 
 hend his drift. 
 
 ' Then, lovely Countess, in order that 
 you might be able to receive me cor- 
 dially, and that I on my side might 
 visit you without compromising myself 
 or compromising you ' 
 
 The Cardinal fixed his eyes upon th 
 Countess. 
 
 'Well?' 
 
 4 Well, then I had hoped that you 
 would deign to accept this small house--' 
 
 4 1! accept this house? you give 
 this house to me Monsigneur?' cried 
 the Countess, whose heart beat at once 
 with pride and eagerness. 
 
 ; It is a trifle, Countess, a mere tri- 
 fle : but had I given you more yon 
 would not have accepted it.' 
 
 ' Oh ! neither more nor less,' said 
 the Countess.' 
 
 You say, madam ? ' 
 
 I say it is impossible that I can ac- 
 cept such a gift.' 
 
 4 Impossible ! and why ?' 
 
 ' Why, simply because it is imposti- 
 ble.' 
 
 1 Oh ! do not pronounce that word in 
 my hearing Countess.' 
 
 ' And for what reason ?' 
 
 ' Because I will not believe it while 
 I am near you.' 
 
 Monseigneur ! ' 
 
 1 This house is yours, madam the 
 keys are there upon that golden salver. 
 You see I treat you as a conqueror. Do 
 you perceive any humiliation in that ?' 
 
 'No; but' 
 
 'Come, now, accept at once.' 
 
 'Monseigneur, I have already said I 
 could not.' 
 
 ' How, madam ! You write to> a 
 minister to solicit a pension; you ae-
 
 MYSTERIES OF THE COURT OF LOUIS XVI. 
 
 113 
 
 eept a hundred louiu from two unknown 
 kdies.' 
 
 ' Oh! monseigneur, the case is very 
 different, who receives' 
 
 ' Who receives, obliges,' said the 
 Prince, nobly. ' Look, now, I waited 
 for you in your dining-room ; I have 
 not even seen either the boudoir, the 
 drawing-room, or the bed-chamber, but 
 I imagine that all this exists.' 
 
 ' Oh ! Monseigneur, pardon me ; for 
 you compel me to acknowledge that 
 there exists not another man as delicate 
 as yourself.' 
 
 And the -Countess, who had so lung 
 restniined her feelings, blushed witli 
 delight on reflecting that she would now 
 be able to say, ' my house !' 
 
 Then suddenly perceiving, from a 
 gesture made by the Prince, that she 
 allowed her feelings to cany her too far. 
 
 1 Monseigueur,' said she, drawing 
 back one step, 'I request youi emin- 
 ence will allow me to sup with you." 
 
 The Cardinal took off his cloak, 
 which he had not before removed, plac- 
 ed a chair for the Countess, and being 
 dressed in a plain suit, which became 
 him wonderfully, he began to enter on 
 his duties of major-domo. 
 
 The supper was soon served. 
 
 While the servants were coming 
 through the ante-chamber, Jeanne had 
 put on a half mask. 
 
 ' It is I who ought to put on a mask,' 
 raid the Prince, ' for you are here in 
 your own house, waited on by your 
 own servants, and it is I who am the 
 stranger.' 
 
 Jeanne laughed, but nevertheless re- 
 tained her mask. And notwithstanding 
 the pleasure and surprise which almost 
 suffocated her, she did honor to the re- 
 pust. 
 
 The Cardinal, as we have said be- 
 fore ou several occasions, was a man of 
 noble heart and really great mind. 
 
 Long habituated to the most civilized 
 courts of Europe, courts governed by 
 queens ; having long frequented the so- 
 ciety of women, who in that age com- 
 plicated but often decided all political 
 questions ; the experience which had 
 been transmitted, as we may say, in his 
 very blood, and which he had aug- 
 <t by personal study ; all those 
 qualities, so rare in our times, and 
 which were already rare in those days, . 
 combined to make the Prince a man ' 
 who could' with difficulty be circum- ' 
 Tented by his rival diplomatists, or by | 
 the women who were his mistresses, i 
 
 One great reason for this was, thai 
 
 his elegant manners and his dignified 
 courtesy formed a shield which it was 
 ; difficult to penetrate. 
 
 The Cardinal, therefore, thought him- 
 self very superior to Jeanne, a country 
 i girl, as he imagined her, puffed up with 
 pretension, and who beneath her false 
 pride had not been able to conceal from 
 him her avidity ; she appeared to him an 
 easy conquest, a durable one, doubtless, 
 on account of her beauty, her wit, and 
 that provoking, indefinable charm which 
 more readily seduces men already half 
 satiated with the pleasures of the world, 
 than young and more inexperienced 
 men. 
 
 Perhaps on this occasion, more diffi- 
 cult to penetrate than he was himself 
 penetrating, the Cardinal deceived him- 
 self; but the fact is that Jeanne, beau- 
 tiful as she was, caused him no mis- 
 trust. 
 
 This was the ruin of that eminently 
 superior man. HO not only made him- 
 self less than he really was, but reduced 
 himself to a pigmy. Between Maria 
 Theresa and Jeanne de La Mothe, the 
 difference was too wide for a Rohnn of 
 i his stamp, to take even the pains to 
 compare. 
 
 And therefore when qpce the attack 
 had begun, Jeanne, who felt her appa- 
 rent inferiority, took good care not to 
 allow her real superiority to be per- 
 ceived ; she continued to play the part 
 of a country coquette ; appeared to at- 
 tach herself to trifles, that she might 
 induce her adversary to remain still 
 confident in his own strength, and con- 
 sequently feeble in his attacks. 
 
 The Cardinal, who had well noted all 
 those emotions which shp had been un- 
 able to suppress, thought her overjoyed 
 at the present he had just made her. 
 She was so in fact, for the present was 
 not only far beyond her hopes, but also 
 beyond even her pretensions. 
 
 He, however, forgot that it was he 
 himself who was beneath the ambition 
 and the pride of such a woman as 
 Jeanne. 
 
 That which, moreover, dispelled the 
 exultation caused 5 by this present, was 
 the succession of new desires which 
 crowded out her former ones. 
 
 Come,' said the Cardinal, pouring 
 out some Cyprus wine into a small 
 ciystal cup starred with gold ; ' Come, 
 as you have now signed your contract 
 with me, be not any longer out of hu- 
 mor with me, Countess.' 
 
 Out of humor with you, 6h ! no.* 
 
 You will, then, receive- me here
 
 114 
 
 THE QUEEN'S NECKLACE; OR, THE 
 
 sometimes, without too much repug 
 nance?' 
 
 ' I shall never be so ungrateful as t 
 forget that you nre here in your own 
 house, monseigneur.' 
 
 In my own house, what folly !' 
 ' No, no, in your own house.' 
 
 ' Ah ! if you contradict me, fak 
 care.' 
 
 'And what would happen then ?' 
 
 I shall impose some other condi- 
 tions on you.' 
 
 ' Ah ! in your turn, take care.' 
 
 Of what?' 
 
 4 Of every thing.' 
 
 ' Say on.' 
 
 ' As I aui in my own house ' 
 
 t And' 
 
 ' And, should I find your conditions 
 unreasonable, I shall call my servants.' 
 
 The Cardinal laughed. 
 
 'There, you see,' she said. 
 
 'I do not see any thing,' replied the 
 Cardinal. 4 
 
 ' Oh ! yes, you see that you are mak- 
 ing game of me.' 
 
 ' And how so ?' 
 
 ' You laugh ' 
 
 ' And in right time, it appears to me.' 
 
 ' Oh ! yes, undoubtedly it is the right 
 time, for you^vell know that were I to 
 call my servants, they would not come.' 
 
 ' Oh ! yes they would, or may the de- 
 Til fly away with me.' 
 
 ' Oh ! fie, monseigneur.' 
 
 ' Why, what have I done ?' 
 
 4 You swore, monseigneur.' 
 
 4 1 am no longer a Cardinal when 
 here. I am at your house, and for the 
 purpose of enjoying myself.' 
 And he laughed again. 
 'Come, come,' said the Countess to 
 herself, ' he is decidedly an excellent 
 man.' 
 
 ' By-the-by,' said the Cardinal, as if a 
 sudden thought had struck him, ' what 
 were you telling me the other day of 
 those two Sisters of Charily, those two 
 German ladies ?' 
 
 4 Of those two Indies who left the 
 portrait ?' asked Jeanne, who having 
 Seen ihe queen, was ready to parry any 
 .blow, and make a thrust in return. 
 
 Yes, those ladies of the portrait.' 
 
 you 
 
 say 
 
 4 M6nseigneur,' said Madame de La 
 Mothe looking intently at the Cardinal, 
 1 I would wager that you know them as 
 well and even better than I do.' 
 
 Who, I ? Oh ! Countess, Countess, 
 indeed you wrong me. Did you not 
 appear desirous of knowing who they 
 were ?' 
 
 4 Undoubtedly ; and it is natural, it 
 
 appears to me, to desire to know one's 
 benefactors.' 
 
 ' Well, then, had I known who th*y 
 were, you would already have been in- 
 formed of it.' 
 
 * ' Monsieur the Cardinal, I tell 
 that you know those ladies.' 
 
 4 No.' 
 
 ' If you utter no again, I shall 
 you speak falsely.' 
 
 ' And I shall take revenge for the in- 
 sult.' 
 
 4 And how, if you please ?' 
 
 'By giving you a kiss.' 
 
 4 It appears singular that the Ambas- 
 sador to the Court of Vienna, the great 
 friend of the Empress Maria Theresa, 
 should not at once have recognised, un- 
 less it be very unlike indeed, the portrait 
 of his friend. 
 
 Why Countess was it really the 
 portrait of the Empress ?' 
 
 ' Oh ! play the ignorant if you can, 
 M. Diplomatist.' 
 
 ' Well, supposing even that it should 
 )e so, had I recognised it as the por- 
 rait of Maria Theresa, to what conclu- 
 sion would that have brought us T ' 
 
 ' That having recognised the portrait 
 of Maria TheYesa you must have some 
 suspicion as to the person to whom 
 such a portrait could belong.' 
 
 But why should you insist on my 
 knowing that ?' inquired the Cardinal 
 with some anxiety. 
 
 For this reason ; that it is not usual 
 
 see the portrait of a Mother, for 
 
 will please to observe that this is 
 
 1 portrait of a mother and not of an 
 impress, 1 in other hands than those 
 )fa ' 
 
 Conclude.' 
 
 Than in the hands of a daughter ' 
 The Queen !' exclaimed Louis de 
 iohan in so ingenuous a tone that it 
 eceived Jeanne. 4 The Queen ? Her 
 Majesty can have been at your house ." 
 4 What ! had you not guessed it was 
 the queen?' 
 
 4 Good Heaven ! no,' replied the Car- 
 dinal in a perfectly natural tone; 'no; 
 it is a custom in Hungary that portraits 
 of the reigning Princes pass from fami- 
 ly to family. And thus I who am now 
 speaking to you, for instance, and who 
 am not either sou or daughter to Maria 
 Theresa, or even a relation, well ! I 
 have her portrait now about me.' 
 ' About you ?' 
 
 * Yes; look at this,' said the Cardi- 
 dal coolly, and he took from his pocket 
 a small box which he showed to the as- 
 tonished Jeanne. ' You therefore see,' 

 
 MYSTERIES OF THE COURT OF LOUIS XVI. 
 
 115 
 
 added he, ' that if I have this portrait, 
 I who hnve not the honor of belonging 
 to the imperial family, any one else 
 might have left this portrait atyour house 
 without being, merely from that cir- 
 cumstance, one of the august house of 
 Austria.' 
 
 Jeanne said not a word, she had all 
 the ins jnct necessary to form a good 
 diplomatist, but she was as yet deficient 
 iu practice. 
 
 ' Thus, in your opinion,' continued 
 Prince Louis, 'it was the queen, Murie 
 Antoinette who paid yon the visit?' 
 
 4 The queen with another lady. 
 
 ' Madame de Polignac ?' 
 
 ' I do not know.' 
 
 'Madame de Lamballe ?' 
 
 4 A young lady, very handsome, and 
 very serious.' 
 
 ' Mademoiselle de Taverney, per- 
 haps ?' 
 
 ' It is possible ; I do not know her.' 
 
 4 Then, if her Majesty did really pay 
 you a visit, you are now certain of the 
 protection of the queen. It is a great 
 step towards your fortune.' 
 
 ' 1 believe it, Monseigneur.' 
 
 ' Was her Majesty, pardon me for 
 asking the question, generous towards 
 you?' 
 
 ' Why, she gave me a hundred louis, 
 I believe.' 
 
 ' Oh ! her Majesty is not rich, and 
 particularly at this moment.' 
 
 'And it is that which redoubles my 
 gratitude.' 
 
 > ' And did she evince towards you any 
 particular interest?' 
 
 ' A sufficiently lively one.' 
 
 'Then all goes well,' said the Cardi- 
 nal pensively, and forgetting the pro- 
 tegee to think of the protectress, ' there 
 is one thing, however, which still re- 
 mains for you to do-' 
 
 'And what is tha! ?' 
 
 'To jjct into the palace at Versailles.' 
 
 The Countess smiled. 
 
 ' Ah ! do not. let us deceive ourselves, 
 Countess; there liestho real difficulty.' 
 
 The Countess smiled a second time, 
 but in a more significant manner than the 
 first. 
 
 The Cardinal smiled in his turn. 
 
 ' In good truth,' said he, ' you country 
 people never seem to doubt any thing. 
 Because you have seen Versailles with 
 gates that open, and star -cases that 
 people ascend, you think that every one 
 can have those gates thrown wide to 
 them, and go up those stair-cases. Have 
 you seen all the monsters in brass, mar- 
 ble or lead, which ornaaient the parks 
 
 and the terraces of Versailles, Coun- 
 tess ?' 
 
 ' I have, Mopseigneur.' 
 ' Hypo -griffins, chimeras, gor- 
 gons, goules, and other destructive 
 beasts : there are hundreds of them. 
 Well, then* there are ten times a great- 
 er number of wicked living animals, 
 standing between princes and their be- 
 nevolence, than you have seen of sculp- 
 tured monsters, between the flowers in 
 the garden and the passers-by.' 
 
 ' Your eminence would aid me in 
 passing through the ranks of all these 
 monsters, should they close the passage 
 to me.' 
 
 ' I would attempt it, but 1 should 
 have great difficulty. And, first of nil, 
 should you pronounce my name, should 
 you expose your talisman, after two 
 visits it would be useless to you.' 
 
 4 Happily,' said the Countess, ' I am 
 guarded on that side by the immediate 
 protection of the queen. And if I get 
 into Versailles, I shall enter it with the 
 right key.' 
 
 4 What key, Countess ?' 
 
 4 Ah ! Cardinal, that is my secret 
 No, I am mistaken ; were it my own 
 secret I would tell it you, for I will 
 conceal nothing from my amiable pro- 
 tector.' 
 
 4 There is a but, Countess.' 
 
 ' Alas ! yes, Monseigneur, but, as it 
 is not my own secret, I shall keep it. 
 Let it suffice you to know ' 
 
 ' What, then ?' 
 
 ' That to-morrow I shall go to Ver- 
 sailles, and I shall be received, and I 
 have reason to hope, well received, 
 Monseigneur.' 
 
 The Cardinal looked at Madame de 
 La Mothe, whose assurance appeared 
 to him to be the rather direct conse- 
 quence of the first vapors of the supper. 
 
 4 Countess,' said he, laughing, ' we 
 shall see whether you will succeed in 
 in getting in.' 
 
 ' You will carry your curiosity so far 
 as to have me followed ?' 
 
 ' Precisely.' 
 
 4 1 do not retract.' 
 
 4 From to-morrow, beware of what 
 you do, I declare that your honor is in- 
 terested in getting into Versailles.' 
 
 ' And into the small apartments, Mon- 
 seigueur.' 
 
 ' I can assure you Countess that in 
 my eyes YOU are a living enigma.' 
 
 'One of those little monsters who in- 
 habit the park of Versailles?' 
 
 ' Oh ! you believe me to be a man of 
 tasto, do you not ?'
 
 116 
 
 THE QTJEEN'S NECKLACE; OR, THE 
 
 'Yes, eertes, Monseigtreur.' 
 
 Well then, as you see me, here on 
 my knee before you, as I take and kiss 
 your hand, you can no longer believe 
 that I place my lips upon a monster's 
 claw, or my hand upon the tail of a 
 scaled fish.' 
 
 ' I beg you to remember, Monseig- 
 neur,' said Jeanne coldly, ' that I am 
 neither a grisette nor ap opera dancer. 
 That is to say, that I am my own prop- 
 erty when I belong not to my husband, 
 and that feeling myself the equal of ev- 
 ery man in this kingdom, I shall select 
 freely and spontaneously the day on 
 which I may choose the man who has 
 known how to please me. Therefore, 
 Monseigneur, respect me a little and 
 you will thus respect that nobility to 
 which we both belong.' 
 
 The Cardinal raised himself from 
 his knee. 
 
 4 Tis well,' said he, ' I see you wish 
 that I should love you seriously.' 
 
 ' I do not say that. Cardinal, but I 
 wish to love you. Believe me, when 
 that moment shall arrive, should it ar- 
 rive at all, you will very readily divine 
 it. I will let you know it, in the event 
 of j'OTir not perceiving it, for I feel my- 
 self young enough, and sufficiently pass-' 
 able not to dread making advances to 
 you. A well bred man would not re- 
 pel them.' 
 
 'Countess,' replied the Cardinal, 'I 
 can assure you that if it depends only on 
 myself, you will love me.' 
 
 ' We shall see.' 
 
 4 You already entertain some friend- 
 ly feelings towards me ; do you not, 
 Countess ?' 
 
 More than that.' 
 
 Really ; then we have nlreadyreach- 
 ed half way.' 
 
 4 Do not let us measure the road but 
 walk straight forwards.' 
 
 4 Countess you are a woman whom I 
 should adore.* 
 
 And he sighed. 
 
 4 Whom you would adore ?' said she 
 with surprise, ' if ' 
 
 ' If you would permit it,' the Cardin- 
 al hastened to reply. 
 
 Monsdigneur, I shall permit it, per- 
 haps, when fortune shall have smiled 
 long enough upon me, to induce you 
 to dispense with falling so quickly at 
 my feet, and kissing my hand, so ^pre- 
 maturely.' 
 
 4 How ?' 
 
 4 Yes, when I shall be placed in a po- 
 sition not to require your benevolence, 
 you will no longer suspect that I seek 
 
 your visits from any sordid motives. 
 Then your views with regard to me 
 will become ennobled, I shall gain by 
 this, and you will not lose by it.' 
 
 She agnin got up for she had seated 
 herself, tlio better to pronounce her 
 moral dircourse. 
 
 Then,' snid the Cardinal, ' you sur- 
 round me with impossibilities^ 
 
 ' And how so ?' 
 
 ' You prevent me from paying my 
 court to ypu.' 
 
 ' Not in the least, is'there no other 
 mode of paying court to a woman than 
 by genuflexion and prestidigitation?' 
 
 ' Let us understand at once, Countess, 
 what you will permit?' 
 
 ' Every thing that is compatible with 
 my taste and my duties.' 
 
 ' Oh ! oh ! you there assume the tvro 
 moat vague grounds that exist in the 
 whole world.' 
 
 ' You were wrong to interrupt me, 
 Monseigneur, I was about to add a 
 third.' 
 
 ' And what is that, good Heaven!' 
 
 'That of my caprice.' 
 
 ' I am lost.' 
 
 ' You draw back ?' 
 
 The Cardinal was less subjected at 
 that moment to the direction of his own 
 inward thoughts than to the charm of 
 that provoking enchantress. 
 
 ' No,' said he, ' I will not draw back.' 
 
 ' Not even before my duties.' 
 
 ' Nor before your tastes and your ca- 
 prices.' 
 
 'In proof of this ?' 
 
 ' Speak' 
 
 4 1 wish to go to-night to the opera 
 ball.' 
 
 'That is your own affair, Countess ; 
 you are free as air, and I see not what 
 there is is to prevent your going to the 
 ball at the opera house ?' 
 
 ' One moment ; you see'only one half 
 my desire. The other is 'that you also 
 should go to the opera.' 
 
 ' What I, to the opera ! oh ! Coun- 
 tess ' 
 
 And the Cardinal started back to such 
 a distance that although it would have 
 been very natural in an ordinary indi- 
 vidual, it was a prodigious leap ..for a 
 man of his high rank.' 
 
 ' And this is the way in whicTi you 
 seek to please me,' said the Countess. 
 
 ' A Cardinal cannot go to a ball at the 
 opera. Countess! it would be the same 
 as asking you to go into a pot-house.' 
 
 ' A Cardinal does not dance either* 
 does he ' 
 
 4 Oh ! no '
 
 MYSTERIES OF THE COURT OF LOUIS XVI. 
 
 117 
 
 4 Well, then, how did it happen that, 
 as I have read, the Cardinal de Riche- 
 lieu danced a sarabande ?' 
 
 1 Before Anne of Austria yea,' said 
 the prince, forgetting himself. 
 
 ' It was before a queen, that's true,' 
 said Jeanne, fixing her eyes upon him. 
 
 ' Weil, then, perhaps you would do 
 that also for a queen ' 
 
 The prince could not prevent him- 
 self from blushing, however skilful and 
 upon his guard. 
 
 Whether it was that the cunning 
 creature felt compassion for his confu- 
 sion, or whether she deemed it inexpe- 
 dient to prolong his embarrassment, she 
 hastened to add : 
 
 4 How is it possible that I can feel 
 otherwise than .hurt, to find that you 
 who have made so many professions, 
 should esteem me less than a queen, 
 when it is a mere question of conceal- 
 ing yourself under a domino and a mask 
 when by so doing you would Sdvance 
 in my esteem, (and with a complais- 
 ance for which I could never be too 
 grateful,) by one of those giant steps 
 that would reduce the road we just now 
 spoke of in an immeasurable degree.' 
 
 The Cardinal, happy at being let off 
 so cheaply happy, above ah 1 , at that 
 perpetual victory which Jeanne allow- 
 ed him to gain by each wild freak of 
 hers, seized the hand of the Countess 
 and pressed it tenderly. 
 
 ' For you,' said he, ' everything, even 
 the impossible.' 
 
 ' Thanks, monseigueur ; the man 
 who has just consented to this sacrifice 
 for me, is in my eyes a most valuable 
 friend. ^But now that you have accept- 
 ed the task, I will dispense with its 
 performance.' 
 
 1 By no means, by no means ! the 
 man can only claim the reward when 
 he has accomplished his task. I will 
 follow you, Countess, and in domino.' 
 
 We will go into the Rue Saint De- 
 nis, which is not far from the opera ; I 
 will go masked into a shop, and will 
 purchase a domino and a mask for you. 
 You can put them on in the carriage.' 
 
 ' Countess, do you know this is a de- 
 lightful party T 
 
 4 Oh ! monseigneur, your goodness 
 overwhelms me with confusion, but 
 now I think of it, perhaps at the Hotel 
 de Rohan your eminence can find a do- 
 mino more to his taste than any WL< 
 could purchase. 1 
 
 ' This malice is unpardonable, Coun- 
 1 f I go to the ball at the opera, I 
 thing ' 
 
 ' And what is that, monseigneur ?' 
 
 1 That I should be as much surprised 
 at finding myself there, as you would 
 were you to sup tete-a-tete with &ny 
 other man than your husband.' 
 
 Jeanne felt that she had nothing to 
 reply, and she thanked him. 
 
 A carriage without armorial bearings 
 received the two fugitives, and pro- 
 ceeded towards the boulevards at a 
 round trot. 
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 A FEW WORDS ABOUT THE OPERA. 
 
 THE opera, that temple of pleasure in 
 Paris, had been burned down in the 
 month of June, 1781. 
 
 Twenty persons had perishe'd in the 
 ruins ; and as this was a misfortune 
 which had happened twice in eighteen 
 years, the accustomed site of the opera, 
 that is to say the Palais Royal, had ap- 
 peared fatal to the joys of the Parisians, 
 and by an ordonnance of the King it 
 was transferred to another quarter. 
 
 The neighborhood of this vast town 
 of wood and canvass, of pasteboard and 
 paintings had always somewhat alarmed 
 the citizens who dwek in its vicinity. 
 The opera, placed in a more safe poai- 
 tion, inflamed the hearts of financiers 
 and people of quality, and put rank and 
 fortune on a footing of greater equality. 
 The opera once in combustion might 
 destroy a large portion of the city,. if 
 not the whole of it. 
 
 The site chosen was near the Porte 
 Saint Martin. The king, grieved to 
 find that his good city of Paris would 
 for a long time be deprived of its opera, 
 became as sorrowful as was his wont, 
 when the arrivals of corn were less 
 abundant than usual, or that bread ex- 
 ceeded the price of seven sous .for the 
 four pound loaf. 
 
 It was curious to see all the old nobi- 
 lity, all the young herd of lawyers, all 
 military men, and all financiers thrown 
 out of their accustomed habits, by this 
 void paused in their evening amuse- 
 ments ; to watch wandering about the 
 promenades hosts of divinities without 
 asylum, from. those who merely formed 
 the drapery up to the first enchantresses 
 of the fashionable world. 
 
 To console the king, and even the 
 queen a little, M. Lenoir, an architect, 
 was presented to them, who promised 
 mountains and marvels.
 
 118 
 
 THE QUEEN'S NECKLACE; OR, THE 
 
 This worthy man had formed new 
 plans, by which he established so per- 
 fect a system of passages and issues, 
 that even in the event of the theatre 
 taking fire, no on* could be stifled in 
 the lobbies. He opened eight doors, 
 through which the audience could "es- 
 cape, without counting a first story, in 
 which there were five wide windows, 
 and at so slight an elevation from the 
 ground, that the most cowardly could 
 jump from them on to the boulevard, 
 without fear of any more serious acci- 
 dent than a sprained ancle. 
 
 M. Lenoir gave (to supply the place 
 of the beautiful theatre built by Moreau, 
 with its paintings by Durameaux,) a 
 building having a frontage of ninety-six 
 feet on the boulevard ; the facade or- 
 namented by eight cariatides, to form 
 three entrance* doors ; eight columns, 
 the pedestals of which were supported 
 by the under basement, and further, a 
 bas relief above the capitals, with a bal- 
 cony of three windows, ornamented 
 with archivolts. 
 
 The stage at the proscenium was to 
 be thirty-six feet in width, the whole 
 theatre to be seventy-two feet in depth, 
 and eighty-four feet in width, from one 
 wall to the other. 
 
 There were to be saloons ornamented 
 with looking-glasses, the decorations of 
 which were to be simple but noble. 
 
 Under the orchestra, and along the 
 whole width of the theatre, M. Le- 
 noir had reserved a space of twelve feet 
 to contain an immense reservoir and 
 two engines, for the working of which 
 twenty soldiers of the French Guards 
 should be in attendance. 
 
 In short, to complete the wonder, the 
 architect asked for only seventy-five 
 days and seventy-five nights; and the 
 theatre was to be ready for the recep- 
 tion of the public, in thai time not one 
 hour ei|her more or !>--. 
 
 Thi- li.st .-iftirli- :i|)jic:ircii ii incrc 
 Gascon boust and wns much laughed at 
 at first, but the king made his calcu- 
 lations with M. Lenoir and agreed to 
 all his conditions. 
 
 M. Letioir nt onc^ set*to work and 
 he kept his promise. The theati'e was 
 built in the time he had stipulated. 
 
 But then the public, never satisfied 
 nor confiding, began to reflect that the 
 theatre was built of wood, that being 
 the only way in which it could have 
 been so speedily constructed, and that 
 this very quickness was an element of 
 instability, consequently the new opera 
 house could not be solid. This theatre, 
 
 the cause of so many longing sighs, 
 which people had watched rising from 
 the ground beam by beam, this public 
 monument which all Paris came every 
 evening to gaze upon and admire the 
 celerity with which it had been made 
 to tower above the ground, no one 
 would enter when it was nt length com- 
 pleted. The most courageous, or mad- 
 men as they were called, took tickets 
 for the first performance of Adelo de 
 Ponthieu, the music by Piccini, but 
 they at the same time took the precau- 
 tion to make their wills. 
 
 On seeing this, the architect in des- 
 pair, had recourse to his Majesty, who 
 gave him an idea. 
 
 ' The only poltroons in France,' said 
 his Majesty, ' are the people who pay, 
 they would willingly present you with 
 an income of ten thousand livres or al- 
 low themselves to be stifled in a crowd 
 at court, "but they will not run the risk 
 of being smothered beneath falling ceil- 
 ings. Leave those people to me, and 
 you invite brave fellows who cannot af- 
 ford to pay. The queen has just pre- 
 sented me with a Dauphin : the city is 
 now beside itself with joy. Let it be 
 publicly announced that in order to cele- 
 brate the birth of my son, the opera shah 1 
 be opened by a gratuitous performance, 
 and if two thousand five hundred people 
 huddled together, that is to say, an ag- 
 gregate weight of three hundred thou- 
 sand pounds should not be sufficient to 
 test the solidity of the building, beg all 
 those fellows to jump about a little ; you 
 know, Monsieur Lenoir, that weight 
 becomes quintupled when it falls from 
 a height of four inches. Your t*^o thou- 
 sand five hundred brave fellows will 
 then weigh fifteen hundred thousand 
 pounds if you would inane them dance; 
 therefore give a ball after the opera 
 is over. 
 
 4 Thanks, Sire,' said the architect. 
 
 4 But first of all you must reflect that 
 this will be very heavy.' 
 
 * Sire, I am certain of my work, and 
 I shall be at the ball. 
 
 4 And I,' said the king, 4 1 promise 
 you that I will attend the second per- 
 formance.' 
 
 The architect followed the king's ad- 
 vice. Adele de Ponthieu was played 
 before three thousand plebeians, who 
 applauded more lustily than kings. 
 
 These plebeians were right willing to 
 dance after the opera. Their weight 
 would be tenfold instead of quintuple. 
 
 Not a nail stirred in the whole build-
 
 MYSTERIES OF THE COURT OF LOUIS XVI. 
 
 119 
 
 If there had been any accident to ap- 
 
 Srehend, it would have happened dur- 
 ig the ensuing performances, for the 
 theatre was literally crammed with the 
 illustrious paltroons, who had feared to 
 attend the opening. It was to this 
 theatre that, three years after the above 
 event, the Cardinal de Rohan and Ma- 
 dame de La Mothe were proceeding. 
 
 Such is the preamble we considered 
 due to our readers, and now we will 
 return to our history. 
 
 CHAPTER XXIII. 
 
 THE OPERA BALL. 
 
 THE ball was at its height, when the 
 Cardinal de Rohan and Madame de La 
 Mothe slipped in stealthily, the prelate 
 at all events, among the thousands of 
 dominos and disguises of every de- 
 scription. , 
 
 They were soon in the very thickest 
 of the throng, in which they disappear- 
 ed, as disappear in the greater whirl- 
 pools of it river those small circles 
 which for a moment are remarked by 
 those who watch upon its bank, and are 
 then effaced and borne away Ity the 
 current. 
 
 Two dominos standing side by side, 
 as much as it was possible to stand side 
 by side in such a pell-mell throng, en- 
 deavored, by uniting their strength, to 
 resist this invasion ; but seeing they 
 could not succeed, they resolved on 
 taking refuge under the queen's box, 
 where the crowd was less dense, and 
 where, moreover, the wall afforded them 
 support. 
 
 One had a black, the other a white 
 domino ; the one was tall, the other of 
 a middling stature ; the one a man, the 
 other ii woman ; the one gesticulating 
 with his arms, the other turning her 
 head repeatedly faom right to left and 
 from left to right. 
 
 These two dominos were evidently 
 engaged in a most animated colloquy. 
 
 Let us listen to them. 
 
 ' I tell you, Oliva, that you are ex- 
 pecting some one,' said the tallest. 
 ' Your neck is no longer a neck, but the 
 rod of a weathercock, which turns not 
 only with every wind, but to every 
 coiner.' 
 
 4 Well, and what then ?' 
 
 ' What mean you by what then ?' 
 
 1 Yes ; what is there astonishing in 
 my head turning ; did I not come here 
 expressly that it should ?' 
 
 ' But, if you turn other people's 
 heads ' 
 
 ' Well, sir, and what do people como 
 to the opera for ?' 
 
 ' For a thousand reasons.' 
 
 'Oh ! yes, undoubtedly, the men ; 
 but the women come here with one 
 only object.' 
 
 4 And what is that ?' 
 
 ' That which you just now spoke of, 
 to turn as many heads as possible. You 
 have brought me to the ball ; I am here, 
 and, therefore, you must be resigned 
 to it.' 
 
 4 Mademoiselle Oliva !' 
 
 4 Oh ! do not put on you gruff voice ; 
 yo,u know that your gruff voice cannot 
 alarm me, and above all dispense with 
 callingme by name. You. know that 
 nothing cau be in worse taste than to 
 call people by name at an opera ball ?' 
 
 The black domino made an aogry ges- 
 ture which was abruptly arrested by 
 the arrival of a blue domino, rather 
 stout, rather tall, but of fashionable ap- 
 pearance. 
 
 4 There ! there ! sir,' said the new 
 comer, ' allow Madam to amuse herself 
 as she thinks fit. What, the deuse ! it 
 is not mid-Lent every day, and it is not 
 every mid-Lent that people come to 
 opera.' 
 
 1 Meddle yourself in matters that con- 
 cern you,' brutally retorted the black 
 domino. 
 
 1 Oh ! Sir,' cried the blue domino, 
 remember, once for all, that a little 
 courtesy is never out of place.' 
 
 ' I do not know you,' replied the black 
 domino, 'then why, the devil, should I 
 stand on ceremony with you.' 
 
 'You do not know me be it ao ; 
 but ' 
 
 4 But what ?' 
 
 4 1 know you, Monseiur de Beausire, 
 
 On hearing his own name mentioned, 
 he who so flippantly pronounced the 
 names of others, the black domino 
 trembled, a sensation which was visible 
 from the quick vibrations 6*f his silk 
 hood. 
 
 ' Oh ! do not be alnrmed, Monsieur 
 de Beausire,' rejoined the mask, ' I am 
 not what you think me.' 
 
 ' And, zounds, what do I think you 
 then / Can you who guess names so 
 patly, not feel satisfied with that, but 
 you must also guess their thoughts?" 
 
 4 And why not?' 
 
 ' Then please to guess a little what I 
 am thinking. I have never seen a sor- 
 cerer and it would really give me great 
 pleasure to meet with one.'
 
 liiO 
 
 THE QUEEN'S NECKLACE; OR, THE 
 
 Oh . what you ask of me is not, suf- 
 ficiently difficult to render me worthy 
 of the title which you appear to bestow 
 BO readily.' 
 
 ' Never mind, say on.' 
 
 ' Nty ask something else.' 
 
 > That will sniffle e for me guess on.' 
 
 ' You really wisTi it ?' 
 
 'Yes.'' 
 
 ' Well then ; you thought that I was 
 au agent of M. de Crosne.' 
 
 'Of'M. de Crosne?' 
 
 'Oh.! yes, by heaven! of course you 
 know nothing of him of M. de Crosne, 
 the lieutenant of Police ." 
 
 Sir ' 
 
 1 Gtently, gently, dear MX de Beau- 
 sire ; why really one would imagine 
 you were feeling to ascertain if you had 
 a 3 word by your side.' 
 
 ' Uudoubtedly I was seeking for it ' 
 
 'Odsbud! what a frightfully bel- 
 ligerent disposition ! but tranquillize 
 yourself M. Beausire, you left your 
 sword at home, and you did very right- 
 ly. Let us now speak of something 
 else. Will you if you please allow me 
 to offer my arm to madame ?' 
 
 1 Your arm to madame ?' 
 
 ' Yes, to madame. That is' not un- 
 usual, it appears to me at an opera ball, 
 or have I but lately arrived from the 
 Eust Indies ?' 
 
 ' Undoubtedly, sir, it is a thing that 
 happens, when it suits the ladie's cava- 
 lier.' 
 
 It sometimes suffices, dear M. Beau- 
 sire that it should suit the lady.' 
 
 IB it for a long time you ask me to 
 give up her arm ?' 
 
 Oh ! M. Beausire, you are really too 
 inquisitive. Perhaps for ten minutes; 
 perhaps for an hour ; perhaps for the 
 whole night.' 
 
 Come, come, sir, you are surely 
 making" sport of me ?' 
 
 ' Dear sir, answer plainly, yes or no : 
 yes or no, will you allow me to take 
 the lady's arm ?' 
 
 No.' 
 
 ' Tush ! tush, man ; do not be BO 
 cross.' 
 
 4 And why not .'' 
 
 ' Because as you have one mask, it 
 is not nece*ssary to put on two.' 
 
 'By heavens! sir, ' 
 
 ' There now, you are getting angry 
 again, you who were so gentle but a lit- 
 tle while ago.' 
 
 ' And whore ?' 
 
 Why, in the Rue Dtiuphinr.' 
 'Rue Dauphine." exclaimed Beau- 
 
 uire perfectly astonished. 
 
 Oliva burst into a loud laugh. 
 
 ' Be silent, madam !' cried the black 
 domino grinding his teeth. 
 
 Then turning towards the blue do- 
 mino, 
 
 ' I do not understand a word of what 
 you have been saying, sir. Mysti- 
 fy me in a decent manner if that be 
 possible to you.' 
 
 ' But, dear sir, it appears to me thai 
 nothing can be more decent than the 
 truth. Is it not so, Mademoiselle 
 Oliva ?' 
 
 ' Why really !' cried the latter, ' you 
 know me also then ?' 
 
 ' Did not this gentleman call you bj 
 your name just now ?' 
 
 ' And the truth ' said Beausire, re- 
 suming the conversation, 'the truth 
 
 ' That at the very moment you wera 
 about to kill this poor lady you paused 
 on hearing the sound of some twenty 
 louis , 
 
 ' Enough, sir.' 
 
 ' Well be it so. But since you have 
 had enough, give me that ladie's arm.' 
 
 ' Oh ! I see clearly,' muttered Bean- 
 sire 'that madam and you ' 
 
 ' Well ! madam and I ' 
 
 ' You understand each other.' 
 
 ' J swear to you that it is not so/ 
 
 ' Oh ! is it possible to say such things ?* 
 cried Oliva. 
 
 'And moreover ' added the blue 
 domino. 
 
 ' How ! moreover ' 
 
 ' Yes, if we did understand each oth- 
 er, it would be only for your good.' 
 
 ' For my good ?' 
 
 Undoubtedly.' 
 
 ' When people advance a thing, they 
 ought to prove it,' said Beausire, cava- 
 lierly. 
 
 ' Willingly. 
 
 ' Oh ! I should be curious to know' 
 
 'I will prove, then,' continued the 
 blue dornino, ' that your presence here 
 would be as injurious to you as your 
 absence would be profitable.' 
 
 ' To me ?' 
 
 ' Yes, to you.' 
 
 ' And in what way, I beg to know ?' 
 
 ' We are members of a certain aca- 
 demy, are we not ?' 
 
 ' Who, I ?' 
 
 . ' Oh .' do not get angry, Monsieur do 
 Beausire, I was not speaking of the 
 Academie Franyaise. In the Rut du 
 Pot de Fer a story below the ground 
 door. Is it not really so, dear Monsieur 
 de Beuugire ?' 
 
 Hush ."
 
 MYSTERIES OF THE COURT OF LOUIS XVI. 
 
 121 
 
 'Pooh.!' 
 
 ' Yes, hush ! what a disagreeable 
 man you make yourself, sir!'% 
 
 ' That is a thing not to be said.' 
 
 ' And why not ?' 
 
 1 Zou-uls ! because you do not believe 
 a.word of it ; therefore, let us return to 
 
 Well?' 
 
 The blue domino took out a watch, a 
 handsome watch, richly set in diamonds, 
 on which Beausire's two eye* glistened 
 with sparkling rays. 
 
 4 Well,' repeated the latter. 
 
 4 Well, then, in a quarter of tm hour 
 from this time, and at your academy in 
 the Rue du Pot de Fer, dear Monsieur 
 de, Beausire, they will begin to discuss 
 a little project tending to confer a profit 
 of two millions on the twelve real part- 
 ners of the association, of which you 
 are one, Monsieur de Beausire.' 
 
 ' Arid of which you are another, if 
 you, are not - ' 
 
 ' Well, finish your sentence.' 
 
 If you are not a spy ' 
 
 I really took you for a man of intel- 
 lect, Monsieur de Beausire, but I am 
 inexpressibly grieved to find that you 
 are little better than a fool ; if I be- 
 longed to the police, I should have 
 caught you over and over again aye, 
 twenty times, for alfairs less honorable 
 than this two millions, which is to be 
 discussed at the academy in a few mi- 
 nutes.' 
 
 Beausire reflected for a few mo- 
 ments. 
 
 ' The devil !' said he, ' you must in- 
 deed be right.' 
 
 Then after again considering. 
 
 ' Oh ! sir, you are sending me to the 
 Pot de Fer.' 
 
 ' I am sending you ?' 
 
 ' Oh ! I well know why.' 
 
 Say on.' 
 
 1 To have me caught in a trap. But 
 1 am not quite such a fool as that.' 
 
 1 Another stupidity-' 
 
 4 Sir - ' 
 
 4 Uudoubetdly ; for if I have the power 
 to do as you say ; if I have the still great- 
 er power of divining what is now plot- 
 ting at your academy, why should I 
 come here to ask your permission to 
 converse with this lady ? Nu, in that 
 case, I should have you arrested at 
 once, upon the spot, and thus madame 
 and I would at once get rid of you. But 
 on the contrary, my device is " all by 
 gentleness and persuasion," dear Mon- 
 sieur de Beaubire.' 
 
 4 Well, let us see,' cried Beausire. 
 14 
 
 I suddenly releasing Oliva's arm, ' it was 
 I you who was upon the sofa in madam's 
 room. Hey ! was it not sol reply.' 
 
 4 What sofa?' inquired the blue do* 
 mi no, whose little finger Oliva slightly 
 pinched. ' The only sofa I know of ia 
 that of M.^febillon the younger.' 
 
 ' In fact, 'tis all the same to me/ re- 
 joined Beausire, ' your reasons are 
 good, and that is all I need. I said 
 good, I ought? to have said excellent; 
 therefore take the lady's arm ; and if 
 you have led a worthy man into error, 
 blush for yourself, that's all!' 
 
 The blue domino laughed heartily at 
 this epithet of worthy man which Beau- 
 sire had so liberally bestowed upon him- 
 self, then tapping him upon the shoul- 
 der, said : 
 
 ' Sleep tranquilly : by sending you 
 down yonder 1 make you a present of 
 a hundred thousand livjes at the least ; 
 for were you not to go to the acade- 
 my to-night, you would, according to 
 the custom of your partness, be left 
 out of the division of the profits, while 
 by going there ' 
 
 4 Well be it so ; here goes for the 
 chance,' murmured Beausire and bow- 
 ing whirled round upon his heel and 
 disappeared. 
 
 ' The blue domino took possession of 
 Mademoiselle Oliva's arm become va- 
 cant by the disappearance of Beausire. 
 
 1 And now,' said ahe, 'it is our turn. 
 I allowed you to mystify that poor 
 Beausire at your good pleasure, but I 
 forewarn you that you will find me rath- 
 er a more difficult subject, for I know 
 you. Therefore, if we are to remain 
 together, say pretty things to me, for if 
 not ' 
 
 4 1 know nothing more pretty than 
 your own history, dear Mademoiselle 
 Nicole,' said the blue domino, agree- 
 ably pressing the round arm of the lit- 
 tle woman, who uttered a smothered 
 shriek, on hearing the name which the 
 mask had whispered in her ear. 
 
 But she soon recovered her self-pos- 
 j session, ac a persou accustomed not to 
 allow herself to be taken by surprise. 
 
 ' Ak, good heaven ! what i the mean- 
 iug of thafenamo ?' she asked. ' Nicole ! 
 are you speaking of me ? Do you, 
 perchance, mean to designate me by 
 thai name? If it be so, you are ship- 
 wrecked as soon as you leave port, you 
 are lost on striking the first rock.' My 
 name is not Nicole.' 
 
 ' Yes, I am well aware that now you 
 call yourself Oliva Nicole was too pro- 
 vincial altogether. 1 well know that la
 
 122 
 
 THE QUEEN'S NECKLACE ; OR, THE 
 
 you there are two women, Nicole and 
 Oliva. We will speak presently of 
 Oliva; but, "first of all, let us speak of 
 Nicole. Have you forgotten the time 
 when you answered to that name ? I 
 do not believe a word of it. Ah ! my 
 dear child, when one has borne a name 
 as a young girl, it is always that name 
 which is preserved, if not outwardly, at 
 all events in the recesses of the heart, 
 whatever name one may have been 
 compelled to adopt in order to forget 
 the first. Poor Oliva ! Happy Ni- 
 cole !' 
 
 At that moment, a flood of masks 
 struck like a storm-wnve against the 
 two promenaders, and Nicole, or Oliva, 
 was forced, almost in spite of herself, 
 to cling still more closely to her com- 
 panion. 
 
 ' See,' said he. *see all this motley 
 crowd ; see all these groups pressing 
 together, even forcing themselves un- 
 der each other's hoods, to devour the 
 words of gallantry or love which they 
 are uttering ; see those groups which 
 form and then disunite, some with 
 joyous laughter, others with reproaches. 
 All these people have perhaps as many 
 names as you have, and there are many 
 of them whom I could astonish by 
 whispering names that they remember, 
 but believe long since forgotten by all 
 else.' 
 
 4 You said Poor Oliva ' 
 
 ' Yes' 
 
 ' You do not, then, believe that I am 
 happy /' 
 
 ' Tt would be difficult, indeed, for you 
 to be happy with such a man as Beau- 
 sire.' 
 
 Oliva sighed. 
 
 ' Neither am I so,' she said. 
 
 'And, nevertheless, you love him.' 
 
 ' Oh ! reasonably.' 
 
 ' If you do no't love him, leave him.' 
 
 'No.' 
 
 4 And wherefore not ?' 
 
 4 Because I should no sooner have left 
 him than I should regret him.' 
 
 ' You would regret him 1' 
 
 4 1 fear so.' 
 
 4 And what, then, could you have to 
 fear in a drunkard, a gambler, in a 
 man who bents you, who is a swindler, 
 and who will one day pay the forfeit of 
 his crimes by being hanged.' 
 
 ' Perhaps you will not comprehend 
 that which I am about to say.' 
 
 4 Nevertheless, say on.' 
 
 ' 1 s'.iould regret the noise he makes 
 round me.' 
 
 4 1 ought to have imagined that. And 
 
 thus it is, when youth has been pasaod 
 awiy, among silent people.' 
 
 ' You know, then, how I passed my 
 youth ?' 
 
 ' Perfectly.' 
 
 ' Ah ! my dear sir,' said Oliva, laugh- 
 ing, and shaking her head with an air 
 of defiance. 
 
 4 You doubt it ?' 
 
 ' Oh ! I do not doubt, I am sure you 
 do not.' 
 
 1 We will then talk of your youth, 
 Mademoiselle Nicole.' 
 
 ' Talk on, but I forewarn you I will 
 not reply.' 
 
 ' Oh ! I need not that.' 
 
 4 1 am waiting.' 
 
 4 1 shall not begin at your early in- 
 fancy, a time which counts not as life ; 
 I will take you at the age of puberty, at 
 the moment when you first perceived 
 that God had placed within your breast 
 a heart, that you might love.' 
 
 ' Love .who ?' 
 
 4 To love Gilbert.' 
 
 On hearing this word, this name, a 
 shudder thrilled through every vein of 
 the young woman's frame, and the blue 
 domino felt that she clung trembling to 
 his arm. 'Oh! great God!' she ex- 
 claimed, ' how can you know this ' 
 
 And pausing suddenly, she darted 
 through her mask a look of indefinable 
 emotion at the blue domino. 
 
 The blue domino remained silent. 
 
 Oliva, or rather Nicole, sighed pro- 
 foundly. 
 
 ' Ah ! sir,' she said, without endea- 
 voring to continue her denial any long- 
 er, ' you have just pronounced a name 
 which to me is fertile in recollections. 
 You then know this Gilbert.' 
 
 * Yes. since I am speaking of him tx> 
 you.' 
 
 / He was handsome no it was not 
 that but I thought him handsome. 
 He was full of intelligence. We were 
 equal in point of birth. But no, this 
 time, above all, I am mistaken. Equal, 
 no, never. Should Gilbert so please v 
 no woman can be his equal.' 
 
 4 Not even 
 
 4 Not even who ?' 
 
 ' Not even Mademoiselle de T !' 
 
 ' Oh ! I know what you would say,' 
 cried Nicole interrupting him. 'Oh! 
 you are well informed of (ill this matter, 
 sir, I see that clearly; yes, he loved 
 one of higher rank than poor Nicole.' 
 
 4 1 have paused, you see.' 
 
 ' Yes, yes, you are acquainted with 
 some dreadful secrets, sir,' continued 
 Nicole shuddering; 'and now '
 
 MYSTERIES OF THE COURT OF LOUIS XVI. 
 
 123 
 
 She fixed her eyes upon the blue do- 
 mine as if she could read through his 
 mask. 
 
 4 And now, what has become of 
 him?' 
 
 4 That is a thing which I believe you 
 can tell better than any one.' 
 
 ' And why ? great God !' 
 
 ' Because if he followed you from 
 Taverney to Paris, you followed him 
 from Paris to Trianon.' 
 . '. ' Yes that is true ; but thafc was ten 
 years ago ; nor indeed, was it of that 
 time I was speaking. I am speaking of 
 the ten years which have elapsed since 
 I ran nway from Tranon, and he disap- 
 peared. Good Heavens ! how many 
 things can happen in ten years.' 
 
 The blue domino utlered not a word. 
 
 4 1 beg of you,' persisted Nicole al- 
 most supplicatingly, 'tell me, what has 
 become of Gilbert ? You remain silent, 
 you , turn away your head. Perhaps 
 the rememberance wounds your feel- 
 ings, renders you sorrowful?' 
 
 The blue domino had, in fact, not 
 turned away his head but bowed it down, 
 as if the weight of his recollections were 
 too heavy for it. 
 
 ' When Gilbert loved Mademoiselle 
 de Taverney,' said Oliva. 
 
 ' Speak lower when you mention 
 names,' said the blue domino. ' Have 
 you not observed thut I have not my- 
 self pronounced them.' 
 
 ' When he loved so deeply,' continu- 
 ed Oliva, with a sigh, ' that every tree 
 in Trianon knew of his love.' 
 
 Well, but you no longer loved him 
 then?' 
 
 4 On the contrary I loved him more 
 than ever, and it was that ' love that 
 lost me. I am handsome, I am proud, 
 and when I please I can be insolent. I 
 would place my head upon a block and 
 allow it to be chopped off, rather than 
 permit it to be said that I had bowed it 
 down before any one.' 
 
 ' You have a stout heart, Nicole.' 
 
 Yes, once I hud.' 
 
 'This conversation saddens you?' 
 ' No, on the contrary, it does me good 
 to trace back my steps towards my 
 youth. It is with life as with rivers, 
 the most muddy stream has a pure 
 source. Continue, and do not pay at- 
 tention ro any poor.stray sigh which is- 
 sues from my breast.' 
 
 4 Oh." said the blue domino with a 
 gentle nodding of the head, which be- 
 trayed a smile concealed beneath his 
 mask ; 4 with regard to you, to Gilbert 
 and to another person, I know, my poor 
 
 child, all that you yourself can possibly 
 know.' 
 
 4 Then,' cried Oliva, 4 tell me, why it 
 was that Gilbert fled from Trianon; and 
 if you tell me that ' 
 
 ' You will then be convinced ? WeQ 
 fthen, I will not tell you that, and you 
 will be still more thoroughly convinc- 
 ed.' 
 
 4 How can that be ?' 
 
 4 In asking me \vhy Gilbert left Tria- 
 non, it is not that you wish to ascertain 
 whether I speak the truth in answering 
 you, but it is a fact of which you are 
 yourself ignorant, and of which you are 
 very desirous to be informed.' 
 
 'That is true,' said Oliva. 
 
 Then shuddering more violently than 
 she had done, she seized both bis hands* 
 in hers, with convulMve strength. 
 
 4 My God !' she exclaimed, My 
 God ." 
 
 ' Well! what does this mean?' 
 
 Nicole appeared to recover herself, 
 and to dismiss the idea which had pro- 
 duced this agitation. 
 
 4 Nothing.' 
 
 4 Oh ! yes, you wished to ask me 
 something.' 
 
 ' Well, then, tell me at once, and 
 frankly, what has become of Gilbert ?' 
 
 4 Have you not heard it said that he 
 is dead ?' 
 
 4 Yes, but ' 
 
 ' Well, then, he is dead.' 
 
 4 Dead ."- exclaimed Nicole with an air 
 of doubt. 
 
 Then, with another shudder similar 
 to the first, 
 
 4 For mercy's sake, sir,' said she, ' do 
 me one service.' 
 
 'Two, ten, as many as you please, 
 my dear Nicole.' 
 
 ' I sa -fr you at my lodgings about two 
 hours ago, did I not, for it was certainly 
 you ?' 
 
 ' Undoubtedly.' 
 
 ' Two hours ago, you did not attempt 
 to conceal yourself from me.' 
 
 'By no means; on the contrary, I did 
 all I could to enable you to see me per- 
 fectly.' 
 
 4 Oh ! mad, madwoman that I am. I 
 who looked at you so much. Mud, mad, 
 stupid woman, nothing but woman, as 
 Gilbert used, to say.' 
 
 ' Well, now ! leave your lovely locks 
 alone ; spare your hair, Nicole.' 
 
 ' No ; I will punish myself for having 
 looked at you without seeing you.' 
 
 ' I do not understand you.' 
 
 4 Do you know what I am going to 
 ask of you?'
 
 ,,, 
 
 THE QUEEN'S NECKLACE ; OB,, THE 
 
 Ask on.' 
 
 Take off your mask.' 
 
 1 What, here ? Impossible.' 
 4 Oh ! it is not the fear of being seen i 
 by other eyes than mine, that prevents 
 you from taking it off. For there, be- 
 hind that column, under the shade of 
 that gallery, no one but myself could 
 see you.' 
 
 ' What is it, then, that prevents me.' 
 'You are afraid that I should recog- 
 nize you.' 
 
 Who, I ?V 
 
 ' And that I should exclaim, ' "Tis 
 you! 'tis Gilbert!' 
 
 1 Ah ! you were right in saying mad ! 
 mad ." 
 
 Take off your mask.' 
 
 ' Well ! be it so, but upon one condi- 
 tion.' 
 
 ''Tis granted berore asking.' 
 
 ' It is that in my turn I may ask you 
 to take off your mask.' 
 
 'I will take it off; and should I not 
 you may tear it from my face.' 
 
 The blue domino at once yielded to 
 Nicole's request, he went into the dark 
 corner pointed out by her, and, once 
 there, untied his mask and placed him- 
 self before her ; she gazed at him eager- 
 ly during a whole minute. 
 
 ' Alas ! no,' she said stamping her feet 
 impatiently and wounding the palms 
 of her hands with her nails, ' alas ! no, 
 it is not Gilbert.' 
 
 ' And who am I ?' 
 
 Of what consequence is that to me, 
 since you are not he.' 
 
 ' And if it had been Gilbert ?' inquired 
 the unknown, tying on his mask again. 
 
 ' If it had been Gilbert !' exclaimed, 
 the young girl with much emotion. 
 
 Yes.' 
 
 If he had said to me, Nicole ! Ni- 
 cole ! remember Taverney Maison 
 Rogue.' 
 
 What then ?' 
 
 1 There would be no longer a Beau- 
 Hire in this world.' 
 
 'I told you, n;y dear child, that Gil- 
 bert is dead.' 
 
 ' Well, perhaps it is better that it 
 should be so,' sighed Oliva. 
 
 4 Yes, Gilbert would not have loved 
 you, beautiful as you are.' 
 
 ' Do you mean to say that Gilbert 
 would have despised me.' 
 
 ' No, for he feared you, rather.' 
 
 That is possible ; I had somewhat 
 of his temper in me, and I knew him 
 o well, that I alarmed him.' 
 
 ' Therefore, as you said, it is better 
 be should be dead.' 
 
 ' And why do you repeat my, words ? 
 From your lips they wound me. Why 
 is it better he should be dead ? Tell 
 
 5.' 
 
 ' Because, now, my dear Oliva you 
 see that I abandon Nicole because 
 now, my deal 1 Oliva, you have before 
 you, a rich, a brilliant and happy fu- 
 ture.' 
 
 ' Do you think, so ?' 
 
 ' Yes, if you are pel fectly determined 
 to do every thing to attain the end I 
 promise you.' 
 
 ' Oh ! you may rest easy on thai 
 score.' 
 
 ' Only you need not sigh any more aa 
 you sighed just now.' 
 
 ' Be it so ; I sighed then for Gilbert, 
 and as there were not two Gilberts in 
 the world, and Gilbert is dead, I will 
 sigh no more.' 
 
 ' Gilbert was young ; he had the de- 
 fects and the good qualities of youth ; 
 but now -' 
 
 ' Gilbert is not now older than he waa 
 ten years ago.' 
 
 ' No, undoubtedly, since Gilbert ia 
 dead.' 
 
 ' You see then, he is dead the Gil- 
 berts do not become older ; they die.' 
 
 ' Oh !' exclaimed the unknown, ' oh ! 
 youth, oh! courage! oh! beauty!' ye 
 eternal seeds of love, of heriosm and of 
 devoted ness. He who loses you, loses 
 even life itself youth is paradise, 'tis 
 Heaven, 'tis all ! What God bestows 
 upon us afterwards is but a . sorrowful 
 compensation for our youth. The more 
 he gives to man, when youth has once 
 passed away, the more he has thought 
 it necessary to indemnify him- for its 
 loss. But nothing can replace, great 
 God ! the treasures which that youth 
 bestowed on man.' * 
 
 ' Gilbert would have thought that 
 which you have so eloquently uttered/ 
 said Oliva, ' but enough upon this sub- 
 ject.' 
 
 ' Yes, let us speak of you.' 
 
 'Let us speak of any thing yon 
 please.' 
 
 ' Why did you run off with Beau- 
 sire ?' 
 
 ' Because I wished to leave Trianon, 
 and it was necessary to go away with 
 some one. It was impossible for me to 
 remain there any longer, to be, in Gil- 
 bert's eyes, a mere secondary object, 
 a poor disdained remnant of former af- 
 fection ' 
 
 ' Ten years of fidelity from mere 
 pride,' said the blue domino. ' Oh ! 
 how dearly have you paid that vanity.'
 
 MYSTERIES OF THE COURT OF LOUIS XVI. 
 
 Oliva laughed. 
 
 Oh ! I well know what you are 
 laughing; at,' said the unknown, grave- 
 ly. 'You laugh, because a man who 
 pretends to know every thing, accuses 
 you of having been faithful for ten years, 
 when you did not; imagine that you had 
 been guilty of any thing so perfectly 
 ridiculous. Oh ! good Heaven ! if it be 
 a question of mere material fidelity, 
 poor young woman, I well know what to 
 think of it. Yes, I know that you went 
 into Portugal with Beausire, that you 
 remained there 4;wo whole years, that 
 from there you went to the East Indies, 
 without Beausire, with the captain of a 
 frigate who concealed you in his cabin, 
 and forgot you at Chandernagor, where 
 he left you on terra firma, at the mo- 
 ment of his returning to Europe. I 
 know that you had two million of ru- 
 pees to spend in the mansion of a na- 
 bob, who locked you up within three 
 iron gates. I know that you escaped 
 by climbing over these gates, being as- 
 sisted by the shoulders of a slave. I 
 know, in short, that you returned to 
 France, to Brest, tolerably rich, for you 
 had carried off two bracelets of magni- 
 ficent pearls, two diamonds and three 
 large rubies ; that your evil genius led 
 you to meet, immediately on disem- 
 barking, Beasuire, who almost fainted 
 on recognizing you, bronzed and ema- 
 ciated as you were, on returning to 
 France, poor exile !' 
 
 'Oh!' exclaimed Nicole, ' who can 
 you be, good Heaven ! that you should 
 know so much.' 
 
 4 1 know, in short, that he loved you, 
 eold your jewels and reduced you to a 
 state of beggary I know that you love 
 him or say so at least, and that as 
 love is the source of every blessing, you 
 ought to be the happiest woman in the 
 world.' 
 
 Oliva held down her head, leaned her 
 forehead on her hand, and between the 
 fingers of that hand trickled two tears, 
 liquid pearls, more precious perhaps 
 than even those of which her bracelets 
 were composed, but which no one, 
 alas! would have purchased of Beausire. 
 
 4 And this woman, once so proud, this 
 happy woman,' said she, 4 you have this 
 evening purchased for fifty miserable 
 louis !' 
 
 4 Oh ! it is too little, madnm, 1 well 
 know that,' said the unknown, with that 
 exquisite grace and that perfect cour- 
 tesy which never leaves the gentleman, 
 even when addressing the lowest class 
 of courtezans. 
 
 4 Oh ! it is much too dear, sir, and on 
 the contrary, it strangely surprised me, 
 I can assure you, that such a woman as 
 I am could still be worth so much as 
 fifty louis.' 
 
 4 You are worth much more thao 
 that, and I will prove it to you. Oh ! 
 do not reply, for you do not understand 
 me ; and besides/ added the unknown, 
 leaning towards her : 
 
 4 And besides ?' 
 
 4 And besides, at this moment, I need 
 all my observation.' 
 
 4 Then, I must bq silent.' 
 
 ' No ; on the contrary, speak to me.' 
 
 4 Arid of what?' 
 
 4 Oh ! of any thing you please, good 
 heaven! Talk of the merest trifles 
 upon earth, it matters not, provided 
 we appear in earnest conversation.' 
 
 Well, be it so ; but you are a most 
 singular man.' 
 
 ' Take my arm, and let us walk 
 about.' 
 
 And they walked through the various 
 groups, she showing her fine and well- 
 turned figure, and giving to her ele- 
 gantly-shaped head, even beneath her 
 hood, and to her flexible neck, even un- 
 der her domino, movements which 
 every connoisseur gazed at with envy; 
 for, at the opera ball, in those days of 
 gallant prowess, the passer-by followed 
 the movements of an elegant woman 
 with as much curiosity as in our days 
 the amateurs of horse-flesh follow the 
 paces of a well-trained and beautiful 
 steed. 
 
 Oliva, after some minutes, ventured 
 to ask a question. 
 
 4 Silence !' said the unknown,' 4 or if 
 you will, say any thing you please ; but 
 do not compel me to reply. Only, when 
 you are speaking, disguise your voice, 
 hold your head erect, and scratch your 
 neck with your fan.' 
 
 She obeyed. 
 
 At that moment our two masks pass- 
 ed among a highly perfumed group, in 
 the centre of which was a man of ele- 
 gant figure, of a deportment easy and 
 free, who was speaking to three com- 
 panions, who appeared to be listening 
 respectfully. 
 
 4 Who, then, is that young-man I' in- 
 quired Oliva. 4 Oh ! what a charming 
 pearl grey domino.' 
 
 4 That is the Count d'Artois,' replied 
 the unknown, 4 but do not ask me another 
 question, I beg of you.' 
 
 At the moment when Oliva, perfect- 
 ly astounded at the high sounding name 
 which the blue domino had just pro-
 
 120 
 
 THE QUEEN'S NECKLACE; OR, THE 
 
 nounced, stepped on one side that she 
 might the better observe, and held her 
 head erect, in conformity with the sev- 
 eral times reiterated recommendation 
 of her companion, two other dominos, 
 separating themselves from a chattering 
 and noisy group took refuge under the 
 boxes, in a place where there were no 
 benches. 
 
 Lean against this pillar, Countess,' 
 said a voice in a half whisper, which 
 appeared to attract tEe attention of the 
 blue domino. 
 
 And almost at the same moment a 
 tall figure in an orange colored domino, 
 whose bold manners rather evinced the 
 useful man than the agreeable courtier, 
 pressed through the crowd, came up to 
 * the blue domino and whispered : 
 'Tishe.' 
 
 'Tis well,' replied the latter and 
 with a gesture at once dismissed the 
 orange domino. 
 
 Listen to me,' said he, whispering 
 to Oliva, ' my dear little friend, we are 
 going to amuse ourselves.' 
 
 ' I am glad of it,' she replied, ' for 
 you have twice made me sad, the first 
 time in sending away Beausire, who al- 
 ways makes me laugh, and the second 
 in talking to me of Gilbert who always 
 made me weep.' 
 
 ' I will be both Gilbert and Be.ausire 
 to you,' gravely said the blue domino. 
 
 'Oh!' sighed Nicole. 
 
 ' I do not ask you to love me ; under- 
 stand that perfectly : I ask you to en- 
 joy life, in the way that I shall present 
 it to you : that is to say in the fulfil- 
 ment of all your fancies, provided that 
 from time to time you shall subscribe 
 to mine. Now, here is one I have.' 
 
 4 And what is it?' 
 
 ' The black domino whom you see 
 here, is a German friend of mine.' 
 
 'Ah!' 
 
 ' A perfidious fellow who refused to 
 accompany me to the ball under the 
 pretext that he had a head-ache.' 
 
 ' And to whom of course you said you 
 would not come.' 
 
 ' Precisely.' 
 
 ' He has a woman with him ?' 
 
 'Yes.' 
 
 And who is she ?' 
 
 I do not know her. We will draw 
 near them, shall we not ? We will pre- 
 tend that you are a German woman ; 
 you must not open your mouth for fear 
 that he should recognize you by your 
 accent for a pure Parisian.' 
 
 ' Very well, and you will mystify 
 him.' 
 
 ' Oh ! I will answer for that. Now 
 begin by pointing him out to me with 
 the end of your fan.' 
 
 'In this way.' 
 
 ' Yes, that's very weh ; now whisper 
 in my ear.' 
 
 Oliva obeyed with a docility and 
 intelligence that delighted her com- 
 panion. 
 
 The black domino, the object of this 
 attack, was standing with his back to- 
 ward the centre of the ball-room : he 
 was conversing with the lady who ac- 
 companied him. The latter, whose 
 eyes sparkled through* her mask, had 
 observed Oliva's gesture. 
 
 ' See now, Monseigneur,' said she in 
 a whisper, there are two masks who 
 are observing us.' 
 
 ' Oh ! fear nothing, Countess ; it is 
 impossible that any one should recog- 
 nize us. Allow me, since here we are 
 on the road to perdition, allow me to 
 repeat to you that there never was so 
 enchanting a figure as yours never 
 glance so burning ; permit me to tell 
 you ' 
 
 ' Every thing that may be told under 
 a mask.' 
 
 ' No, Countess ; every thing that IB 
 said under ' 
 
 ' Do not finish the sentence, or you 
 would damn yourself. And besides, a 
 greater danger still, our two spies would 
 hear it.' 
 
 ' Two spies !' cried the Cardinal, 
 somewhat agitated. 
 
 ' Yes ; they appear to have made up 
 their minds; they are approaching.' 
 
 Take care to disguise your voice 
 completely, Countess, should they make 
 you speak.' 
 
 ' And you, yours, Monseigneur.' 
 
 Oliva and the blue domino had by this 
 time drawn near. 
 
 The latter, addressing the Cardinal, 
 
 ' Mask,' said he. 
 
 And he bent down to Oliva's ear, 
 who made him an affirmative sign. 
 
 ' What do you want with me ?' in- 
 quired the Cardinal, disguising his 
 voice. 
 
 ' The lady who accompanies me,' re- 
 plied the blue domino, ' Hesires me to 
 ask you several questions.' 
 
 ' Then, do it quickly,' said M. de 
 Rohan. 
 
 ' Arid let them be the most indiscreet 
 ones possible,' added Madame de La 
 Mothe in a soft tone. 
 
 ' So indiscreet,' replied the blue do- 
 mino, ' that you shall not hear one of 
 them, inquisitive one.'
 
 MYSTERIES OF THE COURT OF LOUIS XVI. 
 
 127 
 
 And he again leaned towards Oliva, 
 who continued the same sign. 
 
 Then the unknown, in the purest 
 possible German, addressed the follow- 
 ing question to the Cardinal : 
 
 1 Monseigueur, are you in love with 
 the lady who accompanies you ?' 
 
 The Cardinal shuddered. 
 
 ' Did you not say Monseigneur V in- 
 quired he. 
 
 ' Yes, Monseigneur.' 
 
 You are mistaken, then, and I am 
 not the person you imagine.' 
 
 ' Oh ! there can be little doubt of it, 
 Cardinal ; do not deny it ; that is use- 
 less. And, even if I did not know you 
 the lady /whom I serve as cavalier per- 
 fectly recognizes you.' 
 
 He leaned towards Oliva, saying in 
 a whisper. 
 
 Make an affirmative sign ; and 
 make that sign every time I press your 
 arm.' 
 
 She made the sign. 
 
 1 You astonish me,' replied the Car- 
 dinal, completely thrown out ; ' who is 
 the lady who accompanies you ?' 
 
 ' Oh ! Monseigneur, I thought you 
 had already recognized her, She at 
 once guessed who you were. But it is 
 true that jealousy ' 
 
 1 Madam is jealous of me !' cried the 
 Cardinal, 
 
 'We do not say that,' said the un- 
 known with some degree of haughti- 
 ness.' 
 
 'What are they saying to you?' 
 eagerly inquired Madame de La Mothe, 
 whom this dialogue in German, that is 
 to say wholly unintelligible to her, an- 
 noyed in the highest degree. 
 
 'Nothing, nothing.' 
 
 Madame de La Mothe stamped with 
 impatience. 
 
 ' Madam,\then said the Cardinal to 
 Oliva, ' one word from you, and I pro- 
 mise with that one word to guess your 
 name.' 
 
 M. de Rohan had also spoken in Ger- 
 man, Oliva did not comprehend a word, 
 and leaned towards the blue domino. 
 
 4 1 coujure you, madam,' cried the 
 latter, 'do not utter a single word.' 
 
 This mystery excited the curiosity of 
 the Cardinal ; and he added : 
 
 What not one single word in Ger- 
 man ; that would not in any way ' 
 
 The blue domino who feigned to have 
 received the orders of Olwa, immediate- 
 ly replied. 
 
 Monsieur le Cardinal, these are 
 the lady's own words. ' He whose 
 thought is not always on the watch, he 
 
 whose imagination cannot perpetually 
 bring before his eyes the features of 
 the beloved object, does not really love; 
 and he would err in saying that he did.' 
 
 The Cardinal appeared struck with 
 the sense of these words. His whole 
 attitude expressed, in the highest de- , 
 gree, surprise, respect, and enthusias- 
 tic devoted ness; then his arms fell list- 
 lessly beside him. 
 
 ' It is impossible,' murmured he in 
 French. 
 
 ' What is impossible?' exclaimed Ma- 
 dame de La Mothe, who had just eager- 
 ly caught the only words she could un- 
 derstand in the whole conversation. 
 
 Nothing, madam, nothing.' 
 
 'In truth, Monseigneur, I believe that 
 you are making me play a very sorry 
 part,' said she angrily. 
 
 And she withdrew her arm from 
 the Cardinal's. The latter not only did 
 not attempt to regain it, but did not ap- 
 pear to remark it, so earnest was his at- 
 tention to the German lady. 
 
 ' Madam,' said he to the latter, who 
 remained stiff and motionless behind 
 her satin barrier, ' the words which 
 your companion has uttered in your 
 name, are German verses which I have 
 read in a house that is, perhaps, known 
 to you.' 
 
 The unknown pressed Oliva's arm. 
 
 ' Yes,' said she, by an affirmative nod. 
 
 The Cardinal trembled. 
 
 ' That house,' said he hesitatingly, 
 ' is it not called Schoenbrunn?' 
 
 ' Yes,' nodded Oliva. 
 
 They were traced upon a cherry-tree 
 table, with a golden needle, and by an 
 august hand.' 
 
 ' Yes,' nodded Oliva. 
 
 The Cardinal paused. His whole 
 frame seemed to be disorgani/.ed. He 
 staggered and stretched forth his hand, 
 in search of something to support him. 
 
 Madame de La Mothe was witching 
 at the distance of two paces, the issue 
 of this strange scene. 
 
 The Cardinal's hand fell mechanically 
 upon the arm of the blue domino. 
 
 And this,' said he, ' is the conclusion 
 of the verses. 1 
 
 But he who every where sees the 
 beloved object, who divines her pre 
 sence by a flower, a perfume, even un- 
 der the most impenetrable veils, he 
 needs not the use of words, his voice is 
 in his heart to him it suffices that 
 another heart should understand him, 
 in order that he should be hnppy.' 
 
 'Ah! how is this; why, they are 
 speaking German here,' suddenly cried
 
 
 THE QUEEN'S NECKLACE; OR, THE 
 
 t . . f 
 ung, joyous voice, issuing from a 
 
 group which had just surrounded the 
 Cardinal. Let us know something of 
 it; you speak the German, do you 
 not, marshal?' 
 
 'No, Monseigneur.' 
 
 ' But you, Charny ?' 
 
 ' Oh ! yes, your highness.' 
 
 At this moment the orchestra burst 
 forth with a noisy prelude, and the dust 
 from the floor, together with the hair- 
 powder of those hurrying to take their 
 places in the dance, ascended as high 
 as the chandeliers which gilded this 
 sudden mist with amber and rosy-co- 
 lored tints. 
 
 In the hurried movement made by 
 the masks, some ran against the blue 
 domino. 
 
 ' Take care, gentlemen,' said he in a 
 tone of authority. 
 
 Sir,' replied the prince, who conti- 
 nued masked, ' you must see that we 
 were pushed against you. Excuse us, 
 ladies.' 
 
 ' Let us go, let us go. Monseigneur,' 
 said Madame de La Mothe in a whis- 
 per. 
 
 At that moment Oliva's hood was 
 clutched and drawn back by an invisible 
 hand, her mask being untied, fell off; 
 her features were visible for a second in 
 the penumbra of the entablature formed 
 by the first gallery above the pit. 
 
 The blue domino uttered a cry of 
 affected anxiety; Oliva a cry of real 
 alarm. 
 
 Three or four cries of surprise re- 
 replied to this double exclamation. 
 
 The Cardinal almost fainted. Had 
 he fallen at that moment it would have 
 been upon his knees. Madame de La 
 Mothe supported him. 
 
 A throng of masks, carried away by 
 the current had separated the Count d' 
 Artois from the Cardinal and Madame 
 de La Mothe. 
 
 The blue domino, who, rapid as light- 
 ning had replaced Oliva's hood and had 
 tied on her mask, approached the Car- 
 dinal and pressing his hand, said, 
 
 4 This, sir, is an irreparable misfor- 
 tune ; you see, sir, that the honor of 
 this lady is at your mercy. 1 
 
 ' Oh ! sir, sir,' murmured Piince 
 Louis bowing. 
 
 And he pressed a handkerchief with 
 his trembling hand to his forehead 
 which was streaming with prespiration. 
 
 ' And now let us be gone quickly,' 
 said the blue domino to Oliva. 
 
 And they disappeared. 
 
 I now know what it was the Cardi- 
 
 * 
 
 nal believed to be impossible,' suid Ma- 
 dame de La Mothe to herself. He be- 
 lieved that woman to be the queen, and 
 this is the effect which that resemblance 
 has produced upon him. Good; another 
 observation to be retained.' 
 
 ' Would you wish that we should 
 leave the ball, Countess,' said M. de 
 Rohan, in a feeble tone. 
 
 ' Just as it pleases you, Monseigneur,' 
 replied Jeanne tranquilly. 
 
 ' I do not see there is much interest 
 in it, do you think there is ?' 
 
 ' Oh ! no, I see HO interest in it,' 
 now.' 
 
 And they with difficulty obtained a 
 passage through the chattering groups. 
 The Cardinal, who was tall, turned his 
 head in every direction endeavoring to 
 catch a glimpse of the vision which had 
 disappeared. 
 
 But from that moment, dominos, blue, 
 red, yellow, green and grey whirled be- 
 fore his eyes amid the luminous vapor, 
 confounding their various shades like 
 colors in a prism. At a distance every 
 thing was blue to the vision of the poor 
 Prince ; but nothing near him was of 
 that hoe. 
 
 It was in this state thnt he reached 
 the carriage which was waiting for him 
 and his companion. 
 
 The carriage had been driven on for 
 five minutes and the prelate had not 
 addressed a single word to Jeanne. 
 
 CHAPTER XXIV. 
 
 BUT Madame de La Mothe was not 
 so forgetful of herself, and she aroused 
 the Cardinal from his neverie. 
 
 ' Where is this carriage taking me ?' 
 she inquired. 
 
 'Countess,' said the Cardinal, 'fear 
 nothing ; this carriage brought you fram 
 your house, and it is now taking you 
 back again.' 
 
 'To my house ! in the faubourg !' 
 
 ' Yes, Countess a small horse, in- 
 deed, to contain so many charms.' 
 
 Saying these words, the prince took 
 one of Jeanne's hands and warmed it 
 with a gallant kiss. 
 
 The carriage stopped before the 
 small house in which so many charms 
 were about to endeavor to find room. 
 
 Jeanne sprang lightly out of the car- 
 riage ; the Cardinal prepared to imi- 
 tate her.
 
 MYSTERIES OK THE COl/RT OK LOIJIS XVI. 
 
 1 It is not worth the trouble, Mon- 
 seigneur,' whispered the female demon 
 to him. 
 
 ' How, Countess, not worth the trou- 
 ble to spend a few hours with you !' 
 
 ' And sleep, Monseigneur,' said 
 Jeanne. 
 
 ' I think you will find that there are 
 several sleeping-rooms in your house, 
 Countess.' 
 
 Yes, for me ; but for you ' 
 
 ' And why not ?' 
 
 ' Not yet,' said ahe, with an air at 
 once so gracious and exciting, that the 
 refusal was equivalent to a promise. 
 
 ' Adieu, then,' replied the Cardinal, 
 BO completely captivated, that he for 
 the moment forgot the whole scene at 
 the ball. 
 
 Till we meet again, Monseigneur.' 
 4 Indeed, 'tis better thus,' said he, as 
 
 the carriage drove off. 
 
 Jeanne entered her new house a- 
 lon. 
 
 Six lackies, whose soft slumbers had 
 been disturbed by the loud rapping of 
 the Cardinal's running footman, had 
 drawn themselves up in line in the ves- 
 tibule. 
 
 Jeanne looked at them all with that 
 air of calm superiority which fortune 
 does not impart to all the rich. 
 
 ' And the waiting women ?' inquired 
 the Countess. 
 
 One of the footmen answered re- 
 spectfully 
 
 1 There are two women, madame, in 
 attendance in your bed-chamber,' said 
 he. 
 
 'Call them.' 
 
 The footman obeyed, and two wo- 
 men entered the room a few minutes 
 afterwards. 
 
 ' Where do you usually sleep ?' in- 
 quired Jeanne. 
 
 ' Why, we have no fixed plnce as 
 yet,' replied the eldest; 'we will sleep 
 wherever it will suit madame.' 
 
 'The keys of the apartments ?' 
 
 ' Here they are, madam.' 
 
 ' Very well ; for to-night you will 
 Bleep out of the house.' 
 
 The women looked at their mistress 
 with some surprise. 
 
 4 You have some lodging-place, I sup- 
 pose?' 
 
 Undoubtedly, madam : but it is ra- 
 ther Into : however, if you desire to be 
 alone-'-' 
 
 'These men will accompany you,' 
 added the Countess, dismissing the six 
 footmen, who were still better pleased 
 tbnc the waiting womon. 
 
 17 
 
 'And when slwll.WH return ?' timid 
 ly asked one of tln-m. 
 
 'To morrow, at twelve o'clock." 
 
 The six footmen and the two women 
 looked at each other for a moment, then 
 being daunted by the imperious eye of 
 Jeanne, they retired towards the door. 
 
 Jeanne accompanied them, let them 
 out and before Closing the door upon 
 them, 
 
 ' Is there any one still remaining in 
 the house ?' said sho. 
 
 ' Good Heaven ! no. Madam ; there 
 will not be a soul. It is impossible you 
 cau remain here all alone : one of the 
 women, at least, should sit up in the ser- 
 vant's hall, or in the office, or some- 
 where, but some one should set up.' 
 
 4 1 have no need of any one.' 
 
 'The house might take (ire. or you. 
 Madam, might be taken ill.' 
 
 ' Good night go all of you.' 
 
 She drew out her purse. 
 
 ' And there is something' to spend n* 
 entrance money to my service.' 
 
 A joyous murmur, the thanks of ser-' 
 vants used to wait on people of dis- 
 tinction, was the only answer, the last 
 word of the footmen. They all disap- 
 peared bowing to the ground. 
 
 Jeanne listened to them from behind 
 the door ; they all agreed that, fate had. 
 bestowed upon them a most fantastical 
 mistress. 
 
 When the noise of their voices and 
 steps became faint in the distance. 
 Jeanne fastened the bolts, and exclaim- 
 ed with a triumphant air, 
 
 ' Alone ! I am alone, here, in my 
 own house !' 
 
 She then took a three branch candle- 
 stick apd lighted it by the wax candles 
 burning in the vestibule, and also fast- 
 ened the bolts of the massive door of 
 the ante-chamber. 
 
 Then commenced a mute and extra- 
 ordinary scene which would have high- 
 ly interested one of those nocturnal 
 spectators whom the fiction of poets 
 have conducted above the roofs of 
 houses and of palaces. 
 
 Jeanne was visiting her estates ; she 
 admired, room by room, the whole of 
 this house, the smallest details of which 
 had, in her eyes, acquired an immense 
 value, since the egotism of the proprie- 
 tor had laken the place of the curiosity 
 of the mere visitor. 
 
 The ground floor, beautifully waio- 
 scotted, contained a bathing room, the 
 servants office, the dining-room, three 
 saloons and two small receiving roonu. 
 
 The furniture of this vast apartment
 
 130 
 
 THE QUEEN'S NECKLACE; OR, THE 
 
 was not as rich as that of Ln Guimard, 
 or ns fnnciful as that of the friends of 
 M. de Soubise, but it evinced the mag- 
 nifience of its lordly owner; it was not 
 new The house would have been less 
 pleasing in Jeanne's eyes had it been 
 newly furnished and expressly for her. 
 All these antique inches, disdained by 
 ladies of fashion ; those marvellous ar- 
 ticles in sculptured ebony, those lustres 
 with crystal girandoles, whose gilded 
 branches wer#> surrounded by leaves, 
 from the centre of which issued wax 
 
 brilliant Tillies : 
 pieces of 
 
 lights, roses beneath 
 those gothic clocks, master 
 chasing and enamel ; those embroider- 
 ed screens with Chinese figures, those 
 enormous Japan vases filled with ran; 
 flowers, those panels above the doors 
 painted by Boucher or Watteau, threw 
 the new proprietress into indescribable 
 ecstacies. 
 
 Here, on a mantel-piece, two gilded 
 Tritons supported branches of coral, 
 from which were suspended, like fruit, 
 numerous articles of jewellery of the 
 fantastic fashion of that time. Farther 
 off, on a small table of gilded wood with 
 
 bed-room, quickly undressed herself, 
 and slipped on a dressing-gown of wad- 
 ded silk. 
 
 Shivering, half naked beneath the 
 silk which caressed her bosom and her 
 waiar, she hastily ascended the stairs, 
 her candlestick in her bund. 
 
 Familiarized wit ii the solitude, hav- 
 ing no longer to fear bring seen even 
 by a servant, she bounded from room 
 to room, allowing her fine rurnbric un- 
 der-dress to float, at liberty in the wind 
 which blew in under the door:-;. 
 
 And whenever, in opening a wani- 
 robe, she raised her arm, when the 
 dreftsiug-gown on opening showed the 
 while rotundity of her shoulders-, gilded 
 by such a flood of light 'is is familiar in 
 the paintings of Ruben-, invisible spi- 
 rits concealed beneaili the draperies, 
 or sheltered behind the painted panels, 
 must have been rejoiced at. having so 
 lovely and HO charming an hostess. 
 
 At length after coursing nil over the 
 house, fatigued, panting, her wax lights 
 three-fourths consume*!. >he returned 
 to her bed-chamber, the draperies of 
 which were of blue satin, embroidered 
 
 white marble top, an enormous sea- i with large fantastic flowers, 
 green china elephant, from whose ears ! She had seen all, counted all, enjoy - 
 hung sapphire drops, supported a cas- ed the delight of gazing at and touching 
 tie full of smelling-bottles and choice every thing, the only tiling she had left 
 perfumes. to admire w;fs herself. 
 
 Elegant books, richly bound and gilt, 
 and beautifully illustrated, were placed 
 on rosewood stands, the corners of 
 which were ornamented with golden 
 arabesques. 
 
 A complete suite of furniture, cover- 
 ed with Gobelins tapestry, a master- 
 piece of patience, and which had cost 
 one hundred thousand livi-es at the ma- 
 nufactory, filled ii small saloon, grey 
 and gold, each panel of which was an 
 oblong canvas, painted by Vernet or by 
 Greuze. The study was filled with the 
 best portraits by Chardin, and the finest 
 terrn-cottas of Clodion. . 
 
 Every thing in the house gave evi- 
 dence, not of the haste of some rich up- 
 start, who had been eager to satisfy his 
 own fancy or that of his mistress^ but 
 of the long and patient research of the 
 enlightened rich, who heap upon the 
 treasures of their forefathers, treasures 
 which they m^y leave to their own 
 children. 
 
 Jeanne first looked at the whole col- 
 lection, and then at each article sepa- 
 rately, examining their minutest details. 
 
 Bui as her U'.'iuino inconvenienced 
 her, ;md as her whalebone, boddice 
 pre--->-d too close!;., Hhe went into her 
 
 She placed tb light on ;t stand of 
 Sevres China with a raised golden bor- 
 der ; and suddenly her eyes fell on 
 a marble statue, of Kndymiou, a vo- 
 luptuous figure, executed by Bouchar- 
 don, represented as falling intoxicated 
 with love upon a block of porphyry. 
 
 Jeanne closed the door of her room 
 and let down the tapestry that covered 
 it, drew the thick window curtains, 
 and returned to the statue devouring 
 with her looks the beautiful lover of 
 D'ana, who had just given him a last 
 kiss as she ascended toward the sky. 
 
 The red fire reduced to embers cast 
 a genial warmth throughout the room, 
 in which all seemed living excepting 
 pleasure. 
 
 t Jeanne felt her feet sink gently into 
 the soft long wool of the carpet; her 
 limbs trembled :md bent beneath her, a 
 languor which was not that of either fa- 
 tigue or drowsiness pervaded all her 
 -.n-es and half closed her eye-lids, 
 while a heat which \\asno! that pro- 
 ceeding from the hearth ascended from 
 her feet to her heart filling her veins 
 with living electricity. 
 
 In this moment of extraordinary sen- 
 sations, Jeanne caught a glimpse of her
 
 MifSTERIES OF THE COURT OF LOUIS XVI. 
 
 131 
 
 own ftice reflected from a pier-glass 
 placed behind the* statue of Endymion. 
 ller gown had slipped from her shoul- 
 ders on to the carpet. The fine cam- 
 bric, dragged down by the heavier SI!K 
 had fallen half way .tlown her white 
 and rounded arms. 
 
 Two jet black eyes, soft from languor, 
 but sparkling witli animation, Jeanne'H 
 own eyes struck Jeanne to the very 
 heart. She thought herself handsome, 
 she felt herself young and ardent; she 
 could not holp avowing that of till that 
 surrounded her, there was nothing, no 
 not even Dianna herself, so worthy of 
 being beloved. She approached the 
 marble to see if Endymion would not 
 start forth into life and disdain the 
 Goddess for the mortal. 
 
 At length her eyes became more lan- 
 guid, her head rolled upon her chest 
 with a sigh, and Jeanne fell sleeping, 
 inanimate upon the bed, the curtains of 
 which waved in graceful folds above 
 her head. 
 
 Her taper emitted a last ray of light 
 amid a sheet of liquid wax, then ex- 
 haled its last perfume with ita last 
 npurk. 
 
 CHAPTER XXV. 
 
 M. DE BKADSIRE'S ACADEMY. 
 
 
 
 BEAUSIRE had followed the advice of 
 the blue domino to the very letter ; he 
 had repaired at once to the assembly, 
 which was called his academy. 
 
 The worthy friend of Oliva, stimu- 
 lated by *the enormous figure of two 
 millions, was greatly apprehensive with 
 regard to that description of exclusion 
 which his colleagues had evinced in not 
 giving him notice of such an advantage- 
 ous transaction. 
 
 He well knew that people belonging 
 to the academy did not always pride 
 themselves on being over scrupulous, 
 and that was some reason for his has- 
 tening there, (he absent being always 
 in the wroni:, \\hen absent from mere 
 chance, and still more in the wrong 
 when that absence can be turned to 
 their disadvani: 
 
 Beausire had obtained among the as- 
 sociate memliers of tin- Academy, the 
 reputation of hcinjr ;i man of furious 
 courage. This \v;i> neither astonishing 
 nor difficult. Beausiro had been an ex- 
 empt, an officer of police; he had 
 worn an uniform and knew how to 
 
 place one hand upon his hip and the 
 other on the hilt of his sword. It was 
 his habit, "on the least cross word being 
 uttered, to strike the crown of his hat 
 so that it nearly covered his eyes, and 
 look furiously war-like. 'All these lit- 
 tle gestures, to people who were but 
 moderately brave, were absolutely ap- 
 palling, and aboye all when such t ?oplo 
 have to dread the noise occasioned by 
 a duej, or the curiosity of the ministers 
 of justice. Beausire therefore calculated 
 on revenging himself for the contempt 
 with which he had been treated, by ter- 
 rifying tfie members of the gambling 
 house in the rue du Pot du fer. 
 
 It is a tolerably good step from the 
 Porte Saint Mnrtin to the church Saint 
 Sulpice ; but Boiiufire was rich; he 
 threw himself into a hackney-coach and 
 promised the driver fifty sous, that is 
 to say one livre more than his fare. - 
 The night fare in those days being what 
 the day fare is in ours. 
 
 Tim horses trotted oft' briskly. Beau- 
 sire assumed a rather furious air, and 
 as he had no hat. since he wore a do- 
 mino, and no sword, he gave his fea- 
 tures an expression of ferocity suffi- 
 ciently alarming. 
 
 His entrance into the academy pro 
 duced a certain degree of sensation. 
 
 There were assembled in the first 
 saloon, a handsome saloon all gray, with 
 lustres and several card tables, some 
 twenty gamblers who were drinking 
 beer, or sirops and water, smiling rath- 
 er equivocally at seven or eight women, 
 furiously rouged, who were looking 
 over the cards. 
 
 They were playing at faro at th prin- 
 cipal table the; stakes were but meagre, 
 and the animation of the parties in pro- 
 portion to their stakes. 
 
 On the arrival of the black domino 
 who rumpled his hood by sticking his 
 arms a kimbo beneath his domino, some 
 of the women began to titter, half in 
 raillery, half enticingly : M. Beausire 
 was a sort of beau, and the ladies nev- 
 er ill treated him. 
 
 i le. however, advunced into the room 
 as if he had neither heard or seen any 
 thing, and having reached the table he 
 awaited in silence for some remark on 
 his ill humor. 
 
 One of the players, a sort of old 
 equivocal financier whose features were 
 not. deficient in good nature, was the 
 first to address Ueausire. 
 
 ' Good lack, chevalier,' said the wor- 
 thy man, you have come from the ball 
 with a mot agitatod countenance.'
 
 THfi 
 
 Oft, 
 
 V said the ladies. 
 Why, dear chevalier,' enquired an- 
 player, ' does your douiino hurt 
 jqur head?' 
 
 1 It is not the, domino that hurts me,' 
 hastily replied Beausire. 
 
 Gently, gently,' said the banker, 
 who had just raked towards him a doz- 
 en 'uuis, ' the chevalier de Beausire 
 ha committed an infidelity towards us ; 
 do you not see that he has baen to the 
 qpera ball, and that somewhere in that 
 neighborhood he has been playing some 
 keatry stake and lost it.' 
 
 Everybody laughed at or pitied him 
 according to their several characters ; 
 the women had compassion for him. 
 
 ' It is not true to say that I have been 
 guilty of infidelity towards my friends,' 
 replied Beausire, ' I am incapable of in- 
 fidelity. It is very well for certain peo- 
 ple of my acquaintance \to commit infi- 
 delity. towards their friends.' And in 
 order to give more weight to.his words, 
 he had recourse to his accustomed ges- 
 ture, that of striking the crown of his 
 hat, forgetting for the moment, that he 
 bad not one. Unfortunately /or him he 
 merely flattened his silk hood, render- 
 ing it of a ridiculous width, and which 
 instead of producing the serious effect 
 he had intended, was altogether ludic- 
 
 What is it you mean to say, dear 
 ejt#yaJier ?', enquired two er three of 
 kis partners, 
 
 'I. know what I mean to say,' growl- 
 ed, ^ Beausire. 
 
 ' But, .that is not enough for ue,' re^ 
 marked the good natured old man. 
 
 'It is not you that this concerns,' re- 
 plied Beausire maladroitly. 
 
 An expressive glance fron the faro 
 banker warned Beausire that his re- 
 taark had been indiscreet- For it was 
 highly, necessary, in that place, not to 
 djrAW any distinctive line between those 
 *fho paid and those who pocketed the 
 
 B^asuVe understood the glance but 
 his blood was up ; the pretend edly 
 Cjpwrageous control their anger with 
 niort? difficulty than the really brave 
 man. 
 
 ' I thought that I had friends here,' 
 aid he. 
 
 ' Why, certainly,' replied several 
 
 . 
 
 Well, tfyen, I was mistaken.' 
 And in what way !' 
 ' In this ; that n number of things 
 are* done without. me.' 
 
 The bunker made another sign ; new 
 
 from su*b of, the partners, 
 as were present, 
 
 ' It suffices that I know it,, and t 
 false friends shall l>e punished.' 
 
 He mechanically endeavored to 
 the hilt of his sword, but having !mV 
 that also at home, his hand struck upon 
 his pocket, which being full of louis, 
 yielded a betraying sound. 
 
 Ho! ho." cried two of the lad{l 
 4 M, de Beausiro- has had good luck.tim 
 evening.' 
 
 ' It seems so/ said the banker, &iw- 
 doriically, 'if he had lost, he has not. 
 lost all ; and if he has been guilty of 
 infidelity to us, it i not an infidelity that 
 cannot be repaired. Come, stake some- 
 thing, chevalier.' 
 
 ' I thank you,' replied Beausire drily, 
 ' but since it is the fashion for every 
 one to keep what he has, I shall keep, 
 what I have also.' 
 
 'What the devil do you mean?' 
 whispered one of the players to hinj. 
 
 ' We will have an explanation pre- 
 sently.' 
 
 ' Play, then,' said the banker. 
 
 ' Only a single louis,' said a lady ci r 
 ressing Beausire's shoulder, in order to 
 get as near as possible to his pocket. 
 
 ' I only play for million*.' said Beau- 
 sire, boastingly^ ' and I cannot really 
 conceive how people can play here for 
 paltry louis. Come, gentlemen of the 
 Pot du J*Vr, when millions are in ques- 
 tion, which some people know nothing 
 of, down with such miserable stakes as 
 a poor louis ! Play, for millions, you 
 that are millionnairesS 
 
 Beausire was in that moment of ex r 
 citement, when a man oversteps the 
 bounds of common sense an intoxica- 
 tion more dangerous than that of wine 
 inspired him. Suddenly he received, 
 from behind a kick on the legs, which 
 was sufficiently violent to make him 
 pause abruptly. 
 
 He turned round and saw by his side 
 a liroad, olive-colored face, hard-fea,- 
 t uri'd and rough, with black eyes as lu- 
 minous as burning coals. 
 
 To the gesture of anger made by 
 Beausire. this strange personage replied 
 by a very ceremonious bow and a gaze 
 long as a Spauish rapier. 
 
 The Portuguese !' exclaimed Beau- 
 sire, stupefied at this respectful saluta- 
 tion from a man who had' just given 
 him ,i kick, 
 
 The Portuguese!' repeated the la-. 
 dies, who abandoned BeauHire to flutter '. 
 round the stranger. 
 
 Thib P'.rtujinese was in truth the de- 
 
 *
 
 MYSTERIES 'OF THE COt7IlTT>F LOUIS XVI. 
 
 light of these ladies, to whom, under 
 the pretence of not speaking fluently in 
 French, he often brought little dainties, 
 sometimes wrapped up in bank notes of 
 fifty or sixty francs. 
 
 Boausire knew that this Portuguese 
 was one of the partners. The Portu- 
 guese always lost his money with the 
 frequenters of the gambling-house. He 
 fixed the amount of his stakes at a hun- 
 dred louia per week, and these he re- 
 gularly lost. 
 
 He was the decoy duck of the socie- 
 ty. While he allowed himself to be 
 plucked of a hundred golden feathers, 
 the other partners plucked the excited 
 gamblers. 
 
 And therefore the Portuguese was 
 considered by the other partners as the 
 useful man; by the players as the 
 agreeable man. Beausire felt towards 
 him that tacit consideration which is 
 always awarded to the mysterious, al- 
 though some degree of mistrust may 
 accompany it. 
 
 Beausire having- therefore received 
 the kink which the Portuguese had 
 applied to the calves of his legs, remain- 
 ed silent and sat down. 
 
 The Portuguese also took a seat at 
 the table, placed twenty louis before 
 him, and in twenty stakes, which oc- 
 cupied about fifteen minutes, he was 
 eased of his twenty louis by six eager 
 punters, who for a moment forgot the 
 hungry claws of the banker and his as- 
 sociates. 
 
 AB the clock struck three Beansire 
 was finishing a glass of beer. 
 
 Two servants entered the room, the 
 banker dropped the money through a 
 hole in the table, for the statutes of 
 the association were so impressed with 
 confidence towards its members, that 
 it WHB not left in the power of any one 
 of them to handle exclusively the funds 
 of the society. 
 
 The money, therefore, remaining at 
 the end of each sitting, fell through a 
 small wicket made in the table, into a 
 drawer, nnd there was added by way 
 of post-scriptum to the articles of part- 
 nership, that the banker should never 
 wear long sleeves, and also that he 
 should never have any money in his 
 pockets. 
 
 Which simply meant to say that he 
 interdicted from smuggling some 
 
 The servants brought in the elotlks, 
 great coats 1 and swords belonging to tb* 
 players and members of the association: 
 several of the more fortunate player* 
 offered tfereir arms to the ladies : tlt 
 unlucky ones, squeezed themselves into 
 sedan chairs, still in fashion in that 
 quiet quarter of the town, and the lights 
 extinguished in the gambling 
 room. 
 
 Beausire had also pretended to wrap 
 himself up in his domino, as if bent up- 
 on some long journey, but he did tt 
 leave the' first story, and the street; door 
 being closed, while the 'hack ney-eOacb- 
 es, the sedan chairs and the pedestrians 
 disappeared, he returned into the afc- 
 loon which eleven of the partners bad 
 also entered. 
 
 'At length,' said Beausire, *w tibtM 
 have an explanation.' 
 
 ' Light your lainp, and do not pe4k 
 so loud,' cried the Portuguese to hint 
 in remarkably good French, who at th 
 same time lighted a wax candle placed 
 upon the tdfble. 
 
 Beausire grumbled out a few worth 
 to which no ones paid attention. Th* 
 Portuguese seated himself in the bank- 
 er's place. Some of the members ex- 
 amined the shutters, the curtains and 
 the doors to ascertain that they wet* 
 carefully closed. They seated them- 
 selves noiselessly at the table, their el- 
 bows on the grden cloth, and wtth the 
 most eager curiosity. 
 
 4 I have a communication to inak,' 
 said the Portuguese, ' fortunately. I ar- 
 rived in good time, for M. de Beimsire 
 seems to be devoured to-night by an in- 
 inveterate itch for talking.' 
 
 Beausire was about to break out. 
 4 Come, now peace,' snid *he Portu- 
 guese, ' we want to lose no word*. 
 You have uttered some wh^h \ve>r# 
 more than imprudotit ; you hfflrbecoiue 
 acquainted with my ittaas : that is all 
 very well; you are a man of sharp wit, 
 and you may have guessed it : but it 
 appears to me that a selfish vanity 
 ought never to take the lead of inter- 
 est.' 
 
 4 1 do not understand,' snid Benusir*. 
 4 We do not understand,' said the re- 
 spectable assembly. 
 
 4 Oh ! yes, M. d'e Beiiusire wished t 
 prove that he was the first who had 
 
 ttventy louis into his sleeves, and that 
 ifhe company reserved to itself the right 
 
 imagined the nlThir.' 
 
 What affair ?' inquired the partie*. 
 The affair of the two millions,' cried 
 
 of searching his pockets, in order to Beausire with great emphasis, 
 take from him any gold he might have Two millions !' exclaimed the arao- 
 slipped into them. ciates.
 
 134 
 
 THE QUEEN'S NECKLACE; OR, THE 
 
 'First of all,' said the Portuguese 
 hastening to speak first, ' you exa fe ger- 
 ate the matter ; it is impossible the af- 
 fair can amount to as much as that ; 
 and I will instantly prove it to you.' 
 
 ' There is uo one here can imagine 
 what you mean,' exclaimed the banker. 
 
 ' Yes, but we are, nevertheless, all 
 ears,' added one of the others. 
 
 'Speak first,' said Beausire. 
 
 ' With all my heart.' 
 
 And the Portuguese poured out an 
 immense glass of Orgeat, which he 
 drank down very quietly, appearing all 
 the time as cool as an icicle. 
 
 ' You must know, then,' said he 
 ' but I am not speaking for M. Beau- 
 sire's information that the necklace is 
 not worth more than fifteen hundred 
 thousand livres. 1 
 
 ' Oh ! if the matter in question is a 
 necklace,' said Beausire. 
 
 4 Yes, sir, is not that the affair you 
 spoke of?' 
 
 ' Perhaps.' 
 
 ' See now, he wishes to play the 
 discreet, after the indiscretion he has 
 committed.' 
 
 And the Portuguese shrugged his 
 shoulders somewhat contemptuously. 
 
 ' I see, with regret, that you are as- 
 suming a tone which displeases me.,' 
 retorted Beausire, with the fierce look 
 .of a cock who is preparing his spurs. 
 
 ' Mira! Mira." said the Portuguese, 
 as cold as marble, ' when I have done, 
 you may say any thing you please ; I 
 shall first say all I have to say, for you 
 ought to know that the ambassadors 
 will arrive in eight days.' 
 
 ' The business is getting complicat- 
 ed.' thought the partners, palpitating 
 with interest. A necklace ! fifteen 
 hundred thousand livres an ambassa- 
 dor wMt does all this mean ?' 
 
 I wexplain it in two words,' said 
 the Portuguese: 'Messrs. Boehmer and 
 Bossange have offered to the queen a 
 diamond necklace, worth fifteen hun- 
 dred thousand livres. The queen re- 
 fused to purchase it. The jewellers 
 know not what to do with it, and keep 
 it carefully concealed. They are much 
 perplexed, for thin necklace can only be 
 purchased by one of roynl fortune. 
 Well ! I have discovered the royal per- 
 sonage whii will buy this necklace, and 
 will drag it forth from the iron chest 
 of Messrs. Boehmer and Bossonge.' 
 
 ' And that person is .' said the 
 
 partner. 
 
 1 Is my most gracious Sovereign the 
 Queen of Portugal.' 
 
 And the Portuguese looked very im- 
 portant. 
 
 ' We understand this less than eTer,' 
 said the partner. 
 
 ' And for myself,' thought Beausire, 
 ' I do not comprehend a word of it.' 
 
 ' Explain yourself clearly and at once, 
 dear M. Manoel,' said he, ' for private 
 differences ought always to give place 
 to matters of public interest. You are 
 the father of the idea, this I acknowl- 
 edge.frankly. I renounce all rights to 
 the paternity .but, for the love of Hear- 
 en ! speak out clearly.' 
 
 ' This is as it should be,' said Don 
 Maiioel, swallowing a second glass of 
 orgeat. ' I will make the matter clear 
 as crystal.' 
 
 ' We are already assured that there 
 exists a necklace worth fifteen hundred 
 thousand livres,' said the banker. 
 
 ' And this necklace is in the strong 
 box of Messrs. Boehmer & Bossauge, 
 That is the second point,' said Beau- 
 sire. 
 
 ' But Don Manoel has said that her 
 Majesty the Queen of Portugal buys 
 this necklace. It is that which throws 
 us all completely out.' 
 
 ' And yet nothing can be clearer,' said f 
 the Portuguese, ' all you have to do is 
 to pay attention to my words. The 
 embassy is for the moment vacant. 
 There is an interregnum ; the new Am- 
 bassador, M/de Souza, will arrive, at 
 the soonest, in eight dtiys.' 
 
 'Good,' said Beausire. 
 
 ' And what is there to prevent this 
 Ambassador who is anxious to see Paris, 
 from arriving and installing himself he- 
 fore that time ?** 
 
 The partners looked at one another, 
 their mouths gaping with wonder. 
 
 'You must understand,' said Beausire 
 eagerly, 'that Don Miinoel me .Ins to 
 say, that an Ambassador, a real or fie- & 
 titioue one may arrive." 
 
 That is it precisely, 1 added the Por- 
 tuguese. ' If the Ambassador who shall 
 present himself should be desirous of ob- 
 taining the necklace for the queen of * ' 
 Portugal, has he not the right to do so.' 
 
 A^m-fdlv.' exclaimed the company. 
 ' And then he enters into a treaty 
 
 with Mes-i. lioehmer & Bosmmge. 
 That's all.' 
 
 ' Nothing more.' 
 
 'Only, that after having made the 
 treiity, it svill be necessary to pay,' ob-, 
 served the faro banker. 
 
 Oh ! yes undoubtedly,' said the 
 Portuguese. 
 
 ' Messrs. Boehmer & Bossang' js'ould
 
 MYSTKRIES OF THE COURT OF LOUIS XVI. 
 
 135 
 
 not place the necklace in the hunda of 
 an Ambassador, were he even a real 
 Souza, without having good security.' 
 
 4 Oh ! I have well considered the se- 
 curity,' observed the future Ambassa- 
 dor. 
 
 And what is it?' 
 
 ' The embassy, we have said, is now 
 unoccupied?' 
 
 ' Yes.' 
 
 There is only a chancellor there, a 
 worthy Frenchman, who speaks the 
 Portuguese as badly as it is possible, and_ 
 who is delighted when the Portuguese' 
 apeak to him in French, because that 
 does not idconvenience him, and de- 
 lighted also when Frenchmen speak to 
 him in Portuguese, because there he is 
 brilliant. 1 
 
 ' Well?' cried Beausire. 
 
 ' Well, gentlemen, we will present 
 ourselves to this worthy man, with all 
 the appearance of the new legation.' 
 
 ' Appearance is very well,' said Beau- 
 aire, ' but good documents are better.' 
 
 4 We sliull hiivfe the documents,' la- 
 conically replied Don Manoel. 
 
 ' Ifr would be useless to assert that 
 Don Manoel is not a iran of merit,' said 
 Beausire. 
 
 Our appearance and the documents 
 having convinced the chancellor as to 
 the identity of the legation, we will in- 
 stal ourselves at the embassy.' 
 
 'Oh! oh! that is rather too much,' 
 cried Beausire, interrupting him. 
 
 4 It cannot be otherwise,' said the 
 Portuguese. 
 
 ' It is perfectly plain,' affirmed the 
 other partners. 
 
 1 But the Chancellor,' objected Beau- 
 sire. 
 
 ' We have sai<1 it. He will be con- 
 vinced.' 
 
 ' If by chance he should become less 
 credulous, ten minutes before he began 
 to doubt, he would be dismissed. I 
 believe that an ambassador has the right 
 
 t> change his charcellor ?' 
 
 No doubt of it.' 
 
 Then, being in possession of the 
 embassy, our first step will be to pay a 
 visii to Messrs. Boehmer and Bossaniie.' 
 
 4 No, by no means,' said Beausire. 
 eagerly, youappearto me to be entirely 
 ignorant of a principal point with which I 
 
 was admitted into the presence of Lou- 
 is XIV in quality of Ambassador from 
 the Schah of Persia, and who had the 
 coolness to offer to his very Christian 
 Majesty some thirty livres worth of 
 turquoises, Riza Bey, I say, was very 
 well founded in the Persian language, 
 arid the deuse isin it if there was a sin- 
 gle man of learning in France capable 
 of pioving to him that he did not come 
 from Ispahan. But we should be dis- 
 covered the very instant we attempted 
 to speak in Portuguese, and as our pre- 
 sentation gift, we should at once be 
 sent to the Bastille. Oh ! let us be*- 
 ware of that ." 
 
 ' Your imagination carries you too 
 far, my dear colleague,' said the Por 
 tuguese, ' but we will not throw our- 
 selves in the way of all these dangers ; 
 we will remain in our hotel.' 
 
 4 Then M. Boehmer will riot believe 
 us to be so completely, Portuguese ; so 
 actually ati embassy as may be neces- 
 sary.' 
 
 M. Bohemer will understand that 
 we come to France upon the sole mis- 
 sion of purchasing the necklace, the 
 Ambassador having been changed while 
 we were on the road. That it was af- 
 ter leaving Portugal we had received 
 the order to till his place. This order, 
 well ! if necessary it can be shown to 
 M. Bossange, as it must have been 
 .shown l>"t'mv fo the chancellor of the 
 embassy ; only, we must endeavor not 
 to show this order to the king's, minis- 
 ters, for these ministers are a very in- 
 quisitive class of people, they are mis- 
 trustful and might annoy us about a 
 host of trifling details.' 
 
 - And if Messrs. Boehmer & Bos- 
 sange should ask ?' said Beausire. 
 
 * What ?' inquired Don Manoel. 
 
 For something on account,' replied 
 Beausire. ^ 
 
 That would complicate Hie matter,' 
 said the Portuguese somewhat embar- 
 
 rassed. 
 
 For in short,' continued Beausire, 
 it is usual for an Ambassador to bring 
 with him letters of credit, if he have 
 not ready money.' 
 
 That is well observed,' said the part- 
 ners. 
 
 ' And there the affair would fail.' con- 
 am perfectly acquainted, having resided j tinued Beausire. 
 in courts. It is that such an operation I 4 You are always finding,' said Don 
 as you are speaking of cannot be effect- j Manoel with ice-like sourness, 4 means 
 ed by an Ambassador without his hav- by which you pretend the affair must 
 ing previously been received in solemn fail. You do not find a single one by 
 audience, and there, believe me, lies the { which to make it succeed.' 
 danger. The laiuoua Rizii Bev. who , If is nrecinely because I wish to dis-
 
 136 
 
 THE QUEEN'S NECKLACE ; OR, THE 
 
 cover them that I first contemplate ev- 
 ery difficulty,' replied Beausire. 'And 
 stay yes I have devised a means.' 
 
 All the heads of the partners were 
 huddled together in one circle, in breath- 
 lees expectation. 
 
 ' In every chancery there is a trea- 
 sury.' 
 
 4 Yes, a treasury and credit.' 
 
 4 Do not let us speak of credit,' re- 
 joined Beausire, ' for there is nothing 
 which is procured at such great cost, 
 To obtain credit we must have bors- 
 OB, equipages, valets, furniture, a regu- 
 lar set out, which is the basis of all 
 credit. Let us speak of the cash box. 
 What do you think of that of your em- 
 bassy.' 
 
 ' I have always considered my Sov- 
 ereign, her very faithful Majesty, as a 
 magnificent Queen. She must have 
 placed things in a proper state.' 
 
 4 Well, that we shall soon discover ; 
 and then admitting that there is no 
 money in the cash box ' 
 
 1 That, is possible,' said the part- 
 ners, sighing. 
 
 'Then there would be no farther 
 trouble, for immediately we, the Am- 
 bassador, could ask Messrs. Boelimer 
 & Bossange the name of their corres- 
 pondent at Lisbon, and we would sign, 
 seal and deliver to them bills of ex- 
 change upon that correspondent for the 
 required sum.' 
 
 'Ah ! that is excellently combined,' 
 aaid Don Manoel majestically : ' having 
 been fully occupied by the conception 
 of the plan, I had not entered into these 
 minor details.' 
 
 ' Which are exquisite,' said the faro 
 banker licking his lips. 
 
 ' And now let us proceed to arrange 
 our difirent parts,' said Beausire. * In 
 Don Manoel I see the Ambassador.' 
 
 ' Yes, undoubtedly,' cried the whole 
 me*;li ng in lull chorus. 
 
 4 And in Monsieur de Beausire 1 see 
 my secretary and interpreter,' added 
 Don Manoei. 
 
 4 And how so ?' inquired Benuirire, 
 rather uneasily. 
 
 ' I must not. be presumed to speak u 
 word of French,' said Don Manoel, 'I 
 who am M. de Souzu, for I know that 
 nobleman, and if he speaks, which rare- 
 ly happens to him, it is in his mother 
 tongue, the Portuguese. You, on the j 
 contrary, M. de Beausire, who have 
 travelled and have been much accus- 
 tomed to transacting business in Paris, 
 and who can speak Portuguese in a 
 very agreeable manner ' 
 
 ' Badly,' said Beausire. 
 
 ' Enough, not to be taken for Pali* 
 sian ' 
 
 'That is true but ' 
 
 'And besides,' added Don Manoel, 
 fixing his black eyes on Beuusire, fc the 
 most useful agents will derive the 
 largest amount of the advantages.' 
 
 ' Assuredly,' said the partners. 
 
 ' I am your interpreting secretary.' 
 
 ' Let u settle this at once,' said the 
 banker, interrupting him. ' How shall 
 the profits be divided.' 
 
 ' In the most natural way imagin- 
 able,' said Don Manoel. ' There are 
 twelve of us.' 
 
 4 Yes, twelve,' said the partners, 
 counting the number present. 
 
 ' By twelfths, then,' said Don Manoel, 
 4 with this reservation however, that 
 certain persons among us, shall have a 
 share and a half. Myself, for instance, 
 as father of the idea and Ambassador. 
 M. de Beausire, because he had got 
 scent of it, and talked of millions on ar- 
 riving here.' 
 
 Beausire gave an approving nod. 
 
 'And, besides,' said the Portuguese, *a 
 share and a half to him who shall se 1 !! 
 the diamonds.' 
 
 ' Oh !' exclaimed all the partners in 
 a breath, ' nothing to him, nothing but a 
 half share.' 
 
 ' And why so ?' said Don Manoel 
 with surprize, ' for that one, it appears 
 to me will run considerable risk.' 
 
 1 Yes,' said the banker, ' but he will 
 have a premium, and presents on de- 
 livery which will give him a good round 
 sum.' 
 
 And they all laughed. Those honest 
 people understood each other inarrel- 
 lously well. 
 
 ' Well then, the whole affair ia ar- 
 ranged,' said Beausire, ' we will go in- 
 to the details to-morrow. It is getting 
 late.' 
 
 He was thinking of Oliva who-bad 
 remained at the ball, alone, with the 
 blue domino, towards whom despite his 
 facility in giving louis d'ors, the lover 
 of Nicole did not feel imbued with im- 
 plicit confidence. 
 
 'No, no; let us conclude every thing 
 at once,' cried the partners, ' what are 
 these details?' 
 
 ' First of all a travelling chariot with 
 the arms of de Souza on it,' said Beau- 
 sire. 
 
 ' It would take too long to paint.' ob- 
 served Don Manoel, ' and above all to 
 dry/ 
 
 ' Another expedient th*,' cried
 
 MYSTERIES OF THE COURT OF LOUIS XVI. 
 
 137 
 
 Beausire, ' the chariot of his excellency 
 the Ambassador will have broken down 
 on the road and he will have been com- 
 pelled to use his secretary's post- 
 chaise.' 
 
 4 You have a post-chaise then ?' in- 
 quired the Portuguese. 
 
 ' I have the first one I can hire.' 
 
 1 But your arms.' 
 
 ' Any that may happen to be on the 
 chaise.' 
 
 'Oh! that simplifies eveiy thing. It 
 must be very dirty, the panels and 
 back splashed all over, particularly 
 Where the arm should be, and the 
 chancellor will not be able to see any 
 thinj; but dust and mud.' 
 
 But the rest of the embassy,' said 
 the banker. 
 
 ' As to ourselves we will arrive in the 
 evening,' said Beausire, 4 that is the 
 most convenient time for a first entrance, 
 and you, you will arrive the next morn- 
 ing, when we shall have everything pre- 
 pared.' 
 
 4 Very well.' 
 
 ' Every Ambassador, besides a secre- 
 tary,' said Don Manoel, 4 requires a 
 valet de chambre, a very delicate of- 
 fice.' 
 
 '^Commandant,' said the banker ad- 
 dressing one of the sharpers, 4 you will 
 take the part o the valet de chambre.' 
 
 The commandant bowed. 
 
 And the funds for the necessary pur- 
 chases ;' said Don Manoel, ' as for my- 
 aelf I am cleaned out.' 
 
 ' I have money,' said Beausire, 4 but 
 it belongs to my mistress.' 
 
 1 How much have we in our strong 
 box,' said some of the partners. 
 
 ' Your keys, gentlemen,' said the 
 banker. 
 
 Each of the partners drew from his 
 pocket a key which opened one lock out 
 of the twelve affixed to the false bottom 
 of the famous table, so that in this hon- 
 est partnership neither of them could 
 visit the strong box but with the per- 
 mission and in the presence of the oth- 
 er eleven. 
 
 They proceeded to examine its con- 
 tents. 
 
 4 One hundred and ninety-eight louis, 
 over and above the reserved fund,' said 
 the banker who had been closely watch- 
 ed while counting the money. 
 
 4 Give them to M. de Beausire and to 
 me, it will not be too much,' said Don 
 Manoel. 
 
 4 Give us two thirds of it, and give the 
 rest to the remainder of the embassy,' 
 
 18 
 
 said Beausire with a generosity which 
 at once conciliated all. 
 
 In this way Don Manoel and Bean- 
 sire received one hundred and thirty- 
 two louis, and sixty-six remained for 
 the others. 
 
 They then separated, appointing a 
 rendezvous for the next day. Beausire 
 rolled up his domino under his arm and 
 ran off as fast as his legs could carry him 
 towards the rue Dauphine where h 
 hoped to find Madnmoiselle Oliva in 
 full possession of all her former virtneB 
 and some new golden louis. 
 
 CHAPTER XXVI. 
 
 THE AMBASSADOR. 
 
 TOWARDS the evening of the follow- 
 ing day, a travelling carriage arrived at 
 the barrier d'Enfer, sufficiently dusty, 
 sufficiently splashed with mud, for no 
 one to distinguish the arms upon ife 
 panels. 
 
 The four horses by which it was 
 drawn, absolutely flew over the pave- 
 ment ; the postillions, as the saying is, 
 were driving at a prince's pace. 
 
 The carriage stopped at an hotel of 
 tolerably fine appearance in the Rue^e 
 la Jussienne. 
 
 At the gateway of this hotel, two 
 men were waiting, the one dressed 
 with some degree of elegance bbtoken- 
 ing ceremonious attention, th& other in 
 a sort of livery commonly worn by pub- 
 lic officers in the various public admi- 
 nistrations of Paris. 
 
 In other words, the latter looked like 
 a Swiss or door-keeper, in his gala suit. 
 
 The travelling carriage entered the 
 court-yard of the hotel, the gates of 
 which were immediately clapped to, in 
 the faces of several inquisitive persons. 
 
 The person who had attired himself 
 with such care approached the car- 
 riaij^-door very respectfully, and in 
 rather a trembling voice began an ha- 
 range in the Portuguese language. 
 
 Who inv you ?' inquired a voice ab- 
 ruptly, and in the same language, with 
 this sole difference, that the voice spoka 
 in excellent Portuguese. 
 
 4 The unworthy Chancellor of the 
 Embassy, your Excellency.' 
 
 4 Oh ! very well. But how badly 
 you speak our language, my dear Chan- 
 cellor ! On which side must I alight?' 
 
 ' This side, my lord, this side.'
 
 THE QUEEN'S NECKLACE; OR, THE 
 
 - JITS reception,' said the Senhor 
 Don Mo nod, who played the important 
 persouage, leaning on his secretary on 
 th" one side and his valet de chambre 
 on the other. 
 
 4 Your excellency will deign to pnr- 
 don me,' said the chancellor in his bro- 
 ken Portuguese ; ' it was only at two 
 o'clock this afternoon that your excel- 
 lency's courier alighted at the hotel to 
 announce your arrival. I was absent, 
 my lord, absent on the business of the 
 legation. On my return, I found your 
 excellency's letter. I had only time to 
 have the apartments opened, and they 
 are now being lighted up.' 
 
 4 Good, good.' 
 
 Ah ! it is with the most sincere joy 
 that I see the illustrious person of our 
 new ambassador.' 
 
 Hush ! say not a word about it, un- 
 til fresh orders shall have arrived from 
 Lisbon. Be pleased, sir, merely to let 
 me be conducted to my bed-room, for I 
 am overcome with fatigue. You will 
 regulate every thing with my secretary, 
 who will transmit my orders to you.' 
 
 The chancellor bowed respectfully to 
 Beausire, who replied to it ve.ry cor- 
 dially. and said with an air that was 
 courteously ironical, 
 
 Speak French, my dear sir, in this 
 way you will be more at your ease and 
 so shall I.' 
 
 Yea, yes,' said the chancellor, in a 
 half whisper, ' 1 shall be more at my 
 ease, for I will acknowledge to you, 
 that my pronunciation - ' 
 
 4 1 perfectly comprehend that,' re- 
 plied Beausire with much assurance. 
 
 'I will take advantage of this oppor- 
 tunity, good M. Secretary, since I find 
 you are so amiable ;i man,' hurriedly 
 said the chancellor, ' I will take advan- 
 tage of this opportunity to ask you 
 whether you think M. de Souza is dis- 
 pleased at my so murdering the Portu- 
 
 'Not in the least, not in the least, 
 provided you speak French with puri- 
 ty. 
 
 4 Who, 1 !' replied the chancellor, joy 
 fully, 4 a Parisiiiu of tlip rue Saint Hon- 
 or* ." 
 
 4 Oh ! indeed, that is quite delightful,' 
 said Beaunire what do they call you? 
 Durum rau i belie* e.' 
 
 . Hr, Ducornoau is my name, 
 a tolerably fortunate name, for it has 
 omewhat of a Spanish termination. 
 Ah ! good M. Secretary you know my 
 name, then 7 that is very flattering to 
 me.' 
 
 'Yes, you ajre well 'spoken of out 
 younder, so well indeed, that yorrgood 
 reputation was the cause of our not 
 bringing a chancellor from Lisbon.' 
 
 'Oh! how grateful do I feel, good 
 M. Secretary, and what a happy chance x 
 the nomination of M. de Souza haa 
 proved to me.' 
 
 ' But his excellency the Ambassador 
 has rung his bell, I believe.' 
 
 4 Let us run then,' 
 
 And they did run in fact. The Am- 
 bassador, thanks to the zeal of his valet 
 de chambre, had undressed himself 
 He had put on a magnificient dressing 
 gown ; a barber, who had been hastely 
 summoned was shaving him. A few 
 boxes and dressing cases, of rather rich 
 appearance were placed upon the tables 
 and pier tables of the bed-room. 
 
 A large fire was crackling on th 
 hearth. 
 
 4 Come in, come in, my good, chan- 
 cellor,' said the Ambassador, who 
 had thrown himself into an immense 
 easy chair, well cushioned.' and right 
 before the fire place. * 
 
 4 The Ambassador will not be angry 
 if I reply to him in French?' said the 
 chancellor whispering to Beausire. 
 
 4 No, no; speak on.' 
 
 Ducorneau, pronounced a compliment 
 in French. 
 
 4 Ah! why this is very convenient; 
 you speak French admirably. Mousieur 
 du Corno. 
 
 ' He takes ine for a Portuguese,' 
 thought the chancellor beside himself 
 with joy. 
 
 And he pressed Beaosire's hand. 
 
 ' But tell me," said Don M'anoel, 'can 
 we have some supper.' 
 
 4 By all moans, your Excellency, Oh! 
 yes, the Palais Royal is only two steps 
 off, and I know a restaurateur who will 
 bring your Excellency a good supper.' 
 
 4 As if it were for yourself. .Monsieur 
 du Corno ?' 
 
 Yes, my lord and if your excel- 
 lency would permit me. I would take 
 the liberty of offering you a few bottles 
 of wine from your own country, such 
 as your excellency can have only found 
 at Oporto itself.' 
 
 4 Ha ! our chancellor has a good cel- 
 lar,' said Beausire, merrily 
 
 4 It is my only luxuj-y.' humbly re- 
 plied the worlhy man ; and it was only 
 then, by the light of the wax candles, 
 that Don Manoel and Beausire observed 
 the sparkling eyes, the fat. round 
 cheek*, and the rubicund nose of (he 
 I chancellor.
 
 MYSTERIES OF THE COURT OF LOUIS XVI. 
 
 139 
 
 1 Do &a you please, Monsieur duCor- 
 no,' said the ambassador ; ' bring us 
 your wine, and come and sup with us.' 
 
 Oh ! such an honor ' 
 
 ' Without etiquette : to-day I am still 
 but a traveller, I shall be the ambassa- 
 dor only to-morrow ; and besides which, 
 we can talk over matters.' 
 
 'Oh! but uiy lord will allow me to' 
 make some alteration in my dress.' 
 
 Why, you are superb,' said Beausire. 
 
 'This is a mere receiving dress, not 
 one for grand occasions,' observed Du- 
 corneau. 
 
 ' Remain as you are, M. Chancellor, 
 and bestow on the preparations for our 
 supper the time it would take you to 
 change your dress.' 
 
 Ducorneau, perfectly delighted, left 
 the ambassador and hastened to save 
 ten minutes, in order that his excellen- 
 cy's appetite might be the sooner gra- 
 tified. 
 
 In the meantime, the three rascals, 
 left to themselves in the bed-chamber, 
 began to examtoe the furniture and the 
 papers regarding their new authority. 
 
 Does this chancellor sleep in the 
 hotel ?' inquired Don Manoel. 
 
 ' Oh ! no ; the fellow has a good cel- 
 lar, and no doubt has a pretty woman 
 or a grisette somewhere. He is an old 
 bachelor.' 
 
 And the porter ?' 
 
 1 We must get rid of him.' 
 
 I will take care of that. The other 
 servants in the hotel ?' 
 
 ' Hired people, whom our partners 
 will supersede to-morrow.' 
 
 What says the kitchen ? What says 
 the pantry?' 
 
 Dead ! dead ! The former ambas- 
 sador never came near the hotel. He 
 had a house in the fashionable part of 
 the town.' 
 
 ' And what says the storng box /' 
 
 ' As to that, it will be necessary to 
 consult the chancellor, a rather delicate 
 question.' 
 
 ' I will manage him,' said Beausire ; 
 ' we are already the best friends in the 
 worlQ.' 
 
 ' Hush ! here he is.' 
 
 And in fact Ducorneau returned quite 
 out of breath. He had given the ne- 
 cessary orders to a celebrated cook in 
 the Rue des Boiis-Eufans, had brought 
 with him six bottles of very respecta- 
 ble, dusty appearance, and his jolly face 
 announced the best possible disposition 
 for enjoying the feast to which he had 
 been so graciously and so unexpectedly 
 invited. 
 
 ' Will not your Excellency,' said he, 
 ' be pleased to go down into the dining- 
 room ?' 
 
 ' By no means, by no means ; we will 
 sup in this room, sociably, )>y this good 
 fire.' 
 
 ' Your lordship transports me with 
 joy. Here is the wine.' 
 
 'Real topazes,' said Beausire, hold- 
 ing one of the bottles before a candle. 
 
 ' Sit down, Monsieur du Corno, while 
 my valet de chambre prepares the ta- 
 ble.' 
 
 Ducorneau sate down. 
 
 ' On what day did the last despatches 
 arrive ?' inquired the ambassador. 
 
 ' The evening before the departure 
 of your of the predecessor of your ex- 
 cellency.' 
 
 ' 'Tie well. Is the legation in a good 
 state ?' 
 
 ' Oh ! yes, my lord.' 
 
 No unfortunate money affairs?' 
 'None that I know of.' 
 
 ' No debts ? Oh ! speak out at once. 
 If it should be so, we would begin by 
 paying them. My predecessor is a 
 Worthy nobleman, for whom I would at 
 once become guarantee.' 
 
 ' Heaven be thanked, my lord, there 
 is no need of that ; every account was 
 settled three weeks ago. and the day 
 after the ambassador Icfr Paris, a hun 
 dred thousand livres arrived here.' 
 
 ' A hundred thousand livres !' ex- 
 claimed both Don Manoel and Beausire, 
 trasported with joy. 
 
 ' So that,' said Beausire. stifling his 
 emotion, ' there is now in the strong 
 box here ' 
 
 1 One hundred and eight thousand 
 three hundred and twenty-eight livrea 
 M. Secretary.' 
 
 ' That is but little,' said Don Mauoel, 
 coldly : but, fortunately, her Majesty 
 has placed funds at our disposal. I was 
 quite right when I told you, my dear 
 sir,' added he, addressing Beausire, 
 'that we should be short of money In 
 Paris.' 
 
 Foi tuutttdv, your Excellency had 
 taken precautionary measures,' respect- 
 fully replied Beausire. 
 
 From the moment that thi* commu- 
 nication had been made by the chancel- 
 lor, the hilarity of the embassy gradu- 
 ally increased- 
 
 A good supper, consisting of a ual- 
 mon, some enormous crayfish, game, 
 and roast meats, by no means lessened 
 the joviality of the Portuguese lords. 
 
 Ducorneau, on iiading himself so 
 much at hU ease, eat as much a* ten
 
 140 
 
 THE QUEEN'S 
 
 Spanish grandees, and demonstrated to 
 bis superiors that a Parisian of the 
 Rue St. Honorecould quaff the wines 
 of Oporto and Xeres with as much 
 impunity as those of Brie and Ton- 
 nerre. 
 
 CHAPTER XXVII. 
 
 MESSRS. BOKHMKR & BOSSANGK. 
 
 M. DUCORNEAU was still offering 
 thanks to Heaven for having sent him 
 an Ambassador who preferred the 
 French to the Portuguese language and 
 the wines of Portugal to those of France; 
 he was enjoying that delicious beatitude 
 with a satisfied and grateful stomach 
 communicated to the brain, when M. 
 de Souza calling to him, told him that 
 it was time to go to bed. 
 
 Ducorneau rose from his chair mak- 
 ing numerous reverences as he retired, 
 knocking his shins against every piece 
 of furniture that stood in his way, till 
 he at length managed to get out of the 
 room, and thence into the street. 
 
 Beausire and Don Manoel had not 
 paid such honor to the wine of the em- 
 bassy as to oblige them at once to re- 
 tire to bed. 
 
 Moreover, it was necessary that the 
 valet de chambre should snp as well as 
 his masters, an operation which the 
 commandant accomplished with much 
 minuteness, following the example set 
 him by the Ambassador and his secre- 
 tary. 
 
 The plan of their next days operations 
 was soon settled. The three associates 
 took a turn through the hotel to ascer- 
 lain its precise position, after assuring 
 themselves that the porter was asleep. 
 
 Thr next morning, tluuiks to the ac- 
 tivity of Ducorneau when fasting, the 
 embassy had awakened from its lethar- 
 gy. Offices, piiper boxes, writing 
 desks, an air of business, horses pawing 
 in tht; court-yard, indicated bustle and 
 life, where but the day before all ap- 
 peared listlessness and death. 
 
 A rumor was soon spread in the 
 neighborhood that a great personage, a 
 charge d'affaires, had arrived from Por- 
 tu^iil during the night. 
 
 This rumor which ought to have ad- 
 ded to the credit of our three rascals, 
 was on the contrary a source of continu- 
 ally increasing alarm to them 
 
 And indeed, M. de Crosne's police, 
 and that of M. de'Bretettil, hud tong 
 
 OR, THE 
 
 ears, which would take good care not 
 to close nnder such circumstances ; thwjr 
 had Argus eyes which would certaiwly 
 not be shut, when Portuguese diplo- 
 matists were in question. 
 
 But Don Manoel observed to Beau- 
 sire, that with a proper degree of au- 
 .dicity they could prevent the police frotn 
 entertaining any suspicions during a 
 whole week, anil these suspicions even 
 from becoming certainties, ior at 'least 
 a fortnight, and that consequently bo- 
 fore ten days had elapsed, being tb 
 mean term, nothing could inconvenience 
 the affiiirs of the association, which as- 
 sociation would have concluded ito 
 operations in six days. 
 
 Daylight had just dawned when two 
 hired chaises landed at the hotel their 
 cargoes of nine r;sculs who were to 
 complete the household of the embassy, 
 
 They were soon installed, or mther, 
 we should say, sent to bed by Beaasire. 
 One of them was appointed to the cash 
 department, another as keeper of thfe 
 archives, a third to tafte the place of 
 the porter, whom Ducorneau himself 
 dismissed, under the pretext that he 
 did not speak the Portuguese kngntigo. 
 The hotel was therefore peopled by 
 this new garrison, whose duty it was to 
 defend it from all profane eyes. 
 
 The police is in the highest degree 
 profane to all those who have political 
 or other secrets. 
 
 Towards noon, Don Manoel alius Sou- 
 za, having dressed himnelf in handsome 
 style, got into a very decent looking car- 
 riage which Beausire had hireu for 
 five hundred livres a month, pitying a 
 fortnight in advance. 
 
 He drove to the house of Messrs. 
 Boehmer & Boseange, accompanied by 
 his secretary and valet de chambre. 
 
 The chancellor received orders to ex 
 pedite in the usual manner during tin- 
 absence of the Ambassador, ail busi- 
 ness relating to possports,* indemnities*, 
 or relief to the (iistressed, with tbis 
 proviso however, that he was not to 
 pay out tiny cash, or settle any accounts, 
 but with the cognizance of tlin sm;n;- 
 tary. 
 
 These gentlemen wished to keep 
 the sum w ;i hundred thousand iivrus 
 perfectly intact, as the fundamental 
 pivot of all their operations. 
 
 The Ambassador was informed that 
 the jewellers of the frown lived on the 
 Qjnai de 1'Ecole where he arrived at 
 about one in the afternoon. 
 
 Thr valet de chambre knocked njio- 
 derately at the jeweller's door, which
 
 MYSTERIES OF THE COURT OF LOUIS XVI. 
 
 141 
 
 was closed with massive looks, and gar- 
 nished with large headed nails, like the 
 door of a dungeon. 
 
 These nails were so artistically ar- 
 ranged that they formed various de- 
 signs, more or less agreeable to the 
 oye, but they w'ere so placed that no 
 gimht. saw or file could touch a parti- 
 cle of the wood without encountering 
 :i piece of iron mid consequently dam- 
 aging the inuplemem. 
 
 A .small trollitied wicket in this pon- 
 derous door wti then opeued and a 
 voice iisked the valet de chambre what 
 he wanted. 
 
 4 His excellency the Ambassador from 
 Portugal desires to speak with Messrs. 
 Boehmer & Bossange,' replied the va- 
 let. 
 
 A face was soon seen at the first 
 floor window, then hurried steps were 
 heard descending the stair-case. The 
 door opened. 
 
 Don Manoel alighted from his car- 
 riage with dignified deliberation. 
 
 M. Beausire had got out first in order 
 to. ofter his arm to his excellency. 
 
 The man who advanced with so 
 much eagerness to meet the two Por- 
 tuguese was M. Boehmer himself, who 
 on hearing the carriage stop had looked 
 through the window, and heard the 
 word Ambassador, and had hurried 
 down stairs that his excellency might 
 not be kept waiting. , 
 
 The jeweller made all sorts of apolo- 
 gies while Don Manoel was ascending 
 the stairs. 
 
 Beausire remarked that'behind them 
 there was an old woman servant, well 
 formed and vigorous, who fastened 
 the locks and bolts, of which there was 
 a great profusion on the street door. 
 
 M. Beausire htiving appeared to 
 make these observations with a certain 
 degree <>f attention. M. Beausire said 
 to him : 
 
 ' Your pardon, sir : but we are so 
 exposed in our unfortunate business 
 that we are' compelled to take all possi- 
 ble mtMins of prevention.' 
 
 Don Manoel had remained perfectly 
 impassible. Boehmer seeing this, re- 
 peated to him the phrase which had 
 been greeted by Beausire with an 
 agreeable smile. But the Ambassador 
 not having even winked at this second 
 attempt more than at the first.' 
 
 4 I trust your .excellency will pardon 
 me.' said Boehmpr again, completely 
 out of countenance. 
 
 4 His excellency does not speak 
 Ffsnch,' said Beasuire. and cannot 
 
 understand you, sir; but at all events;! 
 will communicate your apologies to 
 him, unless indeed,' he added, hastily, 
 1 you, yourself speak Portuguese.' 
 
 ' No sir, I do not.' 
 
 1 Then, I will speak for you.' 
 
 And Beausire jabbered a few Portu- 
 guese words to Don Mnnoel, who re- 
 plied to him in the same idiom. 
 
 ' His excellency the Count de Souza, 
 Ambassador from her very faithful Ma- 
 jesty, graciously accepts your apologies, 
 sir, and charges me to ask you if you 
 have still in your possession a certain 
 handsome diamond necklace ?' 
 
 Boehmer raised his hat and looked at 
 Bausire with the air of a man who 
 knew how to appreciate the ynportance 
 of the person hPaddresses. 
 
 Beausire sustained the investigation 
 with all the coolness of a skillful diplo- 
 matist. 
 
 4 A diamond necklace,' slowly said 
 Boehmer, ' a very handsome necklace.' 
 
 4 The one you offered to the queen 
 of France,' added Beausire, ' and of 
 which her very faithful Majesty ha* 
 heard mention.' 
 
 4 You, sir, I suppose,' said Boehmer, 
 1 hre one of the Ambassador's officers.' 
 
 4 Hie private secretary, sir.' 
 
 Don Manoel had, as a great person- 
 age, seated himself; he was examining 
 the paintings on the panels of a tolera- 
 bly handsome room, which fronted on 
 the quay. 
 
 A brilliant sunshine was then gilding 
 the Seine and the poplars were show- 
 ing their first green shoots above the 
 river, which was still swollen and turbid 
 from the thaw. 
 
 Don Manoel turned his attention 
 from the paintings to observe the land- 
 scape. 
 
 ' It appears to me, sir,' said Beausire 
 that you have not heard a word of all 
 I have been saying to you.' 
 
 ' And how so, sir,' inquired Boeh- 
 mer somewhat startled at Beausire's 
 sharp tone. 
 
 4 It is because I see his excellency is 
 getting impatient M. Jeweller.' 
 
 4 1 trust you will excuse me, sir,' said 
 Boehmer, coloring, ' but I must not 
 show the necklace excepting in th 
 'presence of my partner M. Bossange.' 
 
 4 Well, then, sir, send for your part- 
 ner.' 
 
 Don Manoel approached them, and 
 with a freezing air, which had some- 
 thing majestic in it, he began nn ha- 
 rangue in Portuguese, during which 
 Beausire bowed respectfully several
 
 142 
 
 THE QUEEN'S NECKLACE; OR, THE 
 
 times. After which he turned his 
 buck and continued his contemplation 
 through the windows. 
 
 ' His Excellency tells me, sir,' said 
 Benusire to Boehmer, ' that he has al 
 ready been waiting ten minutes, a'.d 
 that he is not in the habit of waiting 
 any where, even for kings.' 
 
 Boehmer bowed, went to a bell-pull, 
 und rang it. 
 
 A minute afterwards, another person 
 entered the room. It was M. Bossange, 
 the partner of M. Boehmer. 
 
 Boehmer explained the matter to him 
 in two words. Bossange cast a glance 
 on the two Portuguese, and then asked 
 Boehmer for his key to open the iron 
 chest. . 
 
 ' It would appear trftt honest men,' 
 thought Beausire, 'are just as cautious 
 in their dealings with each other, as 
 thieves themselves.' 
 
 Ten minutes afterwards, M. Bossange 
 returned with a jewel-case in his left 
 hand, his right hand being concealed 
 under his coat. Beausire saw distinctly 
 the shape of two pistols beneath the 
 coat. 
 
 ' We may have a tolerably imposing 
 appearance,' gravely said Don Manoel 
 in Portuguese; ' but these shopkeepers 
 seem rather to take us for swindlers 
 than ambassadors.' 
 
 And while uttering these words, he 
 looked intently at the jewellers to ascer- 
 tain by the slightest indication of emo- 
 tion on their countenances, whether 
 they understood the language in which 
 he spoke. 
 
 Nothing of this description could be 
 traced ; the box was opened and a mag- 
 nificent necklace appeared, of dazzling 
 pleader. 
 
 They, with much apparent confi- 
 dence, placed the jewel-case in Don 
 Maiioel's hand, who suddenly exclaimed 
 with ;mger, 
 
 ' Monsoo,' said he to his secretary, 
 4 tell these fellows that they exceed the 
 privilege which nil shopkeepers have of 
 being stupid. They are showing me 
 paste \s lien I a rn asking for diamonds. 
 Tell llu-ni that I shall complain to the 
 French minister, and, in the name of 
 m}' queen, demand that persons who 
 dare to trifle with an ambassador from 
 Portugal should be severely repri- 
 manded.' 
 
 It was not necessary for Beausire to 
 interpret all his Excellency's words 
 the pantomime sufficiently explained 
 his meaning. 
 
 Boehmer and Bossange made all sorts 
 
 of apologies : they said that in France 
 it was customary to show fac-similes of 
 diamond ornaments, in order to satisfy 
 respectable people, and not to excite or 
 tempt the cupidity of thieves. 
 
 M. de Souza made an energetic ges- 
 ture and moved towards the door, the 
 jeweller's gazing at him with much 
 anxiety. 
 
 ' His excellency desires me to say to 
 you,' pursued Beausire, that it is to be 
 regretted that persons buariug the ti- 
 tle of jewellers to the French crown, 
 should not know how to distinguish an 
 Ambassador from a rapscallion ; and his 
 excellency now retires to his hotel.' 
 
 Messrs Boehmer & Bossange, inter- 
 changed looks, and bowing lowly .assur- 
 ed his excellency of their unbounded 
 respect, 
 
 M. de Souza walked on paying no at- 
 tention to their excuses, and almost 
 treading on their toes, left the room. 
 
 The jewellers looked at each other 
 with decided uneasiness and bowing al- 
 most to the ground. 
 
 Beausire proudly followed his mas- 
 ter. 
 
 The old woman unlocked aud unbolt- 
 ed the door. 
 
 4 To the Hotel of the Embassy, rue 
 de la Jussienue !' cried Beausire to the 
 valet de chambre. 
 
 Boehmer heard this through the 
 wicket. 
 
 ' A perfect failure !' grumbled the 
 valet. 
 
 'A complete success." whispered 
 Beausire. ' In an hour these clowns 
 will be at the hotel.' 
 
 The carriage rolled off as rapidly at 
 if it had been drawn by eight horses. 
 
 CHAPTER XXVIII. 
 
 AT THE EMBASSY. 
 
 O> returning to the Hotel" of the Em- 
 bassy, these gentlemen found Ducor- 
 neau, who wiis .lining very tranquilly 
 in his office. 
 
 Beausire requested him to go up 
 stairs to the Ambassador, arid spoke 
 thus to him. 
 
 'You will readily perceive, dear chan- 
 cellor, that a man like M. de Souza, is 
 not an ordinary Ambassador.' 
 
 4 1 have perceived that,' replied the 
 chancellor. 
 
 'His excellency naturally wishes to 
 occupy a distinguished place in 1'uris,
 
 MYSTERIES OF THE COURT OF LOUIS XVI. 
 
 143 
 
 rnofig the rich and men of taste. That 
 is to say that to reside in this frightful 
 Hotel in the rue de la Jussienne would 
 be insupportable to him. It will there- 
 fore be necessary to find a private resi- 
 dence for M. de Souza ' 
 
 1 That would much complicate our 
 diplomatic matters,' said the chancel- 
 lor, ' we should have to run about con- 
 tinually after signatures ' 
 
 ' And his excellency would give you 
 a carriage for that purpose, dear Mon- 
 sieur Dueorneau,' replied Beausire. 
 
 Ducorneau almost fainted with de- 
 light. 
 
 ' A carriage tor me !' he exclaimed. 
 
 1 It is disgraceful that you have not 
 one already ; the chancellor of an em- 
 bassy, if he be at all respectable ought 
 to have a carriage; but we will talk again 
 upon this matter at a proper moment. 
 We have now to give an account to the 
 Ambassador of the State of our for- 
 eign affairs. By-the-by where is the 
 cash office of the embassy?' 
 
 ' Up-stairs, sir ; in the Ambassador's 
 own apartment.' 
 
 ' So far from you ?' 
 
 4 A precautionary measure, sir ; 
 thieves would find more trouble to get 
 at it on the first floor than on the ground 
 floor.' 
 
 1 Thieves !' exclaimed Beausire dis- 
 dainfully,and for so trifling an amount!' 
 
 ' A hundred thousand livres !* cried 
 Ducorneau, 'the deuce ! do you call that 
 a trifle .' It is clearly to be seen that 
 M. de Souza must be rich. There is 
 not a hundred thousand livres in all the 
 other embassies put together.' 
 
 4 Shall we extimine it now ? I am in 
 a hurry to get my affairs in order.' 
 
 'This moment if you please, sir, this 
 moment,' said Ducorneau ascending the 
 Btaira with Beausire. 
 
 They examined the strong box and 
 Beausire found the amount precisely as 
 Ducorneau had stated. 
 
 Ducorneau offered his key, which 
 Beausire examined for some time as if 
 admiring the beautiful workmanship of 
 its complicated wards. 
 
 While doing this he very adroitly 
 took an impression of it upon wax. 
 
 And then \\<t returned it to the ctan- j 
 cellor, Buying, 
 
 ' M. Ducorneau this key is in safer 
 keeping in your hands than mine. Let 
 us now go to the Ambassador.' 
 
 They found Don Mauoel sipping his 
 national chocolate. He appeared much 
 occupied with a puper covered with 
 cyphers. On seeing his chancellor. 
 
 ' Do you understand the cypher of the 
 former correspondence ?' enquired he. 
 
 ' No, your excellency.' 
 
 Well then, henceforward I wish you 
 to be initiated in it, sir. You will, in 
 that way, save me the trouble of a thou- 
 sand annoyinf details. By-the-b} 7 , the 
 state of our cash matters ?' said he, to 
 Beausire. 
 
 ' In a perfect state, as is every thing 
 under the charge of M. Ducorneau/ re- 
 plied Beausire. 
 
 4 The hundred thousand livres.' 
 
 ' Intact, sir.' 
 
 4 Very well ; sit down M. Ducorneau. 
 I wish you to give me some informa- 
 tion.' 
 
 4 At your excellency's pleasure,' re- 
 plied the delighted chancellor. 
 
 4 This is the matter in question. It 
 is a State affair, Monsieur Ducorneau.' 
 
 4 Oh ! my lord, I am listening with all 
 attention.' 
 
 And the worthy chancellor drew his 
 chair nearer to his excellency. 
 
 4 A serious affair, in which I stand in 
 need of your experience. Do you 
 know any tolerably respectable jewel- 
 lers in Paris?' 
 
 ' There are Messieurs. Boehmer & 
 Bossange, the jewellers of the crown,' 
 replied the chancellor. 
 
 ' And they are precisely the people 
 that I will not employ,' said Don Ma- 
 noel, ' I have just left them, and will 
 never see them again.' 
 
 4 They have then had the misfortune 
 to displease your excellency.' 
 
 4 Seriously, Monsieur Corno, serious- 
 
 iy-' 
 
 ' Oh! it I might be a little less re- 
 served if I dared ' 
 
 ' Say on.' 
 
 4 I would venture to ask, how these 
 people, who have great reputation in 
 their business ' 
 
 They are perfect Jews, M. Corno, 
 and their unhandsome conduct will 
 make them lose something like a mill- 
 ion or two.' 
 
 4 Oh!' cried Ducorneau, eagerly. 
 
 'I was sent by her very Faithful Maj- 
 esty to negotiate for a diamond neck- 
 lace.' 
 
 ' Ah ! yes, yes ; the celebrated neck- 
 lace which was ordered by the late 
 King for Madame Bubarry. I know 1 
 I know !' 
 
 4 You are an invaluable man, yon 
 know everything.' 
 
 4 Well then ! I had intended to pur- 
 chase that necklace ; but as things 
 stand, I will not buy it at all.
 
 14'! 
 
 THE QUEEN'S NECKLACE; OR, THE 
 
 M;iy-I be permitted to interfere?' 
 
 ' Mv Corno ?' 
 
 ' Diplomatically very diplomatically, 
 my lord. 
 
 " If you knew these people, it per- 
 haps might do.' 
 
 ' Bossange is my cousin. I know not 
 how many times removed, according 
 to the fashion of Brittany/ 
 
 Don Manoel nnd Beausire looked at 
 each other. There was a pause for 
 some moments. The two Portuguese 
 were sharpening their wita. 
 
 Suddenly one of the footmen opened 
 the door, and announced 
 
 ' Messieurs. Boehmer and Bossange." 
 
 Don Manoel jumped up from his 
 chair, and in an irritated lone, exclaim- 
 ed, 
 
 1 Send those people away.' 
 
 The servant made a stop to obey. 
 
 'No, dismiss them yourself, Mr. Sec- 
 retary,' rejoined the ambassador. 
 
 ' In the name of Heaven!' said Du- 
 corneau, with an accent of supplication, 
 'allow me to execute my lord's order. 
 I will soften it since it cannot be elu- 
 ded.' 
 
 ' Do so, if you will,' said Don Ma- 
 noel, carelessly. 
 
 Beausire approached him at .the mo- 
 ment that Ducorneau hurriedly left the 
 room, 
 
 ReflUy,' cried Don Munoel, ' it seems 
 that fate decides that this aflair should 
 fail.' 
 
 By no menus : Ducornenu will make 
 all right again.' 
 
 ' He will only embroil it the wretch. 
 We spoke only Portuguese atthe jewel- 
 lers. You* yourself,' told them that T 
 did not speak a word of French : Du- 
 corneau Avill spoil all.' 
 
 4 1 will run and prevent that.' 
 
 It may be dangerou*s to show your- 
 self, Beaumre.' 
 
 ' You will see the contrary: only 
 give me the full power to net.' 
 
 ' Undoubtedly.' 
 
 Beausire left the room. 
 
 Dncorneau had found Boehmer and 
 BosMinge waiting below ; their counte- 
 nances, since their entrance into the 
 embassy, had assumed the most polite, 
 if not altogether confiding, expression. 
 
 They hud not calculated upon seeing 
 the face of an acquaintance, and had 
 gone into a small receiving room, where 
 they 'were ceremoniously expect ing one 
 of the officers of the embassy. 
 
 > in seeing DucorneHU, Bossange ut- 
 tered a cry of joyful surprise. 
 
 You here '' Paid he. 
 
 And he approached to embrace him. 
 
 'Ah ! ah ! you are very amiable,' re- 
 plied Ducorneau, ' you know me here, 
 my rich cousin, do you? Is it because 
 I belong to an ambassador.' 
 
 ' Yes, in truth ;' said Bossange, 'and 
 if wo hflwe been somewhat sti angers, 
 forgive me, and do me now a service. 
 
 ' I came for that very purpose.' 
 
 Oh ! thank you. You are then at- 
 tached to the embimsy ?' 
 
 ' Why, yes.' 
 
 ' I want to make 3fh inquiry.' 
 
 ' What is it and iibout what?' 
 
 ' About the embassy itself. 
 
 'I am the chancellor of the embas- 
 sy.' 
 
 Oh ! that is admirable, we wish to 
 speak to the ambassador.' 
 
 ' I have just been sent to, you bjr 
 him.' 
 
 ' By him, and to tell us ?' 
 ' That he requests you will quickly 
 get out of his hotel, and very quickr 
 ly, gentlemen.' 
 
 The two jewellers looked perfectly 
 abashed. 
 
 ' Because,' said Ducorneau, speak- 
 ing with great importance, ' you have 
 been very awkward, and very impolite, 
 as it appears.' 
 
 ' Listen to us a moment ' 
 
 ' It would be useless,' suddenly ex- 
 ckimed the voice of Beausire, wh 
 made his appearance on the threshold 
 of the door, looking haughtily and cold- 
 ly. ' M. Ducorneau, his excellency or*- 
 dered you to dismiss these pereoni, 
 therefore, dismiss them, and at once.' 
 
 ' Good, Mr. Secretary ' 
 
 ' Obey !' rejoined Beausire disdain- 
 fully, ' du as you were ordered.' 
 
 And he passed through the room. 
 
 The chancellor took his relation by 
 the right shoulder, & the partner of his 
 relation by the left, and gently pushed 
 them out of the door. 
 
 ' There,' said he, 'you have missed a 
 good affair.' 
 
 ' How very easily these foreigners are 
 oft'ended, good Heaven ." murmured 
 Boehmer, who was himself a German. 
 
 When a man's name is Souza, and 
 he has an income of nine hundred thou- 
 sand livres a yenr, he has a right, my 
 i dear cousin, to be just what he pleases.' 
 
 'Ah!' sighed Bossange, ' I was ri^ht 
 in telling you. Boehmer, that you ar 
 too stiff in business matte?-.' 
 
 ' Wwll,' replied the obstinate Ger- 
 man, ' if we do not get his money, he 
 shall not have our necklace.' 
 
 They were near the street door.
 
 MYSTERIES OF THE COURT OF LOUIS XVI. 
 
 146 
 
 Ihicorneau began to laugh. 
 
 ' Do you pretend to know what a 
 Portuguese is?' said he disdainfully 
 do you know what an ambassador is ? 
 citizens that you are. No. Well, I 
 will tell you : an ambassador, the favor- 
 ite of a queen, the Prince Potemkin, 
 on the first of January every year, 
 bought for this queen a basket of cher- 
 ries, which cost him one hundred thous- 
 and crowns, a thousand livres for every 
 cherry ; that is a handsome sum, is it 
 not ? Well ! M. de Souza will buy the 
 mines of Brazil, merely to find one dia- 
 mond as large as the whole of yours, 
 that would cost him twenty years' in- 
 come ; but what matters that to him ? 
 he has no children. There !' 
 
 And he was closing the dpor upon 
 them, when Bossange had an idea : 
 
 4 Maiinge to make up this matter, 
 and you shall have ' 
 
 We are all incorruptible here,' re- 
 plied Ducorneau, slamming to the door. 
 
 The same evening, the ambassador 
 received the following letter : 
 
 'Mr LORD : A man who awaits your 
 orders, and is desirous of offering to 
 you the respectful apologies of your 
 humble servants, is at the door of your 1 
 hotel. On a sign from your excellency, 
 he will place in the hands of one of 
 your household the necklace which has 
 had the honor of attracting your atten- 
 tion. 
 
 'Be pleased to receive, my lord, the 
 assurance of the profound respect, &c., 
 &c., 
 
 'BoEHMER & BOSSANGE.' 
 
 4 Well !' cried Don Manoel, after 
 reading this epistle, ' the necklace is 
 ours.' 
 
 Not at all ; not at all,' said Beausire ; 
 ' it will only be ours when we have 
 bought it therefore, let us buy it.' 
 
 ' How so?' 
 
 ' Your excellency does not under- 
 stand French, that is agreed ; and first 
 of all, let us get rid of the chancellor.' 
 
 ' How can we do that ?' 
 
 ' In the most natural way imaginable. 
 It will only be necessary to entrust to 
 him some important diplomatic mission, 
 and I will take caje to do that.' 
 
 You are wrong,' replied Don Ma- 
 noel, he would be our surety, in this 
 affair.' 
 
 4 He would say that you speak French 
 aa well as M. Bossange and myself.'-. 
 
 4 He would not say so ; I would beg 
 him not.' _ 
 
 19 
 
 4 Well, let him remain, then. Let the 
 diamond man come in.' 
 
 The man was introduced ; it was 
 Roohmer in person. Boehmer, who 
 made the most profound bows and the 
 most submissive apologies. 
 
 After which he presented his dia- 
 ;md seemed as if he intended to 
 leave them to be examined. 
 
 Don Manoel desired him to remain. 
 
 1 This trial is sufficient,' said Beau- 
 sire, ' you are a mistrustful dealer ; 
 you ought to be polite. Sit down here, 
 and let us converse, since his excellen- 
 cy the ambassador has forgiven you.' 
 
 4 Ah ! what trouble a man has to sell 
 his goods,' sighed B.oehmer. 
 
 4 What trouble does a man take to 
 steal,' thought Beausire. 
 
 CHAPTER XXIX 
 
 THE BARGAIN. 
 
 The ambassador then consented to 
 examine the necklace more minute- 
 ly- 
 
 M. Boehmer carefully exhibited ev- 
 ery stone and expatiated on their sev- 
 eral separate beauties, 
 
 4 As to the aggregate of these stones/ 
 said Beausire, to whom Don Manoel 
 had given his opinion in Portuguese, 
 4 his Excellency, the ambassador, has 
 nothing to complain ; taken together, it 
 is satisfactory.' 
 
 4 As to the diamonds, separately, it is 
 not the same thing ; his excellency has 
 counted ten which are somewhat defec- 
 tive, somewhat spotted.' 
 
 4 Oh!' exclaimed Boehmer. 
 
 4 His excellency,' said Beausire, in- 
 terrupting him, 4 is a better judge of 
 diamonds than you can be. The Por- 
 tuguese nobility in the Brazils play with 
 diamonds, aa children do here with 
 glass.' 
 
 And in fact, Don-Manoel placed his 
 finger upon several diamonds, one after 
 the other, and pointed out with admira- 
 ble perspicuity, defects which to others 
 would have been imperceptible, and 
 which even a eonnoisseur, would hard- 
 ly have remarked. 
 
 ' Such as it is, however,' said Boeh- 
 mer, much surprised to find so great a 
 nobleman so skilful a lapidary, ' such as 
 it is, this necklace is the finest collec- 
 tion of diamonds which at this time ex- 
 ists in all Europe.'
 
 146 
 
 THE QUEEN'S NECKLACE; OR, THE 
 
 4 That is true,' said Don Manoel, and 
 on a sign, Beausire added 
 
 Well, M. Boehmer ; this is the 
 state of the case, Her Miijesty the 
 Queen of Portugal has heard much of 
 this necklace, and she commissioned 
 his excellency to negotiate the affair, 
 after having seen the diamonds. Tin- 
 diamonds suit his excellency : ho\v 
 much do you demand tor the necklace .'' 
 
 ' Sixteen hundred thousand livres,' 
 replied Boehmer. 
 
 Beausire repented the amount to his 
 ambassador. 
 
 1 It, is too dear by a hundred thou- 
 sand livres,' observed Don Manoel. 
 
 'My Lord,' said the jeweller, 'the 
 profit cannot be precisely estimated on 
 an article of such importance ; it has' 
 required in order to unite the diamonds 
 necessary to form a necklace of this ex- 
 traordinary beauty, journies and inqui- 
 ries, attended with expenses which 
 would alarm any one who knew what 
 they had been as well as I do.' 
 
 'One hundred thousand livres too 
 dear,' rejoined the tenacious Portu- 
 guese. 
 
 4 And for his excellency to say so 
 much to you,' said Beausire, 'it must 
 arise from positive conviction on his 
 part, for he never bargains.' 
 
 Boehmer appeared somewhat stag- 
 gered ; there is nothing which gives 
 more confidence to a suspicious dealer, 
 than a purchaser who haggles as to 
 price. 
 
 'I could not,' said he, after a mo- 
 ment's hesitation, ' agree to such a di- 
 minution in the price, as would make 
 all the difference of loss or profit to my- 
 self and partner.' 
 
 Don Manoel listened to Beausire's 
 interpretation, and rose from his chair. 
 
 Beausire closed the jewel case and 
 returned it to Boehmer. 
 
 ' 1 will, however, consult M.Bossange 
 on the subject; does your excellency 
 consent, to that /' 
 
 ' What do you mean by that ?' said 
 Beauaire. 
 
 1 I mean to say that the ambassador 
 appears to have, offered fifteen hundred 
 thousand livrew for the necklace.' 
 
 ' Yes.' 
 
 1 Does his excellency agree to that 
 price ?' 
 
 ' His excellency never retracts any 
 thin;, that he has said, 1 pompously re 
 plied Beausire, 'but his excellency will 
 sometimes refuse an article altogether, 
 rather than be exposed to the annoy- 
 ance of bargaining for it.' 
 
 ' M. Secretary, do you not at ones 
 conceive the necessity I am under, of 
 conversing with my partner on the 
 subject ?' 
 
 ' Oh ! perfectly, M. Boehmer.' 
 
 ' Perfectly,' replied Don Manoel, in 
 Portuguese, to whom Boehmer's ques- 
 tion had been communicated ; 'but it is 
 also necessary that I should have a 
 prompt solution. 
 
 ' Well, then, my lord, if my partner 
 agrees to this abatement. I agree to it 
 at once.' 
 
 "Tis well! 
 
 'The price, then, is fixed at fifteen 
 hundred thousand livres.' 
 
 ' Be it so.' 
 
 ' Then, all that remains to be obtain- 
 ed is the ratification of M. Bossange.' 
 
 ' It is so agreed.' 
 
 \ ' And, after that, the only considera- 
 tion is the mode of payment.' 
 
 'On that head you will not find the 
 slightest difficulty,' said Beausire. 
 ' How do you wish to be paid ?' 
 
 'Why,' said Boehmer, laughing, 'if 
 it were possible to have it in ready mo- 
 ney ' 
 
 ' What do you call ready money '!' 
 said Beausire, coldly. 
 
 ' I know that no one can have a mil- 
 lion and a half in hard cash, at a mo- 
 ment's notice.' 
 
 ' And, moreover, it would be incon- 
 venient even to you, M. Boehmer.' 
 
 ' And yet, M. Secretary, I would not 
 consent to part with it, without receiv- 
 ing some immediate payment.' 
 
 'That is but right.' 
 
 And he turned towards Don Manoel. 
 
 ' How much ready money would 
 your excellency give M. Boehmer ?' 
 
 'A hundred 'housand livres.' 
 
 ' A hundred thousand livres,' said 
 Beausire to Boehmer, ' on signing the 
 agreement.' 
 
 ' But the remainder ?' asked Boeh- 
 mer. 
 
 4 The time it will require to trans- 
 mit a draft, signed by my lord, to Lis- 
 bon ; unless, indeed, you should prefer 
 to wait for an order sent from Lisbon to 
 Paris.' 
 
 ' Oh ! replied Boehmer we have a 
 correspondent in Lisbon, and by writing 
 to him ' 
 
 ' The very thing,' said Beausire, 
 laughing ironically, ' write to him ; ask 
 him if M. de Souza is solvent, and 
 whether her Majesty the Queen, can 
 be trusted to the amount of fourteen 
 hundred thousand livres," 
 
 ' Sir,' said Boehmer, rather confused.
 
 
 MYSTERIES OF THE COURT OF LOUIS XVI. 
 
 147 
 
 ' Do you accept, or would you prefer 
 other conditions;' 
 
 4 Those which you have been pleas- 
 ed to propose to me, ut first appeared 
 to me acceptable. Would there be any 
 fixed dates for the payment?' 
 
 'It would be divided into three 
 amounts two of five hundred thousand 
 and one of four hundred thousand li- 
 vres, and it would give you the motive 
 for an interesting journey.' 
 
 ' A journey to Lisbon ? ' 
 
 'And why not? Is it not worth 
 while for the purpose of receiving a 
 million and a half in three months time, 
 to inconvenience oneself a little ?' 
 
 'Oh! undoubtedly, but ' 
 
 " Moreover you would travel at the 
 expense of the embassy, and either my- 
 self or the chancellor would accompany 
 you.' 
 
 4 1 should take the diamonds with 
 me ?' 
 
 ' Without the slightest doubt ; unless 
 you would prefer to send the drafts 
 from Paris, and allow the diamonds to 
 travel alone to Portugal.' 
 
 ' I do not know I believe that 
 the journey might be useful and 
 that : 
 
 ' That is also my opinion.' said Beau- 
 sire, ' the treaty would be signed here, 
 you will receive your'hundred thousand 
 livres in cash you also would sign the 
 contract and you would cany the dia- 
 monds to her majesty. What is the 
 name of. your correspondent ?' 
 
 "Messiers Nunez, Balboa & bro- 
 thers.' 
 
 Don Manoel raised his head. 
 
 " They are my bankers,' said he, 
 smiling. 
 
 ' They are his excellency's bankers,' 
 said Beausire, also smiling. 
 
 Boehmer appeared perfectly radiant 
 with joy ; every cloud was dissipated 
 from his brow; he bowed as if to thank 
 the ambassador, and to take leave. 
 
 A sudden thought made him return. 
 
 4 What is it now ?' asked /Beausire, 
 with some anxiety. 
 
 ' Our words are pledged ?' said 
 
 T> I 1 O 
 
 rJoehmer. 
 
 ' Yes, pledged. 
 
 ' Saving ' 
 
 ' Saving the ratification of M.. Bos- 
 sange; that is understood.' 
 
 Saving another case,' added Boeh- 
 mer. 
 
 'Ah! ah." 
 
 ' Sir, this is a most delicate one, and 
 the honor of the Portuguese name is 
 too powerful a feeling for his excel- 
 
 lency not to understand my meaning.' 
 
 ' What means this round-about 
 phrase. To the point.' 
 
 'This is the fact. The necklace has 
 been offered to the queen of France.' 
 
 ' Who refused it. What besides ?' 
 
 ' We cannot allow this necklace to 
 ieave France for ever without first ap- 
 prising the queen, and re pec t and loy- 
 alty even demand that we should give 
 the preference to her majesty, our 
 queen.' 
 
 ' Perfectly right,' said Don Manoel 
 with dignity. ' It would well please 
 me did I hear a Portuguese tradesman 
 utrer such sentiments as those of M. 
 Boehmer.' 
 
 ' 1 am most happy and most proud 
 thus to receive the approbation his ex- 
 cellency has deigned to bestow upon 
 me. These, then, are the two reserv- 
 ed cases, ratification of the conditions 
 by Bossange, and a second and definitive 
 refusal from, her majesty the queen of 
 France.' 
 
 ' On our side,' said Beausire, ' one 
 hundred thousand livres in ready mo- 
 ney, three drafts amounting to fourteen 
 Irundred thousand livres placed in your, 
 hands. The case of diamonds delivered 
 to the chancellor of the embassy or to 
 me, whichever of us shall accompany 
 you to Lisbon, to the house of Messrs. 
 Nunez, Balboa & brothers. Payment 
 of the whole to be made in three 
 months. Your travelling expenses to 
 be paid.' 
 
 ' Yes, my lord ; yes, sir,' said Boeh- 
 mer, making his bow. 
 
 ' Ah !' suddenly cried Don Manoel. 
 
 4 What is it ?' exclaimed Boehmer, 
 uneasy in his turn, and returning. 
 
 4 For pin money,' said the ambassa- 
 dor, ' a ring worth a thousand pistoles 
 to be given by you to my secretary or 
 jto the chancellor ot the embassy: in 
 short, to whoever may accompany you 
 in your journey, M. Jeweller.' 
 
 ' That is but too just, my lord,' mur 
 inured Boehmer, ' and I had already in 
 my own mind decided upon doing 
 that.' 
 
 Don Manoel dismissed the jeweller 
 with a wave of the hand as any mighty 
 nobleman would have done. 
 
 The two partners remained alone. 
 
 ' Be pleased to explain to me' said 
 Don Manoel to Beausire, with a certain 
 degree of vivacity, ' what devilish idea 
 you got into your head, that inspired 
 you not to have the diamonds delivered 
 here. A journey to Portugal, are you 
 mad ? Could not we have given these
 
 148 
 
 THE QUEEN'S NECKLACE; OR, THE 
 
 jewellers their money, and take their 
 diamonds in exchange ?' 
 
 I You consider the part you are act- 
 ing as ambassador in too positive a 
 light,' replied Beausire. ' You are not 
 yet precisely M. de Souza in M. 
 Boehmer's opinion.' 
 
 4 Pshaw ! do you think he would have 
 come to an agreement had he suspected 
 any thing?' 
 
 'Be- that as you please. He would 
 not have entered into an agreement, 
 that is possible, but every man who 
 has fifteen hundred thousand livres in | 
 his possession believes himself tho su- ! 
 perior of all the kings and all the ambas- 
 sadors in the world. Every man who '. 
 barters fifteen hundred thousand livres 
 against bits of paper, desires to know 
 if those bits of paper are of any value.' 
 
 ' Then you will go to Portugal ! you 
 who do not understand Portuguese I 
 tell you you are mad.' 
 
 ' Not in the least you will go there 
 yourself,' 
 
 'Oh! by no means,' exclaimed Don 
 Manoel, 4 what I return to Portugal? 
 f have too famous reasons not to do so. 
 No ! no ." 
 
 I 1 declare to you that Boehmer never 
 would have given his diamonds for mere 
 paper.' 
 
 ' But paper signed de Souza ." 
 
 1 When I said that he really imagines 
 himself a Souza !' exclaimed Beausire, 
 striking his hands together. 
 
 * I would rather hear it said that the 
 affair has failed,' said Don Manoel. 
 
 ' Not in the slightest degree. Come 
 here, commandant,' said Beausire, to 
 the valet de chambre, who just then put 
 his head in at the door, ' You know 
 the matter at issue do you not ?' 
 
 ' Y- 
 
 ' You were listening/ 
 
 ' Undoubtedly.' 
 
 ' Very well. Are you of opinion that 
 I have committed a stupidity?' 
 
 '1 HIU of opinion that you have a hun- 
 dred thousand reasons on your side.' 
 
 ' And say why !' 
 
 Simply for this. M. Boehmer would 
 have made inquiries as to the signa- 
 ture would never have ceased watch- 
 ing the hotel of the embassy and the 
 ambassador,' 
 
 4 And what then ?' said Don Manoel. 
 
 4 Why this ! Having his money in 
 , his hand, his jewel case by his side, M. 
 Boehner will no longer entertain any 
 suspicion, and will set out very tran- 
 quilly for Portugal,' added Beausire. 
 
 14 We shull not go so far as that, aui- 
 
 bflssador, 1 said the valet de chambre, 4 i 
 it not so, chevalier de Beausire ?' 
 
 ' Come now, this is a fellow of som 
 imagination,' said the lover of Oliva. 
 
 4 Explain your plan then' coldly sug- 
 gested Don Manoel. 
 
 ' Within somt! fifty leagues of Paris/ 
 s;iid Beausire, this imaginative gentle- 
 man, having a mask upon his face, will 
 rush out and show to our postilion the 
 muzzle of a pistol, or 'even two ; he 
 will rob us of our bills of exchange, our 
 diamonds, will half kill M. Boehmer by 
 beating him, and the affair will be com- 
 pleted.' 
 
 ' I did not precisely mean that,' said 
 the valet de chambre. ' I saw M. Beau- 
 sire and M. Boehmer embarking at 
 Bayonne for Portugal. 
 
 ' Very well.' 
 
 ' M. Boehmer, like all Germans, ia 
 fond of the sea, and takes his walk upon 
 the deck. One day the sea is rough, 
 the vessel heels, and overboard he goes. 
 It is understood the jewel-case goes 
 with him. There ! why should not the 
 sea s wallow, the fifteen hundred thous- 
 and livres' worth of diamonds, since it 
 has never .given up the Spanish gal- 
 leons ?' 
 
 ' Ah ! yes, I understand,' said the 
 Portuguese. 
 
 4 That is fortunate,' grumbled Beao- 
 sire. 
 
 Only' replied Don Manoel 4 for hav- 
 ing pilfered the diamonds, one is sent to 
 the Bastille, and for having made M. 
 Boehmer peep into the sea, a man i 
 hanged.' 
 
 ' For having stolen the diamonds, on* 
 is taken.' said the commandant ; ' for 
 having drowned this man, one cannot 
 be suspected even for a minute.' 
 
 4 We shall see what is to be don* 
 when the moment comes,' replied 
 Beausire. ' In the meantime, to our 
 several parts. Let us conduct the em- 
 bassy as perfect models of the Portu- 
 guese nation, that people may say of us 
 ' It they were not real ambassadors, 
 at all events, they had the appearance 
 of being BO!' That would be always 
 flattering. Let us tranquilly await the 
 issue of three days.' 
 
 CHAPTER XXX. 
 
 ' *' 
 THE EDITOR'S HODSX. 
 
 On the day following that on which 
 the Portuguese had made the agree-
 
 MYSTERIES OF THE COURT OF LOUIS XVI. 
 
 149 
 
 ment with liunhmer, and three days 
 subsequent to the bull at the opera, at 
 which were present several of the prin- 
 cipal personages of this history, the 
 following events occurred: 
 In the Rue Montorgueil, at the end 
 
 of a court, the 
 closed by an 
 
 access to which was 
 was a rather 
 
 But what are a few pieces of a news- 
 paper to glut one's vengeance upon, 
 which, to allay, requires the skin of the 
 gazetteer himself. 
 
 With the exception of these scenes, 
 the tranquillity of the Grate was pro- 
 verbial. 
 
 M. Reteau would, go out in the morn- 
 
 high and narrow house, protected from ing, take a turn on the quays, the pub- 
 ;ii. nois.i of the street by massive shut- i lie squares, and the boulevards. He 
 ters, which gave it the appearance of a | observed the leading follies of the day 
 house in the country. i all that was ridiculous or vicious 
 
 At the bottom of this court, on the | noted them down, drew sketches of 
 ground floor, to reach which it was ne- them to the life, and then gave them 
 nessary to ford through two or three at full length in his following number. 
 stinking drains, was a sort of shop, half His journal was a weekly one. 
 open to those who had surmounted the That is to say, for four days Reteau 
 obstacle of the iron gate and the length i hunted up matter for his articles, had 
 
 / . 1 I*.*,! !____ *_ 1_ _ _ . 1 . 1 _ ._ 
 
 of the court. 
 
 This was the house of an editor of 
 
 it printed during the other three, and 
 always took care that his paper should 
 
 some renown, u gazetteer, as they said be ready early on the day of publica- 
 in those days. The editor lived on the tion. 
 
 first floor. The ground floor was used i On the day of which we are speak- 
 to pile up the back numbers of the , ing, the paper had just appeared, it be- 
 newspaper, which were duly ticketed. | ing seventy-two hours after the opera 
 
 The two upper stories of the house 
 were tenanted by quiet people, who 
 had them at a low rent, in consequence 
 of the annoyance to which they were 
 iubjected several times during the year 
 from the noisy scenes . occurring be-' 
 tween the gazetteer and police agents, 
 or private individuals whom he had of- 
 fended by his writings, or actors whom 
 he had treated worse than Helots. 
 
 On those days, the tenants of this 
 house, which throughout the neighbor- 
 hood was called the Grate, closed their 
 front windows, that they might more 
 distinctly hear the yelpings of the ga- 
 zetteer, when receiving chastisement ; 
 butwho, when he could manage it, would 
 take refuge in the Rue des Vieux-Au- 
 gustins, by an issue which was on a 
 level with his room. 
 
 A back door opened, then closed 
 again, and the noise ceased ; the man 
 
 ball, at which Mademoiselle Oliva had 
 enjoyed so much pleasure, while lean- 
 ing on the arm of the blue domino. 
 
 M. Reteau, before getting up at eight 
 o'clock, received from the hands of his 
 old female servant that day's number, 
 still reeking and smelling strong of prin- 
 ter's ink. 
 
 He hastened to read this number 
 with the parental attention which a ten- 
 der father shows when passing in re- 
 view the good qualities or defects of a 
 beloved child. 
 
 Then, when he had read it through, 
 
 ' Aldegonde,' said he to the old wo- 
 man, ' this is a very pretty number ; 
 have you read it ? ' 
 
 'Not yet; my soup is not made. yet,' 
 replied the old woman. 
 
 ' I am well satisfied with this num- 
 ber,' said the gazetteer, raising from 
 his miserably thin mattress his arms. 
 
 who had been threatened had disap- ! which were thinner still, 
 peared, and -the assailants found them-' 'Yes,' replied Aldegonde, 'but do 
 selves alone in presence of four fusi- you know what they say at the print- 
 leers of the French guards^ whom an ing office ?' 
 old woman servant had hurried off to What do they say there ?' 
 tetch from the guard-room at the Corn- They say that it is certain you will 
 market. not escape the Bastille this time.' 
 
 It would happen now and then that , Reteau sat up in bed, and in a calm 
 the assailants, not finding any one on j voice, said : 
 
 -whom to vent their rage, would fall ' Aldegonde ! Aldegonde ! make me 
 upon the damp papers on the ground a good soup, and do not trouble your- 
 floor, tear them to pieces, trample them self with literary matters.' 
 under foot, or burn them, if unfortu- 'Oh! always the same !' cried the old 
 natcly then- wa^ a fire at hand, and thus woman, 'as audacious as a cock-spar- 
 destroy a goodly number of the calum- row !' 
 
 sheers. 
 
 I will buy you a pair of buckles with
 
 150 
 
 THE QUEEN'S NECKLACE; OR, THE 
 
 to-day's number,' said the gazetteer, 
 Vrho again rolled himself up in a sheet 
 of rather equivocal whiteness. 
 
 ' Have there been many copies sold ?' 
 
 'Not yet, and my buckles will not be 
 yery shining ones if this continues. Do 
 you remember the good number against 
 M, de Broglie ? a hundred copies were 
 sold before ten o'clock.' 
 
 4 And I had retreated three times 
 into the rue des Vieux Augustins,' 
 said Reteau ; ' the slightest noise threw 
 me into a fever ; those military men are 
 so brutal.' 
 
 ' I conclude,' said the obstinate Alde- 
 gonde ' that to-day's number will not be 
 worth that of M. de Broglie.' 
 
 ' Be it so,' - said Retenu, ' but I shall 
 not be compelled to take to my heels 
 so often, and I shall eat my soup tran- 
 quilly ; do you know why Aldegonde ?' 
 
 1 Not I, faith, sir.' 
 
 ' It is that instead of attacking a man, 
 I attack a body ; instead of attacking a 
 soldier, I attack a queen.' 
 : ' The queen ! Heaven be thanked !' 
 muttered the old woman ; ' then, fear 
 nothing, if you have attacked the queen 
 you will be carried in triumph ; we 
 shall sell all the numbers and I shall 
 have my buckles.' 
 
 ' There is somebody ringing,' said 
 Reteau. 
 
 The old woman ran to die shop to 
 attend to the customer. 
 
 A moment afterwards, she returned 
 up stairs with flashing eyes and per- 
 fectly triumphant air. 
 
 ' A thousand copies !' she exclaimed, 
 4 a thousand all at once ! there's an 
 order for you.' 
 
 4 And in what name,' eagerly enqui- 
 red Reteau. 
 
 ' I don't know." 
 
 4 We must know it ; run quickly.' 
 
 ' It is a porter, an Auvergnese, with 
 his park.' 
 
 ' Good ! question him, ask him where 
 he is goimj; to cany them.' 
 
 Aldegonde made stood haste; the 
 wooden stairs creaked under her pon- 
 derous legs, and her shrill voice re- 
 sounded through the floor as she ques- 
 tioned the messenger. Ho replied that 
 he was going to carry the papers to the 
 house of the Count de Cagliostro, Rue 
 Neuve Saint Gilles in the Marais. 
 
 The gazetteer gave a bound of joy 
 which was very near breaking down his 
 bed. He immediately (.,01 up, hastily 
 put on some clothes and went down 
 etairs to assist in the delivery of the 
 papers, confided to the care of a single 
 
 clerk, a species of half starved shadow, 
 even more diaphanous than the printed 
 sheets. The thousand copies were 
 placed on the pack or hod which the 
 j Auvergnese had affixed to his shoulders, 
 who disappeared through the grated 
 gate, bending beneath their weight. 
 
 M. Reteau, who had gone to his room 
 again, was about to make some notes 
 i for his succeeding number as to the 
 I great success of the present one, and to 
 consecrate a few lines to the generous 
 nobleman who had been pleased to take 
 a thousand copies of a pretended poli- 
 tical pamphlet : M. Reteau we say, was 
 j congratulating himself on having so for- 
 tunately become acquainted with him, 
 when another ring was heard from the 
 court yard gate. 
 
 4 Another thousand copies!' cried 
 Aldegonde, stimulated by the first suc- 
 cess ; 4 ah, sir, it is not astonishing, 
 as the paper is about the Austrian, all 
 the world will join in chorus.' 
 
 1 Silence ! silence ! Aldegonde, do 
 not speak so loud ; the Austrian ! that is 
 an insult which would, indeed, send me 
 to the Bastille, as you predicted.' 
 
 4 Well ! what !' cried the old woman 
 tartly, ' is she or is she not an Austrian 
 woman?' 
 
 4 It is a word which we newspaper 
 editors have put in circulation, but 
 which must not be used too prodigally.' 
 
 Another ring at the bell. 
 
 ' Go and see who it is Aldegonde, I 
 do not think it is any one to buy papers.' 
 
 4 And what makes you believe that ?' 
 said the old woman as she went down 
 stairs. 
 
 4 1 do not know ; but the man who is 
 at the gate appears to me to have rather 
 a scowling face.' 
 
 Aldegonde continued descending th 
 stairs to go to the gate. 
 
 M. Reteau was looking from his win- 
 dow, and with an anxiety which will be 
 readily understood from the description 
 we lnive given of his person and hia 
 habits. 
 
 Aldegonde opened the gate in fact, 
 to a man plainly dressed, who enquired 
 whether the editor of the gazette could 
 be seen. 
 
 4 What have you to say to him ?' de- 
 manded Aldegonde, somewhat mistrust- 
 fully. 
 
 And she held the gate njar ready to 
 clap it to again on the slightest appear- 
 ance of danger. 
 
 The man jingled some crowns in his 
 pocket. This metallic sound warmed 
 the heart of the old woman.
 
 MYSTERIES OF THE COURT or i.ol'TS XVI 
 
 151 
 
 I come,' said he, 'to pny for a thou- 
 sand copies of to-day's paper, which 
 have been fetched in the name of the 
 Cpunt de Cagliostro.' 
 
 4 Oh ! if that is the case, come in.' 
 
 The man passed through the gate, 
 but had not closed it again, before 
 another visitor who was behind him, a 
 young, tall and handsome man, pushed 
 the gate, saying : 
 
 ' Allow me, sir.' 
 
 And without asking farther permis- 
 sion, he slipped in behind the person 
 Bent by the Count de Cagliostro. 
 
 Aldegonde intent only on the idea of 
 gain, fascinated by the sound of the 
 crown pieces, hurried on to her master. 
 
 ' Come, come.' cried she, ' all is 
 right ; here is a gentleman with five 
 hundred livres for the thousand' copies. 
 
 ' Let us receive him nobly,' said 
 Reteau parodyzing Larive in his last 
 play. 
 
 And he put on a tolerably handsome 
 dressing gown, for which he was in- 
 debted to the munificence or rather to 
 the fears of Madame Dugazon, from 
 whom since her adventure with Astley 
 the equestrian, the gazetteer managed 
 to extract numerous presents of all de- 
 scriptions. 
 
 The person from the Count de Cag- 
 liostro presented himself, took out a 
 email bag of six livre pieces, counted 
 out one hundred of them, which he pil- 
 ed up in twelve heaps. 
 
 Reteau counted them carefully, and 
 examined them to ascertain that they 
 were of full weight. 
 
 At length, having found the number 
 exact, he thanked the person, gave him 
 a receipt, and dismiased him with an 
 agreeable smile, after asking him with 
 a cunning look, as to the state of the 
 Count de Cagliostro'a health. 
 
 The man replied, thanking him for 
 is inquiries, as if they had been per- 
 fectly natural, and withdrew. 
 
 'Tell the Count,' said Reteau, 'that 
 I shall always attend to his suggestions, 
 and addjhat he may be assured, I know 
 how to keep a secret.' 
 
 'That is not necessary,' replied the 
 payer ; ' the Count de Cagliostro is in- 
 dependent ; he does not believe in mag- 
 netism ; he wishes that people should 
 laugh at M. Mesmer, and gives cur- 
 rency to the adventure of the vat for 
 his own amusement.' 
 
 ''Tis well,' murmured a voice from 
 the threshold of the door, ' and we will 
 endeavor to make people laugh, also, at 
 the expense of M. de Cagliostro.' 
 
 And M. Reteau saw a person ad- 
 vancing into his room with it face that 
 appeared to him even more scowling 
 than the first. 
 
 He was, as we said, a young and 
 powerful man, but Rete.au was not at 
 all of the same opinion with ourselves, 
 with regard ft> his good looks. 
 
 He thought that his eyes were threat- 
 ening, and his depoi'tment of a most 
 feari'ul nature. 
 
 And, in fact, one of his hands grasped 
 the hilt -of his sword, while the other 
 wielded a ponderous cane. 
 
 What is there I can do to serve 
 you, sir?' inquired Reteau, ^with a sort 
 of nervous trembling, which always 
 seized him when in an awkward di- 
 lemma. 
 
 And as these dilemmas were not of 
 very rare occurrence, it happened that 
 Reteau often trembled. 
 
 ' M. Reteau ?' said the unknown. 
 
 'That is my name.' 
 
 And who styles himself Reteau de 
 Villette ?' 
 
 ' The same, sir.' 
 
 ' Gazetteer ?' 
 
 ' It is myself, sir.' 
 
 ' Author of this article ?' coldly said 
 the unknown, raking from his pocket a 
 number of the paper of that day, still 
 damp. 
 
 'I am, in fact, not the author of that 
 article.' said Reteau, ' but the pub- 
 lisher.' 
 
 ' Very well, for that is precisely the 
 same thing ; for if you have not had the 
 courage to write the article, you have 
 hud the cowardice to allow it to ap- 
 pear.' 
 
 Sir, be more careful of your expres- 
 sions,' said Reteau, endeavoring to look 
 fierce. 
 
 ' 1 say cowardice.' rejoined the un- 
 known with perfect coolness, ' because 
 being a gentleman I desire to measure 
 my expressions even in this miserable 
 hole, for what I say does not fully ex- 
 press my thoughts. Were I to give 
 utterance to my thoughts I should say : 
 the person who wrote this article is an 
 infamous scoundrel, the one who pub- 
 lished it a miserable wretch.' 
 
 4 Sir !' cried Reteau, turning very 
 pale. 
 
 ' Ah ! this is a very bad affair, it is 
 true,' continued the young man. wnx- 
 ing warmer by degrees as he proceed- 
 ed. 'But hark ye, M. Reviewer, every 
 thing has its turn ; just now you re- 
 ceived the crown pieces, but now you 
 are about to receive a sound beating.'
 
 152 
 
 THE QUEEN'S NECKLACE; OR, THE 
 
 Oh T exclaimed Retean, ' we shall 
 tee that.' 
 
 1 And what shall we see ?' cried the 
 young man in a sharp and military tone, 
 at the same time advancing towards his 
 adversary. 
 
 But this was not, for the latter, the 
 first affair of the kind in which he had 
 been engaged ; he knew the contrivan- 
 ces of his own house ; he had only to 
 turn round to find a door, pass through 
 it, close it behind him and bar it, make 
 it ; serve him as a shield, and then gain 
 an adjacent room in which was the fa- 
 mous escape door opening into the Rue 
 des Vieux Augustins. 
 
 Once there he was in safety ; there 
 he would find another small gate, when 
 by turning a key and the key was al- 
 ways ready, he could open it and save 
 himself by making good use of his legs. 
 
 But that day was an inauspicious one 
 to the poor gazetteer, for at the mo- 
 ment he placed his hand upon that key, 
 he perceived another man at the oppo- 
 site end of the passage, who, rendered 
 colossal by the agitation of his senses, 
 appeared to Reteau a very Hercules, 
 and who motionless, threatening, ap- 
 peared to be awaiting, as did in former 
 days the dragon of the garden of the 
 Hesperides for the devourers of the 
 golden apples. 
 
 Reteau would have willingly retraced 
 his steps, but the young man with the 
 cane, he who had .first presented him- 
 self to his affrighted eyes, had burst in 
 the door with a vigorous kick, had fol- 
 lowed him, and now that he was stop- 
 ped by this other sentinel, armed also 
 with a sword and cane, he had only to 
 stretch forth his hand to seize him. 
 
 Reteau thus found himself between 
 two fires, or rather between two cnnes, in 
 a sort of dark alley, situated between the 
 last room of his apartment and the 
 thrice fortunate gate opening upon the 
 Rue des Vieux Augustins, that is to 
 say, if the passage had been free, on 
 liberty and safety. 
 
 1 Sir, I beg you will allow me to pass,' 
 said Reteau to the young man who 
 guarded the gate. 
 
 ' Sir,' cried the young man who was 
 pursuing Reteau, ' sir, stop that miser- 
 able wretch.' 
 
 ' Make yourself perfectly easy, Mon- 
 sieur de Charny, he nhall not pass,' 
 replied the young man at the gate. 
 
 ' Monsieur de Taverney, can it be 
 you,' cried Charny, tor it was in fact 
 the latter wlio had first presented him- 
 self at Reteau's, slipping in behind tin- 
 
 man who had paid him, and who had 
 entered the house from the Rue Mon- 
 torgueil. 
 
 They had both, on reading the ga- 
 zette that morning, come to the same 
 determination, because their hearts 
 were imbued with the same feelings, 
 and thus, without having communicated 
 with, or even seen each other, had car- 
 ried their idea into execution. 
 
 And this was to go :t the house of 
 the gazetteer, demand satisfaction of 
 him, and in case of refusal, to give him 
 a sound caning. 
 
 Only that each of them, on first per- 
 ceiving the other, experienced a feel- 
 ing of ill humor; each of them con- 
 ceived the other to be a rival from his 
 having entertained precisely the same 
 feelings as himself. 
 
 Therefore, it was in rather a rough 
 tone that M. de Charny pronounced the 
 words, 
 
 ' Monsieur de Taverney, can it be 
 j you ?' 
 
 'Myself,' replied Philippe, in the 
 same tone of voice, and making a move- 
 ment on his side towards the supplicat- 
 ing gazetteer, who had put both his 
 arrrs through the iron rails of the gate, 
 ! ' but it appears I have arrived too late. 
 i Well, then ! I shall only be a spectator 
 i of the game, unless, indeed, you will 
 ! have the goodness to open this gate for 
 I me.' 
 
 ' The game ." cried the terrified ga- 
 zetteer; 'the game! what are you 
 i speaking of? Are you going to cut my 
 i throat, gentlemen ?' 
 
 'Oh!' said Charny, the expression 
 
 i is rather strong. No, sir, we will not 
 
 cut your throat, but we will question 
 
 I you, and afterwards shall see. You 
 
 I will allow me to use this man as I may 
 
 think fit, will you not, Monsieur de Ta- 
 
 j verney ?' 
 
 ' Assuredly, sir,' replied Philippe, ' it 
 is your turn first, having been the first 
 to arrive.' 
 
 'There, then, stick yourself against 
 the wall, and do not stir an inch,' said 
 Charny to Reteau, after thanking de 
 Taverney by a gesture. ' You acknow- 
 ledge, then, my dear sir, that yon have 
 written and published against the queen 
 that comic tale, for so you term it, 
 which appeared in your gazette this 
 morning ?' 
 
 ' Sir, it is not against the queen.' 
 ' Ah ! good, it wanted only that ' 
 ' Oh ! you are remarkably patient, 
 sir,' said Philippe, foaming with rage 
 1 on the farther side of the gate.
 
 MYSTERIES OF THE COURT OF LOUIS XVI. 
 
 153 
 
 ' Do not make yourself uneasy,' re- 
 plied Charny, ' the fellow will lose no- 
 thing by waiting.' 
 
 ' Yes,' muttered Philippe, ' but re- 
 collect that I am waiting also.' - 
 
 Charny did not reply, at least to Ta- 
 vcrney. 
 
 But, turning towards the unlucky 
 Retoau, 
 
 4 Etteniotna, is Antoinette reversed. 
 Oh ! do not lie, air it would be so etu- 
 pid, and at the same time so baee, that 
 instead of beating you or killing you in 
 a decent manner, I should flay you 
 alive. Therefore, reply, and categori- 
 cally. I usk you whether you are 
 the sole author of this pamphlet?' 
 
 I am not an informer,' replied 
 Reteau, drawing himself up. 
 
 4 Very well ! that means to say, that 
 there is an accomplice ; and, first of 
 all, the mmi who sent to purchase a 
 thousand copies of this diatribe, the 
 Count de Cagliostro, as you just now 
 called him, he must be the person. 
 Well, be it so ! the Count will have to 
 pay his share when you shall have paid 
 yours/ 
 
 'Sir, sir, I do not accuse him,' howl- 
 . ed the gazetteer, fearing to expose 
 himself to the anger of these two men, 
 without counting that of Philippe, pale 
 with rage, on the other side of the 
 gate. 
 
 * But,' continued Charny, ' as I have 
 got hold of you first, you shall be the 
 first to pny.' 
 
 And he raised his cane. 
 
 ' Sir, if I hud but a sword,' shrieked 
 the gazetteer. 
 
 Charny lowered his cane. 
 
 ' M. de Taverney,' said he, ' lend 
 your sword to this rascal, I beg of 
 you.' 
 
 Oh! by no means; I do not lend 
 my houest blade to such a fellow ; here 
 is my cane, if yours is not sufficient. 
 But I cannot conscientiously do more 
 than this for either him or yu.' 
 
 ' Zounds ! a cane,' cried Reteau, ex- 
 asperated, ' do you know, sir, that I am 
 a gentleman ?' 
 
 Then, lend your sword to me,' said 
 Charny, ' and my only course will bo 
 never to touch this one again.' 
 
 And he threw his sword at the feet 
 of Reteau, who looked pale as death. 
 
 Philippe could make no farther ob- 
 jection. He drew his sword from its 
 cabbard and handed it through the iron 
 gate to Charny. 
 
 Charny took it, bowing to him. 
 
 4 Ah ! you^are a gentleman, are you ?' 
 20 
 
 said he, turning toward Reteau, * you 
 are a gentleman and you write such in- 
 famous lies against the queen of France! 
 Well, there, pick up that sword and 
 prove that you are a gentleman.' 
 
 Btat Reteau did not stir ; it might 
 ha^ie been thought that he had as much 
 fertr of the sword which lay at his feet 
 as of the cane which a few momenta 
 before had been held over his head. 
 
 ' Confound it !' cried Philippe, exas- 
 perated, 'open the gate for me.' 
 
 'Your pardon, sir,' said Charny, ' but 
 you agreed that this man, in the first 
 place belonged to me.' 
 
 Then get through quickly with him, 
 for I am in a hurry to begin.' 
 
 4 It was necessary thatl should first ex- 
 haust every other means before adopt- 
 ing this extreme measure,' said Charny, 
 ' for I am of opinion that blows with a 
 cane are almost as painful to the giver 
 as to the receiver ; but since this gentle- 
 man decidedly prefers blows from a 
 cane to a thrust with a sword, be it so, 
 he shall be served to his heart's con- 
 
 These words were scarcely uttered, 
 before a shriek from Reteau announced 
 that Charny had suited the action to 
 the word. 
 
 Five or six blows vigorously applied, 
 eacli of which drew from the sufferer 
 a cry equivalent to the pain that it in- 
 flicted, followed in quick succession. 
 
 These cries soon brought in old Al- 
 degonde, but Charny paid as little at- 
 tention to her shrieks as he did to those 
 of her master. 
 
 During this time, Philippe placed 
 like Adam outside the gate of Paradise, 
 ground his teeth from mer*e rage, and 
 danced about like a bear who smells the 
 fresh meat placed before the bars of his 
 cage. 
 
 At length Charny paused, tired with 
 having beaten. and Retc.ui threw him- 
 self on the ground tired of being thrash- 
 ed. 
 
 'There!' said Philippe, 'have yon 
 done now, sir .'' 
 
 'Yes.' said Charny. 
 
 ' Well, then, now return my sword, 
 which has been useless to you. and 
 open the gate I beg of you.' 
 
 *Oh! sir, sir,' implored Reteau, who 
 saw a defender in the man who had 
 just settled accounts with him. 
 
 You must understand that I cannot 
 allow this gentleman to remain any 
 longer outside the gate,' said Charny, 
 I shall therefore open it.' 
 
 1 Oh .' this is downright murder,'
 
 154 
 
 THE QUEEN'S NECKLACE; OR, THE 
 
 cried Reteau ; come now, kill me at 
 once with your sword and let it be end- 
 ed at one blow.' 
 
 'Oh ! as to that,' replied Charny, 'you 
 may now rest easy ; I believe this gen- 
 tleman will not even touch you.' 
 
 ' And you are right,' said Philippe, 
 with sovereign contempt. ' I have not 
 that intention, you have been thrashed 
 'tis well, but as the legal axiom has it : 
 Non bis in idem. But there are num- 
 bers of the edition still remaining and it 
 Is important these numbers should be 
 destroyed.' 
 
 'Oh! that is right." said Charny, 
 ' you see that two heads are always 
 better than one. 1 should perhaps have 
 forgotten that ; but by what chance did 
 you get to this door, M. de Taverney.' 
 
 ' I will tell you,' said Philippe, ' I in- 
 quired in the neighborhood as to the 
 habits of this scoundrel, I was told that 
 it was his custom to run away whenev- 
 er he was closely pressed. Then, I 
 asked as to his methods of escape and I 
 thorght that by gaining admission 
 through the secret gate instead of pre- 
 senting myself at the usual one, and by 
 closing this gate after me, I should catch 
 the fox in his earth. The same idea of 
 revenge suggested itself to you, only 
 being in more haste than I was, your 
 information was not so complete ; you 
 came in by the public gate, and he 
 would have escaped you when fortu- 
 nately you found me here.' 
 
 ' And I congratulate myself that it so 
 happened. Come, Monsieur de Taver- 
 ney, this fellow will conduct us to his 
 press-room.' 
 
 ' But the printing press is not here,' 
 said Reteau? 
 
 ' Another lie,' cried Charny, threat- 
 eningly. 
 
 'No, no,' cried PKilippe, 'he is, most 
 likely, right in this, for the type must 
 be already distributed, and there is no- 
 thing more than the edition. Now, 
 the edition must be very nearly com- 
 plete, except the thousand sold to M. 
 de Cagliostro.' 
 
 ' Then he shall tear up the edition in 
 our presence.' 
 
 ' He shall burn it ; that will be more 
 sure.' 
 
 And Philippe, determined on this 
 mode of satisfaction, pushed Reteau on 
 before him, and they all went towards 
 the shop. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXI. 
 
 HOW TWO FRIENDS BECOME ENEMIES. 
 
 HOWEVER, Aldegonde having heard 
 her master's cries, aud finding the door 
 closed, had gone off to call the guard. 
 
 But, before she returned, Philippe 
 and Charny had time enongh to make 
 a blazing fire of the first numbers of the 
 gazette, and afterwards kept tearing the 
 others and throwing them into the de- 
 vouring flames. 
 
 The two executioners were at the 
 last numbers, when the guard made its 
 appearance, with Aldegonde, at the end 
 of the court ; and the guard was ac- 
 companied by a hundred blackguard 
 boys and as many old gossips of the 
 neighborhood. 
 
 The first musket struck on the stone 
 pavement 1 of the vestibule when the 
 last number of the gazette began to 
 burn. 
 
 Fortunately, Philippe and Charny 
 knew how to secure their retreat by 
 the way which Reteau had so impru- 
 dently shown them ; they, therefore, 
 hurried through the secret passage, 
 fastening the bolts as they passed, got 
 through the gate that led into the Rue 
 des Vieux-Augustins, double locked 
 the ga^e, and threw the key of it into 
 the first drain they found in their way. 
 
 During this time Reteau, being once 
 
 | more at liberty, cried lustily, ' help ! 
 
 ! help ! murder ! assassination,' and Al- 
 
 I degonde, who saw the blazing of the 
 
 newspapers through the windows, cried 
 
 ' fire ! fire !' 
 
 The fusileers at length reached the 
 room ; but as they found that the two 
 young assailants were gone, and the 
 fire about to go out, they did not think 
 it necessary to pursue their researches 
 any further ; they left Reteau, that he 
 might proceed to have his back bathed 
 with spirits of camphor, and withdrew 
 to their own guard-room. 
 
 But the crowd, always more curious 
 than the guard, remained till noon in 
 M. Reteau's court, in the anxious hope 
 that the scene of the morning might be 
 renewed. 
 
 Aldegonde, in her despair, vented 
 curses, not loud but deep, against the 
 name of Marie Antoinette, and bless- 
 ings on that of M. de Cagliostro, whom 
 she called the patron of letters. 
 
 When Taverney and Charny had 
 reached the rue der Vieux August ins, 
 
 1 Sir,' said Charny. now that we 
 have completed our execution, may I
 
 MYSTERIES OF THE COURT OF LOUIS XVI. 
 
 155 
 
 hope to have the happiness of being 
 useful to you in some way ?' 
 
 4 A thousand thanks, sir, I was about 
 to make you the same offer.' 
 
 4 1 thank you ; I had come to Paris 
 for some private matters which will 
 probably detain me a good part of the 
 day.' 
 
 ' And I also, sir.' 
 
 4 Permit me then to take leave of you, 
 and to congratulate myself on the honor 
 and happiness I have had in meeting 
 you.' 
 
 4 Permit me also to pay you the same 
 compliment, and to add to it my sincere 
 desire that the affair which has brought 
 you here may be accomplished accord- 
 ing to your wishes.' 
 
 And the two young men bowed to 
 each other with smiling courteousness 
 through which could easily be discern- 
 ed, that all the civil words they had ex- 
 changed proceeded only from their lips. 
 
 On leaving each other they took op- 
 posite directions, Philippe ascending 
 the street towards the boulevards, and 
 Charny descending it towards the 
 river. 
 
 They both turned round two or three 
 times, until they lost sight of each oth- 
 er, and then Charny, who, as we have 
 said, went in the direction of the river, 
 turned up the rue Beaurepaire, then, 
 after the rue Beaurepaire, the rue du 
 Renard, then the rue du Grand Hur- 
 leur, the rue Jean Robert, the rue des 
 Graviliers, the rue Pastourel, the rue 
 d'Anjou, those of the Perche Culture- 
 Sainte-Catherine, of Saint-Anartuse and 
 Saint-Louis. 
 
 When he reached the latter he went 
 down the rue Saint-Louis and hasten- 
 ed on towards the rue Neuve-Saint- 
 Gilles. 
 
 But as he approached it, his eyes 
 were attracted by the form of a young 
 man who was ascending the rue Saint- 
 Louis, and whom he thought he recog- 
 nized. Two or three times he paused 
 as if in doubt, but all doubt was soon 
 dispelled. The person who was ascend- 
 ing the street was Philippe de Taver- 
 ney. 
 
 Philippe, who, on his side, had gone 
 by the rue Mauconseil, the rue aux 
 Ours, the rue du Grenier Saint-Lazare, 
 the rue Michel-le-Comte, the rue des 
 Vieilles-Andriettes, the rue de 1'Hom- 
 me-Arme, the rue des Rosiero, had 
 passed before the hotel de Lamoignon, 
 and at last had come out into the rue 
 Saint-Louis, at the corner of the rue de 
 1'Egout-Sainte-Catherine. 
 
 The two young men met at the en- 
 trance of the rue Neuve-Saint-Gilles. 
 
 They both stopped and looked at 
 each other with eyes, which on this oc- 
 casion did not take the trouble to con- 
 ceal their thought. 
 
 Each of them had, as before, hit upon 
 the same idea; it was that of demand- V 
 ing satisfaction of the Count de Cag- 
 liostro. 
 
 And meeting* thus, neither the one 
 nor the other could doubt the intention 
 which had led them thus to the same 
 spot. 
 
 4 Monsieur de Charny,' said Philippe, 
 4 1 left you the vendor, you ought in 
 good sooth to leave me the purchaser. I 
 let you inflict the blows with the cane, 
 let me administer the sword thrusts.' 
 
 4 Sir,' replied Charny, 4 you behaved 
 so politely to me, I believe, because I 
 was the first comer, and not for any 
 other reason.' 
 
 4 Yes, but here,' observed Taverney, 
 4 1 arrive at the same moment with 
 yourself, and, I tell you plainly and at 
 once, here I cannot make you any con- 
 cession.' 
 
 4 And who tells you that T ask for any, 
 sir, I will maintain my right, that'* 
 all.' 
 
 4 And in your opinion, M. de Charny, 
 your right is ' 
 
 4 To make M, de Cagliostro burn the 
 thousand copies which he purchased 
 of that scoundrel.' 
 
 1 You will please to remember, sir, 
 that it was I who first suggested the 
 idea of burning those in the rue Mon- 
 torgueil.' 
 
 ' Well, agreed ; you had them burned 
 in the rue Montorgueil, and I will have 
 them torn up in the rue Neuve-Saint- 
 Gilles.' 
 
 'Sir, I am very sorry to be obliged 
 to tell you that I very seriously desire 
 to be the first to call Count Cagliostro 
 to account.' 
 
 All that I can do for you in this mat- 
 ter, sir, is to allow fate to decide be- 
 tween us ; 1 will throw up a louis, and 
 he who wins shall have the priority.' 
 
 4 1 thank you, sir, but I am in gener- 
 al very unlucky, and I might be so un- 
 fortunate as to lose.' 
 
 And Philippe walked on a step. 
 
 Charny stopped him. 
 
 4 Sir,' said he, 4 one word, and I be- 
 lieve we shall then understand each 
 other. 
 
 Philippe eagerly turned round. There 
 was a tone of menace in Charny's voice 
 which pleased him.
 
 156 
 
 THE QUEEN'S NECKLACE; OR, THE 
 
 Ah !' cried he, ' be it so.' 
 
 If, in order to call on M. de Cagli- 
 ostro, to demand satisfaction of him, 
 we were to pass through the Bois de 
 Boulogne ; if is the longest way, I know 
 that full well, but it would, I believe, 
 be the best mode of terminating our 
 difference. One of us would probably 
 remain on the road, and the one who 
 returns would not be accountable to 
 any one.' 
 
 ' Really, sir,' said Philippe, ' you 
 merely anticipate my thought ; yes, 
 that -indeed would conciliate everything. , 
 Would you please to say where we shall 
 meet again.' 
 
 ' Why, if my society is not insup- 
 portable to you, sir ' 
 
 How can you even imagine that V 
 ' We need not separate at all. I or- 
 dered my carriage to meet me at the 
 Place Royale, and, as you know, it is 
 only two steps from this.' 
 
 ' Then, you will have the kindness to 
 
 ., -tr * 
 
 allow me to take a seat in it. 
 
 ' Assuredly, and with the greatest 
 pleasure.' 
 
 And the two young men who, from j 
 the -first glance, felt that they were 
 rivals, had become enemies on the very 
 first opportunity, and now hastened with 
 lengthened steps towards the Place 
 Royale. They perceived Charny's car- 
 riage standing at the corner of the Rue I 
 Pas-de-la-Mule. 
 
 Without giving himself the trouble to 
 go any further, Charny made a sign to 
 his footman. The carriage crossed the 
 square, and Charny invited Philippe to 
 get in. The carnage then drove off in 
 the direction of the Champs Elysees. 
 
 Before getting into the carriage, | 
 Charny had written two words on his 
 tablets, and had desired his footmen to 
 carry them to the hotel he lived at in 
 Paris. 
 
 M. de Charny's horses were excel- 
 lent ; in less than half an hour they 
 reached the Bois de Boulogne. 
 
 Charny ordered his coachman to stop 
 when they had reached a convenient 
 spot in the wood. 
 
 The weather was fine, the air rather 
 keen ; but the power of the sun was 
 already so considerable, that the violets 
 were exhaling their first perfumes, as 
 well as the young shoots of the elder- 
 trees on the border of the wood. 
 
 Above the yellow leaves of the pre- 
 ceding year, the grass was rising proud- 
 ly ornamented by its waving plumes of ; 
 seeds ; and the wall-flowers were hang- , 
 
 ing their perfumed heads from many an 
 old wall. 
 
 ' It is fine weather for a walk, is it 
 not, M. deTaverney?' said Charny. 
 
 ' Yes, the weather is fine, sir.' 
 
 And they both alighted from the car- 
 riage. 
 
 ' You can go home,' said Charny ,to 
 his coachman. 
 
 'Sir,' said Taverney, ' you are perhaps 
 wrong in sending away your carriage. 
 One of us ma}' stand much in need of 
 it to return.' 
 
 ' In this affair, that which is most ne- 
 cessary is secresy ; secresy, above ail ; 
 to confide it to a servant, would be to 
 render it the subject of conversation to 
 all Paris by to-morrow morning.' 
 
 'Precisely as you please, sir; but 
 the fellow who has driven us here is' 
 very well aware of our intention. 
 These people are too conversant with 
 the habits of gentlemen, not to imagine 
 at once, when they are ordered to drive 
 either to the Bois de Boulogne, to Vin 
 cennes, or to Satory, and at the pace at 
 which he brought us here, that our bu- 
 siness is not merely to take a walk. 
 Therefore, I repeat, your coachman 
 knows well what to think of this ; but, 
 even admitting that he does not know 
 it, he will hear that either I or you 
 have been wounded or perhaps killed, 
 and that will be enough for him to un- 
 derstand it all, although it would be 
 rather late. Would it not be better to 
 keep him, to take back the one who 
 could not get back without assistance, 
 than for you to remain, or to leave me, 
 in so embarrassing a solitude ?' 
 
 ' It is you that are right,' replied 
 Charny. Then, turning towards the 
 coachman, 
 
 ' Dauphin,' cried he, ' stop ! wait for 
 us here ." 
 
 Davphin had imagined that he would 
 be called back, and had very leisurely 
 made a long sweep to turn the carriage, 
 and consequently had remained within 
 hail. He stopped immediately, and, as 
 Philippe had foreseen, he had some 
 suspicion of what was going forward, 
 for he placed himself in a position to 
 have a view of every thing through the 
 branches of the trees, which were still 
 almost void of leaves. 
 
 However, Philippe and Charny, by 
 degrees, gained nearly the centre of the 
 wood ; in ten minutes they were con- 
 cealed, or nearly so, from the inquisi- 
 tive eyes of any casual paaser-by. 
 
 Philippe, who walked first, at last 
 found a dry place, firm beneath th*
 
 MYSTERIES OF THE COURT OF LOUIS XVI. 
 
 157 
 
 feet ; it was an oblong square, admira- 
 bly well adapted to the purpose the 
 young men had in view. 
 
 ' Unless you should think otherwise, 
 Monsieur de Charny,' said Philippe, ' it 
 appears to me that this is a convenient 
 spot.' 
 
 ' An excellent one,' replied Charny, 
 taking off his coat. 
 
 Philippe, in his turn, took off his coat, 
 threw his hat upon the ground, and 
 drew his sword. 
 
 4 Sir," said Charny, whose sword was 
 etill in the scabbard, ' to any one but 
 yourself, I should say, Chevalier, a word 
 if not of apology, at all events of kind- 
 ness, and we will be good friends ; but 
 to you, to a brave soldier just arrived 
 from America, that is to say from a 
 country where they fight so well, I can- 
 not' 
 
 4 And I, to any other,' replied Phi- 
 lippe, ' I would say ; sir, I may in your 
 eyes have the appearance of being 
 wrong ; but to you, to that brave sailor 
 who only the other night was the ad mira- 
 tion of the whole court,from a so glorious 
 feat of arms, to you, Monsieur de Char- 
 ny I can say nothing except, Count do 
 me the honor to draw your sword.' 
 
 The Count bowed and in his turn 
 drew his sword. 
 
 ' Sir,' said Charny, ' I believe that 
 we have neither of us touched upon the 
 real cause of quarrel.' 
 
 4 1 do not understand you, Count,' re- 
 plied Philippe. 
 
 4 Oh ! you understand me, sir, and 
 even perfectly : and as you come from 
 a country where people know not how 
 to utter falsehood, you blushed while 
 saying that you did not understand m.' 
 
 4 Place yourself in guard, sir,' said 
 Philippe. 
 
 Their swords crossed. At the first 
 pass Philippe found that he had a 
 marked superiority over his adversary. 
 But this certainly instead of increasing 
 his ardor, appeared to damp it altogeth- 
 er. That superiority leaving Philippe in 
 possession of all his sangfroid, his style 
 of fencing became as tranquil as if he 
 had been in a mere fencing academy, 
 and that instead of a sword he was 
 holding only a foil in his hand. 
 
 He therefore confined himself to par- 
 rying, and the combat had lasted more 
 than a minute without his 'attempting 
 to give a single thrust. 
 
 4 You are sparing me,' said Charny, 
 May I ask you for what reason ?' 
 
 And making a skillful feint he lunged 
 furiously at Philippe. 
 
 But Philippe wound his sword round 
 his adversaries with a counter more 
 rapid than the feint, and the thrust was 
 parried. 
 
 Although Taverney's parry had 
 thrown Charny's sword completely 
 out of guard, Taverney did not thrust 
 in return. 
 
 Charuy made another lunge which 
 Philippe again warded off but by a sim- 
 ple parry ; Charny was compelled rap- 
 idly to recover himself. 
 
 Charny was the younger of the two, 
 and above all the most ardent ; feeling 
 his own blood boil he was mortified at 
 his antagonist's calmness ; he wished 
 to compel him to become less cool. 
 
 4 1 told you, sir, that we had neither 
 of us touched upon the real cause of 
 this duel.' 
 
 Philippe did not reply. 
 
 ' The real cause then I will now tell 
 you, you sought a quarrel with me, for 
 the quarrel began with you ; you sought 
 to quarrel with me from sheer jea~ 
 lousy^' 
 
 Philippe said not a word. 
 
 * Come now,' said Charny, becoming 
 still more angry in consequence of Phi- 
 lippe's coolness, ' what game are you 
 playing at, Monsieur de Taverney ? Is 
 it your intention to fatigue my hand ? 
 That would be a calculation altogether 
 unworthy of you. Zounds ! kill me if 
 you can, but at least kill me while I am 
 able to defend myself.' 
 
 Philippe shook his head. 
 
 4 Yes, sir,' he replied, 4 the reproach 
 you have addressed to me is deserved. 
 1 sought a quarrel with you, and I am 
 in the wrong.' 
 
 4 That is not the question now, sir ; 
 you have a sword in your hand, and use 
 that sword for something else besides 
 mere parrying ; or. if you will not at- 
 tack better, defend yourself somewhat 
 less.' 
 
 ' Sir,' rejoined Philippe, 4 1 have the 
 honor to tell you a second time, that I 
 have been in the wrong, and that I re- 
 pent of it.' 
 
 But Charny's blood was too much 
 inflamed to comprehend the generosity 
 of his adversary ; he took it as an of- 
 fence. 
 
 4 Ah !' cried he, 4 1 see it now; you 
 wish to play the magnanimous with 
 me. That is it ; am I not right, Chev- 
 alier ? this evening, or to-morrow morn- 
 ing, you calculate on telling some beau- 
 tiful ladies that you came upon the 
 ground with me, and that you spared 
 my life.'
 
 158 
 
 THE C^UEEViS NECKLACE; OK, THE 
 
 Count,' said Philippe, 'I really fear 
 that you are going mad.' 
 
 You wished to kill M. de Cagliostro, 
 in order to please the queen, did you 
 not? And more surely still to please 
 the queen, you wish to kill me also, but 
 by ridicule.' 
 
 1 Ah ! that is a word too much !' cried 
 Philippe, knitting his brow. 'And that 
 word proves to me that your heart is not 
 so generous as I had believed.' 
 
 ' Well ! pierce that heart then,' said 
 Charny, and at the moment his guard 
 was beat aside by a rapid movement, 
 and Philippe made a lunge at him 
 
 The sword glanced along the ribs, 
 and made a long and bleeding furrow 
 beneath the fine linen shirt. 
 
 'At last,' cried Charny, joyfully, 'I 
 am wounded; ' and now, if I should kill 
 you, mine will be the glorious part.' 
 
 ' I now see, decidedly,' said Philippe, 
 ' that you are completely mad, sir; you 
 will not kill me, and your part will be 
 altogether a vulgar one, for you will be 
 wounded without cause and without 
 profit, no one knowing the reason for 
 which we have fought.' 
 
 Charny gave a straightforward thrust, 
 with such rapidity and force, that it was 
 with difficulty Philippe could be in time 
 to parry it, but he did so, and at the 
 same time twisted his sword round that 
 of Charny, and with a vigorous jerk 
 sent it flying ten paces from his adver- 
 sary. 
 
 He instantly rushed after the sword, 
 and snapped the blade by placing his 
 heel upon it. 
 
 ' Monsieur de Charny,' said he, ' it 
 was not necessary to prove to me that 
 you are brave; you must then detest 
 me very heartily to have evinced such 
 ferocious tenacity in fighting with me ?' 
 
 Charny did not reply, but he became 
 paler every moment. 
 
 Philippe looked at him during some 
 econds, awaiting either nn avowal or a 
 denial of this feeling. 
 
 'Come, count,' said he, 'it appears 
 fate has decided that we are to be 
 enemies.' x 
 
 Charny staggered. Philippe rushed 
 towards him to support him ; but the 
 Count pushed back his hand. 
 
 ' I thank you,' said he, ' but I hope 
 I shall be nble to get to my carriage.' 
 
 ' Take this handkerchief, at least, to 
 top the bleeding.' 
 
 Willingly.' 
 
 And ho took the handkerchief. 
 
 ' And my arm, sir; the slightest ob- 
 stacle you may meet with, exhausted , 
 
 as you are, would throw you down, and 
 such a fall would cause you great and 
 needless pain.' 
 
 ' The sword only went through the 
 flesh,' said Charny; I do not feel any 
 pain in the chest.' 
 
 ' So much the better, sir.' 
 
 ' And I hope soon to be quite well.' 
 
 ' So much the better, again, sir. But 
 if you hasten your cure from wishing 
 to re-commence this combat, I fore- 
 warn you that you will find it; difficult 
 to induce me again to become your ad- 
 versary.' 
 
 Charny endeavored to reply, but the 
 words died upon his lips; he again stag- 
 gered, and Philippe had but time to 
 catch him in his arms. 
 
 Then he lifted him from the ground, 
 as he would have done a child, and car- 
 ried him, half fainting, to his carriage. 
 
 It is true that Dauphin, having seen 
 all that had happened, shortened the 
 distance, by hastening to meet his mas- 
 ter. 
 
 They placed Charny in the carriage, 
 who thanked Philippe by an inclination 
 of the head. 
 
 ' Go very gently, coachman,' said 
 Philippe. 
 
 k But you, sir,' murmured the wound- 
 ed man. 
 
 1 Oh ! do not make yourself uneasy 
 aoout me.' 
 
 And bowing in his turn, he closed the 
 carriage door. 
 
 Philippe looked after the carriage as 
 it drove slowly away ; and on its disap- 
 pearing at the corner of an avenue, he 
 himself bent his steps to the road 
 which would bring him most speedily 
 to Paris. 
 
 Then turning round, to look at the 
 carriage for the last time, he observed 
 that instead of returning, as he was 
 about to do, to Paris, it was proceeding 
 in the direction of Versailles, and was 
 soon lost sight of among the trees, he 
 pronounced the following four words, 
 which seemed torn from the recesses 
 of his heart, after much painful medi- 
 tation : 
 
 'She will pity him." 
 
 CHAPTER XXXII. 
 
 THE HOUSE IN THE RUE SAINT-GILLE9. 
 
 AT the gate near the guard-house 
 Philippe found a hackney-coach and 
 jumped into it.
 
 MYSTERIES OF THE COURT OF LOUIS XVI. 
 
 159 
 
 ' Drive to the rue Neuve Saint-Gilles,' 
 aid he to the. coachman, ' and quick- 
 
 iy-' 
 
 A man who has just fought a duel, 
 and has retained a certain conquering 
 ttir ; a man of vigorous form and whose 
 figure altogether bespeaks the noblo- 
 man ; a man dressed as a citizen but 
 whose whole deportment betrays the 
 military man, was more than enough to 
 stimulate the worthy driver, whose 
 whip, although it might not have been 
 like Neptune's Trident, the sceptre of 
 the world was not the less to Philippe 
 a very important sceptre. 
 
 The automaton, at twenty-four sous, 
 therefore devoured time and distance, 
 and set down Philippe, trembling with 
 eagerness at the door of Count de Cag- 
 liostro's hotel in the rue Suint-Gilles. 
 
 The exterior of the hotel was of very 
 simple architecture, its beauty arose 
 from its majestic lines, like most of the 
 buildings constructed in the time of 
 Louis XIV. 
 
 A spacious carriage, to which were 
 attached two good horses, was swinging 
 upon its well formed springs, in a vast 
 court-yard. 
 
 The coachman was sleeping on his 
 box, enveloped in an immense great- 
 coHt lined with blue fox skin ; two 
 footmen, one of whom wore a short 
 hunting sword, were silently pacing up 
 and down the portico. 
 
 With the exception of these moving 
 persons no sign of any living creature 
 could be seen about the hotel. 
 
 Philippe's coachman having been or- 
 dered by him to enter the court-yard, 
 although he drove but a hackney-coach, 
 hailed the Swiss who immediately 
 threw open the massive gates. 
 
 Philippe jumped out, ran up the front 
 steps, and addressing both the servants 
 at once: 
 
 4 The Count de Cagliostro?' said he. 
 
 1 The Count is just going out," replied 
 one of the servants. ' 
 
 'Then there is the greater reason for 
 my haste,' said Philippe, ' for I wish 
 to speak to him before he goes out. 
 Announce the chevalier Philippe de 
 Taverney.' 
 
 And he followed the footman so quick- 
 ly that he reached the saloon as soon as 
 he did. 
 
 'The chevalier de Taverney!' re- 
 peated after the valet a voice that 
 was sonorous and gentle at the same 
 time, 
 
 ' Show him in.' 
 
 Philippe entered the room under the 
 
 influence of a certain degree of emotion 
 which that calm soft voice had excited. 
 
 ' Excuse me, sir,' said the chevalier 
 bowing to a tall man, of more than or- 
 dinary vigor and freshness in his looks 
 and who was no other than the person- 
 age who has successively appeared to 
 us at the table of the marshal de Riche- 
 lieu, in Mesmer's drawing-room, in 
 Mademoiselle Oliva's apartment', and 
 at the opera ball. 
 
 ' Excuse you, sir! and for what?' re- 
 plied he. 
 
 1 Beoause I am preventing your go- 
 ing out.' 
 
 ' It would have been necessary to 
 have excused you, had you come later, 
 chevalier.' 
 
 ' And for what reason ?' 
 
 'Because I was waiting for you.' 
 
 Philippe knit his brows. 
 
 ' How ! you were waiting for me ?' 
 
 ' Yes, I had been forewarned of your 
 visit.' 
 
 ' Of my visit you were forewarned 
 of mine ?' 
 
 1 Why, yes, two hours ago. It must 
 be one or two hours since, that you in- 
 tended coming here; did you not? 
 when an accident, independent of your 
 will, compelled you to defer the execu- 
 tion of that project?' 
 
 Philippe clenched his hands ; he felt 
 that this man was exercising a singular 
 influence over him. 
 
 But he, without in the least perceiv 
 ing the nervous sensations which agl 
 tated Philippe, 
 
 ' Be seated, Monsieur de Taverney, 
 said he, ' I beg of you.' 
 
 And he drew forward an arm-chair 
 placed near the chimney-piece, and 
 presented it to Philippe. 
 
 ' This nrm-chair was placed there for 
 you,' added he. 
 
 . ' A truce to jesting, my lord count,' 
 replied Philippe, in a voice which he 
 endeavored to render as calm as that 
 of his host, but which he could not, 
 however, divest of a certain degree of 
 tremor. 
 
 4 1 do not jest, sir ; I tell you I was 
 expecting you.' 
 
 ' Then a truce to juggling, sir ; if you 
 
 are a conjurer, I did not come here to 
 
 put your science to the test ; if you are 
 
 a sorcerer, so much the bettui for you, 
 
 j for you must then already know what I 
 
 ! have come to sav, and you can before- 
 
 ! hand shelter yourself ' 
 
 4 Shelter myself ' rejoined the count 
 with a singular smile ; 4 shelter myself 
 from what, if you please?' 

 
 
 THE QUEEN'S NECKLACE ; OR, THE 
 
 Divine, since you are a diviner.' 
 
 ' Be it so To do you pleasure, ] 
 will save you the trouble of explaining 
 the motive of your visit you have 
 come here to seek a quarrel with me.' 
 
 4 You know that ?' 
 
 Undoubtedly.' 
 
 'Then you also know on what ac- 
 count?' exclaimed Philippe. 
 
 'On account of the queen. And now, 
 sir, it is your turn. Go on, I am listen- 
 ing to you.' 
 
 And these last words were pronounc- 
 ed no longer in the courteous tone of a 
 host, but in the dry, cold accent of an 
 adversary. 
 
 'You are right, sir,' said Philippe,' 
 and I like it better thus.' 
 
 ' The thing suits marvellously well, 
 then.' 
 
 ' Sir, there exists a certain pam- 
 phlet.' 
 
 ' There are many pamphlets in ex- 
 istence, sir.' 
 
 ' Published by a certain gazetteer ' 
 
 4 There are a great many gazetteers.' 
 
 ' Wait a moment this pamphlet 
 we will speak of the gazetteer by-and- 
 by-' 
 
 Allow me to tell you, sir,' said Cag- 
 liostro interrupting him, and smiling, 
 'that you have already spoken of him.' 
 
 ' Very well ; I was saying then, that 
 there was a certain pamphlet written 
 against the queen.' 
 
 Caglioetro made an affirmative sign. 
 
 You are aware of the existence of 
 this pamphlet ?' 
 
 Yes, sir.' 
 
 ' You have even bought a thousand 
 copies of it ?' 
 
 ' I do not deny it.' 
 
 ' These thousand copies, very for- 
 tunately, have not reached your hands?' 
 
 ' And what leads you to think so, 
 sir?' said Cagliostro. 
 
 'Because I met the messenger who 
 was carrying off this bale of papers; be- 
 cause I paid him ; because I directed 
 him to go with them to my house, 
 where my servant to whom I had given 
 previous directions, must- have received 
 them. 
 
 Why do you not carry out your af- 
 faire yourself till they are finally ac- 
 complished?' 
 
 ' What do you mean to say ?' 
 
 4 1 mean to say that they would then 
 be better done.' 
 
 ' I did not follow my affairs to their 
 fulfilment, because while my servant 
 was occupied in subtracting from 
 jour singular bibliomania these thou- 
 
 sand copies, I was employed in destroy- 
 ing the remainder of the- edition.' 
 
 4 Therefore, you are sure that the 
 thousand copies which were intended 
 for me are now at your own house !' 
 ' I am certain of it.' 
 
 4 And in this you deceive yourself, 
 sir.' 
 
 ' How can that be ?' said Taverney 
 with a painful misgiving, ' and why 
 should they not be there ?' 
 
 ' Why merely because they are here,' 
 replied the Count tranquilly placing his 
 back against the chimney piece. 
 
 Philippe made a threatening gesture. 
 
 ' Ah ! you believe,' said the Count, 
 as phlegmatic as Nestor, ' you believe 
 that I, a diviner as you call me, that I 
 would allow myself to be thus tricked ? 
 You thought it a great idea when you 
 bought over my messenger, did you 
 not ? Well ! I have an intendant, I 
 have, and my intendant had also an 
 idea. I pay him for that, he divined ; 
 it is perfectly natural that the inten- 
 dant of a diviner should divine : he di- 
 vined then that you would go to the 
 gazetteer's office, that you would meet 
 the porter, that you would bribe the 
 porter; he therefore followed him, he 
 threatened to make him return the 
 gold you had given him, the man wa 
 alarmed, and instead of continuing on 
 the road to your hotel, he' followed my 
 intendant here. You doubt it ?' 
 
 ' I do doubt it.' 
 
 ' Vide pedes, vide manua!' said Jesus 
 to St. Thomas. I will say to you, Mon- 
 sieur de Taverney : see this cupboard/ 
 and touch those pamphlets.' 
 
 And saying these words, he opened a 
 sort of oaken wardrobe admirably sculp- 
 tured, and on the principal shelf he 
 showed to the pallid chevalier the thou- 
 sand copies of the pamphlet, still im- 
 pregnated with that faint smell common 
 to damp paper. 
 
 Philippe approached the count ; the 
 latter did not stir, although the attitude 
 of the chevalier was highly threatening. 
 
 ' Sir,' said Philippe to him, you ap- 
 pear to me to be a man of courage ; I 
 call on you to give me satisfaction, 
 sword in hand.' 
 
 ' Satisfaction for what ?' asked Cagli- 
 ostro. 
 
 4 For the insult offered to the queen, 
 an insult of which you render yourself 
 the accomplice, by retaining, were it 
 only one number of this pamphlet.' 
 
 ' Sir,' said Cagliostro, without at all 
 changing his posture, 'you are, in truth, 
 mistaken in a way that gives me pain.
 
 MYSTERIES OF THE COURT OK LOUIS XVI. 
 
 1C1 
 
 I nm fond of novt'liH's, scandalous ru- 
 mors, ephemeral things. I make col- 
 lections, in order that I inny hereafter 
 remember n thousiind things, which, 
 did I not take this precaution, I should 
 forget. I liuvo bought this gazette ; 
 in whitt, then, do you see that I have 
 insulted nny one by j)iirchnsing it?' 
 
 You huve insulted me.' 
 You]' 
 
 Yes, me ! me, sir ; do you under- 
 stand ?' 
 
 No, I do not understand, upon my 
 honor.' 
 
 But how is it -that you persist so 
 strenuously, I nsk you, in keeping such 
 a hideous pamphlet ?' 
 
 4 1 told you before, the mania of col- 
 lecting.' 
 
 4 A man of honor, sir, does not collect 
 eucli infamous works.' 
 
 4 You will excuse me, sir, but I do 
 not concur in your opinion as to your 
 qualification of this work ; it may bo 
 called a pamphlet, but it is not infam- 
 ous.' 
 
 ' You will acknowledge, at least, that 
 it is a lie.' 
 
 There you are again mistaken, sir, 
 for her majesty the queen was at M ea- 
 rner's vat.' 
 
 4 It is false, sir.' 
 
 'Do you pretend to say, sir, that I He?' 
 
 4 1 do not pretend to any so ; but I 
 ay it.' 
 
 4 Well, then ! if it be BO, I will nn- 
 rwer you by a single word : I oaw her 
 there.' 
 
 4 You saw her there ?' 
 
 Philippe looked his interlocutor full 
 in the face. He wished to combat 
 with his frank, noble, ingenuous look, 
 the luminous gaze of Cagliostro ; but 
 the struggle was too fatiguing for him, 
 he turned his eyes away, saying : 
 
 4 Well, then ! I do not the less per- 
 eist in saying that you lie.' 
 
 Cngliostro shrugged his shoulders, ns 
 he would have done had he been insult- 
 ed by a madman. 
 
 4 Do you not hear me?' said Philippe 
 In a hollow tone. 
 
 'On ihe contrary, sir, I have not lost 
 a single word that you have uttered.' 
 
 'Well, eirljdo you not know what 
 the lie thus given deserves?' 
 
 4 Yes, sir.' replied Cagliostro ; 4 there 
 is even a French proverb which says 
 that the lie deserves n box on the ear.' 
 
 Well, then ! there is one thing which 
 surprises me.' 
 
 And what is that?' 
 ' It is not to have seenyonr hand raised 
 21 
 
 to strike me in the face, since yon ore a 
 gentleman since you know iho French 
 proverb.' 
 
 ' Before making me n gentleman nnd 
 teaching me the French proverb, (j'oj 
 made me a mnn and told me to love my 
 fellow creatures.' 
 
 ' Then, sir, you refuse me satifaction, 
 sword in hand.' 
 
 ' I only pay that which I owe.' 
 
 4 Then you shall give me satisfaction 
 in another wny.' 
 
 4 How so?'' 
 
 4 1 will not treat you worse than one 
 of the nobility ought to treat another ; 
 only I shall demand that you will, -in 
 my presence, burn all the copies of 
 the pamphlet which are in that cup- 
 board.' 
 
 4 And I shall refuse to do so.' 
 
 4 Reflect.' 
 
 4 1 have already reflected.' 
 
 ' You will compel me to adopt the 
 same measures with you which I took 
 with the gazetteer.' 
 
 4 Ah ! a beating with a cane,' said 
 Cngliostro, laughing, but standing as 
 motionless as a statue. 
 
 'Neither more nor less, sir. Oh! 
 you will not call your servants, I am 
 sure.' 
 
 'Who, I ! you jest ; and why should 
 I call my servants. It is no concern of 
 theirs ; I can settle my own affairs my- 
 self. I am stronger than you are. You 
 doubt it, but I swear to you it is the 
 case. Therefore, in your turn, reflect. 
 If you should advance upon me with 
 your cane, I would take you by the neck 
 and waistband, and would throw you 
 ten paces from me ; and this, under- 
 stand me clearly, as often as you should 
 attempt to appaoach me.' 
 
 4 An English wrestling match! that 
 is to s"ay, a regular porter's game. 
 Well, be it so, M. Hercules. I accept 
 the challenge.' 
 
 And Philippe, drunk with rage, 
 threw himself upon Caglioatro, who 
 suddenly stretched forth his arms, stiff 
 as two cramp-irons, seized the cheva- 
 lier by the throat and the waistband 
 and threw him upon a pile of thick 
 cushions which formed a divan in one 
 corner of the drawing-room. 
 
 Then after this prodigious effort of 
 strength he agiiin took hid posiuon be- 
 fore the fire-plnce as if nothing hud ' 
 happened. 
 
 Philippe had jumped up pnle nnd 
 fonming with mgo, bi. [lit! reaction of 
 cool reasoning soon restored to him Ilia 
 moral faculties. 

 
 1G2 
 
 THE QUEEN'S NECKLACE; OR, THE 
 
 He adjusted his coat and ruffles, and 
 then in a lugubrious tone, said : 
 
 ' You are in fuel as strong ns ft ur 
 men, sir, but your logic is less powerful 
 than your wrist. In treating me as you 
 have just now done, you had forgotten 
 that vanquished, humiliated as I have 
 been, you have made me nn enemy for- 
 ever and that. I have acquired the right 
 to say, dniw your sword. Count, or 1 
 will kill you.' 
 
 Cngliostro did not stir. 
 
 1 Draw your sword, I tell you, con- 
 tinued Philippe, ' or you are a dead 
 man.' 
 
 ' You are not yet near enough to me, 
 sir, to allow me to treat you as I did be- 
 fore,' replied the Count, 'and I will not 
 xpose myself to being wounded by 
 you, or perhaps killed as was poor Gil- 
 bert.' 
 
 Gilbert!' exclaimed Philippe, start- 
 ing back, ' what name is that you have 
 pronounced ?' 
 
 4 Fortunately this time, you have not 
 a fowling piece, but only a sword ' 
 
 'Sir,' cried Philippe, 'you have ut- 
 tered a name ' 
 
 'Yes, one that has awakened a 
 dreadful echo in your recollections, has 
 it not?' 'Sir." 
 
 ' A name you never expected to hear 
 again, for you were alone with the poor 
 lad in that cavern of the Azores where 
 you assassinated him.' 
 
 4 Oh !' cried Philippe, defend your- 
 self, defend yourself!' 
 
 If you know,' said Cagliostro, look- 
 ing fixedly at Philippe, 'if you knew 
 how easy it it is to me, to make thai; 
 sword fall- from your hand ' 
 
 4 With your own sword ?' 
 
 Yes, with my own sword if I 
 would.' 
 
 4 Well, let us see it then.' 
 
 4 Oh ! I will not risk that, I have a 
 more certain means.' 
 
 ' For the last time, draw your sword 
 or you are a dead man !' cried Philippe 
 springing towards the Count. 
 
 But the latter being this time threat- 
 ened by the sword's point which was 
 scarcely three inches from his breast, 
 threw the contents of a small phial, 
 which he had tnkr-n from his pocket 
 and uncorked, into Philippe's face. 
 
 Scarcely had the liquid touched the 
 cfmvalier than l ie staggered, let fall hia 
 Bword, turned half round and fell upon 
 hi knees ;IM if his \t\*a had lost nil pow- 
 iiipporl i:l:u, ::nd during some 
 (seconds appeared t<i be deprived of con- 
 
 Cagliostro prevented his falling alto- 
 get ier to the ground, supported him, 
 replaced his sword in the scabbard, 
 seated him in an arm-chair, awaited 
 until his reason was perfectly restored, 
 and then continued : 
 
 ' At your age, chevalier,' said he, ' a 
 man should not commir such follies; 
 cease, then, to. be a boy, and listen to 
 me.' 
 
 _ Philippe shook himself, stretched 
 himself to chase away the stupor which 
 had invaded his brain, and murmured, 
 
 'Oh! sir, sir; do you call th-tsi- ihe 
 weapons of a gentleman ?' 
 
 Cagliostro shrugged up his shoulders. 
 
 4 You always repeat the same phrate,' 
 said he; 'when we, members of (he 
 nobility have opened our mouths wide- 
 ly and emitted the word gentleman ! 
 we think that all is said. What do you 
 call the weapons of a gentleman ? Come 
 now, let us hear. Was your fowling- 
 piece, which served you so well against 
 Gilbert, one of them ? What is it that 
 renders men superior to each other? 
 Do you believe that it is the high- 
 sounding word of gentleman ? No. It 
 is, in the first place, reason, then fol- 
 lows strength, and then comes know- 
 ledge. Well, I have employed all these 
 in my struggle with you. With my 
 reason I defied your insults, believing 
 that I should induce you to listen to 
 me. With my strength I defied 3 our 
 strength ; with my knowledge I atoned 
 extinguished your physical and moral 
 strength. It remains for me now to 
 prove to you that you have committed 
 two faults in coining here with threat* 
 upon your lips ; will you do me the ho- 
 nor to listen to me.' 
 
 ' You have annihilated mo,' said Phi- 
 lippe ; ' I canpot move at all ; you have 
 made yourself master of my muscles, 
 even of my thoughts, and then you ask 
 me to listen to you, when I cannot do 
 otherwise.' 
 
 Then Cagliostro look a small gold 
 scent bottle from the hand of a bronze 
 figure of EsculapiuH, standing upon tho 
 mantel-piece : 
 
 'Smell that bottle, chevalier,' said he 
 with diunilird 'jviitlonrsx. 
 
 Philippe obeyed. Tin- vapors which 
 had obscured his intelligence were at 
 once dispelled. and it appeared to him 
 that th<- MID shini-i- o i iv< ry division of 
 his bruin, illumined all the ideas which 
 the}' rontai'h'd. 
 
 'Oh ! T fcnl life renewed," cried he. 
 
 ' And you feol well, that is to nay free 
 and vigorous '' 

 
 MYSTERIES OF THE COURT OF LOUIS XVI. 
 
 163 
 
 Yes.' 
 
 With a perfect recollection ,,'f the 
 past ?' 
 
 * O'i ! yes.' 
 
 4 And, us I hnve to deal with a man 
 of courage, a man of enlightened mind, 
 that memory which has returned to 
 you, gives me every advantage in all 
 that, has taken place between us.' 
 
 1 No :' replied Philippe, ' for I acted 
 *by virtue of a vital, a sacred principle. 
 
 ' What were you doing then ?' 
 
 ' I was defending monarchy.' 
 
 ' You, you defending monarchy?' 
 
 'Yes, I.' 
 
 1 You, a man who went to America 
 to defend' a Republic! Why, good 
 Heaven .' be consistent, . either it was 
 not the Republic you were defending 
 eut yonder, or it is not the monarchy 
 you are upholding here.' 
 
 Philippe cast down his eyes ; an iin- j 
 mense sob almost rived his heart. 
 
 ' Love,' continued Cngliostro, * love 
 those who disclaim you ; love those who 
 forget you ; love those who deceive 
 you, it is the fate of great souls to be 
 betrayed in their great affections ; it is 
 the law of Jesus to return good for evil. 
 You are ^ Christian Monsieur de Ta- 
 verney ." 
 
 Sir,' cried Philippe terrified at hear v 
 ing Cagliostro reading thus the present 
 and the past, ; Say not a word more, 
 for if I wna not defending royalty, I was 
 defending the queen, that is to say, a 
 respectable innocent woman, respectable 
 even were she no longer innocent, for 
 it is the divine law to defend the weak.' 
 
 ' The weak ! you call a qur-en weak .' 
 She, before whom twenty-eight mil- 
 lions of living and thinking beings bend 
 the knee and bow down their heads ? 
 You cannot think so. r 
 
 4 She is calumniated, sir.' 
 
 What know you of ihat ?' 
 It is iny will to believe so.' 
 
 You think it is your right ?' 
 
 Undoubtedly.' 
 
 ' Well then .' my ri^ht is to believe 
 the contrary.' 
 
 4 Yuil lie! IIS ;i[| evil genius-.' 
 
 'And who tell.- \MI *o .' cried Cag- 
 liostro, nli. -, eye- sharpened and sud- 
 denly i> IMiiiippe with their 
 flashes.' \\ hem e comes this audacity 
 on your part to think that you are in 
 the right and that I am in the \vroiin 1 
 Whence pror.ei'iNt his temerity of pre- 
 ferring _> our principle to mine? You 
 defend royalty you; well! if I should 
 be defending allhumnnry? You^aj, 
 render unto Cwmir thm 
 
 Caesar's ; I say to you, render unto God 
 ( that which belongs to God ; Republi- 
 can of America, Knight of the order of 
 Cincinnatus. I call you back to the love 
 of mankind, to the love of equality. 
 You trample upon the people to kiss 
 the hands of queens ; as to myself, I 
 trample queens beneath my feet in or- 
 der to raise the people but one step. I 
 do not trouble you in your adorations, 
 then trouble not me in my good work. 
 I leave to you the broad daylight, the 
 sun of Heaven and the sun of courts; 
 leave then to me shadows and solitude. 
 You comprehend the strength of my 
 argument, do you not as you just now 
 comprehended the strength of my in- 
 dividuality? You said die thou, who 
 hast insulted the object of my worship. 
 I say to you : Live thou who hast com? 
 bated my adoration, and if I say this to 
 you, it is because I feel myself so strong 
 backed by my principle that neither you 
 nor yours, whatever efforts you may 
 make, can for a single moment retard 
 my onward march.' 
 
 ' Sir, you terrify me,' said Philippe ; 
 ' I am now perhaps the first in all this 
 country, and thanks to you, to catch a 
 glimpse of the abyss towards which roy 
 alty is hurrying.' 
 
 Then if you have seen the preci- 
 pice, be prudent.' 
 
 You who tell me this,' replied Phi- 
 lippe, moved by the paternal tone in 
 which Cagliostro had spoken, ' you who 
 reveal to me such dreadful secrets, you 
 are still wanting in generosity, for you 
 well know that 1 shall throw myself into . 
 the gulf rather than see i hose whom I 
 defend fall into it.' 
 
 ' Well, then, I shall have warned you 
 of it, and, like Tiberius' prefect, shall 
 wash my hands, Monsieur de Taver- 
 ney.' 
 
 ' Well, then!' said Philippe, running 
 lowards Cagliostro with feverish ardor, 
 I who am weak and inferior to you, I 
 will employ the weapons of the feeble : 
 I will approach you with a tearful eye, 
 a trembling voice, and clasped hands ; I 
 will supplicate you to grant me, for this 
 once at least, pardon for those you are 
 pursuing. I will ask you for myself, 
 for me, do you understand for me, 
 who cannot, 1 know not why, habituate 
 myself to consider you us an enemy. I 
 will work upon your feelings, in order 
 that you should not leave to me the re- 
 mon-e of having witnessed the full of 
 this poor queen, without having conjur- 
 ed it. In short sir, 1 .-.hall prevail upon 
 c.ii. ibali 1 not. '<t destro thht
 
 164 
 
 THE QU0EN'S NECKLACE; OR, THE 
 
 phlet, which would en use a womnri to 
 shad bitter tears; this I will ubtain 
 from you, or by my honor, by that fiitul 
 passion of which you are so well in- 
 formed, I swear to you, thnt with this 
 sword, so useless when directed gfl!ite| 
 you, I will pierce my heart hero at your 
 feet.' 
 
 ' Ah ." murmured Cagliostro, looking 
 at Philippe with eyes replete with elo- 
 quent sorrow. ' Ah ! why arc they not 
 all as you are, I should be on their side, 
 and then they would not perish. 1 
 
 'Sir, sir, I entreat you, reply to my 
 request,' supplicated Philippe. 
 
 1 Count them,' said C-igliostro after a 
 thort pause ; ' see thnt the thousand co- 
 pies are all there, and burn them every 
 one yourself, even to the lust-' 
 
 Philippe felt his heart rushing to his 
 lips ; he ran to the wardrobe, took out 
 the pamphlets, threw them into the 
 fire, and grasping the hand of Cngliostro. 
 with the most fervent gratitude, 
 
 ' Adieu ! adieu, sir !' said he, ' a hun- 
 dred times L thank you for that which 
 you have done for me.' 
 
 And he left the room. 
 
 I owed to the brother,' said Cngli- 
 otro, as he saw him withdraw, 'this 
 compensation for that which the sister 
 suffered.' 
 
 Then raising his voice, he cried, 
 
 1 My horses !' 
 
 CHAPTER xxxrn. 
 
 THE HEAD or THE DE TAVERZfET 
 FAMILY. 
 
 these things were occurring 
 In the rue Neuve-Saint-Gillee, M. de 
 Taverney the elder was walking in his 
 garden at Versailles, followed by two 
 luckies pushing a wheeled chair. 
 
 In these days there w^ro at Versailes 
 and perhaps they are still existing, some 
 of those old mansions with Frt^nch gar- 
 dens, which from a servile imitation of 
 the taste and ideas of the sovereign, 
 represented in uiininture the Versailles 
 of Le Notre and of Mansard. 
 
 Several courtiers, who must have tak- 
 en M. de la Feuillade for their model, 
 had constructed diminutive subterranean 
 hot houses for orange trees, sheets"^ 
 witter wh-.-'i :;;> culled Swiss lakes, 
 and baths* {' Apollo. 
 
 They h i .ilso their ecu 
 honor, ami t! KM r Triarions ; :rnd ill rhi? 
 on a scale five mm-lr. 
 
 I the originals ; each pond was repre- 
 sented by n ]>iiil of water. 
 
 M. de Taverney had done as rnnch 
 since H. M. Louis XV hud adopted the 
 Trianons- His house ar. VersaillBS had 
 its Trianons, its orchards and its flower- 
 beds. Since H. M. Louis XVI hnd 
 taken a fancy to locks mtth's shops nd 
 turning lathes, M. de Taverney hnd 
 furnaces, mid shavings. Since Marie 
 Antoinette had drawn plans of English 
 gardens, artificial rivers, meadows and 
 Swiss chalets, M. de Tavernny had in 
 one corner of his garden constructed a 
 little Trianon large enough for a doll's 
 house and a river fit only for young 
 ducks. 
 
 However, r.t the moment in which we 
 now find him he had l-een for home 
 hwurs basking in the sun-shine, in the 
 only avenue laid out in the grandiose 
 times of Louis XIV that now remained 
 to him. It was an avenue of lindoc 
 trees with their long red suckers, like 
 iron wires just issuing from the fire. 
 
 He was walking very gently, hi 
 hands in his mult', and every five min- 
 utes, the chair pushed on by the two 
 servants, was wheeled up to him, that 
 he might repose himself after his exer- 
 cise. 
 
 He was enjoying this repase and 
 blinking in the strong sun-shine, when 
 a porter came running from the house 
 calling out, 
 
 4 The cheyalier de Tavernoy.' 
 
 ' My son !' exclaimed the old man 
 with joyful pride. 
 
 Then turning round and perceiving 
 Philippe who followed the porter, 
 
 ' My dear chevalier,' said he. 
 
 And with a gesture he dismissed the 
 servants. 
 
 1 Come here, Philippe, come here,' 
 he continued, ' you have arrived most 
 timely, for my mind is full of joyous 
 ideas. But what a strange face you 
 put on you are out of humor.' 
 
 1 Who, I, sir, not at all.' 
 
 1 You have already heard the result 
 of the affair?' 
 
 'Of what affair/' 
 
 The old man turned round as if to 
 ascertain if any one were listening. 
 
 You may speak on sir,' said the che- 
 valier. we arc (|uite alone.' 
 
 4 I am speaking to you of the affair at 
 the ball.' 
 
 1 understand yon still less.' 
 at the, opera.' 
 
 Philippe blu-lt-d, the cunning old 
 
 1 it. 
 Iiupi^H.-:; 1 fellow,' -aid ln% 'yon
 
 MYSTERIES OF THE COURT OF LOUIS XVI. 
 
 165 
 
 act lilto fin unskilful sen man. who, nn 
 soon as ho lias a favorable wind, looses 
 every anil. Come now, sit down thorn 
 on tliar bench and listen to my nionil 
 precepts; I have soino good ones.' 
 1 Hut, sir. in short ' 
 
 In short, sir, you nre too audacious, 
 you who were formerly so timid, sode- 
 lirate, so reserved, now on tlie coatniiy 
 yon expose her to remarks.' 
 
 Philippe rose from hia scat. 
 
 Of whom arc you pleased to speak, 
 sir ?' 
 
 Why, of hor, by henven ! of lier.' 
 
 And who do you mean by her?' 
 
 4 H.I ! ha ! you think I have not heard 
 of yovr runawny pranks, unit both going 
 to I lie opera a pretty nflitir, truly.' 
 
 Sir, I protest to you ' 
 
 Come now, do not get angry ; what 
 I am telling you is for your good. Why, 
 you take no sort of precaution, and you 
 will be caught one of these days the 
 dense ! you were seen with her at the 
 ball this lime, and you will be seen 
 with her somewhere else another time.' 
 
 4 I was seen ?' 
 
 Assuredly. Had you or had you 
 not a blue domino ?' 
 
 Taverney was about to protest that 
 he had not a blue domino, and that peo- 
 ple were mistaken, but it ia repugnant 
 to some natures to defend themselves 
 in certain delicate circumstances; those 
 only defend themselves energetically 
 who know that they are beloved, and 
 that, by defending themselves, they are 
 rendering service to ihe friend with 
 whom they are accused. 
 
 4 But of what use would it be,' thought 
 Philippe, to explain matters to my fa- 
 ther. Besides, I wish to be informed of 
 all that lias been said.' 
 
 He bowed his head like a culprit ac- 
 knowledging his fault. 
 
 You see, then,' said the old man 
 triumphantly, ' that you were recog- 
 nized ; I knew that I was right. In 
 fact, M. de Richelieu, who has a great 
 affection for you, and who was at that 
 ball, despite his eighty-four years, M. 
 de Richelieu puzzled himself to disco- 
 ver who could be the blue domino whose 
 arm the queen was leaning on, nnd he 
 could not find any one to suspect but 
 you; for ho had seen all the others. 
 and you know his great perspicuity.' 
 
 That 1 may have been suspected,' 
 said Philippe, coldly", I can very well 
 conceive, but that the queen shouM 
 have been locoguized ia more extraor- 
 dinary.' 
 
 It must huvo boon difficult to rccog- 
 
 ni/.o her, truly, since she onmnsked. 
 Oil ! that, do you see, surpasses all ima- 
 gination. Such audacity ! That wo- 
 man must be madly in love with you. 1 
 
 Philippe blushed. To continue the, 
 conversation any farther would have 
 been impossible. 
 
 ' W that was not nudaciry,' continued 
 old de Taverney, ' it must have been a 
 very unfortunate chance. Take cnr, 
 chevalier, for there are jealous eyes 
 upon you, and such as are to be feared. 
 It is an envied post, that of the favorito 
 of a queen, when ihe queen is, in fact, 
 more powerful t.liun the king himself.' 
 
 And Taverney senior r.ook a pinch of 
 snuli; which he inhaled with lengthen- 
 ed satisfaction. 
 
 4 You will forgive me for my sermon, 
 will you not, chevalier ? Forgive it, ray 
 dear son. I feel quite grateful towards 
 you, and I would prevent the breat'.i of 
 chance from demolishing the scaffold- 
 ing which you have raised so skilfully.' 
 
 Philippe rose, perspiring at every 
 pore, his handy clenched. He wished 
 to get away, to break oiTthis conversa- 
 tion, and with the same species of joy 
 with which he would have broken the 
 vertebra of n serpent, but one feeluag 
 made him pause, a feeling of painful 
 curiosity, one of those furious desires 
 to ascertain the worst, u pitiless sting 
 which constantly lacerates those heart* 
 which overflow with love. 
 
 4 1 was telling you, then, that people 
 are envious ot us,' rejoined the old 
 man, 4 that is quite natural. However, 
 we have not yet reached the summit lo 
 which you are raising ue. To you be- 
 longs Ihe glory of elevating the name of 
 Taverney above its humble source 
 Only, be prudent, if not \VH shall never 
 attain it, and your designs will miscarry 
 altogether. That would indeed be a 
 pity, for, in truth, we nre advancing 
 well.' 
 
 Philippe turned away iu order to con- 
 ceal tho deep disgust, the bilter con- 
 tempt which at that moment imparted 
 to his features an expression which 
 would have astonished, perhaps, teiri- 
 lied his father. 
 
 4 In a short limu you wili ask fur some 
 great office,' pursued the old man, be- 
 coming animated ; ' you will Lav con- 
 ferred on me a king's lieutenancy, ia 
 some province not loo far from Pxria. 
 After this, you wi 1 have Tuveriioj 
 Maieon Rouge en-clod into a peerage. 
 You will have mi: include 1 in tin; first 
 promo ion of iho order. You, yourself 
 may bo u duke, puer and lioutonaut-
 
 166 
 
 THE QUEEN'S NECKLACE; OR, THE 
 
 general. In two years, for I shall live 
 as long as that, you will obtain for 
 me 
 
 'Enough! enough!' groaned Phi- 
 lippe. 
 
 Oh ! if nil this sntisfies you, it does 
 not me. You have a whole lite before 
 you, I have scarcely a few inonfhs ; 
 and these few months must repay me 
 for the sorrowful and miserable past. 
 But. I have no reason to complain. God 
 bus given me two children, and that is 
 much for a man without fortune. But 
 if my daughter has remained utterly 
 useless to our house, you make amends. 
 You are the architect of the temple. I 
 see in you the great Taverney, the he- 
 ro! You inspire me with respect, and 
 that is something. It is true that your 
 conduct with the court, is admirable. 
 Oh ! 1 huve never yet seen any thing 
 more skilful.' 
 
 ' How !' cried the young man, uneasy 
 at finding his conduct approved by this 
 serpent. 
 
 ' Your mode of conduct is superb ; 
 you do not, show any signs of jealousy. 
 You. in appearance, leave the field free 
 to every one, but you maintain your 
 own position in reality. That is veiy 
 profound, and shows great observation.' 
 
 'I do not understand you,' said Phi- 
 lippe, more and more annoyed. 
 
 - No modesty, if you please. It is 
 word for word the conduct of Potemkin 
 wh'i astonished all the world by hi? suc- 
 
 FL" * r iw that Catherine was fond 
 of variety in her amours ; when left at 
 liber. y she would flutter from flower to 
 flower, bul return always to the most 
 fruitful ani the handsomest; but if 
 pursued n)ie would have flown out of all 
 rc'ich. He therefore made up his mind 
 to it. It WHS he who rendered more 
 agreeable to the Empress, the new fa- 
 vo riic upon whom she cast her eyes. 
 It war-, lie. who, setting forth their good 
 qualities on the one side, was careful to 
 leave a vulnerable point by which he 
 could attack them. It was lie who al- 
 lowed the sovereign to be fatigued with 
 tin sr transitorypnssione, instead of sa- 
 tia in^ her as to his own powers of 
 pleasing. B\ preparing the epheme- 
 ral reign of these favorite-, which were 
 Ironically called the twelve Caesars, 
 Potemkin rendered his own reign eter- 
 nal, indestructible.' 
 
 ' But these are incomprehensible in- 
 famies.' miii-im-red Louis Philipp--. a/.- 
 ing at hi- father with perfect stupefac- 
 tion. The old man continued with im- 
 puriurble calmness. * 
 
 ' According to the system of Potem- 
 kin, you have committed a slight fault. 
 He did not eo completely abandon all 
 description of precaution. And you 
 you are too careless. I kno'w well that 
 French policy is not Russian policy.' 
 
 Upon these words, which were pro- 
 nounced with a cunningness of expres- 
 sion which would have baffled the most 
 experienced diplomatist, Philippe, who 
 thought his father was raving, replied 
 merely by a shrug of the shoulders, 
 which was anything but respectful. 
 
 ' Yes, yes,' cried the old man eager- 
 ly, ' you think I have not divined your 
 plan : but you shall see.' 
 
 ' Well, eir, let us see.' 
 
 Taverney crossed his arms. 
 
 ' Will you tell me that you do not 
 raise your successor ' 
 
 ' My successor r said Philippe, turn- 
 ing pale. 
 
 ' Will you pretend to tell me that 
 you do not know the tenacity of the 
 amorous propensities of the queen, 
 when once she is possessed by them ; 
 and that foreseeing a change in her af- 
 | fections, you do not wish to be com- 
 pletely sacrificed thrown oft', and 
 which always happens with the queen, 
 for she cannot at the same time love 
 the present, and endure the past.' 
 
 ' You are speaking Hebrew, my lord 
 Baron !' 
 
 The old rnan began to laugh again 
 with that ringing and demoniacal laugh, 
 which made Philippe shudder, as it had 
 been the summons of an evil genius. 
 
 ' You would wish me to believe that 
 your tactic is not that of standing well 
 witli M. de Charny T 
 
 * Charny 1' 
 
 ' Yes. your future successor. The 
 man who. when he shall reign, cnn have 
 you exiled, as you might now cause 
 1. 1 be exiled Messrs de Coigny, Van- 
 dreuil and others.' 
 
 Tlie blood rushed violently to Phi- 
 lippe's temples. 
 
 ' Enough !' cried he again. ' enough ! 
 sir: I am. in truth, ashamed that I 
 should have so long listened to you. 
 He who assert * that the Queen of 
 France Is a MessftHne. that man, sir, is 
 a criminal calumniator.' 
 
 1 That's right ! very right ! you p : ay 
 your part admirably; but I can assure 
 you that nobody can hear us.' 
 
 01.!' 
 
 A fid ,is to Charny, you see that I 
 
 en lliroiiiih you, skilful as you 
 
 To divine things, runs in th6 
 
 : the Tnverneya. Go on, Phi-
 
 
 MYSTERIES OF T11K COUJtT OF LOUIS XVI. 
 
 I 
 
 flu!ter, moilitv- console 
 Assist him 
 
 167 
 
 lippe, go ou 
 
 your Charny. Assisi him to pass on 
 gently, and without asperity, from the 
 state of a building plant till he becomes 
 u full-blown flower; and be assured 
 th.it he is a gentleman who by his favor 
 will recompense you for all you may 
 have done fur him.' 
 
 And after uttering these words, old 
 d>' Vuvrrney, quite proud of this exhi- 
 bition of his perspicuity, gave a sort of 
 capricious pirouette, as if he had still 
 tu-fit ;i young man in the full insolence 
 of prosperity. 
 
 Philippe seised him furiously by the 
 sleeve, and stopped his pirouette. 
 
 Oh ! that is what you mean.' said 
 
 sister ; and I who thought him cured. 
 Oh ! there is but one head in ray family, 
 and that is mine.' 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIV. 
 
 THE COURT OK PROVENCE'S 
 
 WHILE these events were occurring 
 at Paris and at Versailles, the king, 
 tranquil as usual', since he knew that 
 his fleets had been victorious, and win- 
 ter conquered, was reposing iu his pri- 
 vate cabinet, surrounded by charts and 
 maps of every description, and small 
 
 tu- ; really, sir, your logic is- mosl ad- models of machinery, and wasjus'tthink- 
 mirable,.' 1 ing of tracing on the charts the course 
 
 pursuer! by Laperouse's vessels, when 
 a slight, tap at the door aroused him 
 from his re very, somewhat excited by 
 a collation he had partaken of. 
 
 At that: moment a voice was heard. 
 ' May I come in, brother ?' said the' 
 
 I have guessed aright, and you are 
 ungry with me .' Pooh ! you will par- 
 don rne, if it were only for my good in- 
 tention. Besides, I like Charny. and 
 am right glad that you have conducted 
 yourself so well towards him.' 
 
 Your M. de Charny is so much my 
 favorite just now, my minion, my bird j 'The Count de Provence, mid most 
 
 who lam training, that, but a few hours 
 ago, I passed a foot of this good I) hide 
 between his ribs.' 
 
 And Philippe showed his sword to his 
 father. 
 
 'How !' cried old de Taverney, terri- 
 fied at the sight of his flashing eyes 
 and -at the intelligence of this warlike 
 incident, 'did you not say that yon had 
 fought with M. de Charny ?' 
 
 'And that 1 spitted him, yes.' 
 
 Good Heaven !' 
 
 ' That is my mode of caressing, mol- 
 lifying, aud standing well with my suc- 
 cessors,' added Philippe, ' and now that 
 you are acquainted with it, apply your 
 theory to my practice.' 
 
 And he made a despairing eliort to 
 get away. The old man" clung to his 
 arm. 
 
 Philippe ! Philippe ! tell me that 
 you were only jesting.' 
 
 Call it a jest, if you please, but it is 
 doueV 
 
 The old man raised his eyes to hea- 
 V.MI. mumbled some incoherent words, 
 and. leaving his son, ran to his ante- 
 
 Quick ! quick !' cried he, ' a man on 
 horseback ; let him ride instantly to the 
 house of M. de Charny, who has beu 
 wounded ; le? him impure- after the, 
 state of his health, nmt let him not for- 
 get to say tlnit lie comes from 
 
 That tr.iitor, Philippu!' CM \> .: 
 returmug. * is he not 
 
 unwelcomely,' muttered the king, push- 
 ing from him an enormous volume on 
 astronomy. 
 
 ' Come in !' said he. 
 
 A stout, short, red-faced person, with 
 sparkling eyes, entered the room, in a 
 manner too respectful for a brother, too 
 familiar for a subject. 
 
 ' You did not expect me, brother,' 
 said he. 
 
 1 Indeed I did not.' 
 
 Do I interrupt you ?' 
 
 No ; but have you any tiling inte- 
 resting to say to me ?' 
 
 A rumor that is so droll, so gro- 
 tesque ' 
 
 ' Ah! ha ! some calumny.' 
 
 It is so really, my brother.' 
 
 Which has amused you ?' 
 
 ' Oh ! yes. on account of it* singu- 
 larity . ' 
 
 ' Some villiiinouH ttiick against me?' 
 4 God if my witness that I should not 
 laugh if that had been the case.' 
 ' It is against the queen, then ?' 
 'Sire, only imagine for a moment 
 tha; 1 have been told, and very serious- 
 ly too, that but I will give yon n hun- 
 dred, ay! a thousand time* to gueft*. 
 what has been told me.' 
 
 ' Brother, since my preceptor pointed 
 out to me thi* npecins of oniforici.l pre- 
 paration in Madame de S.-vegne, us a 
 pntti-n of good style. I no long, r tul- 
 ini e it But. to the furl. 
 
 . -iiy brother.' Haid the.
 
 168 
 
 THE QUEEN'S NECKLACE; OR, THE 
 
 Count do Provence, somewhat taken 
 nback liy the kind's harsh manner, I 
 \V)is told that the queen slept out the 
 oilier night. Hu ! hu !' 
 
 And lie pretended to laugh henrtily. 
 
 'Tliiit would be most unfortunate, 
 were it true,' said the king gravely. 
 
 4 Hut it is not true, is it, brother .'' 
 
 No.' 
 
 1 It is not true either, that the queen 
 was seen waiting at tho gate, by the 
 Reservoir ?' 
 
 4 No.' 
 
 4 That night, j'ou know, when you 
 ordered the gate to be closed ut eleven 
 o'clock.' 
 
 1 I do not know.' 
 
 Well then, brother, the rumor sta- 
 ted ' 
 
 4 What is this rumor ? where is it ? 
 what is it .'' 
 
 4 That is deep reasoning brother, 
 very deep. In tact, \Yhat is rumor ? 
 well then this impalpable, incomprehen- 
 sible being, who is called rumor, pre- 
 tends the queen was seen walking arm 
 in arm, on that very night, with the 
 Count d'Artois, at half-past 12 o'clock. 
 
 Where ?' 
 
 4 Going to a house which belongs to 
 M. d'Afteis, yonder, behind the stables. 
 HUB not your Majesty heard something 
 oil this enormity ?' 
 
 4 Oh! yes, well brother, I have heard 
 of it, it could not be otherwise-.' 
 
 ' How, Sire ?' 
 
 4 Yes, did you not do something, iu 
 order Hint I might hear, of it ?' 
 
 Who, I ?' 
 4 You.' 
 
 Whut hnve T done then, sire ?* 
 
 You wrote a quutntiit, which ap- 
 peared in the Mercure.' 
 
 4 A quatrain !' cried the Count, whose 
 face assumed a deeper tinge than when 
 lie entered the room. 
 
 4 You were born u favorite of the 
 muses.' 
 
 4 Not to such an excess ns to' 
 
 1 As to make a stanza, which fmiithe 
 with this line.' 
 
 4 Of thia Helen said not a -word to 
 good Tting Mcnelaus * 
 
 Who, I sire ?' 
 
 4 Do not deny it, here is the ori-jinnl 
 of i ho quatrain, your own hand writing. 
 Hey ! 1 know but little of poetry, but 
 ns to penmanship, I am a perfect 
 judo.' 
 
 1 Sire, one folly leads to- another.' 
 
 4 M. de 1'rovem-e, I can assure you 
 llmt you iilone have been guilty of 
 folly, .and 1 urn astonished thu! a philo- 
 
 : sopher should have committed such A 
 folly. Let us apply this qualification to 
 your quuiraiu.' 
 
 4 Your Majesty, sire, is harsh, to- 
 wards me.' 
 
 4 It is simply retaliation. Instond of 
 writing your quatrain, you might, have 
 taken the trouble to inquire what the 
 queen had really done. I did so^wisd 
 instead of writing n quatrain ngainst 
 her, and consequently against me, you 
 would have written an ode in praise of 
 your sister. Uutyou may say, the subject 
 does not inspire you, however, I far 
 prefer a badly written epistle, to a clever 
 satire. Horace also said this ; Horace, 
 your favorite poet, 
 
 4 Sire, you overwhelm me." 
 . 4 Had you not been as firmly pereund- 
 ed of the queen's innocence ns I am, 
 added the king firmly, 4 you would have 
 dune well to read your Horace onca 
 more. Was it not he who wrote those 
 beautiful words you will excuse my 
 murdering the latin :' 
 
 4 KcctiuS hoc cst ; 
 
 Hoc facicns vivain mclius, sic. dulci* 
 amicis 
 
 Orcurram.' 
 
 4 That is more righteous ; doing thnt, 
 I shall lead a better life, and render my- 
 self acceptable to my friends.' 
 
 4 You would translate this more ele- 
 gantly, brother, but I believe that to b 
 the sense.' 
 
 And the good king, after having given 
 this lesson rather us a father than a bro- 
 ther, awaited, expecting that the cul- 
 prit would have said something to justify 
 his conduct. 
 
 The count meditated his reply during 
 some moments, leas as a man confused 
 by a, discovery thwn as an orator who 
 is seeking for elegant and delicate 
 phrases. 
 
 4 Sire,' mid he, 4 however severe 
 may be the decree of your majesty, I 
 have a plea in excuse, and a hope of 
 pardon.' 
 
 4 Say on, brother.' 
 
 4 You accuse me of having been mis- 
 taken, do you not, sire; uud not of any 
 evil intention ?' 
 
 4 Agreed.' 
 
 4 If it be BO, your majesty knows full 
 well thnt not a mnn exists who in not 
 sometimes mistaken, your majesty will 
 at once admit that my mistake was not 
 without mime foundation.' 
 
 4 I will never accuse your under- 
 ttuidiug, which is great and superior, 
 brother.' 
 
 Woll, sire, how could I bo other* 

 
 MYSTERIES OF THE COURT OF LOUIS XVI. 
 
 1G9 
 
 wise thnn mistaken, hearing nil the re- 
 ports that lire current ? We, princes, 
 live in an atmosphere of calumny and 
 nr impregnated by it. I do not 8113-, 
 thnt 1 believed ; I say that I was told.' 
 
 4 That is as it should be, since it is 
 thus, but ' 
 
 1 The quatrain? Oh! poets are strange 
 beings ; and besides, is it not better to 
 warn by a gen le critic ism, which wy 
 produce a good effect, than by a frown- 
 ing brow ? Warnings, when given in 
 verse, do not offend, sire ; they are not 
 like pamphlets, on the subject of which 
 your majesty has often been urged to 
 adopt coercive measures. Pamphlets 
 like the one which I have come here to 
 show you.' 
 
 A pamphlet ." 
 
 ' Yes, sire ; I must request nn order 
 for the immediate sending to the l>as- 
 tille of the* miserable author of this vile 
 work.' 
 
 The king rose abruptly. 
 
 ' Let us see it,' said ho. 
 
 I know not whether I ought, sire.' 
 
 ' Certainly, you ought ; there should 
 be no concealment in such circum- 
 stances. Have you the pamphlet <' 
 
 Yes, sire.' 
 
 Give it to me.' 
 
 And the Count de Provence drew 
 from his pocket n copy of the story of 
 Etteniotna, a fatal copy which the cane 
 ot Charny, the sword of Philippe, and 
 the fire ut Count Cagliostro's hud not 
 been able te destroy. 
 
 The king glanced over the pamphlet 
 with the rapidity of n man accustomed 
 to seize nt once the interesting para- 
 graphs in a newspaper or a book. 
 
 ' Infamy ! infamy." he exclaimed. . 
 
 ' You ?ee, sire, it is pretended that 
 my sister has been to Mesmer's.' 
 
 Well ! tlu.t is true, she has been 
 there.' 
 
 4 She has been there ." exclaimed the 
 Count de Provence. 
 
 ' And authorized by me.' 
 
 Oh ! sire." 
 
 ' And it is not from her presence 
 there that I draw any presumption 
 against her prudence, since I myself 
 permitted her to go to the Place Ven- 
 dome.' 
 
 Your majesty surely did not mean 
 to allow the queen to approach live 
 vat, that she might herself experience 
 the' 
 
 The king stamped his foot. The 
 count happened to utter these words 
 precisely at the moment when the eyes 
 of Louis XVI were running over the 
 
 22 
 
 most insulting paragraph against Marie 
 Antoinette; the story of her pretended 
 cries, her contortion*, (if her voluptuous 
 disorder of nil, in nhort, that had hap- 
 pened to Mademoiselle Olivu while in 
 Mesmer's house. 
 
 ' Impossible ! impossible !' exclaimed 
 the king, who. had become very pule. 
 'Oh ! the police must be well informed 
 upon this head.' 
 
 He rang the bell. 
 
 M. do Crosne,' cried he, ' let somo 
 one go instantly for M. de Crosne.* 
 
 Sire,' replied the usher, ' this is the 
 day for the weekly report, and M. do 
 Crosne is waiting in the Ocil ilc J3ocuf,' 
 
 Let him come in.' 
 
 4 Permit me, brother,' said the Count 
 do Provence, in a hypocritical tone. 
 
 And he made u movement as if to 
 leave the room. 
 
 4 Remain here,' said Louis XVI. If 
 the queen be really guilty, you, sir, na 
 one of the family, may know it. ; if inno- 
 cent, you ought to know that also, since, 
 you have suspected Uer.' 
 
 M. de Crosne entered the room. 
 
 That magistrate seeing M. de Pror- 
 ence with the king, began by present 
 ing his respectful homage to the two 
 highest personages of the kingdom. 
 
 4 The report is ready, sire,' said he. 
 
 4 Before all, sir,' snid Louis XVI, 
 4 explain to us how it happens that such, 
 an infamous pamphlet against the queen 
 can have been published at Paris.' 
 
 4 Etteniotim ?' said M. de Crosne. 
 
 Yes.' 
 
 Well, sire, it is by a gazetteer, whose 
 name is Reteau.' 
 
 4 Oh ! yes, you know his name, and 
 you have not either prevented him 
 from publishing it. or caused him to be 
 arrested after its publication.' 
 
 4 Sire, nothing could have been more 
 easy than to have arrested him ; I will 
 even show your majesty the order for 
 his imprisonment already prepared and 
 in my portfolio.' 
 
 4 Then, why has the arrestation not 
 been effected ?' 
 
 M. de Crosne turned towards M. de 
 Provence. 
 
 1 take iry leave of your majesty,' 
 said the latter. 
 
 4 No, no,' replied the king ; 4 1 told 
 you to remain ; therefore remain.' 
 
 The count bowed. 
 
 4 Speak, M. de Crosno ; speak frank- 
 ly and without reservation;' spunk 
 i learly and quickly.' 
 
 4 Well then, this is the case,' replied 
 thu lieutenant of police ; 1 did tiol or-
 
 TMK QiJ BEN'S NECKLACK; OK, TIM! 
 
 17.0 
 
 der the immediate urrest of this Reteau, 
 the gazetteer, because it was of the 
 - 1 importance that I should, be- 
 fore taking such a step, have an expla- 
 nation with your majesty.' 
 4 It is what I most desire.' 
 
 Perhaps, sire, it would be better to 
 give this gazetteer a bag of money, and 
 let him go to a great distance and get 
 himself handed there, if he pleases.' 
 
 4 And tor what reason ?' 
 
 ' Because, sire, when these wretches 
 write positive lies, the public, when this 
 is proved. is highly delighted on seeing 
 them whipped, their ears cut off, or 
 even hanged. But when unfortunately, 
 they happen to tell the truth ' 
 
 'The truth?' 
 
 M. de Crosne bowed. 
 
 4 Yes, I know it. The queen did 
 actually go to Mesmer's vat. That she 
 did go there, is a misfortune as you 
 have said ; but 'I had given her per- 
 mission.' 
 
 4 Oh ! sire.' murmured M. de 
 Crosne. 
 
 This exclamation coming from a 
 respectful subject, struck the king's 
 ear more painfully, than when it had 
 been uttered by the envious relation. 
 
 'The queen,, is not I imagine lost on 
 that account.' said the king. 
 
 4 No, sire ; hut compromised.' 
 
 4 Tell me now, M. de Crosne, what 
 has your police siiid upon the subject ?' 
 
 4 Sire, many things, which saving the 
 respect which 1 owe to your majesty, 
 8itvi'!u r the very respectful adoration I 
 profess towards the queen, are in ac- 
 cordance with some of the allegations 
 contained in the pamphlet.' 
 
 4 In accordance do yon say ?' 
 
 In the following points, a queen of 
 France who goes attired as a woman of 
 low rank amid n crowd of persons of all 
 descriptions, attracted by the magnetic 
 extravagancies- of Mesmer, and who 
 goes there alone ' 
 
 Alone !' exclaimed the king. 
 4 Yes, sire.' 
 
 4 Y<>n arc mistaken, M. de Crosne.' 
 4 1 do not think so, sire.' 
 
 Vntir reports are incorrect.' 
 
 s > precise, sire, that I can give you 
 ?. description of the dress her majesty 
 wore, of her general appearance, her 
 
 t her gestures, her cries.' 
 
 H-'f cries !' 
 
 The king turned pnleand crushed the 
 pamphlet in his hand. 
 
 ilcrst.hs OVMII were noted down 
 by my u^-uts, 1 timidly added M. de 
 Cl'OBQ 
 
 4 Her sighs !' Can the queen have 
 forgotten herself so far as that. Can 
 she have held so cheaply my honor as a 
 king, her honor as a woman ?' 
 
 4 It is impossible,' said the Count de 
 Provence ; 4 it would be more than scan- 
 dalous, and her majesty is incapable ' 
 
 This phrase was heaping up accusa- 
 tion rather than an excuse. The king 
 felt it; and all this was most repugnant 
 to him. 
 
 4 Sir,' said he to the lieutenant of po- 
 lice, 4 do you maintain all that you have 
 said?' 
 
 ' Alas .' sire, every word of it.' 
 
 4 1 owe it to you, brother,' said Louis 
 XVI, wiping from his forehead the 
 perspiration which was streaming from 
 it, 4 1 owe it to you to prove what I have 
 advanced. The honor of the queen is 
 that of all my house. I never peril it. 
 I permitted the queen to gq to Mes- 
 mer's vat; but I had enjoined her to 
 take with her a safe, irreproachable, 
 and I may say even holy, person.' 
 
 4 Ah." said ty. de Crosne, 4 if it Ijad 
 been so ' 
 
 4 Yes,' said the Count de Provence, 
 4 if such a woman as the Princess de 
 Lamballe, for example 
 
 ' Brother, it was precisely the Prin- 
 cess de Lamballe, whom I had desig- 
 nated to accompany the queen.' 
 
 'Unfortunately, sire, the princess 
 was not taken.' 
 
 Well,' added the king, shuddering 
 as he spoke ; 4 if disobedience has been 
 carried to this extent, I ought to pu- 
 nish, and I \vill punish severely.' 
 
 A profound sigh which appeared to 
 rive his heart-strings concluded this sad 
 threat. 
 
 4 Only,' said he in a lower tone, 4 I 
 have still one doubt in this doubt you 
 will not participate, and that is natural ; 
 for you are not the king, the husband, 
 the friend of the person who is ac- 
 cused. This doubt I must clear up.' 
 
 He rang his bell the officer on ser- 
 vice came into the room. 
 
 4 Send some one,' said the king, 4 to 
 see if the princess de Lambnlle is with 
 the queen, or in her own apartment.' 
 
 4 Sire, madnme de Lamballe is now 
 walking in the private garden with her 
 majesty and another lady/ 
 
 ' Beg the princess to come up stairs, 
 and immediately. 
 
 The officer left the room. 
 
 And now, gentlemen, only ten mi- 
 nutes more, I cannot come to a deci- 1 
 sion, until then.' 
 
 And Louis XVI., contrary to his
 
 MYSTERIES OF THF, COURT OF LOUIS XVI. 
 
 171 
 
 usunl habits knit his brows, and darted 
 at the two witnesses of his profound 
 grief, un almost threatening look. 
 
 The two witnesse > remained silent. 
 M. de Crosne was really and deeply 
 grieved. M. de Prove uce put on an 
 air of affected grief, which would have 
 saddened even Moir.ua himself. 
 
 A light, rustling of silk was heard 
 outside the door, which warned^ the 
 king that the Princess de Lamballe ap- 
 proached. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXV. 
 
 THK PRINCESS DK l.AM IIALLK. 
 
 THE Princess de LumbHlle entered 
 the room, with much calmness. She 
 was beautiful ; her ringlets were thrown 
 back from her high and spacious fore- 
 head beyond her temples ; her eye 
 brows bjack and finely*arched looked 
 like two tf.in traces of sepia; her blue 
 eyes were limpid and dilated, the balls 
 glistening like orient pearls ; her nose 
 straight and finely formed ; her lips at 
 once chaste and voluptious: all these 
 beauties surmounted a figure of unri- 
 valled majesty, which charmed even 
 while it nweJ. 
 
 In the whole person of the princess 
 there was that dignity of virtue, grace 
 and immateriality which surrounded 
 L;i Vailit re before her faj). and after 
 her disgrace. 
 
 When the king saw her entering the 
 room, smiling and modest, he felt him- 
 self overcome with grief. 
 
 'Alas !' thought he. 'the words which 
 will issue from that mouth will be a 
 condemnation without appeal.' 
 
 'Be seated princess' mud he, bowing 
 profoundly t> h^r. 
 
 M. <le Provence approached to kiss 
 her hand. 
 
 The king reflected. 
 
 ' What does your majesty desire of 
 me ?' said the princess in the voice of 
 an angel. 
 
 ' Some information, madam ; some 
 precise information, my cousin." 
 
 I await your commands, sire.' 
 
 On what dii} dul you go to Paris in 
 company with the queen? Try to re- 
 member it exactly.' 
 
 M. de Crosne and M. de Provence 
 looked at ouch o'her with surprise. 
 
 1 You iiii'l.- -iaiid, gentlemen,' said 
 the kiug, ' you huve no doubts, you ; 
 
 but I still doubt, and consequently I 
 question as u man who doubts.' 
 
 It was on Wednesday, sire,' replied 
 the princess. 
 
 ' You will pardon me, my cousin/ 
 continued Louis XVT. ' but J desire to 
 know the truth.' 
 
 ' You will know it by merely ques- 
 tio-ing me, sire,' said mudame de Lum- 
 balle, ingenuously. 
 
 ' For what purpose did you go to 
 Paris, cousin?' 
 
 ' 1 went to M. Mesmor'.-, in the place 
 Vendome, sire.' 
 
 The two witnesses tnrted, the king 
 colored with emotion. 
 
 ' Alone ?' said he. 
 
 ' No, sire ; with her majesty the 
 queen.' 
 
 ' With the queen ? you say with the 
 queen ." exclaimeo Louis XVI, eagerly 
 grasping her hands. 
 
 ' Yes, sire.' 
 
 M. de Provence and M. de Crosne 
 drew nearer to her, perfectly as- 
 tounded. 
 
 ' Your majesty had authorized the 
 queen,' said madame de Lamballe, 'at 
 least, so her majesty informed me.' 
 
 ' And her majesty was right, cousin. 
 Now it appears to me I breathe again; 
 for madame de Lamballe never utters 
 falsehood.' 
 
 ' Never sire,' softly said the prin- 
 cess. 
 
 ' Oh ! never,' cried M. de Crosne, 
 with the most respectful conviction. 
 'But then, sire, allow me ' 
 
 'Oh! yes. I permit you, M. de 
 Crosne ; cross-question, r'o what you 
 will. I place my dear princess upon 
 the rack. I give her up to you. 
 
 Madame de Lamballe smiled. 
 
 ' I am ready,' she said : ' but sire, the 
 torture is abolished.' 
 
 ' Yes, I have abolished it for all 
 others ; but. they have not abolished it 
 for me,' cried the king, with a, smile. 
 
 ' Madame,' said the lieutenant of po- 
 lice, 'have the goodness to tell the 
 king what you find her majesty did 
 while at M. Mesmer's, but first of all 
 I how her majesty was dressed.' 
 
 Her majesty wore a dress of pcarl- 
 I grey taffeta, an embroidered muslin 
 
 mantle, an ermine muff", a rose colored 
 ', velvet bonnet, with large Muck ribbons.' 
 This description wi.s altogether at 
 variance with the one given -if Oliva. 
 
 M. de Crosne evinced profound SUT- 
 I prise Tim count de. Provence bit lib 
 lips. The tJng rubbed his huuds with 
 delight.
 
 172 
 
 THE QUEEN'S NECKLACE; OR, THE 
 
 And what did the quoen on entering 
 the liouso ?' 
 
 Your majesty is perfectly right in 
 saying on entering, for we had scarcely 
 got in' 
 
 'Together?' 
 
 Yea, bire, together ; and we hnd 
 scarcely entered the first drawing room, 
 where no one could have noticed us; 
 such 'was the attention given to the 
 magnetic mysteries, when a lady ap- 
 proached her majesty and ottered her 
 a ina.sk, entreating her not to advance 
 farther.' 
 
 And you stopped ?' eagerly inquired 
 the count de Provence. 
 
 ' V;s, sir.' 
 
 And you did not cross the thresh- 
 liold of the first drawing room?' asked 
 the lieutenant of policy 
 
 No, sir.' 
 
 ' And you did not leave the queen's 
 arm ?' said the king, with still some re- 
 maining anxiety. 
 
 4 Not even for a second. The arm of 
 her majesty was unceasingly leaning 
 upon mine/ 
 
 Well!' suddenly cried the king, 
 what think you of this, M. de Crosne I 
 Brother, what say you to it?' 
 
 ' It is extraordinary, it is supernatu- 
 ral,' said Monsieur, affecting a gaiety 
 which revealed better than any ex-, 
 pressed doubt could have done, his great 
 vexation at the contradiction. 
 
 There is nothing at all supernatural 
 in this,' hastily rejoined M. de Crosne, 
 in whom the very natural satisfaction of 
 the king inspired a species of remorse ; 
 4 what the princess has said cannot be 
 other than the truth.' 
 
 The result of this i* ' said M. de 
 Provence. 
 
 ' The result of it is, my lord, that 
 tuy agents have been mistaken.' 
 
 'Do you speak seriously?' inquired 
 the Count de Provence with the same 
 nervous start. 
 
 ' Perfectly so ; my agents hare been 
 mistaken ; her majesty did precisely 
 what tnadame de Lamballe has told us, 
 mid nothing more. As to the gazet- 
 teer I am convinced by the words of 
 plain simple truth which the princess 
 has uttered, 1 believe that the rascal 
 must have been so too. 1 will send the 
 order to have him arrested instantly.' 
 
 Madame de Lamballe turned her 
 head from the one to the other, with 
 the calmness of innocence which wish- 
 es to be informed, with neither too 
 much curiosity nor apprehension. 
 
 A moment, a moment,' said the 
 
 king, there will always be time, enough 
 to hang tho gay.etteer: you have spoken 
 of a woman who stopped the queen 
 when she was entering the drawing 
 room. Princess, tell us who was thai 
 woman ?' 
 
 ' Her majesty appears to know her; 
 I will even say, because I never speak 
 falsely, that her majesty does know 
 her, tpr she has told me so.' 
 
 I ask you this cousin,' said the king, 
 because 1 must, speak to that woman; 
 it is indispensable. There lies all the 
 truth ; there is the real clue to ull this 
 mystery.' 
 
 'And that is my opinion,' said M. de 
 Crosne, towards whom the king had 
 turned. 
 
 ' Mere gossip,' murmured the Count 
 de Provence, 'this woman nppems to 
 me like the winding up of a stupid 
 story.' 
 
 My cousin,' said he, 'did the queen 
 acknowledge to you that she knew thii 
 woman ?' 
 
 ' Her majesty* did not acknowledge 
 this to me,' replied the princess, 'aha 
 merely told me so.' 
 
 ' Yes, yes, I beg your pardon.' 
 
 ' My brother mentis to say,' observed 
 the king, that if the queen knows this 
 woman, you also know her name.' 
 
 'It is Madame de la Mothe Valois.' 
 
 ' That intriguing creature,' cried the 
 king with irritation. 
 
 'That mendicant! 1 said the count, 
 ' the deuse! the deuse ! it will be diffi- 
 cult to question her: she is cunning.' 
 
 We will be as cunning us heiself," 
 said M. de Crosne ; ' and, moreover, 
 there can be no cunning after the de- 
 claration of Madame de Lamballe. 
 Therefore, on the first word from the 
 king-' 
 
 1 No, no,' said Louis XVI, with wtme 
 vexation ; ' I am tired of seeing the bad 
 society by which the queen is hur- 
 rounded; the queen is so benevolent 
 that the pretext of poverty brings about 
 her all the questionable characters of 
 the minor nobility of the kingdom.' 
 
 But Madame de la Mothe is really a 
 Valois,' said Madame de Lamballe. 
 
 ' Let her be what she ui'jy, cousin, 1 
 will not allow her to put her foot within 
 my doors. I would rather forego the 
 immense joy whhh the complete justi- 
 fication of the queen would have allonl- 
 ed me; yes, 1 would rather renounce 
 that joy, than Bee that creature face to 
 luce.' 
 
 A ml yet you shall see her !' ex- 
 claimed Lite ijueeu. pule with rage, axul
 
 MYSTERIES OF THE COURT OF LOUIS XVI. 
 
 173 
 
 the door of the cabinet find 
 h nrs elf. lovely with nobleness 
 ml indignation, to tho affrighted eyes 
 of tlie Count tie Provencn, who bowin! 
 awkwardly to linr from behind the door 
 which l):i:I opened upon him. 
 
 ' Yes, sire, it is not snttrciant to any, 
 I would like to nee, or I ..in afraid to 
 eeo that creature ; tlmt creature is u 
 witness to wh'jiu tho intelligence of my 
 accusers ' 
 
 She looked fixedly nt her brother-in- 
 law : 
 
 4 And the candor of my judges ' 
 
 She turned towards the king and M. 
 de Crosne : 
 
 'To whom, in short, her own con- 
 Bcience, us perverse ns it may be, will 
 force her to utter the truth. As to me, 
 the accused, I demand that this woman 
 be heard, and she shnil be heard.' 
 
 ' Madam,' said the king, hurriedly, 
 'you will readily understand that no 
 one will think of sending for Madame 
 de Lamolte, to do her the honor to give 
 her testimony for or against you ; I do 
 not put your honor in the balance 
 against tho veracity of such a woman.' 
 
 ' Madame de Lamotte will not be sent 
 for, sire, for she is here. 1 
 
 Here !' exclaimed the king, as if he 
 bad trod upon some reptile ; ' here !' 
 
 ' Sire, I had ns you well know paid 
 a visit to an unfortunate woman who 
 bears an illustrious name. It was on 
 that day, when so many things were 
 aid ' 
 
 And she again looked intently over 
 her shoulder at the Count de Provence, 
 who wished himself a hundred feet un- 
 der ground ; but whose broud smiling 
 face grinned acquiescently. 
 
 ' Well ?' said Louie XVI.' 
 
 Well on that day I forgot at ma- 
 dame de Lamotte's house, a box, a 
 portrait ; she has brought it back to me 
 to-day, and she is here.' 
 
 'No, no Well! I m convinced,' 
 cried the king.' ' I like it better thus.' 
 
 Oh ! butI am riot satisfied,' said the 
 queen. 1 will introduce her. Besides, 
 why this repugnance ?' What has she 
 done ? Who is she then ? If I am 
 ignorant on this head, instruct me. 
 Corne now, M. de Crosne, you who 
 know everything, tell mo ' 
 
 I know not anything that is unfa- 
 vorable to this day.' replied the magis- 
 trate . 
 
 4 Is that really true ?' 
 
 Assuredly. She is poor that is all; 
 rtther ambitious, perhaps.' 
 
 ' Ambition, that is the vo?co of noblo 
 
 blood. If you have nothing against 
 her moro than that, the king may rea- 
 dily admit hnr to give testimony.' 
 
 4 1 know not why,' replied Louis 
 XVI., 'but I have presentiments, in- 
 stincts; I feel that this woman will be 
 the cause of some misfortune of some 
 disagree nU0 occurrence in my liib ; 
 Unit is quite enough.' 
 
 'Oh ! siro, can you be superstitiouB ! 
 run and fotch her,* said the queen *x> 
 tho Princess de Lumballe. 
 
 Five minutes afterwards Jeanne, 
 with great modesty, seemingly much 
 abashed, but elegant in her attitude as 
 well as in her attire, entered step by 
 stop into the king's cabinet. 
 
 Louis XVI., immovable in his anti- 
 pntliy, hud turned his back towards tha 
 door. With both elbows on his desk, his 
 head between life hands, he appeared 
 to be a stranger amid the persona pre- 
 sent. 
 
 The Count de Provence darted such 
 inquisitorial glances at Jeanne as she 
 advanced, that had her modesty been 
 real, she would have been paralysed, 
 and not a word would have issued from 
 her lips. 
 
 But it required a great deal more 
 than this to disturb Jeanne's equani- 
 init". 
 
 Nor king nor emperor with their 
 sceptres, nor pope with his tiara, nor 
 celestial powers, nor all the powers of 
 darkness could have influenced that 
 iron will, by either fear or veneration. 
 
 ' Madame,' said the queen to her, 
 leading Jeanne behind the king's chair, 
 ' be pleased to say, I beg of you, what 
 you did on the day I went to M. Mes- 
 mer's house ; be pleased to relate it in 
 every particular.' 
 
 Jeanne remained silent. 
 
 ' No reservation, no concealment 
 whatever. Nothing but the truth, let 
 the form of your ideas be the reflec- 
 tion of that which is imprinted on your 
 memory.' / 
 
 And the queen seated herself in an 
 arm-chair that she might not influence 
 the witness even by i look. 
 
 What a part for Joanne to act! for 
 her, whose perspicuity had divined 
 that her sovereign stood in need of 
 her; for her, who felt that Marie An- 
 toinette had been falsely suspected, 
 nd could be exonerated without a de- 
 parture from the truth. 
 
 Anyone but Joanne hearing thi.s con- 
 vewition would have yielded to the 
 pleasure of exculpating the <uoen by 
 on xa iteration of the proofs..
 
 174 
 
 THE, QUEEN'S NECKLACE; OR, THE 
 
 But Jeanne's nnture was so expansive, 
 
 00 penetmting, so powerful that she 
 confined herself to a simple statement 
 of the facts. 
 
 ' Sire,' said she, ' I went to M. Mes- 
 mer's from curiosity, as all Paris goes 
 there. The spectacle appeared to me 
 rather vulgar. I was about to retire, 
 when suddenly on the threshold of the 
 first door, I perceived her Majesty, 
 whom I had the honor of seeing two 
 nights before, without knowing her, 
 h-:- Majesty whose generosity had re- 
 vealed her rank to me. When I saw 
 those august features, which never can 
 be effaced from my memory, it appeared 
 to me that the presence of H. iM., the 
 Queen in such a place was unbecom- 
 ing, where many sufferings and ridicu- 
 lous cures were exposed to public gaze. 
 
 1 humbly pray her rffajesiy's pardon for j 
 having dared to think so freely on her 
 conduct, but the thought was rapid as 
 lightning, a woman's instinct. I demand 
 pardon on rny knees if I have overstep- | 
 ped the line of respect which I owe to ' 
 the slightest wishes of her majesty.' 
 
 She then paused, feigning to be much ! 
 moved bending down her head, and 
 with unsurpassed art, almost approach- j 
 ing that species of suffocation which i 
 precedes tears. 
 
 M. de Crosne was deceived by it. ! 
 Madame de Lamballe felt a yearning , 
 kindness towards a woman who appear- ; 
 ed at once delicate, timid, talented and j 
 good. 
 
 M. de Provence was bewildered. 
 
 The Queen thanked Jeanne by a i 
 ^ ance, which the eyes of the latter 
 were soliciting or rather slily watching j 
 for. 
 
 'Well,' said the Queen, 'you have [ 
 heard, sire.' 
 
 The King did not move. 
 
 1 1 did not need,' said he, the testi- : 
 ttiony of this lady.' 
 
 'I was told to speak,' timidly observ- i 
 ed Jeanne, ' and it was my duty to 
 obey.' 
 
 ' Enough !'~-harshly cried Louis XVI, 
 'when the Queen snys a thing, she 
 does not require witnesses to prove her 
 rruth. When the Queen has my ap- , 
 probation, six* need not seek that of any ; 
 other person ; and she has my approba- 
 tion.' 
 
 He rose when he had spoken th.'se j 
 words, which almost annihilated M. de 
 Provence. 
 
 The Queen did not fail to add a dis- 
 dainful emile. 
 
 The King turned his back to his bro- 
 
 ther, and kissed the hnpd of Marie An- 
 toinette and of the Princess de Lam- 
 balle. 
 
 He dismissed the latter by apologi- 
 zing for having troubled her, 'for no- 
 thing,' added he. 
 
 He -did not address a word or a look 
 to Madame de La Mothe; but as he was 
 obliged to pass before her to reach his 
 arm chair, and that he feared to offend 
 the queen by failing in politeness and in 
 her presence towards a lady she re- 
 ceived, he mastered his feelings so far 
 as to make her a slight; bow, to which 
 she replied, without any appearance of 
 hurry or agitation by a profound curtesy 
 in which she displayed all her graceful- 
 ness. 
 
 Madame de Lamballe was the first to 
 leave the cabinet, then Madame de La 
 Mottle whom the queen pushed on be- 
 fore, and the latter as she left the 
 room exchanged a last look, whieh was 
 one almost of tenderness, with the 
 king. 
 
 And then w*s heard the voices of the 
 three ladies as they went along the 
 passage conversing with each other. 
 
 4 Brother,' said Louis XVI., to the 
 Count de Provence, ' I will not detain 
 you any longer ; I have the week's af- 
 fairs to get through with the lieutenant 
 of police. But before you leave me I 
 must thank you for having lent your at- 
 tention to this full, striking, and de- 
 cisive justification of your sister. It is 
 easily perceived that you are as much 
 rejoiced at it as I arn, and that is not 
 saying little. Now, for us two, M. de 
 Crosne, sit down there I beg of you*' 
 
 The Count de Provence bowed, still 
 smiling, nud left the cabinet when he no 
 longer heard the ladies, and when he 
 thought there was no further danger 
 of receiving a malicious look or a bitter 
 word. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVI. 
 
 IW THE qUEKN'8 APAKTMEJNT 
 
 THE Queen, after leaving the cabinet 
 of Louis XVI., July appreciated the 
 groat danger she had incurred. 
 
 Slie knew how to estimate the value 
 of the great delicacy and reserve which 
 Jeanne had evinced in her extempora- 
 neous deposition, as also the really re- 
 markulilo tact, with which, after liar- 
 ing succeeded, blie had remained, uutt it 
 were, iu the back grouud.
 
 MYSI KKIKS OF.THE COURT OF LOUIS XVI. 
 
 175 
 
 And iu lact Jeanne, who had, wfth 
 unprecedented good fortune, and, at her 
 very first step become initiated into se- 
 crets and admitted to that; confidential 
 ^intimacy, which the most adroit cour- 
 tiers spend years in socking to acquire 
 without altaining it, and being now 
 certain of becoming of important ser- 
 vice to the Quer.n, would not take ad- 
 vantage of it by assuming an air of tri- 
 umph, which flu' haughty susceptibility 
 of thi? great can at once discern on the 
 features of their inferiors. / 
 
 There tore, tho Queen instead of ac- 
 ceding to Jeanne's request, to allow her 
 to oiler her respects and withdraw, 
 retained her with an amiable smile, 
 aying : 
 
 It was really fortunate, Countess, 
 that you prevented me from going into 
 Mestner's with the Princess de'Lam- 
 balle, for only think of such vileness, 
 some one must have seen me, either at 
 the door, or in the ante-chamber, and 
 they have taken that as a text for say- 
 ing that I had been in the crisis room, 
 BB they call it, I believe.' 
 
 ' Yes, Madam, the crisis room.' 
 
 But,' said the Princess de Latnballe, 
 how could it happen that, supposing 
 even the spectators knew the Queen to 
 be there, the agents of M. de Crosne 
 were so mistaken ? There, in my opin- 
 ion, lies all the mystery '; the agents of 
 the lieutenant of police have positively 
 affirmed that the Queen was in the cri- 
 sis room.' 
 
 That is true,' said the queen, pen- 
 sively, ' and M. de Crosne. who is an 
 honest man, and much devoted to me, 
 can have no interest in spreading such 
 a report ; but agents rnay be bribed, 
 dear Latnballe. I have enemies, as you 
 see.' 
 
 This rumor must, however, have 
 hud some species of foundation. Will 
 you inform us of the details, countess ?' 
 
 In the first place, the infamous 
 pamphlet represents me as being intox- 
 icat.'d, fascinated, magnetized to such 
 a .'..:., i-o.;, that I had lost all dignity as a 
 woman. What is there in the least 
 probable in all this ? Was there, in fact, 
 on that day, a woman ' 
 
 Joanne blushed. The secret again 
 present* <! itself to her mind, the secret, 
 one single word of which might destroy 
 her fatal influence over the destiny of 
 the quoi'tJ. 
 
 By revealing that secret, Jeanne 
 would lose the opportunity of being use- 
 ful, indispensable even, to the queen, j 
 It would ruin h.-r fuliiiv pr< pr-c:*. and! 
 
 : therefore she determined on remaining 
 silent on the sulrject ns before. 
 
 'Madam,' said she, 'there was in 
 fact a woman who attracted much at- 
 tention by her contortions and her deli- 
 rium. But it appears to me ' 
 
 'It appears to you,' eagerly said the 
 queen, ' that this woman must have be- 
 longed to one of the theatres, or some 
 improper character of which there are 
 so many in Paris, and not the Queen 
 of France ?' 
 . 'Oh ! certainly not, madam.' 
 
 ' Countess," you replied well to the 
 King ; and now it is my turn to speak 
 for you. Corne now, what is the state 
 of your affairs ? When do you expect 
 that your rights will be recognized ? 
 But is there not some one at the door. 
 Princess ?' 
 
 Madame de Misery entered the room. 
 
 1 Will your Majesty be pleased to re- 
 ceive Mademoiselle de Taverney ?' ask- 
 ed the femme de chambre. 
 
 ' What, Mademoiselle de Taverney J 
 Assuredly. Oh! the ceremonious crea- 
 ture ! She will never fail in any point 
 of etiquette. Andree ! Andree ! come 
 in.' 
 
 ' Your Majesty, is too good to me,' 
 said the latter, courtesying gracefully. 
 
 And she perceived Jeanne, who re- 
 cognizing the second German lady be- 
 longing to the charitable institution, had 
 immediately summoned to her aid a 
 blush and modest look, both which she 
 had always at command. 
 
 The Princess de L;.mballe took ad- 
 vantage of this reinforcement the Queen 
 had received to return to Sceaux, to the 
 seat of the Duke de Penthievre. 
 
 Andree took her place by the Queen's 
 side, her calm and scrutinizing eyes 
 fixed upon Madame de la Mothe. 
 
 Well, Andree,' said the Queen, 
 ' this is the lady whom we went to see, 
 the last day of the frost.' 
 
 ' I had recognised the lady,' said An- 
 dree, making an inclination of the head. 
 
 Jeanne, already proud of her favor 
 with the Queen, endeavored to discover 
 in the features of Andree, some symp- 
 tom of jealous feeling. She saw no- 
 thing there, but perfect indifference. 
 
 Andree, influenced by the same pas- 
 sions as the Queen, Andre*', a woman, 
 and superior to all women in goodness, 
 iu mind and in generosity, had shebeen 
 happy, Andree enfolded herself in a 
 veil of impenetrable dissimulation, 
 which all tin; Cuurt imagined to be but 
 the prou'l modesty of the cha*le Diana, 
 
 ' L)o you know.' sui ! 'In- Queen,
 
 176 
 
 THE QUEEN'S NECKLACE; OR, THE 
 
 vrhst thoy have beeo saying to the 
 King about me ?' 
 
 "They must hiive said nil that is bad,' 
 replied Andrew, 'precisely betmuaethey 
 could nevnr ii.'id words enough to suy 
 all thiit is good.' 
 
 ' That is,' observed Jeanne, in a per- 
 fectly natural and unaitected manner, 
 'the most beautiful sentence I have 
 ever heard. 1 say beautiful, because it 
 renders, without the slightest diminu- 
 tion, a feeling which is that of my whole 
 life, and because my weak intelligence 
 could uover have expressed it so con- 
 cisely nud so well.' 
 
 I will toll you the whole story, An- 
 dree.' 
 
 ' Oh ! I know it,' replied the latter ; 
 4 the Count' de Provence was relating 
 it, but now ; a friend of mine heard 
 him.' 
 
 'It is n happy method,' said the queen 
 angrily, ' of propagating falsehood after 
 having paid homage to the truth. But 
 no more of that. 1 was just speaking 
 to the Countess wilh regard to her own 
 prospects. Who now protects and fur- 
 thers your interests, Countess?' 
 
 'You, Madam,' said Jeanne boldly ; 
 1 you who pern? it me to come here to 
 kias your hand.' 
 
 She has a heart,' said Marie Antoi- 
 nette to Andre**. 'I like these sudden 
 outbursts.' 
 
 Andree said not a word. 
 
 ' Madam,' continued- Jeanne, 'there 
 were few people bold enough to protect 
 me when 1 was in penury and obscuri- 
 ty ; but now, after it shall be known 
 that I have beeu at Versailles, every 
 body will rush forward and dispute as 
 to which shall bti Jirst in doing that 
 which would i>e agreeable to the queen, 
 I mean to say, to a person whom her 
 majesty has deigned to honor with a 
 look.' 
 
 ' What !' said the queen sitting down, 
 
 has no one been bold enough, or cor- 
 rupt, enough, to espouso your interests 
 on your own account]' 
 
 ' First of all, 1 hud Madame de Bou- 
 |ainvilliei>. a woman of courage, then 
 M. de Boulainvilliers, a corrupt protec- 
 tor, but, since my marriage, not one 
 not a single soul,' added Jeanne, with 
 a most skilful syncopatic depression. 
 
 Oti ! I ask your pardon, I had forgot- 
 ten a most worthy man, a generous 
 prince.' 
 
 'A prince! countess, who can that 
 be?' 
 
 ' His eminence the Cardinal de Pu>- 
 han.' 
 
 ' The queen made n gesture of sur- 
 prise. ' My enemy !' said she, smiliwg. 
 
 4 An enemy of your majesty! Hi-! 
 the Cardinal,' exclaimed Jeanne. 'Oh! 
 mad, mi.' 
 
 One would sny that it astonished 
 you, countess, to hear that u queen 
 should have an enemy. It is easily 
 perceived you have not lived at court.' 
 
 ' Why, madam, the Cardinal has the 
 most profound adoration for your ma- 
 jesty, at least I thought so ; and if I am 
 not mistaken, hi.s respect for the august 
 consort of his king equals his devoted- 
 ness. 
 
 'Oh! I believe you, Countess,' replied 
 Marie Antoinette, yielding to her. na- 
 turally lively disposiiiou. 'I believe a 
 part of what you say. Yes, that is it, 
 the Cardinal is in adoration.' 
 
 And saying this, she turned towards 
 Andree de Taverney, laughing very 
 heartily. 
 
 ' Well, Countess, agreed ; the Cardi- 
 nal is in adoration. And for that reason 
 he is my enemy.' 
 
 Jeanne de la Mothe affected the sur- 
 prise of an ignorant country girl. 
 
 ' Ah ! you are the protegee of the 
 prince Cardinal Louis de Rohan,' con- 
 tinued the Queen. ' Pray, tell us all 
 about it, Countess.' 
 
 ' It is all perfectly natural, Madam. 
 His eminence by the most magnani- 
 mous, most delicate mode of proceed- 
 ing, and the most ingenious generosity 
 has come to my assistance.' 
 
 ' That is quite right. Prince Louis 
 is prodigal, that quality cannot be denied 
 him. Do you not believe Andree, that 
 his eminence the Cardinal may also feel 
 some adoration for this pretty Countess? 
 Hey ! Countesn, come now tell us.' 
 
 And Marie Antoinette again relapsed 
 into her joyous and happy laughter, 
 which Mademoiselle de Taverney, al- 
 ways serious, did not, however, encou- 
 rage. 
 
 ' It is not possible that this noisy live- 
 liness, can be other than n factitions 
 liveliness,' thought Jeanne. 'But let 
 us see.' 
 
 ' Madam,' said she, with u grave air 
 and an accent of perfect conviction, 'I 
 have the honor to affirm to your ma- 
 i jesty that M. de Rohan' 
 
 'Tis well ! 'tis well !' cried the 
 queen, interrupting the countess, 'since 
 you are so zealous in his dufence since 
 you are his friend' 
 
 Oh ! madam,' exclaimed Jeanne, 
 with a delicious expression of modesty 
 and respect. 
 
 T
 
 MYSTERIES OF THE COURT OF LOUIS XVI. 
 
 1TJ 
 
 4 Very well, dear little one ; very 
 well,' rejoined the queen, with n sweet 
 emilo ; ' but usk him, then, what ho hits 
 done with the lock or' hair that ho 
 bribed n certain hair-dresser to steal 
 from me, but which trick cost the poor 
 man dearly, for I dismissed him.' 
 
 4 Your majesty surprises me,' said 
 Joanne. 4 What! Could M. de Rohan 
 have done this ?' 
 
 Oh ! yes but 'tis adoration, nothing 
 but adoration ; after having execrated 
 me at Vienna, after having by every 
 means attempted to break otf the mar- 
 Huge projected between the king and 
 me ; he one day all at once discovered 
 that I WHS a woman, and that I was his 
 queen ; that he, the great diplomatist, 
 had made a stupid blunder, and that he 
 would always be in a false position with 
 regard to me. He then became alarmed 
 as to his fut.ure prospects, the dear 
 prince. He did. as do all those of his 
 profession who caress those most of 
 whom they have most fear, and as he 
 ktrcw that I WHS young; and thought 
 that I was silly and vain, he took upon 
 himself to play the Celadon. After 
 sighs and languishing airs, he threw 
 himself, as you say, into downright 
 adoration. He adores me, is it not so; 
 Andree ? 
 
 Madame ." exclaimed Andree, bow-' 
 iug. 
 
 4 Yes, Andree, also, does not wish to 
 be brought into question ; but I do not 
 mind venturing: royalty should at least 
 have somn privileges. Countess, 1 know, 
 and you know, that the Cardinal adores 
 me ? That is a settled thing ; toll tiim 
 that I am not of course angry with him 
 on that account.' 
 
 Those words, which contained the 
 most bitter irony, had a deep ellbct on 
 the gangrened heart of Jeaune de la 
 Mothe. 
 
 Had her mind been pure, noble and 
 loyal, she would have seen in them only 
 the supreme disdain of a woman of sub- 
 limn mind, the perfect contempt of a 
 superior soul, for the low intrigues which 
 were agitating those beneath her. This 
 superior race of women, these nngels, 
 ui .for unately so rare, in human form, 
 disdain to defend thrir reputations 
 against tho snares which are laid for 
 them ou this earth. 
 
 They will not even suspect the exis- 
 tence of the filthy slime by whose con- 
 tact they are polluted, that slime in 
 which they leave the most brilliant fea- 
 thers of their golden wings. 
 
 Jeaune, beiug of a vulgar and cor- 
 
 rupted nature, thought there was much 
 of spite in this manifestation of the 
 Quwn's angr at the conduct of the 
 Cardinal de Rohan. She recollected 
 the rumors that had been whispered 
 abroad, rumors consisting only of scan- 
 dalous syllables, and which had found 
 their way from Court even into the re- 
 mote suburbs of Paris and had been there 
 echoed currently. 
 
 The Cardinal, who was an admirer of 
 women for their sex, had said to Louis 
 XV, who admired them on the same 
 principle, that the Dauphiness was not 
 a perfect woman. The singularsayings 
 of Louis XV. on the marriage of his 
 grandson will be remembered, as well 
 as his questions to a certain ingenuous 
 ambassador. 
 
 Jeanne, a perfect woman if ever one 
 existed. Jeanne, a woman from head 
 to foot. Jeanne, vain of every hair of 
 her hend, her greatest ornament. Je- 
 anne who felt the necessity of pleasing 
 and conquering by every ad.vant.agu she 
 possessed, could not imagine that any 
 woman could think otherwise than she 
 did on theso delicate points. 
 
 4 There is spiteful vexation on the 
 part of the Queen,' said she to herself, 
 and therefore there must be something 
 more.' 
 
 . Then reflecting tlrtit discussion pro- 
 duces information, she began to defe. d 
 M. de Rohan, with all tint ingenuity 
 and curiosity with which nature, as an 
 indulgent mother, had so largely en- 
 dowed her. 
 
 The Queen listened to her. 
 
 4 Ah ! she listens to me,' said Jeanne. 
 
 And the Countess deceived by her 
 own evir nature, did not perceive that 
 the Queen was listening to her from 
 generosity of feeling because at Court 
 it was unusual fqr any one to speak well 
 of whom the sovereign thoug-it ill. 
 
 This innovation of a received usage, 
 this derogation from the habits of the 
 palace, pleased the Queen and render- 
 ed her almost happy. 
 
 Marie Antoinette imagined she per- 
 ceived a generous heart, where God 
 had only placed an eager and thirsty 
 sponge. 
 
 The conversation was continued on a 
 footing of kind intimacy on the pan of 
 the Queen; Jeanne was upon thorns; 
 her countenance became embarrassed : 
 she saw no possible means of getting 
 away but by a dismissal; she, who l-ut 
 a short time before, had played the ad- 
 vantageous part of a stranger who had 
 asked permission to retire ; but sudduu-
 
 THE QUEEN'S NECKLACE; OR, I UK 
 
 ly i joyous, youthful and loud voice re- 
 Bounded in the neighboring room. 
 
 'The Count d'Artois!' srfjd the Queen. 
 
 Andree imtnedintely rose. Jeanne 
 prepared to withdraw, but the Piince 
 BO suddenly entered the room where 
 the Queen was, thnt to get out was al- 
 most impossible. However.. Madame 
 de la Mothe did that which in theatrical 
 language is termed made a show of 
 retiring. 
 
 The Prince stopped short on seeing 
 this lovely person and bowed to her. 
 
 The Countess de la Mothe,' said the 
 Queen, presenting Jeanne tothe Prince. 
 
 'Ah! ah!' cried the Count d'Artois. 
 'Do not let me drive you away, Count- 
 ess.' 
 
 The Queen made a sign to Andree, 
 who detained Jeanne. 
 
 This sign was meant to imply ; ' I had 
 intended to make some recompense to 
 Madame de In Mothe ; I have not yet 
 hud time, but will do so by and by.' 
 
 ' You have returned then from your 
 wolf hunt,' said the Queen giving her 
 hand to her brother in he English fash- 
 ion, which was just coming into vogue. 
 
 4 Yes, sister, and I have had good 
 sport, for I have killed seven, and thai 
 is enormous,' replied the Prince. 
 
 ' Killed them all yourself ?' 
 
 'I am not quite positive of that.' said 
 he laughing, ' but they told me that I 
 did. In the meantime, sister, let me 
 tell you that I have earned seven hun- 
 dred livres.' 
 
 1 Really ! and how ?' 
 
 ' You must know that they pay a 
 hundred livres for every head of these 
 horrible animals. It is very dear, but 
 I would heartily give two hundred tor 
 the head of every gazetteer. And you, 
 sister ?' 
 
 4 Ah !' s!iid the Queen, ' you already 
 know that story.' 
 
 ' M. de Provence related it to mo.' 
 
 And that makes I hree.' rejoined Ma- 
 rie Antoinette. 'Monsieur is u most 
 intrepid, indefatigable re later of stories. 
 Just tell us how he related this to you.' 
 
 In a waylo make you appear whiter 
 than the ermine, whiter than Venus 
 rising from the sen.' 
 
 ' It is not less true thnt he related the 
 adventure to you ?' 
 
 ' Of the ga/.etteer, oh ! yea, sister. 
 But your majesty got out of it with 
 honor. One might even say, if disposed 
 jo make such puns as Monsieur de 
 Bievre makes every day, that the affair 
 pf the tub is clean washed.' 
 
 ' Oh ! the horrible piny of worda.' 
 
 'Sister, dt> not ill-treat .: kiii 
 rant, who cuine to place his lance 
 arm at your disposal. Hnppily you do 
 not stand in need of one. Ah ! my dear 
 sister, are you no! fortunate, eh ?' 
 
 'You call ti.i* fortunate, do you ? Do 
 you hear him, Andree?' 
 
 Jeanne laughed ; the Count who had 
 kept his eyes continually upon her, 
 gave her courage. The Queen had 
 spoken to Andree. it was Jrauno who 
 replied. 
 
 ' It is fortunate,' repeated the Count 
 d'Artois, for in short it might have 
 happened, my very dear sister, first, 
 that Madame de Lumballe had not ac- 
 companied you.' 
 
 ' Should I have gone alone ?' 
 
 'Secondly: That Madame de la Mothe 
 hud not happened to meet you there to 
 prevent your entering the room.' 
 
 ' Ah ! you know that the Countess 
 was there ?' 
 
 'Sister, when the Count de Provence 
 undertakes to relate a story, he relates 
 it all. It might have happened also that 
 Madame de la Mothe had not come to 
 Versailles at the precise moment re- 
 quired to give her evidence. You are 
 about, doubtless, to tell me that virtue 
 and innocence are like the violet, which 
 needs not to be seen to be discovered ; 
 but they make bouquets of violets, sis- 
 ter, when they are seen and they are 
 thrown away when once their perfume 
 is inhaled. That is my moral.' 
 
 ' A very fine one, truly.' 
 
 'I take it as I find it, and I have prov- 
 ed to you that you are fortunate.' 
 
 ' It is but badly proved.' 
 
 4 Must I prove it better?' 
 
 It would not be superfluous.' 
 
 ' Well then ! you are unjust thus to 
 accuse fortune,' said the Count gently 
 twirling on his heel and falling upon 
 the sofa, beside the Queen, 'for in 
 short, saved from the famous mud prank 
 of the cabriolet ' 
 
 - One,' said the Queen, counting upon 
 her fingers. 
 
 'Sa/ed from the tub ' 
 
 4 Be it so. I will count that, two ; 
 go on.' 
 
 ' And saved from the ball affair,' said 
 he, whispering in her ear. 
 
 ' What, ball /' 
 
 'The opera ball.' 
 4 What said you ?' 
 
 4 1 say the opera ball.' 
 
 4 1 do not understand you.' 
 
 The Count laughed. 
 
 ' What a simpleton I must bo, to 
 apeak to you of u secret.'
 
 MYSTERIES OF THE COURT OF LOUIS XVI. 179 
 
 A secret ! In truth brother, it is easy 
 to perceive that you are speaking of i 
 masked bull, for 1 am completely mys- 
 tified.' 
 
 The words, bll, opera, had struck 
 Jeanne's ears. She redoubled her ut- 
 tention. 
 
 1 Hush ! not a word, not a word,' said 
 the Prince. 
 
 ' There is no occasion for secresy. 
 Let us explain this. You were spend- 
 ing of some affair at the Opera ; what is 
 it that you mean ?' 
 ^ 'I implore your pity, sister.' 
 
 I insist, Count, upon knowing.' 
 And I, sister, on remaining silent.' 
 Do you mean to disoblige me ?' 
 By no means, I have said enough, I 
 imagine, for you to understand me.' 
 ' You have said nothing at all.' 
 1 Ob ! little sister, it is you who are 
 now mystifying me come now in 
 good earnest.' 
 
 Upon my honor, I am not jesting.' 
 You wish me to speak out?' 
 
 ' And i' stantly.' 
 
 It must be in some other place then,' 
 s:ii. I the Count, pointing to Jeanne and 
 Andree. 
 
 4 No ; here ! here ! There nre never 
 too many witnesses to an explanation.' 
 
 Beware! beware! sister.' 
 
 Oh ! I will risk all.' 
 
 You were not at the last Opera ball?' 
 
 Whiit. I ?' exclaimed the Queen, 'I. 
 at the Opera bull!' 
 
 Hush ! for mercy's sake.' 
 
 Oh! no, let. us even cry out loudly. 
 You say that. I was at the Opera ball .'' 
 Certainly, you 'were there.' 
 
 You saw me there, perhaps,* said 
 the Queen ironically, but still up to this 
 time jocularly. 
 
 1 did see you there.' 
 ' Mrt ! me !' 
 
 4 You! you !' 
 
 That surpasses everything.' 
 
 Precisely the words I used myself 
 on seeing you.' 
 
 Why do you not say nt once thnt 
 you spoke to me; that would be still 
 more droll.' 
 
 Upon my word I was about to speak 
 to you when a crowd of masks rushed 
 between us and separated us.' 
 
 You are mad !' 
 
 I was quite sure that you would tell 
 me so; I ought not to have exposed 
 myself to it it is my own fault.' 
 
 The Queen suddenly started up, 
 walked about the room in an agitated 
 manner. The Count gazed at her with 
 aslouiHument. Audree shuddered with 
 
 fear and anxiety. Jeanne did all she 
 could to appear unmoved. 
 
 The Queen stopped. 
 
 ' My good friend,' said she to the 
 young Prince, do not let us carry on 
 ihis jest any farther; my temper is so 
 bad, that you see I am already getting 
 out of patience. Acknowledge quickly 
 that you have been trying to amuse 
 yourself at my expense, and you will 
 make me happy.' 
 
 I will acknowledge that, if it pleases 
 you, sister.' 
 
 Be serious, Charles.' 
 
 ' As a fish, dear sister.' 
 
 'For mercy's sake tell me that you 
 have invented this story is it not so ?' 
 
 He winked, and looked at the two 
 ladies. 
 
 Yes. I did invent it ; pray forgive 
 me.' 
 
 ' You have not understood me, bro- 
 ther,' rejoined the Qjueen, with vehe- 
 mence. ' Yes, or no, and before these 
 ladies, do you retract what you have 
 said ? Do not speaK fulsely, do not 
 spare me.' 
 
 Andree and Jeanne ran and placed 
 themselves behind the Gobelins tapestry. 
 
 ' Well, then, sister,' said the prince, 
 in a low tone, when the ladies had gone, 
 I have spoken but the truth ; why did 
 you not warn me sooner.' 
 
 ' You saw me at the opera ball?' 
 
 4 As plainly us I see you now, and yon 
 also saw me.' 
 
 The queen uttered a loud cry, called 
 to Jeanne and Andree, ran to seek them 
 behind the tapestry, and taking each of 
 them by a hand, dragged them rapidly 
 back to ihe sofa. 
 
 ' Ladies,' said f.he, ' the Count d Ar- 
 tois affirms that he saw me at the opera 
 ball.' 
 
 Oh !' murmured Andree. 
 It is too late to retract prove 
 prove.' 
 
 Thus it was : I was there with the 
 Marshal de Richelieu with M. de Ca- 
 onne, with several other people, in 
 short your mask fell off. 1 
 
 My mask !' 
 
 I was just going to say to you. thia 
 s more than temerity, sister; but you 
 Jisappeared, dragged away by the cava- 
 ier who gave you his arm.' 
 
 ' The cavalier ! oh ! gracious heaven J 
 you will drive me mad.' 
 
 4 A blue domino,' said the prince. 
 
 The queen pressed her hand to her 
 forehead. 
 
 4 And on what day did this happen ?' 
 she inquired.
 
 190 
 
 THE QUEEN'S WEGKfcACE t ORs THE 
 
 On Wednesday, the day before I 
 get off on my hunting excursion. You 
 were asleep the nexr morning, when I 
 went nwny, or otherwise I should then 
 have told you nil I have just now snid.' 
 
 ' Oh, God ! oh, God ! at what o'clock 
 did you see me ?' 
 
 ' It must have been between two aad 
 three.' 
 
 Decidedly, either I am mad, or you 
 we.' 
 
 I again say that it is I who am mad. 
 I must have been mistaken.' 
 
 And yet ' 
 
 'Do not agitate yourself so dreadfully, 
 no one has heard of it. For a moment 
 I thought it was the king who was with 
 you ; but the person spoke in German, 
 and the only foreign language the king 
 knows is English.' 
 
 ' A German ! a German ! oh ! I have a 
 proof, brother, -on Wednesday I went to 
 bed at eleven o'cfock.' 
 
 The count bowed incredulously, and 
 smiling. 
 
 The queen rang, 
 
 Madame de Misery will tell you so,' 
 she said. 
 
 The <;ount laughed. 
 
 4 Why do you not send fov Laurent, 
 the door-keeper at the Keservoir, he 
 would also give his testimony. It was 
 I who founded that cannon, dear little 
 sister, you must not fire it off at me.' 
 
 ' Oh !' exclaimed the qvee-n, much 
 enraged. that I should not be be- 
 lieved !' 
 
 1 1 would believe you if you would 
 be less in a passion. . But how to prove 
 thfo to you ! I have answered yes, and 
 others, should they come here, would 
 say no.' 
 
 'Others! what* others ?' 
 ^By heaven, all those who saw you 
 as well MS I did.' 
 
 That is curious, indeed. There were 
 people who savf me ? Well, mention 
 them to me instantly.' 
 
 4 Is Philippe de Taverney here ?' 
 4 My brother!' said'Andree 
 ' He was there r mademoiselle,' re- 
 plied the prince. ' Do you wish he 
 should be questioned, sister?' 
 'I demand it. instantly.' 
 ' Gracious Heaven !' murmured. An- 
 dree. 
 
 'What is the matter/' cried the 
 queen. 
 
 ' My brother called to give evidence?' 
 
 4 Yes, yes. I insist ujxjn it.' 
 
 And the queen called out, a servant 
 
 cnmo in nnd ho immediately ran off to 
 
 aeek Philippe at his father's house* 
 
 which he had just left nfte* the scene 
 we have before described. 
 
 Philippe, master of the fielrl of but- 
 tle nfter his duel with Qhnrny Phi- 
 lippe, who had just rendered tin impor- 
 tant service to the queen was walking 
 joyously towards the palace at Ver- 
 suilles. 
 
 He was met on the way. The. 
 queen's order was communicated to 
 him, nnd he hastened to obey it. 
 
 Mnrie Antoinette rushed forward to 
 meet him as he entered the room, 
 pkiced herself before him, and said to 
 him, 
 
 'Let u see, sir, whether you can 
 speak the truth or not?' 1 
 
 4 Yes, madam, and incapable of speak- 
 ing falsely,' he replied 
 
 ' Then say say candidly, whether 
 whether you huve seen -me in a plnce 
 of public amusement, during the hist 
 eight days.' 
 
 Yes^ miidam,' replied Philippe. 
 
 Every heart in, the room bent vio- 
 lently ; they might have been almost 
 heard. 
 
 ' Where did you se me ?' said the 
 queen, in an awfully severe voice. 
 
 Philippe remained silent. 
 
 ' Oh ! you need not be over cautious, 
 sir, for my brother here siiys that he 
 saw me at the Opera ball ; and you, 
 where, did you see me ?' 
 
 ' Where my lord the Count d'Artois 
 saw you, at the opera ball, madam.' 
 
 The queen fell thunderstruck upon 
 the sofa. 
 
 Then bounding up with the rapidity 
 of a wounded panther: 
 
 ' That is not possible,' she snid, ' since 
 I was not there. Take care. Monsieur 
 de Taverney, I perceive. that you are 
 assuming puritanical airs ; that was all 
 very w'ell in America, with M.Me La- 
 fayette, but at Versailles, we are French 
 polite and simple.' 
 
 ' Y'our majesty overwhelms M. do 
 Taverney,' cried Andree, pule \viih 
 angur nnd indignation. ' It he s;i} rf 
 that he saw, it is because he really 
 dnw.' 
 
 1 You also ! ' saitl Marie Antoinette, 
 'you also! There is really but ont> 
 thing wanting in all this, that you should 
 also have seen me. 15y Heaven ! if I 
 have friends that ilufeud me, 1 hnve oue- 
 mies who iissabsiniite me. One, wit- 
 ness only, is not sufficient evidence, 
 gentlemen.' 
 
 'You remind me,' snid the Count d' 
 Artois, 'that at the moment wiieu 
 I saw you, aud when I perceived that
 
 MYSTERIES OF THE COURT OF LOUIS XVI. 
 
 161 
 
 the blue domino was not the king, I 
 thought that it was M. de Sullren's 
 
 nephew. Wh;it is his name ? I mean 
 that, .brave officer who performed t.lie 
 exploit of the (Ing. You received him 
 so graciously the other day, tluit I be- 
 lieved him to be your chevalier of 
 honor.' 
 
 The queen blushed ; And rue. became 
 pale us death. They both looked at 
 each other shuddering at the chuuge 
 produced. I 
 
 As to Philippe, he was perfectly 
 livid. 
 
 'Monsieur do Charny,'. murmured 
 ,be. 
 
 ' Charuy ! oh ! yes, that is the name,' 
 .continued the Count d'Artois. 'la it 
 cot true, Monsieur Philippe, that the 
 shape of that blue domino had some 
 wwtlogy with that of M. de C horny ? ' 
 
 I did uot remark it, my lord,' rep 
 plied Philippe, almost choking. 
 
 4 But.' pursued tlie Count d'Artois, 
 *I soon perceived that I had been mis- 
 taken, for M. Charny only a few mo- 
 ments afterwards, suddenly appeared 
 before me. He was there, standing 
 beside the Marshal de Richelieu, and 
 opposite to you, sis:or, ut the moment 
 your mask fell olf. 
 
 ' And ho 8;i\v me ? ' cried the queen, 
 .losing all prudence. 
 
 ' Unless he be quite blind,' replied 
 the prince. 
 
 The queen made a despairing ges- 
 ture, and again rang her bell. 
 
 Whut are yuu doing ? ' fluid the 
 prince. 
 
 I will interrogate M. de Charny, 
 also, uud driuk the chalice to the very 
 dregs ' 
 
 'I do not believe flint M., de Charny 
 is at. Versailles,' murmured Philippe. 
 
 ' And why so .' ' 
 
 ' 1 was loJd, 1 believe that he was 
 indisposed- ' 
 
 Oh, the affair is serious enough for 
 him to come sir. I nlau am indisposed, 
 .nevertheless I would go barefoot to the 
 end of the world to prove ' 
 
 Philippe, heart-broken, went towa/tls 
 his sister, who was looking out of one 
 of the windows, which opened on the> 
 gardens. 
 
 Andive. suddenly uttered a slight cry. 
 
 What is the matter,,' said the queen, 
 advancing towards liar. 
 
 i Nothing; nothing it was said that 
 M. de Charny was ill, and I see him.' 
 
 4 You sot? him !' cried Philippe, run- 
 Ding in his turn. ' Yes, 'tis ho. 
 
 Tiu< queon, forgetful of every con- 
 
 sideration of etiquette, opened the win- 
 dow herself, with extraordinary vigor, 
 
 and called out loudly, 
 
 4 M. de Charny!' 
 
 The. latter turned his head, and struck 
 with astonishment, hastened toward! 
 the palace. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVH. 
 
 M. DE CHARNT entered the room, 
 looking rather pale, but erect and with- 
 out any apparent suffering. 
 
 On seeing the illustrious personage* 
 present, he assumed the respectful and 
 formal demeanor of a man of the world 
 and a soldier. 
 
 4 Take care, sister,' said the Count 
 d'Artois in a whisper'to the queen ; 4 it 
 appears to me that you are interroga- 
 ting many persons.' 
 
 4 Brother, I will interrogate the whole 
 world, until I meet a person who shall 
 tell me that you were mistaken.' 
 
 During this time Charny had per- 
 ceived Philippe, and had courteously 
 bowed to him. 
 
 4 You are the destroyer of your own 
 health,' said Philippe to his adversary, 
 in a whisper, 4 to venture out wounded 
 as you are ; one would think you wished 
 to die.' 
 
 4 People do not die from a mere 
 scratch they may have received from a 
 bush in the Bois de Boulogne,' replied 
 Charny, happy to give his enemy a 
 moral pang more painful than a sword 
 wound. 
 
 The queen approached, nnd put an 
 end to this rencounter of words, which 
 was more a double aside than a dia- 
 logue. 
 
 4 M. de' Charny,' said she, 4 these 
 gentlemen say you were at the opera 
 ball?' ' 
 
 * Yes- your majesty,' replied Charny, 
 bowing. 
 
 4 Tell us what you saw there. 
 
 1 Does your majesty ask what I saw 
 there, or whom I saw there ?' 
 
 4 Precisely ! who you saw there, and 
 no discreet reservation, no obliging 
 withholding of names.' 
 
 4 .Must I tell all, madam ?' 
 
 The queen's cheeks again resumed 
 that pallid hue which ten tiinea that 
 morning had chased away their feverish 
 flush. 
 
 1 To commence according to the hie*-
 
 
 182 
 
 THE QUEEN'S NECKLACE; OR, THE 
 
 archy, according to the law of my re- 
 spect,' replied Charny. , 
 
 4 'Tia well. You BH\V nre.' 
 
 Yes, your mnjesty, nt the very mo- 
 ment tliiit the queen's mask so unfortu- 
 nately fell ofl'.' 
 
 Murie Antoinette crushed in her 
 nervous hands, the lace of her splendid 
 ruir. 
 
 'Sir,' snid she in n voice in which n 
 close observer would huve perceived 
 the sobs which were rernly to burst 
 forth, ' look at me well, ure you quite 
 ore?' 
 
 4 Mndnm, the features of your mnjes- 
 ty "re too indelibly engraved on the 
 hearts of all your subjects, to nllow of 
 nny error; to have seen them once is 
 to see them always.' 
 
 Philippe looked nt Andree ; Andre"e 
 fixed her eyes on Philippe. These 
 two griefs, these two jealousies formed 
 a painful alliance. 
 
 4 Sir,' rejoined the queen going close 
 np to Charny, 4 1 assure you that I was 
 not at this. Opera ball.' 
 
 4 Oh ! madam,' exclaimed the young 
 man, bowing almost to the ground, 
 has not your majesty the right to go 
 wherever it may please you ? were it 
 even to the infernal regions; were your 
 majesty once to place a foot there, the 
 infernal regions would be purified.' 
 
 4 1 do not ask you to excuse the step,' 
 cried the queen, ' I only beg you to be- 
 lieve that I did not take it.' 
 
 4 1 will believe all that your majesty 
 may order me to believe,' replied Char- 
 ny, the inmost recesses of whose heart 
 were moved by this persistance of the, 
 queen, by the touching humility of so 
 proud a woman. 
 
 'Sister! sister! this is too much.' 
 murmured the Count d'Artois into Ma- 
 rie Antoinette's ear. 
 
 For this scene hnd chilled the hearts 
 of all that were present at it. Some 
 from the anguish of their love, or from 
 their self-love being wounded ; the oth- 
 ers from the emotion always inspired 
 by an accust-d woman, who defends 
 herself against evt:n overwhelming 
 proofs. 
 
 4 They believe it! they believe it!' 
 cried the queen, beside herself with 
 anger, and she fell discouraged into an 
 arm-chair, endeavoring to efface unsojen 
 with the tip of her finger, the traces of 
 a tear which pride had rendered scald- 
 ing to her eye-lid. Suddenly she rose. 
 
 4 Sister! sister! pray pardon me,' 
 tenderly said the Count d'Artois, 'you i 
 are surrounded by devoted friends ; this ' 
 
 secret, at which you are so unnecessa- 
 rily alarmed, is known only to us, and 
 from our hearts in which it is endutwtl, 
 no one can drng it but with our lives.' 
 
 4 Secresy ! secresy ! ' cried the queen, 
 'I want no secresy.' 
 
 4 My dear sister.' 
 
 4 No secrets I want proofs.' 
 
 4 Madam,' said Andree, 4 some one i* 
 coming.' 
 
 4 Madam,' said Philippe slowly, 4 it is 
 the king.' 
 
 'The king!' cried an usher in the 
 jftite-chamber.' 
 
 4 The king ; so much the better ; the 
 king is my best friend ; the king would 
 not consider me guilty, even had he bts- 
 lieved he had seen inn in the fault ; the 
 king is most welcome. 
 
 The king came into the room ; his 
 looks were a perfect conti-ast, to the agi- 
 tation and the disordered features of ufl 
 those who surrounded the queen. 
 
 ' Sire ! ' cried the lafter, ' you come 
 most opportunely. 'Sire! here is 
 another calumny, another insult to con- 
 fute.' 
 
 4 What is the matter ? ' said Louis 
 XVI. advancing. 
 
 4 Sir, a rumor, an infamous rumor, 
 which i will soon be spread abroad. 
 Come to rry aid, sire, this time, for this 
 time it is not my enemies who accuse 
 me, but my friends.' 
 
 ' Your friends ? ' 
 
 4 These gentlemen, my brother par- 
 don me, the Count d'Artois, Monsieur 
 de Taverney, Monsieur de Charny, as- 
 sure me that, they saw me ut the ball at 
 the Opera house.' 
 
 4 At the Opera ball ? ' exclaimed the 
 king, knitting his brows.' 
 
 4 Yes, sire.' 
 
 A terrible silence prevailed for some 
 moments, Madame de la Motho ob- 
 served the gloomy uneasiness of the 
 king ; she saw the mortal paleness of 
 the queen ; with a word, a single 
 word she could at, once have termina- 
 ted this painful struggle ; she could 
 with one single word have annihilated 
 alkthese accusations as to the past, and 
 have saved the queen from all future 
 anguish. But her heart did not prompt 
 her to adopt this course, her interest 
 made her deviate from it. She said to 
 herself, that the time had gone by ; 
 that already in the vat nffxir she had 
 spoken equivocally, and that by retract- 
 ing her words, by allowing it to be seen 
 that she had been guilty of deception 
 once, by showing to the queen that she 
 had allowed her to remain open to th 

 
 MYSTERIES OF THE COURT OF LOUIS XVI. 
 
 183 
 
 first accusation, which she might have 
 torn at once to atoms by stating the 
 facts with regard to Mademoiselle Oli- 
 Ta's likeness to the queen ; she, Jeanne, 
 the new favorite, would ruin herself at 
 the very onset; cut from beneath her 
 feet all prospect of her future fuvor, 
 and therefore she was mute. 
 
 The king then repeated in a voice 
 full of anguish, ' At the Opera ball ! and 
 who speaks of this ? Does the Count 
 de Provence know of it 1 ' 
 
 * Hut it is not true ! ' exclaimed the 
 queen, with the accent of despairing 
 innocence, ' i: is not true ; the Count d' 
 Artois is mistaken ; Monsieur de Tu- 
 verney is mistaken ; you are mistaken, 
 Monsieur de Charny. lu short any- 
 one may be mistaken." 
 
 They all bowed. 
 
 ' Come now,' said the queen, call 
 here my servants, every bodj'. This 
 ball was on last Wednesday, was it 
 not? ' 
 
 ' Yes, sister.' 
 
 4 Well then : let me recollect what I 
 did on Wednesday; let some one tell 
 me, for really I am going mad, and if 
 this continue, I shall verily believe that 
 I did go to this infamous ball ; but had 
 I gone there, gentlemen, I should at 
 once have acknowledged it.' 
 
 Suddenly the king approached with 
 diluted eyes, a smiling face, and out- 
 stretched hands. 
 
 4 Wednesday,' said he, * Wednesday 
 you said, did you not gentlemen ? ' 
 
 ' Yes. sire.' 
 
 4 Well then!' continued he, becoming 
 more and more calm, more and more 
 joyous. ' you need only ask your femme 
 de chambre, and she will clear up all. 
 She will perhaps remember, Marie, at 
 what hour it was I went to your apart- 
 ment. It was I believe, about eleven 
 o'clock ul nisrht.' 
 
 ' Ah !' exclaimed the queen, trans- 
 ported with joy, 'so it was, sire.' 
 
 And she threw herself into the king's 
 arms. Then, blushing and confused, 
 on perceiving that all eyes were fixed 
 upon her, she hid her face in the king's 
 breast, who tenderly kissed her beauii- 
 ful forehead. 
 
 'Well!' cried the Count d'Artois, 
 stupilied with amazement and joy com- 
 bined, ' I will buy myself a pair of spec- 
 tacles. But. by heaven! I would not 
 have lost this scene for a million. Am 
 I not right, gentlemen ? 
 
 Philippe was standing with his back 
 to the wainscoting, pale as death. Char- 
 ity, cold and impossible was wiping 
 
 away the perspiration streaming from 
 his forehead. 
 
 4 Therefore, this is the reason, gen- 
 tlemen,' said the king, laying much 
 stress upon the words, and delighted at 
 the effect he had produced, ' this is the 
 reason why it was impossible that the 
 queen could lhat night have been at the 
 opera ball. Believe it as you please, 
 but the queen I am sure is satisfied at 
 being believed by me.' 
 
 4 Well,' said the Count d'Artois, 4 M. 
 de Provence may thiirk as he pleases 
 upon the subject, but I defy his wife to 
 prove an alibi in the same way, \vHen- 
 ever she may be accused of having 
 spent the night abroad.' 
 
 ' Oh ! brother,' cried the king. 
 
 4 Sire, I kiss your hand.' 
 
 1 Charles, I will go with you,' enid 
 the king, after giving a last kiss to the 
 queen. 
 
 Philippe had not stirred, 
 
 ' Monsieur de Taverney,' said the 
 queen, in a severe tone, ' do you not 
 accompany the Count d'Artois ?' 
 
 Philippe suddenly drew himself up; 
 the blood flowed to his temples and his 
 eyes. He almost fainted. He had 
 hardly strength enough to bow to look 
 at Andree, to give a glance of threaten- 
 ing import at de Cliarny, and to restrain 
 the expression of his insensate grief. 
 
 He left the room, 
 
 The queen retained AndV6e and Mon- 
 sieur de Charny. 
 
 The position of Andr6e thus placed 
 between her brother and the queen, 
 between her love and her jealousy, we 
 could not even have sketched without 
 retarding the progress of the dramatic 
 scene, to which the king's entrance 
 gave so'happy a winding up 
 
 And yet there wns nothing which so 
 much des'erved our attention as thp suf- 
 ferings of the young girl : she felt that 
 Philippe would have sacrificed his life, 
 could he by that have prevented the 
 tete-u-tete between the queen and 
 Charny, and she acknowledged that 
 she would have felt heart-broken had 
 she followed Philippe to console him, as 
 she ought to have done,\ and thus have 
 left the queen and Charny at liberty 
 with Madame la Mothe ; that is to say, 
 more at liberty than had they been 
 alone. She divined this by the modest 
 and at the same time familiar air of 
 Jeanne. 
 
 How could she explain even to her- 
 self what she then felt I 
 
 4 Was it love ? Oh ! love, she would 
 have sitid to heraelf, doen not germi-
 
 184 
 
 THE QUEEN'S NECKLACE; OR, THE 
 
 mite, does not srow with such rapidity 
 in the cold atmosphere of a court. 
 Love, tlrnt rare plant, delights toflowei 
 in generous, pure arid untouched henrts. 
 It, would not strike deep root in a heart 
 profaned by recollections, in n soil chill- 
 ed by tears concentrated during l 
 years. No ; it was not love that Made- 
 moiselle de Taverney felt towards Char- 
 ny. She repelled the idea with all her 
 strength, because she had sworn to 
 herself never to love any thing io this 
 world. 
 
 'But why then had she so much suf- 
 fered, when Charny addressed a few 
 words of respect and devotedness to the 
 queen ? That, certes, could not l>0 
 jealousy.' 
 
 ' Yes, Andree acknowledged to her- 
 self that she was jealous : not of the love 
 which a man could feel towards another 
 woman, but jealous of the woman who 
 could inspire, accept, or authorize that 
 love. 
 
 She looked with mournful eyes on all 
 the handsome lovers of the new court, 
 who flitted around her. These yonng 
 and valiant gaHants, replete with ardor, 
 who could not comprehend her charac- 
 ter, and who kept" aloof after having 
 paid some slight homage to her some 
 Iwcause her coldness was not that of 
 philosophy, the others because that cold- 
 ness was a strange contrast to the levi- 
 ties amid which Andree must have been 
 brought up. 
 
 And besides, men, whether merely 
 in search of pleasure or dreaming of 
 love, mistrust the coldness of a woman 
 twenty-five years old, who is handsome, 
 rich, the favorite of a queen, and who 
 passes alone, frigid, silent and pale, 
 along a pa^h, where it is usually su- 
 preme joy and supreme happiness, to 
 make the greatest possible noise. 
 
 The being a living problem is not an 
 attraction, and this Andree had per- 
 ceived ; she had observed that eyes, 
 little by little, were averted from her 
 beauty ; minds that mistrusted her 
 mind, or denied she had any. She saw 
 even more : this abandonment became a 1 
 habit with the old courtiers, an instinct! 
 with the new ones ; it was no more a 
 custom to approach Mademoiselle de 
 Taverney and to speak to her, than it 
 was to approach the statues of Latona 
 and Dianii at Versailles, surrounded by 
 their girdles of blackened water. Who- 
 ever hud bowed to Mademoiselle de 
 Taverney. music hi* piroutteaud smiled 
 at another woman, considered that he 
 hnd fulfilled his duty. 
 
 All these shades of feeling hud uot 
 escaped the penetrating eyeof the yonng 
 girl. She, whose heart had 1 experienc- 
 ed every grief without knowing a single 
 pleasure ; she, who felt a:ge advancing 
 upon her with its retinue of pale caret 
 and gloomy recollections; MHO whisper* 
 ingly invoked him who punishes inriare 
 than him who pardons ; tuid in her pain- 
 ful, sleepless nights, passing in review 
 the delights offered to.the happy lovon 
 in Versailles, she sighed with mortal 
 bitterness, 
 
 '.And I ! my God !- and I !' 
 When she met Charuy, the nighfauf 
 the. severe i frost, when she saw the eye* 
 of the young; man fixed curiously upon 
 her, and gradually envelope her with 
 sympathetic feeling, she no longer re 
 cognized the strange reserve which tall 
 the> courtiers ewinced towards her. ' 'In 
 the eyes of that man she ws a woman. 
 He had re-awakened youth in her, and 
 had galvanized the dead ; he had made 
 blush the marble of which Diana . and 
 Latona were composed. 
 
 Therefore Mademoiselle de Taverney 
 immediately attached herself to this re- 
 generator, who had thus restored her to 
 vitality, therefore did she feel happy 
 when gazing on this young man, to 
 whom she was not a mere problem, 
 therefore was she unhappy when she 
 thought that another woman was about 
 to clip the wings of her cerulean fancy, 
 confiscate her dream, which had but 
 just issued from its golden portals. 
 
 We shall be pardoned for having thus 
 exphiined how it. was that Andree had 
 not followed Philippe when he left tbe 
 queen's cabinet; although she deeply 
 felt the outrage offered to her brother; 
 although this brother was the object of 
 tier idolatry, her religion,, almost of her 
 love. 
 
 Mademoiselle de Taverney, who 
 would not leave the queen in tete-a.-tttta 
 with Charny, did not take any further 
 part in the conversation, after the du- 
 misaal of her brother. 
 
 She seated hursalf beside the tire- 
 place, her back almost turned to the 
 group formed by the queen, sitting 
 down ; Charny standing, but b -tiding 
 forward ; Madame de la Mothe stand- 
 ing upright in the recess of a window, 
 in which her false timidity had sought a 
 refuge, but her real curiosity a favorable 
 place for observation. 
 
 The queen remained silent for some 
 moments, she know not. how to connect 
 this new cmiversalion with the delieuta 
 explanation that hiuijuH* token, place.
 
 MYSTERIES OF THE 'COURT OF LOUIS XVI. 
 
 185 
 
 Crmrny nppenrod suffering, nnd 1m 
 attitude was nut diwigreeuntde to the 
 queen. 
 
 At. length, Marie Antoinette broke 
 this silence, and responding at once to 
 her own thoughts, and that of the others, 
 
 All this proves,' said she suddonly, 
 
 4 that we arts not wanting in enemies. I 
 .Can it be believed, sir, that such miser- 
 able events have happened at the cm it 
 o France ? Would any oue beli6;it?' 
 Charny did not reply. 
 
 What happiness must it be,' con- 
 tinued thequeen, * to live on board your 
 ships, with nought but the clear sky 
 above, the open sea beneath ! To us, 
 citizens, they speak ..of flie-itteaehery of 
 the waves. Ah ! sir* sir* consider your 
 own case. Have not the waves of 
 ocean, the most furious waves, thrown 
 upon you their fotiming anger ? Have 
 not their attacks laid you prostrate 
 on the deck, and frequently ? Well, 
 you are in good health, you are young, 
 you are honored,' 
 
 * Madam !' 
 
 Have not the English,' continued 
 the queen, becoming animated by de- 
 grees, 'launched their liery .linger at 
 you, their gmpe shot and cannon balls, 
 anger full of danger to human life, is it 
 not ? But. what tines- that concern you? 
 You are safe, you are. strong ; and on 
 account of this very ringer of your ene 
 tniea whom you have vanquished, the 
 king has congratulated, caressed you, 
 and the people know your name and 
 love it.' 
 
 ' Well, madam ?' murmured Char- 
 ny, who saw with dread the increasing 
 animation of the queen. 
 
 ' You wish to know the point I am 
 aiming ,' she said, ' this is it: Blessed 
 be the enemies who launch against us 
 their fire, their ireu, their foaming 
 waves; blessed be the enemies who 
 only threaten us witbdetith.' 
 
 ' Good Heaven ! mud tun,' replied 
 Churny. 'your majesty ha- no enemies 
 the only ones the eagle has an- >T- 
 peats all that crawl upon the earth 
 cannot harm those who auar amid .he 
 clouds.' 
 
 'Sir,' rejoined the queen instantly, 
 you have, I know, returned unhui t,from 
 the battle, you have escaped unscathed 
 the horrors of the tempest: from all 
 these dangers you have been preserved 
 triumphant and hHuved, while those of 
 whom the enemy, such as we are at- 
 tacked by, soils .he i'.iir renown with 
 the black slime of calumny, those, I 
 8uy stuud uot in peril of their lives, 'lid 
 
 true, bnt they grow older after ech 
 succeeding tempest ; they accustom 
 themselves to bow down their heads, 
 in the fear of meeting, ns I have done 
 to-day, the two-fold injury of friends 
 and enemies combined in one attack; 
 and besides, sir, did you but know how 
 painful it is to be detested.' 
 
 Andreo waited with much anxiety 
 for the young man's answer ; she trem- 
 bled kfst he should reply in those terms 
 of tender consolation which the quean 
 ajjpejired toj solicit.. 
 
 But Guarny, on the contrary, wiped 
 his forehead with his handkerchief, 
 sought, for support by putting his hands 
 on the; back of a chair, aud became very 
 pale. 
 
 The queen, on perceiving this, ex- 
 cluimed 
 
 ' Is.it not too warm i here?' 
 
 Madame de la Mothe, with her deli- 
 cate small hand, unclasped the strong 
 fastening of the large French window 
 (is vigorously u* if. she had possessed 
 the wrist of it mnn. Clmrny inhaled 
 the fresh air with delight. 
 
 'This gentleman is accustomed to the 
 free Jjreey.e of the ocean, he would suf- 
 focate in the boudoirs of Versailles.' 
 
 ' It is not on that account, madam,' 
 replied Charny, ' but I am ordered on a 
 special service, and unless her majesty 
 commands me to renuiin' 
 
 By no means, sir,' said the queen, 
 4 we know what a special order is, do 
 we uot, A n dree ?' 
 
 Then turning towards Charny, and 
 with a slight tone of vexation, 
 
 4 You are free, sir,' she said. 
 
 And she dismissed the young officer 
 with a wave of her hand. 
 
 Charny bow-ed with the nir of a man 
 in haste, and disappeared behind the ta- 
 pestry. 
 
 In n few seconds a noise was heard 
 in the ante-chamber, as of some ono 
 groaning, and of several persons hurry- 
 ing towards the same spot. 
 
 The queen was stauding near the 
 daotv either accidentally, or from wish- 
 ing to observe Charny, whose precipi- 
 tate retreat had appeared extraordinary 
 to her. 
 
 She raised the tapestry, uttered' a 
 faint cry T and was about to rush forward. 
 
 But Andreo, who had kept her eyes 
 fixed upon her, imniedia'ely placed her- 
 self between the queen and the door. 
 
 'Oil, mada'iie ! she exclaimed. 
 
 The.queen gazed intently at Andree, 
 who firmly sustained the look. Madiuua 
 do lu- AiotueatttJtclied her head, for wurd. 
 
 -
 
 186 
 
 THE QUEEN'S NECKLACE ; OR, THE 
 
 
 Between the queon and Andree there 
 wits a small space, and through this 
 space she could see Charny lying in a 
 swoon, and several servants and guards 
 rendering him assistance. 
 
 The queen, observing the movement 
 of Mndaine de la Mothe. quickly closed 
 the door. 
 
 But it was too late, Jeanne had 
 seen nil. 
 
 Marie Antoinette, with frowning 
 brow and thoughtful steps, wiilked slow- 
 ly to her arm-chtiir, in which she again 
 sat down ; she was a prey to that gloomy 
 pre-occuptition which succeeds all vio- 
 lent emotions. She seemed as not to 
 be aware of the pros'ence of any liv- 
 ing being. 
 
 Andree, for her part, although she 
 remained standing and leaning against 
 the wall, did not appear less absent 
 than the queen. 
 
 There ensued a silence of some mo- 
 ments. 
 
 ' There is something most strange in 
 this,' cried the queen suddenly, and in 
 BO loud a tone that it made both her 
 companions start, so unexpected was it 
 to them ; ' it would really seem thai M. 
 de Charny still doubts' 
 
 ' What can he doubt, madam ?' in- 
 quired Andree. 
 
 ' Why, of my presence in the palace 
 during the night of the ball.' 
 
 ' Oh, madam ' 
 
 1 Is it not so, countess ? do you not 
 think I ..m right in saying that M. de 
 Charny still doubts ?' 
 
 ' Notwithstanding the king's word ? 
 Oh, madam, that is impossible !' cried 
 Andree. 
 
 ' They may think that the king came 
 to my assistance from mere self-love. 
 Oh ! he does not believe it ! no, he 
 does not believe it ! that is easily per- 
 ceived.' 
 
 Audree bit her lips. 
 
 My brother is not so incredulous as 
 M. de Charny,' said she ; ' he appear- 
 ed quite convinced.' 
 
 'Oh! that would be bad indeed!' 
 continued the queen, who had not list- 
 ened to Andrew's reply ; ' and in that 
 case this young man's heart is not so 
 pure and upright as I thought.' 
 
 Then angrily striking her hands to- 
 gether : 
 
 ' But after all,' she exclaimed, if he 
 really thinks he saw me, why should 
 he believe .' M. d* Artoia saw me, M. 
 Philippe also saw me so he says, at 
 leuBt; every body saw me, and it requir- 
 ed the king's word to make tbeui be- 
 
 | lieve, or rather I should say, appear to 
 believe. Oh, there is something be- 
 neath all this, something which I must 
 cloar up, since no one else appears to 
 think of doing so. Do you not think, 
 Andree, that I ought to'eudeavor to dia- 
 cover the meaning of all this ?' 
 
 ' Your majesty is right?' replied An- 
 dree, 'and I am sure that I he countess 
 de la Mothe is of opinion with me, Hint 
 you should make every inquiry until 
 you have discovered it. Is i not so, 
 madam ?' 
 
 Madame de la Mothe, thus taken by 
 surprise, shuddered, but did not reply. 
 
 ' For, in short,' added the queen, 
 ' they say that I was seen at Mesmer's.' 
 
 ' And your majesty was there,' quick- 
 ly observed Madame de la Mothe, with 
 a smile. 
 
 Be it so,' replied the queen ; but I 
 did not do what the pamphlet charges 
 me with having done. And, besides, I 
 was seen at the opera, and there I cer- 
 tainly was not.' 
 
 She reflected for a moment, and then 
 suddenly and eagerly cried : 
 
 ' Oh) I shall come at the truth now.' 
 
 'The truth!' stammered the countess, 
 
 ' Oh ! so much the better,' said An- 
 dree. 
 
 ' Let M. de Crosne be immediately 
 sent for,' joyously said the queen to 
 Madame de Misery, who had come into 
 the room. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVIII. 
 
 M. DE CROSNE. 
 
 M. DE CROSNE, who was a very po- 
 lite man, had found himself completely 
 puzzled, since the explanation which 
 had taken place between the king and 
 queen. 
 
 The possessing all the secrets of a 
 lady, and particularly when that, lady ia 
 the queen, is a position of no slight dif- 
 ficulty ; above all when the party has to 
 watch over the interests of a crown, and 
 to be careful of its fair fame. 
 
 M. de Croene felt that he \va* about 
 to endure the whole weight of woman's 
 anger and the indignation of a queen ; 
 but he had courageously entrenched 
 himself behind his absolute duly, and 
 his well-known urbanity would serve 
 him as a shield to ward off the first 
 blow. He quietly entered the queeu'n 
 cab'net, a smile upon his lips. 
 
 As to the queeti, she did not smile. 
 
 4 Come, M. do Crosne,' suid elie to
 
 MYSTERIES OF THE COURT OF LOUIS XVI. 
 
 137 
 
 him, 'it is now our turn to have an ex- 
 planation.' 
 
 1 am nt your majesty's commands.' 
 
 4 As Lieutenant of Police, you ought 
 to know- the cause of all that has hap- 
 pened to me ?' 
 
 M. do Crosne looked around him 
 with a somewhat affrighted air. 
 
 1 Do not make yourself uneasy,' pur- 
 sued the queen, ' you are well acquaint- 
 ed with l)')th these ladies; you know 
 every body.' 
 
 Very nearly so,' replied the magis- 
 trate, ' I know persons, I can see effects, 
 but 1 know not the cause of which your 
 majesty lias spoken.' 
 
 ' I must, therefore, have the displea- 
 sure of informing you of it,' observed 
 the queen, annoyed at the serenity of 
 the Lieutenant of Police. 'It is very 
 evident that I could impart my secret 
 to you, as these secrets are generally 
 imparted, in a whisper and in a corner; 
 but 1 have adopted the maxim of doing 
 things in broad daylight and aloud. 
 Well I attribute these effects, as you 
 please to term them, the effects of 
 which I complain, to the bad conduct 
 of a person who resembles me, and 
 Avho makes an exhibition of herself at 
 those places where you, sir, or your 
 agents, have thought you had seen me.' 
 
 4 A resemblance !' cried M. de'Crosne, 
 too much occupied in scrutinising the 
 attack made upon him by the queen, to 
 remark the temporary confusion of 
 Jeanne, and an exclamation from An- 
 dree. 
 
 ' Do you deem this supposition an 
 impossibility, M. de Crosne ? Would 
 you rather believe that I am deceiving 
 myself or deceiving you T 
 
 Madam, I say not that; but what- 
 ever may be the resemblance between 
 any woman and your majesty, there 
 must still be such a difference that no 
 experienced observer could be deceiv- 
 ed by it.' 
 
 ' They can be deceived, sir, because 
 t'ley have been so.' 
 
 ' And I will furnish an instance to 
 your majesty,' said Andree. 
 
 Ah!' 
 
 When we lived at Taverney, Mai- 
 eon- Rouge, with my father, we had a 
 servant girl, who, by a struuge freak of 
 nature ' 
 
 ' Resembled me ?' 
 
 Oh ! your majgsty, so much as to 
 deceive any one ' 
 
 ' And this girl, what has since become 
 of her ?' 
 
 We knew not then that your majes- 
 
 ty possessed a mind so generous, eleva- 
 ted and superior. My father feared 
 that this resemblance might be displeas- 
 ing to the queen, and when we were at 
 Treanon, we concealed this girl from 
 the eyes of the whole court.' 
 
 ' You see now, M. de Crosne ! Ah ! 
 ah ! this seems to intere: t you.' 
 
 ' Very much, madam.' 
 
 'Go on, my dear Andree.* 
 
 ' Well, madam, this girl, who was of 
 a volatile, ambitious disposition, grew 
 weary of being so closely pent up. She 
 doubtless made some bad acquaintance, 
 and one evening when I was-about- to 
 retire for the night, I was surprised to 
 find she was not in attendance. She 
 was sought for everywhere, but no 
 trace of her could be found ; she hud 
 disappeared. 
 
 My resemblance, most likely, stole 
 something from you ?' 
 
 * No, madam, for I possessed nothing 
 worthy of being stolen ' 
 
 Jeanne had listened to this colloquy 
 with an attention which will be easily 
 understood. 
 
 l Thus, you did not know all this,' 
 said the queen inquiringly to M. de 
 Crosne. 
 
 'No, madam.' 
 
 ^Therefore, there does exist a wo- 
 man who bears a striking resemblance 
 to me, and you do not know it ! There- 
 fore, an event of this importance is pro- 
 pagated throughout the kingdom, caus- 
 ing great scandal, and you are not the 
 first to be informed of such an event. 
 Come now, sir, acknowledge that the 
 police is very ill administered.' 
 
 1 Bui,' replied the magistrate. ' I can 
 assure you that it is not, madam. It is 
 well for the vulgar to conceive that the 
 functions of a Lieutenant of Police are 
 equal to the functions of God himself. 
 But your majesty, who sits far above 
 me in this terrestrial Olympus, well 
 knows that the king's magistrates are 
 merely men ; I do not command events ; 
 and there are many extraordinary ones 
 which human intelligence can scarcely 
 comprehend.' 
 
 ' Sir, when a man has been endowed 
 with every possible power to inquire 
 into even the thoughts of his fellow- 
 men ; when by his agents he pays spies, 
 when by his spies he notes down even 
 the glances I give at my looking-glass, 
 if such a man cannot command events' 
 
 ' Madam, when your majesty re- 
 mained a night absent from the palace 
 I knew of it. Is my police well man- 
 aged T Yen, you must allow it ; that
 
 
 188 
 
 THE QUEEN'S NECKLACE ; OR, THE 
 
 day your majesty went to the house of j 
 this lady, Rue Suint-Claude, in theMa- 
 ruis. That was DO affair of mine. 
 When you appeared at Mesmer'a Vat 
 with Madame de Lamballe, you really 
 did go there, I believe? Therefore, my 
 police was well conducted, because my 
 agents saw you there. Wlien. you went 
 to the opera ' 
 
 The queen proudly raised her head. 
 'Allow me to continue, madam ; I say 
 you, as the Count d' Ai'tois said,: YOU ! 
 Jf the brother-in-law can be mistaken as 
 to his sister s features, how much more 
 likely is it for poor agent to be mis- 
 token, who receives but half-a-crown a 
 day. The agent said he thought he had 
 .Been you. My police was therefore 
 well admiai.st.pred on that day. Do you 
 also say, madam, that my agents did uot 
 well follow up the aftair of the gazet- 
 teer Reteau, who was so soundly caned 
 by M. de Charny?' 
 
 4 B" M. de Charny !' cried the queen 
 and Andree, simultaneously. 
 
 ' The event is not, of an old date, ma- 
 dam, and the wales inflicted by the cane 
 are still visible on the gazetteer's shoul- 
 ders. Tliis event is one of .those ludi- 
 crous circumstances of which my pre- 
 decessor, M. de Sartines, would have 
 made a triumph, when he related them 
 with so much wit to the late king or to 
 the favorite.' 
 
 'Did M. Charny demenn himself by 
 coming in contact with such a wretch?' 
 
 4 1 only know it through my so much 
 calumniated police, madam ; aud you 
 must acknowledge that it required some 
 intelligence in I hat police to discover the 
 duel which followed this affair.' 
 
 ' A duel, in w.hich M. de Charny was 
 concerned! M. de Chnrny has fought 
 a duel !' exclaimed the queen. 
 
 ' With that gazetteer ?' ardently in- 
 quired Andree. 
 
 ' Oh ! no, madam, The gazetteer 
 who was so well beaten would not have 
 given M. de Charny the >word-wound 
 which caused him to faint in your ante- 
 chamber.' 
 
 Wounded ! he is wounded !' cried 
 the queen ; 'wounded ! but when did 
 this happen .' how ? you must be mis- 
 taken, M. de Crosnc.' 
 
 ' Oh ! madam, your majesty finds me 
 often enough at fault, to allow that fur 
 this once I am right.' 
 
 Why he was here but now.' 
 4 1 know that well." 
 
 Oh! but,' said Audree, ! clearly 
 
 caw that he was suffering great pain.' 
 
 Aud these words she pronounced. in 
 
 such a way, that the queen discovered 
 their hostility, and turned quickly round. 
 The look of tho queen was a retort 
 which Andree energeically sustained. 
 
 ' What say you ?' cried Marie An- 
 toinette ; 'you remarked that M. do 
 Charny was sufficing, and you did not 
 tell me of it ?' 
 
 Andree did not reply; Jeanne advanc- 
 ed to the assistance of the favorite* of 
 whom it was necessary to make- a tVinnd. 
 
 ' And I also thought that M. do Char- 
 ny supported himself with difficulty, 
 during the whole time her majesty, did 
 him the honor to speak to him.' 
 
 ' With difficulty, yes !' said the proud 
 Audree, who did not. .even tkunk the 
 countess with a look. 
 
 M. de Crosne, he .who had been so 
 closely questioned, wus enjoying ; the 
 observations he was leisurely '.ranking 
 on these three women, neither of, whom, 
 Jeanne excepted, imagined they were 
 being scrutinized by the, lieutenant of 
 police. 
 
 At length the queen resumed her in- 
 quiritt*. 
 
 Sir, with whom, and for what irea- 
 son did M. de Chnrny fight?' 
 
 During this time Andree had regain- 
 ed her self-possession. 
 
 With a gentleman who but good 
 heavens, madam, it is now useless tho 
 two adversaries are good friends again 
 at thi.s Moment, since but a short, liitio 
 ago they were conversing together be- 
 fore your majesty.' 
 
 1 Before me ! here ?' 
 
 4 Yes, in this very room, from which 
 the conqueror was the first to Ls.sue, 
 some twenty minutes since.' 
 
 M. do Taverney!' exclaimed the 
 queen, a flash of auger darting from 
 her eyes. 
 
 'My brother !' murmured Andree, 
 who reproached herself with being so 
 egotistical as uot to have understood it 
 all nt once. 
 
 ' I believe that, in fact, it was with 
 M. Philippe de Taverney that M. do 
 Charny fought.' 
 
 The que.en struck her hands violently 
 against each other, which was always 
 with her the indication of her most 
 violent rage. 
 
 ' This is indecorous,' she said, ' what. 1 
 are we to have American manners in- 
 troduced at Versailles Oh ! no, I will 
 never accustom myaelf to them.' 
 
 Andree held down her head, and M. 
 de Crosne also. 
 
 ' Therefore, because a man has asso- 
 ciated with M. Laiiiyettt' uud Monsieur
 
 MYSTERIES OF THE COURT OF LOUIS XVI. 
 
 189 
 
 Washington,' the queen affected to pro- 
 nounre the last name in the French 
 way, ' my court is to he metamorphased 
 into a battle-list; of the sixteenth cen- 
 tury. No, once more, no; Andree you 
 must have known that your brother had 
 fought ?' 
 
 1 only learn it now, madam,' replied 
 Andree. 
 
 'And why did he fight?' 
 
 We might have asked that of M. de 
 Chnrny, who fought with him,' replied 
 Andree, pale, but with flushing eyes. 
 
 'I do not ask,' arrogantly rejoined the 
 queen, ' what M. de Charily did. but 
 what M. Philippe de Taverney has 
 done ?' 
 
 If my brother has fought,' said the 
 young girl, letting her words fall one by 
 one, ' it cannot have been against the 
 interests of your miijesty.' 
 
 Do you mean to imply, mademois- 
 elle, that M. de Charny fought not for 
 my interest.' 
 
 I have the honor to observe to your 
 majesty,' replied Andree, in the same 
 tone, 'that I spoke to the queen of my 
 brother, and not of any oilier person.' 
 
 Marie Antoinette appeared culm, but 
 in order to accomplish this, she was 
 compelled to exert all the self-control 
 of which she was capable. 
 
 She rose from her chair, took a turn 
 round the room, pretended to look at 
 herself in the glass,. took^ a volume from 
 a book-stand, read seven or eight lines, 
 and threw it aside. 
 
 I thank you, M. de Crosne,' said she 
 to the magistrate, 'you have convinced 
 me* My head was rather confused by 
 nil these reports, alt these suppositions. 
 Yes, the police is very well adminis- 
 tered, sir, hut I beg of you not to for- 
 get the resemblance of which I have 
 ftpoken to you. You will not do so ? 
 Adieu !' 
 
 She held out her hand to him with 
 nexpresjiible grace, and ho left the 
 room twice as happy as when he en- 
 tered it. Andreo felt the meaning of 
 the word adieu ! She made a long and 
 tolemn courtesy. 
 
 *Tiio queon bade her adieu in a negli- 
 gent manner, but without any apparent 
 ill feeling. 
 
 Jeanne bent down as if before a sa- 
 ered altar ; she was preparing to take 
 li-avn. Miidamo de Misery came iuto 
 thu room. 
 
 .Madam,' said she to the queen, 
 d'ul not your majesty appoint Messrs. 
 l?ohmer and Bossuiige to wuit upon 
 you ut this hour j' 
 
 'Ahi tnat is true, my good Misery, 
 that is true. Let them come in. Re- 
 main a little longer, Madame de la 
 Mothe, I must get, the king to make 
 peace more thoroughly with you.' 
 
 The queen while saying these words 
 was watching in a looking-glass the ex- 
 pression of Andree's features, who was 
 slowly retiring towards the door. 
 
 She wished to pique her jealousy by 
 thus favoring the new-comer. 
 
 Andree disappeared beneath the folds 
 of the tapestry; she had neither knit 
 her brow, nor in any way changed 
 countenance. 
 
 ' Steel ! steel !' said the queen to 
 herself, sighing, ' Yes, they are all steel 
 these Taverneys, but tried gold too.' 
 
 ' Ah ! good day, genllemen jewellers. 
 What new .trinket do you bring me 1 
 You know I have no money.' , 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIX. 
 
 THE TEMPTRESS. 
 
 MADAME DE LA MOTHE had resumed 
 her station ; she remained at a distance 
 with unassuming modesty, standing and 
 attentive as a woman to whom it has 
 been permitted to remain and listen. 
 
 Messrs. Boehmer and Bossange, dres- 
 sed with much ceremony, presented 
 themselves to receive audience of the 
 sovereign. They continued bowing un- 
 til they reached the queen's arm chair. 
 
 ' Jewellers,' said she suddenly, 'come 
 here only to speak of jewels. You 
 have ill-chosen your time, gentlemen.' 
 
 M. Boehmer was the one to speak ; 
 he was the orator of the partnership. 
 
 ' Madam,' he replied, ' we have not 
 come- heVo to ofler our goods to your 
 majesty; we should fear to be indis- 
 creet.' 
 
 ' Oh !' snid the queen, who already 
 repented having evinced so much cour- 
 age, ' to see jewels, is not to purchase 
 them.' 
 
 ' Undoubtedly, madam,' continued 
 Boehmer, endeavoring to remember the 
 next word of his address, ' but we have 
 come to fulfil a duty, and that has em- 
 boldened us.' 
 
 'A duty,' said the queen, with some 
 astonishment. 
 
 ' It is with regard to that beautiful 
 diamond necklace which your majesty 
 did not deign to take.' 
 
 'Ah! yes. The necklace. That is 
 again brought forward is it ?' cried liid
 
 100 
 
 THE QUEEN'S NECKLACE; Oft, THE 
 
 queen, laughing. Doehmer remained 
 erious. 
 
 The fact is, that it was very beauti- 
 ful, M. Boehmer,' added the queen. 
 
 So beautiful, madam,' observed M. 
 Doehmer timidly, 'that your majesty is 
 alone worthy to wear it.' 
 
 ' That which consoles me,' said Marie 
 Antoinette, with a slight sigh, which 
 did not escape the ears of Madame de 
 In Mothe, ' that which consoles me is, 
 that it cost a million und a half is it 
 not so, sir ?' 
 
 4 Yes, your majesty.' 
 
 4 And that,' continued the queen, ' in 
 the amiable times in which we live, 
 when the hearts of the people have be- 
 come cold as the present winter's sun, 
 there is no sovereign who can purchase 
 a diamond necklace which costs fifteen 
 hundred thousand livres.' 
 
 4 Fifteen hundred thousand livres,' 
 repeated Madame de la. Mothe, like a 
 faithful echo. 
 
 4 So that, gentlemen, that which I 
 could not. which I ought not to pur- 
 chase, no one else can have. You will 
 reply by saying that the stones separ- 
 ately are good. That is true, but I 
 should never envy any one the posses- 
 sion of two or three diamonds ; I might 
 envy them had they the whole sixty.' 
 
 The queen rubbed her hands with a 
 degree of satisfaction, in which entered 
 somewhat of a desire to banter Mes- 
 sieurs Boehrrer and Bossange. 
 
 ' And it is on this precise point that 
 your majesty is mistaken,' said Boehmer, 
 'and that is also the true nature of the 
 duty which we are now come to fulfil. 
 The necklace is sold.' 
 
 ' Sold !' cried the queen, turning 
 round. 
 
 4 Sold !' cried Madame de la Mothe, 
 whom the sudden movement of her 
 protectress inspired with some uneasi- 
 ness us to her pretended self-denial. 
 
 4 To whom, then ?' rejoined the 
 queen. 
 
 4 Ah ! madam, that is a state secret.' 
 
 A state secret, good ! thon we may 
 very fairly laugh about it,' joyously ex- 
 cluimed Marie. Antoinette, 'it frequent- 
 ly happens that these wonderful secrets 
 cunnot be told, because there is really! 
 nothing to tell. Is it not so, Boehmor .'' 
 
 4 Madam !' 
 
 4 Oh ! these state secrets are every 
 day a Hairs with us. Take care, Boeh 
 uii-.r, for if you will not entrust me 
 with yours, 1 will have it stolen from 
 you by one of M. de Crosne's agonis.' 
 
 And she laughed very heartily, thus 
 
 manifesting clearly her opinion of the 
 pretended secret which prevented 
 Boehmer and Bossnnge fron* revealing 
 the name of the purchaser of the neck- 
 lace. 
 
 ' Wjth your Majesty,' said Boehmer 
 gravely, we do not conduct ourselves 
 as towards other customers ; we fime 
 to inform your Majesty that the neck- 
 lace is sold, because it is really sold, and 
 we have been obliged to conceal the 
 name of the purchaser, because in tact/ 
 the sale was secretly made, an ambas- 
 sador having performed a journey in- 
 cognito, expressly for this purpose. 
 
 The queen on hearing the word ' am- 
 bassador' was seized with another fit of 
 hilarity. She turned towards Mudume 
 de la Mothe, saying to her : 
 
 ' That which is perfectly admirable 
 in Boehmer is, that he is capable of be- 
 lieving all he hast jnst said to me. Come 
 now, Boehmer, only just mention the 
 country from which this ambassador has 
 arrived. Oh ! no, that would be too 
 much,' continued she, laughing, ' only 
 the first letter of the name, that is all,' 
 
 And having once got into a laughing 
 humor, she could no longer restrain it. 
 
 It is the ambassador from Portugal,' 
 said Boehmer, lowering his voice, as if 
 at all events, to prevent his secret reach- 
 ing the ears of Madame de la Mothe. 
 
 On hearing this plain and positive as- 
 sertion, the queen ceased laughing. 
 
 'The ambassador from Portugal !' why 
 he is not here, Boehmer.' 
 
 4 One has arrived expressly on this 
 business, madam,' 
 
 ' And has been at your house, incog- 
 nito ?' 
 
 ' Yes, madam.' 
 
 ' Who is it, then ? 
 
 4 M. de Souza.' 
 
 The queen did not reply. She rock- 
 ed her head to and fro for a few mo- 
 ments, then as if she hud suddenly como 
 to u resolution, 
 
 4 Well ! she said ' so much the better 
 for her majesty, the quen of Portugal ; 
 the diamonds are beautiful, but let us 
 say no more about them.' 
 
 1 Your majesty, on the contrary, will" 
 deign to allow me to speak of them, al- 
 low us,' he added, ' looking at his part- 
 ner.' 
 
 Bossange bowed. 
 
 4 Have you seen these diamonds, 
 countess ?' said the queen, looking at 
 Jeanne. ' No, madam.' 
 
 4 They are beautiful ! It is a pity 
 that those gentlemen have uot brought 
 them.'
 
 MYSTERIES OF THE COURT OF LOUIS XVI. 
 
 191 
 
 They are here,' said IJoehmer, oa- in you to prefer a Bhip-of-the-Iine to & 
 gorly. necklace, the nobility, wliu are also 
 
 AIM] Hebrew from his hat, which j French, would nut have considered it 
 he had carried under his arm, the small > surprising that the queen of Fnmce 
 
 flat box, containing the necklace. 
 
 4 Look, look nt them, countess, you 
 are a woman, and it will interest you,' 
 said the queen. 
 
 And she withdrew a little from (hw 
 Stand of Sevres china, upon which 
 Boehmer had with much art placed the 
 necklace, in such a position that the 
 light striking full upon the diamonds, 
 made every cutting send forth its varied 
 fires. 
 
 Jeanne uttered a cry of admiration ; 
 and, in fact, nothing could be more 
 splendid ; it might have been deemed a | 
 tongue of fire, now red, now green, and 
 then again white as even light itself. 
 Boehmer occasionally moved the case, 
 and the oscillation produced the effect 
 of gushing liquid flames. 
 
 'Aamirable! admirable!' cried Jeanne 
 with the delirium of enthusiastic admi- 
 ration. 
 
 Fifteen hundred thousand livres. 
 which might be held in the hollow of 
 my hand,'' replied the queen, with an 
 affectation of phlegmatic philosophy, 
 such as M. Rousseau, of Geneva, would 
 have exhibited under similar circum- 
 stances. 
 
 But Jeanne saw something more i'n 
 this disdain than the disdain itself; for 
 she did not give up the hope of convinc- 
 ing the queen, and after having examin- 
 ed the diamonds-for some time: 
 
 The jeweller, M. Boehmer, was 
 right,' she said; 'there is in the whole 
 world but one queen, worthy of wearing 
 this necklace, and that queen id your 
 majesty.' 
 
 And yet my mnjosty will not wear 
 it,' replied Marie Antoinette. 
 
 We could not allow it to depart from 
 France, madam, without luying at your 
 majesty's feet the expression of our re- 
 gret. It is u jewel known now to all 
 Europe, and of which even king's diu 
 pute the possession. That such or such 
 a sovereign should adorn herself with it, 
 after its having been refused by the 
 queen of France, our national pride may 
 perhaps permit, when you, madam, 
 hall once more have definitively, irre- 
 vocably refused it.' 
 
 " iMy refusal has been pronounced,' 
 replied the queen ; * it has been publish- 
 ed. 1 have been too much praised for 
 that refusal to retract it.' 
 
 Oh, madam,' said Boehmer. 'if the 
 
 should purchase a necklace after having 
 purchased a line-of-battle ship.' 
 
 4 Let us speak no more of it,' said 
 Marie Antoinette, casting a last glance 
 at the necklace. 
 
 Jeanne sighed, by way of assisting tho 
 queen's sigh. 
 
 "Ah, you sigh, do you, countess? 
 Were you in my place, you would act 
 as I do.' 
 
 ' I do not know,' murmured Jeanne. 
 
 ' Have you examined it well ?' said 
 the queen, hastily. 
 
 1 1 could look at it for ever, madam !' 
 
 ' Let this curious woman look on, 
 gentlemen ; she is admiring them that 
 will not detract from the value of the 
 diamonds ; they will, unfortunately, al- 
 ways be worth fifteen hundred thousand 
 livres.' 
 
 The word 'unfortunately' appeared to 
 offer a favorable opportunity to Jeanne. 
 
 The queen regretted, therefore she 
 had wislied ; she had wished, therefore 
 she must still desire since that wish 
 had not been gratified. Such was 
 Jeanne's logic, for so we must imagine, 
 since she added : 
 
 Fifteen hundred thousand livres, 
 madam, which on your neck would 
 make every woman die of jealousy, 
 were they Cleopatra, were they Venus 
 herself.'. 
 
 And snatching from its case the 
 royal necklace, she threw it round the 
 queen's neck with such marvellous skill, 
 and closed the clasp with such agility, 
 that it was fastened on the satin-like 
 skin of Marie Antoinette so suddenly, 
 that the latter found herself inundated 
 with a phosphoric and changing flood 
 of light before she was even aware of 
 Jeanne's intention. 
 
 ' Oh ! your majesty ; you are sublime 
 now,' exclaimed Jeanne. 
 
 Marie .Antoinette hurriedly ao 
 pronched a looking-glass ; she was per- 
 fectly dn/.xling. 
 
 Her neck, white and flexible as that 
 of Lady Jane Grey, that neck delicate 
 as the stalk of the lily, destined to full 
 like Virgil's flower beneath the tren- 
 
 chant iron, rose gracefully 
 golden ringlets above this 
 
 with its 
 
 luminous 
 
 flood. 
 
 Jeanne had ventured to remove a ker- 
 chief from the queen's shoulders, BO 
 thul tho lowest range of diamonds full 
 
 people huve considered it magnanimous ou her pearl-like bosom. The quuoil
 
 192 
 
 THE q^JEEN'S NECKLACE; OR, THE 
 
 was radiant, the woman was snporb. 
 Lovers and subjects, all would have 
 fallen prostrate at her feet. 
 
 iMaiia Antoinetie forgot, herself BO 
 far as to admire herself in the glass, 
 then trembling with apprehension, she 
 wished to tear the necklace from her 
 shoulders. 
 
 1 Enough,' said she, ' enough.' 
 
 Your majesty has worn it,' cried 
 Boehmer, ' no one else should be per- 
 mitted to wear it.' 
 
 'Impossible!' replied the queen, 
 firmly. ' Gentlemen, I have played u 
 little with these diamonds, to jest long- 
 er with them would be u fault.' 
 
 ' Your majesty has ample time to ac- 
 custom yourself to this idea ; we will 
 return to-morrow.' 
 
 4 To defer payment is still to pay. 
 And besides which, why defer payment, 
 you are in want of the money ? and 
 doubtless you will be | aid more advan- 
 tageously.' 
 
 ' Yes, your majesty, in ready money,' 
 replied Boehmer, the feelings of a 
 tradesman again prevailing. 
 
 'Take it! take it!' cried the queen ; 
 Into t'.ie case with it, quick, quick !' 
 
 ' Your majesty perhaps forgets that 
 such an ornament is always money, and 
 that a hundred years hence the neck- 
 lace will be worth as much as it is to- 
 day.' 
 
 Give me fifteen hundred' thousand j 
 liVres, countess,' said the queen with i>. i 
 forced smile, ' and then we will see.' 
 
 'Oh! if I but had them!' exclaimed 
 Jennne, and there she paused long 
 phrases are sometimes not so eloquent 
 as an appropriate silence. 
 
 It was in vain that Boehmer and Bos- 
 sange occupied a quarter of an hour in 
 closing up and putting padlocks on their 
 diamonds. The queen did not slir. 
 
 It could be perceived by her sorrow- 
 ful looks, by her silence, that the im- 
 pression made by this scene hud been 
 vivid the struggle painful. 
 
 According to her usual habit, when 
 out of humor, she took up a book, and 
 turned over u low pages without read- 
 ing them. 
 
 The jewellers took their leave, say- 
 ing : ' Your majesty has refused /' 
 
 Yes and again, yes." sighed the' 
 queen, and this time tshe bighud so that 
 all might hear. 
 
 They withdrew. 
 
 Jeanne saw that the foot of Marie 
 Artoinotte was beating time above the 
 Velvet cushion on which its impression ' 
 was still left. 
 
 ' She suflTors,' thought the countess. 
 
 Suddenly the queen rose, took a turo 
 in the room, ami then stopped before 
 Jeanne, whose look fascinated her. 
 
 * Countess,' said ahe, in a brief tone, 
 'it appears that the king will not return. 
 Our little petit.iuii must therefore be 
 deferred to the next audience.' 
 
 Jeanne curtseyed respectfully, nnd 
 drew back towards the dror, keeping 
 her face turned towards the queen. 
 
 ' But I shall think of you,' added the 
 queen, kindly.' 
 
 Jeanne pressed her lips tri the queen'* 
 hand, as if she wished to leave her 
 heart there, and retired, leaving Marie 
 Antoinette a prey to vexation and the 
 vapors. 
 
 ' The vexation of want of means' 
 the vapors of unsatisfied wishes,' said 
 Jeanne to herself; 'and she a uueen* 
 Oil, no! she is a woman !' 
 
 The Countess disappeared. 
 
 CHAPTER XL. 
 
 TWO AMBITIONS, WHICH WISH TO PASS 
 FOR TWO LOVE PASSIONS. 
 
 JEANNE also was a woman, and with- 
 out being a queen. 
 
 The result of this was, that sh had 
 scarcely seated herself in her carnage, 
 when she began to compare the beauti- 
 ful palace at Versailles, its rich and 
 splendid furniture, to her fif.h story in 
 the Rue Saint Gilles ; its magnificently 
 attired lackeys to her old servant Clo- 
 thelde. 
 
 But almost immediately the humble 
 garret and the old servant lied from her 
 into the deep snades of the past, like 
 one of those visions which, ceasing to 
 exist, have never existed: and Jeanne 
 Saw before her eyes her prelty house 
 in the faubourg Saint Aiiioine, so ele- 
 gant, so graceful, so coinfortitlilc* as 
 would be, said in our days with her 
 lackeys, whose liveries hud It-ss em- 
 broidery about them than those of Ver- 
 sailles, but as respectful and us obe- 
 dient. 
 
 This house- nnd those Inckrys were 
 her own Versailles; she was no less a 
 queon there than .Marie Antoinette her- 
 self, and her desires once formed, pro- 
 vided she knesv how to limit them, not' 
 to the strictly necessary, but within 
 
 ' Tlic KnirlL-b word coin for tubleu uuir complete- 
 ly udupu.d 111 Fnoicc. XKANS.
 
 MYSTERIES OF- THE COURT OF LOUIS XVI. 
 
 193 
 
 rensonnblo bounds wore as well mid as 
 speedily executed a.s if she; had wielded 
 the sceptre. 
 
 It was, therefore, with a cheerful 
 fiice and a smile upon her lips, that 
 Jeanne re-entered her house. It. was 
 Btill early ; she took paper, pen and ink, 
 wrote a few lines, enclosed them in a 
 fine nnd perfumed envelope, wrote the 
 address, and rang her bell. 
 
 The last vibration of the bell had 
 scarcely ceased, when the door opened 
 and n servant stood upon the threshold 
 waiting her orders. 
 
 4 1 was rifclit,' murmured Jeanne, 'the 
 queen is not better served.' 
 
 Then stretching forth her hand 
 
 *This letter to my lord, the Cardinal 
 de Rohan,' said she. 
 
 The lackey advanced, took the note 
 and left the room without saying a word, 
 with the mute obedience of servants in 
 respectable families, 
 
 The countess fell into a deep revery, 
 a revery which was not new, but which 
 formed a continuation to the one she 
 had indulged in on the road. 
 
 Five minutes had not elapsed when 
 ojne one scratched at the door. 
 
 ' Come in,' said Madame de la Mothe. 
 
 The same lackey made his appear- 
 ance. 
 
 4 Well ?' cried Madame de la Mothe, 
 in a slightly impatient tone, imagining 
 that her order had not been executed. 
 
 At the moment I was going out to 
 execute your orders, my lady countess,' 
 suit! the lackey, ' my lord knocked at 
 the door. I told him that I was going 
 to his hotel. He took the letter, read 
 it, jumped out of his carriage and came 
 into the house, saying, 
 
 4 'Tis well ; announce me.' 
 
 Go on.' 
 
 4 My lord is here ; he waits until it 
 shall jpleose you, madam, to allow him 
 to come in.' 
 
 A slight smile played round the lips 
 of the countess. After n delay of about 
 two seconds, 4 request him to come in,' 
 she said, in a tone of marked satisfac- 
 tion. 
 
 Were these two seconds allowed to 
 elapse for the purpose of having the 
 satisfaction of keeping a prince of the 
 Church waiting in her ante-chamber, 
 or were they necessary to the complete 
 concoction of her plan ? 
 
 The prince appeared at tho door. 
 
 < >n returning to her house, in send- 
 uig for the cardinal, in experiencing so 
 much satisfaction at tho cardinal's be- 
 ing there, Jeanne hud then a plan? 
 
 Yes, for the fantasy of tho queen, 
 similar to the ignis fiituys which light 
 up a darksome valley, this fantasy of 
 the queen, nnd above all. of the woman, 
 had exposed to the eyes of the intrigu- 
 ing countess all the recesses of a soul 
 | too haughty moreover to take much 
 I pains to conceal them. 
 
 The road from Versailles to Paris is 
 a long one, and when it is .travelled 
 over side by side with the demon of cu- 
 pidity, ht> has time and to spare to whis- 
 per into your ear the most daring coun- 
 cils. 
 
 Jeanne felt herself intoxicated by 
 that large amount, fifteen hundred 
 thousand livres, spread out in diamonds 
 on the white satin rf Messrs. Boehmer 
 and Bossange's jewel case. 
 
 Was not this sum of fifteen hundred 
 thousand livres a princely fortune, and 
 above all, to the poor mendicant, who 
 not a month before held out her hand to 
 receive alms from the great. 
 
 Certainly there was a greater dis- 
 tance between the Jeanne de Valois of 
 the rue Saiot Claude and the Jeanne de 
 Valois of the faubourg Saint Autoiue, 
 than between the Jeanne de Valois of 
 the faubourg Saint Antoine and the 
 Jeanne de j/alois, mistress of the neck- 
 lace. 
 
 She had therefore accomplished more 
 than half the distance which led to for- 
 tune. 
 
 And this fortune which Jeanne covet- 
 ed was not. an illusion, as is the word of 
 a contract, as is a territorial possession, 
 both things of great value, undoubt- 
 ed!}', but to which it is necessary to ad- 
 join the intelligence of th> mind or of 
 the eyes. 
 
 No, this necklace was a very different 
 thing to a contract or an estate : this 
 necklace was a visible, tangible fortune, 
 and therefore was it always there, burn- 
 ing and fascinating; and since the queen 
 desired k, Jeanne might bo permitted 
 to dream of it; since the queen could 
 make up her mind to forego the pos- 
 session of it, Madame de la Mothe 
 might limit her ambition to obtaining it. 
 
 Therefore a thousand vague ideas, 
 those strange phantoms with cloud-like 
 outlines, which the poet Aiistophnnes 
 assimilates to men during their mo- 
 ments of passion, a thousand desires, a 
 thousand yearnings for possession, as- 
 tailed Jeanne during her journey from 
 Versailles to Paris, assuming the forma 
 of wolves, of foxes, and of winged ser- 
 pents. 
 
 The cardinal who was to realize
 
 1D4 
 
 THE QUEEN'S NECKLACE: OR, THK 
 
 these dreams, broke in upon them in 
 replying, by his unexpected presence, 
 to the deaire which Madame de la 
 Mothe hud felt to see him. 
 
 He also had his dreuins he also hnd 
 his ambition, which he concealed under 
 the mask of affectionate eagerness, un- 
 der the semblance of fervent, love. 
 
 "Ah! dear Jeanne," said he, ''tis 
 you. Vuu have in truth become so 
 necessary to me, that my whole day has 
 passed most gloomily, knowing thai, you 
 were far distant from me. Have you 
 returned, at Teast, in good health from 
 Versailles?' 
 
 4 Why, us you see, Monseigneur." 
 
 And satisfied ?' 
 
 ' Enchanted.' 
 
 ' The queen has then received you ?' 
 
 ' Immediately on my arrival I was ad- 
 mitted to her presence.' 
 
 ' You are really most lucky. One 
 could wager from your triumphant air 
 that the queen has spoken to you.' 
 
 1 passed about three hours in her 
 majesty's cabinet.' 
 
 The cardinal started, and was very 
 near repeating after Jeanne, in a tone 
 of great surprise, ' Three hours !' but 
 tie restrained himself, 
 
 You are really an enchantress,' said 
 he, ' and no one can resist you.' 
 
 'Oh, oh! you exaggerate, prince.' 
 
 'No, in truth; and so you s:iy you 
 remained three hours with the queen ?' 
 
 Jeanne gave an affirmative nod. 
 
 'Three hours !' reiterated the cardi- 
 nal, smiling; 'what a number of things 
 a woman of superior talent like yourself 
 could say in three hours.' 
 
 ' Oh ! I can promise you, monseig- 
 neur, that I did not lose my time.' 
 
 ' I would wager,' the cardinal ventur- 
 ed to say, ' that during those three 
 hours you did not once think of me 
 even for a minute.' 
 
 Ungrateful man ." 
 
 4 Really !' exclaimed the cardinal. 
 
 'I did more than think of you.' 
 
 ' What did you, then ?' 
 
 'I spoke of you.' 
 
 You spoke of me, and to whom ?' 
 inquired the prelate, whose heart began 
 to beat with so much violence that, all 
 the self-command he possessed could 
 not enable him to conceal his emotion. 
 
 'To whom should I speak, if not to 
 the queen }' replied Jeanne ; !;ut while 
 uttering these words of such ;.;rea in- 
 terest to the cardinal, she had the art 
 not to look at the, prince, as if ihe effect 
 they were to produce caused her no 
 eort of anxiety. 
 
 M. de Rohan was absolutely palpitat- 
 ing. 
 
 ' Ah !' cried he : ' let us henr, dear 
 countess tell me all about it ; for real- 
 ly I feel so much interest in nil that 
 hnppens to you. thai I will not al'ow 
 you to omit even thf slightest detail.' 
 
 Jeanne smiled ; she knew what ir, was 
 that interested the curdinn) as '.ve.ll as he 
 did. 
 
 But ns this very minute nnrrntion had 
 boen already carefully conned over and 
 arranged in her mind ; as sho would of 
 herself have related it, even had the 
 cardinal not pressed her to do so, ehe 
 began gently, making him drag, as it 
 were, each syllable from her: relating 
 the whole interview, the whole conver- 
 sation, producing by every word the 
 conviction that by one of those happy 
 chances which make the fortune of 
 courtiers, she had arrived at, Versailles 
 nt a moment, and under circumstances 
 of so singular a nature, that from a mere 
 stranger she had become an almost, in- 
 dispensable friend. In fact, in one day 
 Jeanne de la Mothe had 'been initiated 
 into the misfortunes of royally. 
 
 ,\1. de Rohan appeared to observe 
 only that, part of the narrative which 
 regarded what the queen had said for 
 Jeanne. 
 
 Jeanne, in her relation, only gave 
 stress to that which the queen had -*uid 
 of M. de Rohan. 
 
 She had scarcely completed her nar- 
 ration when a servant came in to an- 
 nounce that supper was ready. 
 
 Jeanne invited the cardinal by a 
 glance. The cardinal accepted by a 
 sign. 
 
 He offered his arm to tlu- misti^s* of 
 the house, who had BO quickly become 
 habituated to do the honors of it, and 
 they went into the dining room. 
 
 When supper was over, when the 
 cardinal had drunk down large draughts 
 of hope cind love from the twenty times 
 repeated, twenty times interrupted nar- 
 rative of the enchantress, he IVIt, at 
 length, compelled to come to souu- de- 
 cisive conclusion with a woman who 
 held the hearts of sovereigns in her 
 hands. 
 
 For he remarked wilh surprise, 
 amounting almost to terror, that instead 
 nf assuming airs, as almost every wo- 
 man would do who is much courted, 
 and who can render important services, 
 Ihe countess ;inlicipat':d his wishes, and 
 with a grace widely differing from the 
 leonine haughtiness evinced at the last 
 supper partaken of in the same spot.
 
 MYSTERIES OF THE COURT OF LOUIS XVI. 
 
 IDS 
 
 Joan no, upon this occasion, did the 
 lionorn of the house, not only as n wo- 
 man completely mistress of her solf, 
 but as mistress of others. There was 
 no embarrassment in her demeanor, no 
 species of reserve in her accent. Hud 
 slio not during the greater part of that 
 dny been taking lessons in aristocratic 
 bearing from the very first personages 
 in the kingdom, had not n queen, unriv- 
 alled in grace and benuly, called her, 
 her dear countess ? Therefore the car- 
 dinal submitted to this superiority, he 
 a man of superior station and endow- 
 ment, did not even attempt to resist it. 
 
 ' Countess,' said he, taking her hand, 
 in you there are two women.' 
 
 * And how so ?' inquired the countess. 
 ' The one of yesterday, and the one 
 
 of to-day.' 
 
 ' And which of the two does your 
 Eminence prefer ?' 
 
 4 1 really cannot decide ; I only feel 
 that the one of to-day is an Armida, a 
 Circe, altogether irresistible.' 
 
 ' And one whom I hope you will not 
 even attempt to resist, monseigneur, 
 prince though you are.' 
 
 The prince slid gently from his chair 
 and fell upon his knees before Madame 
 de la Mothe. 
 
 4 You beg for alms,' she said. 
 
 'And I expect that you will grant 
 them me.' 
 
 1 This is a day for the display of mu- 
 nificence,' replied Jeanne, ' the Coun- 
 tess de Valois has assumed her rank, 
 she has been acknowledged, and is now 
 a lady of the Court ; in a short time she 
 will count among the proudest women 
 of Versailles ; she can, therefore, open 
 her hand, and extend it to whomsoever 
 ehe may please.' 
 
 ' Even were it to a prince,' said M. 
 de Rohan. 
 
 Even to a cardinal,' said Jeanne. 
 
 The cardinal affixed a long and burn- 
 ing kiss upon that rebellious little hand, 
 and then having consulted the coun- 
 tess's eyes, and finding thut she smiled 
 upon him, ho rose. 
 
 He then went into the ante-chamber 
 and whispered a fe.w words to his run- 
 ning footman. Two minutes after- 
 wards \v,s heard the noise of his car- 
 riage wheels as it drove away. 
 
 The countess raised her head. 
 
 'Faith, Countess,' cried the Prince as 
 he returned intolhe room, 'there is no 
 retreat now, I have burned my ships.' 
 
 'And then) is no great merit in that,' 
 replied the Countess, ' since you have 
 Biii'oly reached the port.' 
 
 CHAP' KR X J. 
 
 IN WUICH WE BF.niN T> SEE fAi. 3 
 UiM>KK TIIK MASKS. 
 
 Long confabulations are the privilege 
 of persons who have nothing further 
 to tell each other. After the happiness 
 of remaining silent, there is no greater 
 one than that of talking a great deal 
 without set or formal phrases. 
 
 Two hours after sending awny his 
 carriage, the cardinal and the countess 
 were on the terms we have just spokea 
 of. The countess had yielded, the car- 
 dinal had conquered, and yet the cardi- 
 nal was the slave ; the countess was the 
 victor. Two men deceive one another 
 while shaking hands. A man and wo- 
 man deceive each other with a kiss, 
 
 But in this instance the one deceived 
 the other because the other wished to 
 be deceived. 
 
 Each of them had an end to answer 
 To attain this end an intimacy was re- 
 quisite. Each of them therefore had 
 gained their object. 
 
 Therefore the cardinal did not gire 
 himself the trouble to conceal his im- 
 patience. He merely, after a slight 
 turn, managed to bring the conversation 
 back to the subject of Versailles and the 
 honors which tliere awaited the new 
 favorite of the. queen. 
 
 ' She is generous,' he said, 'and she 
 does not stop at any thing to gratify the 
 persons whom she likes. She posses- 
 ses the singular tact of giving a little to 
 a great many persons, and of giving 
 much to a few chosen friends.' 
 
 1 You then believe her to be rich ?' 
 said Madame de la Mothe. 
 
 1 She knows how to obtain resources 
 by a word, a gesture, a sn ile. There 
 never has been a minister, with the ex- 
 ception, perhaps, of Turgot. who has 
 had courage enough to refusfe the queen 
 whatever she might ask. 
 
 ' Well, as to me,' said Madame de 
 la Mothe, 'I believe her poorer than you 
 imagine her; poor queen, or rather I 
 should say poor woman ' 
 
 1 What can you mean ?' 
 
 ' Is a person rich when compelled to 
 submit to privations .'* 
 
 k Privations ! dear Jeanne, tell me all 
 about it.' 
 
 Good Heaven, I will tell you what 1 
 have seen ; neither more nor Jess.' 
 
 'Say on, I m ull attention.' 
 
 'Imagine to jourself two dreadful 
 tormenis which the unfortunate queen 
 has endured.'
 
 108 
 
 THE QUEEN'S (NECKLACE; OR, THE 
 
 Two torments' what are they? Come 
 now tench me ?' 
 
 'Do you know whnt the longing of a 
 woman is, my dear Prince ?' 
 
 ' No ; but I should wish that 'you 
 would tell it me.' 
 
 4 Well, the queen has a desire she 
 cannot satisfy !' 
 
 4 For whom ?' 
 
 'No; for what? For a diamond 
 necklace.' 
 
 4 Wait a little ; I recollect. Do you 
 not nHude to Boehmer's diamonds ?' 
 
 ' Precisely.' 
 
 'Oh ! that's an old story, countess.' 
 
 Be it old or new, is it not a positive 
 mortification for a queen, that she can- 
 not obtain that which a mere favorite 
 was so near obtaining ? Had Louis 
 XV. lived but a fortnight longer, and 
 Jeanne Vaubernier would have posses- 
 sed that which Maria Antoinette can- 
 not now obtain.' 
 
 1 Well, dear Countess, it is precisely 
 em that point that you are mistaken. 
 The queen could have had these dia- 
 monds five or six times over, but she has 
 ahvays refused them.' 
 
 Oh." 
 
 ' When I tell you that the king offer- 
 ed them, and that she refused to accept 
 them from him.' And the cardinal relat- 
 ed the whole story of the Hoe of battle 
 ship. 
 
 Jeanne listened eagerly, and when 
 the cardinal had ended, said 
 
 Well, and what then ?' 
 
 What then." 
 
 'Yes; what doaa that prove ?' 
 
 Why, that she did not wish, for it 
 apparently.' 
 
 'Jeanne shrugged her shoulders. 
 
 You know what women are, you 
 know the court ; you well know kings, 
 and yet yon nllow yourself to be misled 
 by such an answer.' 
 
 The douse! I merely prove the re- 
 fusal.' 
 
 1 My dear prince, thftt proves one 
 thing only that the queen thought it 
 accessary to utter a brilliant saying, ono 
 that would be popular, ajid she did so.' 
 
 'Good!' cried the cardinal, 'and this 
 is your faith in royal virtue', scepti-: that 
 you are! Why, S;iint Thomas was a 
 believer in comparison with you.' 
 
 Sceptic or believer, I will affirm one 
 thing.' 
 
 And what is that ?' 
 
 ' It is, that the queen had no sooner 
 refused the necklace than shew.' 
 ed with an extravagant desire to hav<; 
 it.' 
 
 ' These idens are the mere coinage of 
 j'our own bruin, clear countess ; but 
 there is one thing which you must ab- 
 solutely admit; that with all her 
 the queen has one great quality.' 
 
 And what is that?' 
 
 She is disinterested ; she covets not 
 gold nor silver, nor precious stones;, 
 she weighs these minerals at their true 
 value ; to her a flower in her bosom i 
 as precious us a diamond in her ear.' 
 
 ' I do not assert the contrary ; but 
 what I do assert is, that at this moment 
 she has a longing desire to put a great 
 many diamonds round her neck.' 
 
 4 Come, countess, prove that asser- 
 tion.' 
 
 4 Nothing can be more easy. I saw 
 the necklace but just now.' 
 
 'You?' 
 
 4 Yes ; I not only saw it, but I touched 
 it.' 
 
 4 And where ?' 
 
 ' At Versailles.' 
 
 4 At Versailles ?' 
 
 4 Yes, where the jewellers took it to 
 tempt the queen for the last time.' 
 
 ' And is it handsome ?' 
 
 'Tis positively marvellous/ 
 
 ' Then, you who are really woman, 
 you can comprehend that such a neck- 
 lace can be desired.' 
 
 ' I can comprehend that a woman can 
 lose both appetite and sleep from wish- 
 ing for it.' 
 
 Alas ! why have I not a ship to giro 
 the king?' 
 
 A ship ?' 
 
 'Yes, and he would give me the 
 necklace, and if once I had it, you 
 might eat and sleep in peace.' 
 ' You are jesting.' 
 ' I swear I am not.' 
 Well, then ;, I will tell you a thin { 
 which will much astonish you.' 
 What is it ?' 
 
 I would not have the necklace.' 
 So much the better, countess, for f 
 could not giva it you.' 
 
 4 Alas ! neither you nor any one ; ifc 
 is that which the queen feels, and the\ a- 
 fore she desires it.' 
 
 'But I tell you again, that the king 
 offered it to her.' 
 
 Jeanne made a sudden gesture, one 
 almost of impatience. 
 
 And I tell you,' said she, ' that wo- 
 men above nil, like that sort of gift 
 not presented by persons who 
 lige tl.cn) to accept it.' 
 Ttic. ciinliuul looked at Jeanne more 
 
 I do not understand you,' said he 

 
 MYSTERIES <OF THE COtHlT OF LOUIS XVI. 
 
 197 
 
 So much tbfl better; lot UM say no 
 more nbout it. And what is the neck- 
 lace to you since we cannot hnve it ' 
 
 'Oh! were I the king and you the 
 queen, I would manage to oblige you to 
 aoc|)t it.' 
 
 Well then ; without being the king, 
 oblige the queen to take it, and you will 
 flee whether she will be us angry as 
 you imagine, nt such compulsion.' 
 
 The cnrdimil again looked nt Jeanne. 
 
 'Really,' said he, 'you are sure that 
 you are not mistaken: the queen has 
 positively so strong a desire.' 
 
 ' A devouring one. Listen to me, 
 dear prince,' said Jeanne, 'did you not 
 once tell me, or did I hear it from some 
 other person, that you would have no 
 objection to becoming the prime min- 
 ister, i 
 
 ' It is very possible that I may have 
 said so, countess.' 
 
 4 Well, then, let us lay a wager ' 
 
 4 On what subject?' 
 
 4 That the queen would make 'that 
 man the minister, who should manage 
 matters so as to have that necklace laid 
 upon her toilette table within a week.' 
 
 4 Oh ! countess.' 
 
 4 1 say that which I think. Would 
 you prefer my not thinking aloud ?' 
 
 1 Oh ! by no means.' 
 
 1 Moreover, what I say does not con- 
 cern you. It is clear ns daylight that 
 you would not sink a million and a half 
 to gratify a royal caprice. It would, 
 upon my word, be paying far too dearly 
 for a portfolio, which you might, per- 
 haps, obtain -for nothing, and which is 
 your due. Therefore consider all I 
 hare said as mere gossiping. I am like 
 the parrots, I have been dazzled by the 
 sufn, and I am now constantly repeating, 
 How hot it is.' Ah ! monseigneur, 
 what a severe trial is a day of royal fa- 
 vor, to a poor little provincial like my- 
 self. To gaze upon these rays, one 
 ought to be an eagle as you are.' 
 
 The cardinal became thoughtful. 
 
 ' There now, only see. You think so 
 ill of me, you imagine me to be so vul- 
 gar, so miserable, that you no longer 
 deign even to speak to me.' 
 
 4 Oh ! how can you say that ?' 
 
 4 The queen, thus judged by me, is 
 me.' 
 
 4 Countess !' 
 
 4 How can I help it ? I thought sho 
 had a- desire for these diamonds, be- 
 cause she sighed while looking at them. 
 I believed it, because, in her place, I 
 should have desired them. Excuse my 
 weakness.' 
 
 ' You ar AD adorable Woman, con 
 tess. You, by a moat singular combi- 
 nation, possess both tenderness of heart 
 and strength of mind. At certain mo- 
 ments, there is so little of the woman 
 in you, that you alarm me ; at others, 
 you are so adorable, that I bless heaven- 
 for it, and I bless you.' 
 
 And the gallant cardinal sealed this 
 compliment with a kiss. 
 
 4 But, come now, let us talk no more 
 of those matters,' said he. 
 
 4 Be it so,' murmured Jeanne to her- 
 self, ' but I believe the hook has takea 
 good hold.' 
 
 Although the cardinal had said, 'let 
 us talk no more about it,' he soon re- 
 turned to the subject. 
 
 4 And you think it was Boehmer wha 
 thus returned to the charge ?' said DA. 
 
 ' Yes, with Bossange,' replied thfc 
 countess, very innocently. 
 
 Bossange let me eee *-' said the 
 cardinal, as if endeavoring to remem- 
 ber; ' Bossange ! is not he his partner?* 
 
 4 Yes : a tall thin man.' 
 
 ' Ah ! precisely ; and he lives- ?' 
 
 4 He must live somewhere about the 
 quay de la Ferraille, or that of I'Ecole ; 
 at all events, it must be in the neighbor- 
 hood of the Pont Neuf.' . 
 
 'Of the Pont Neuf? yes, you or* 
 right. I have read those uami-r over 
 some door, as I rode by in my carriage.* 
 
 4 Come, come,' murmured Jenm. 
 herself; 'the fish bites more and more.' 
 
 Jeanne was right, for her prey hud 
 swallowed the buii, hook mm all. 
 
 For the very next morning, on leav-- 
 ing the countess's house in the faubourg 
 Suint Atitoine, the cardinal drove straight. 
 to Boehmer's. 
 
 He thought of remaining incognito, 
 but Boehmer and Bossange ware jew. I- 
 lers to the court, and on the first words 
 uttered by him, they called Iriuu jkf.- 
 seigncur.' 
 
 ' Well, then yes, Mouseigtieur,' ;id. 
 he; 'but as you recognize me, tatu: 
 care, at least, that others do not recog- 
 nize me.' 
 
 ' You may be perfectly tranquil on 
 that head. We await the orderr of 
 monseigueur.' 
 
 4 1 have come to purchase th. 1 diamond 
 necklace which you showed to the 
 queen.' 
 
 4 Really, monseigneur, wo are exce-t 
 sively grieved, but you are como U/o 
 late.' 
 
 4 And how so?' 
 
 4 It is Bold.' 
 
 1 That is impossible, since it was onrr
 
 198 
 
 THE QUEEN'S NECKLACE; OR, THE 
 
 yesterday you went to offer it agnin to 
 the queen.' 
 
 1 Who agnin refused it, monseigneur, 
 and that is the reason for our former 
 bargain holding good.' 
 
 'And with whom did you make that 
 bargain ?' inquired the cardinal. 
 
 'That is a secret, monseigneur.' 
 
 4 Too m:my secrets, M. Boehmer.' 
 
 And the cardinal rose. 
 
 ' But, monseigneur * 
 
 I thought, sir,' continued the cardi- 
 nal, ' that a jeweller to the crown of 
 France should content himself with sell- 
 ing these beautiful jewels in France 
 you prefer Portugal ; well, as it best 
 pleases you, M. Boehmer.' 
 
 4 Monseigneur is acquainted with the 
 whole affair !' exclaimed the jeweller. 
 
 ' Well, and what do you find so very 
 astonishing in that ?' 
 
 Why, if monseigneur knows all, it 
 can have been only from the queen.' 
 
 4 And supposing it to be so /' aaid M. 
 de Rohan, without denying the supposi- 
 tion, which flattered his self love. 
 
 Oh ! that would change the affair 
 entirely, monseigneur.' 
 
 Explain yourself, I do not understand 
 you.' 
 
 ' Will moiiHfeigneur allow me to speak 
 with perfect, freedom.' 
 
 4 Speak on.' 
 
 ' Well, then, the queen wishes to 
 have our necklace.' 
 
 ' You" believe so ?' 
 
 We ar sure of it.' 
 
 Ah ! and why then does she not pur- 
 chase it ?' 
 
 ' Why, because she refused to nccept 
 it from the king, and to retract from 
 that determination for which her ma- 
 jesty has been so much lauded, would 
 argue some caprice on her part.' 
 
 1 The queen is nbove all that can be 
 8ai,l of her.' 
 
 Yes, when it is the people or even 
 the courtiers who speak ; but when it 
 
 for it would have been the only reasoa 
 which could have decided us to break 
 our word with the Portuguese Ambas- 
 sador.' 
 
 The cardinal reflected. 
 
 However skilful may be the diplo- 
 macy of statesmen, that of tradesmen 
 is superior. In the first place, the dip- 
 lomatist almost always negociates with 
 regard to property not in his possession; 
 the tradesman holds and grasps within 
 his clutches the object which excites 
 the purchaser's curiosity ; to buy it of 
 him, and pay him dearly for it is al- 
 most despoiling him. 
 
 M. de Rohan seeing that he was in 
 this man's power, said to him: 
 
 ' Well, sir, you may suppose, if yon 
 will, that the queen desires to have 
 your necklace.' 
 
 ' That changes every thing, monseig- 
 neur. I may break off any bargain, 
 when the object is to give a preference 
 to the queen.' 
 
 ' How much do you ask for the neck- 
 lace ?' 
 
 1 Fifteen hundred thousand Hvres.' 
 
 ' And how will you arrange the pay- 
 ment ?' 
 
 ' Portugal was to have paid me a sura 
 on account. I should have myself tak- 
 en the necklace to Lisbon, where I was 
 to be paid the remainder on delivery.' 
 
 'That mode of payment is not prac- 
 ticable with us, M. Boehmer; you ahull 
 have a sum on account, if it be reason- 
 able.' 
 
 ' A hundred thousand livres.' 
 
 They can be found. For the re- 
 mainder ?' 
 
 Your eminence would wish for 
 time ?' said Boehmer, 'with your emi- 
 nence's guarantee every thing is feas- 
 ible. Only that delay implies a loss ; 
 for please to observe this, monseigneur, 
 in an affair of this importance, the fig- 
 ures increase of themselves and largely. 
 The interest of fifteen hundred thou- 
 
 is the l-ing who speaks ' sand livres, at five per cent., amounts to 
 
 You well know that the king wished ! seventy-five thousand livres, and five per 
 to give the necklace to the queen ?' ! cent, is ruinous to tradesmen. Ten per 
 
 ' Undoubtedly : but he was very glad ; cenl. is the least possible rate they can 
 to thnnli I lie queen, when the queen re- I accept.' 
 fused ii. 'According to your calculation, that 
 
 * Come, let us see then what does M. would be one hundred and fifty thou- 
 Boehmer conclude from all this ?' j sand livres.' 
 
 Tliiit t!it queen would b glad to! ' Why, yes, monseignour.' 
 liavc tiie necklace, without appearing to"] Let'us say that you sell ihe necklace 
 purchase it.' f >r sixteen hundred thousand livres, 
 
 ' Well, then, j - ou are mistaken, sir.' . and divido the payment, of tlio fifteen 
 said the cardinal, ' that is not :he point hundred livres rrmaiiiing into ihroe e- 
 iu question.' pn ride instalment!!, the whole to fall due 
 
 'Taut it- unfortunate, monseigneur, wit:. in H your.
 
 MYSTERIES OF THE COURT OF LOUIS XVI. 
 
 199 
 
 4 Monseigutnir. we should lose fifty 
 thousand livres by that bargain.' 
 
 ' I do not think so, sir. Were you 
 to-morrow to receive fifteen hundred 
 thousand Jivres you would be much 
 pii/.y.li'd ; a jeweller does not buy un 
 estate of that value.' 
 
 We are two, monseigneur, my part- 
 ner and myself. 
 
 ' That ia all very well, but no matter ; 
 it would be much more convenient to 
 you !o receive five hundred thousand 
 livres every four months, that is to say 
 two hundred and fifty thousand livres 
 each.' 
 
 Monseigneur forgets that these dia- 
 monds do not belong to us. Oh ! if 
 they were ours ulone we should be rich 
 enough not to trouble ourselves either 
 as to the terms of payment, or as to the 
 employment of the money when it 
 comes in.' 
 
 ' To whom then do they belong ?' 
 
 To ten different creditors perhaps ; 
 w! bought these stones separately. We 
 owe for one of thorn at Hamburgh, an- 
 other at Naples, one at Buenos Ay res, 
 and two at Moscow. Our creditors are 
 waiting for the sale of the necklace to 
 be reimbursed. The profit we shall 
 - make is our only property ; but alas! 
 monseigneur, since this unlucky neck- 
 lace kas been for sale, that is to nay for 
 two whole years, we have already lost 
 two hundred thousand livres in interest. 
 Judge then if we. shall make any proiit 
 by it.' 
 
 M. de Rohan interrupted Boehmer, 
 
 ' But with all this,' said he, ' I have 
 not yet seen this famous necklace/ 
 
 That is true, monseigneur, I will 
 show it to you,' and Boehmer, with all 
 the accustomed precautions, exhibited 
 the precious jewel. 
 
 Superb." exclaimed the cardinal 
 touching the clasp which must have 
 pressed upon the queen's neck. When 
 he had pressed his finger over the whole 
 of these precious stones and examined 
 them attentively, 
 
 4 Is it a bargain ?' said he. 
 
 ' Ye, monseigneur ; and I will in- 
 stantly go to the embassy to withdraw 
 my promise.' 
 
 I did not believe that there was an 
 ambassador from Portugal in Paris at 
 this moment.' 
 
 ' In f<.ct, monseigneur. M. do Souza 
 la here ; he came incognito.' 
 
 To n. g.-tia.tj \ms atluir ?' askod the 
 cardinal laughing. 
 
 ' Yes, imjiigeigneiir.' 
 
 ' Oh ! puor Syuzu ! I know him well. 
 
 Poor Souza.' .And hi- laughed more 
 heartily thun before. 
 
 M. Boehmer thought that he ought to 
 join in the hilarity of hia customer. 
 
 They laughed for some time over tho 
 jewel-box, at I he expense of Portugal. 
 
 M. de Rohan was about to leave. M. 
 Boehmer stopped him, 
 
 ' Will monseigneur be pleased to tell 
 me how this affair is to be arranged )' 
 suid he. 
 
 4 Why, simply enough.' 
 
 ' With the inteudant of your emi- 
 nence ?' 
 
 * No, not at all ; with no one but my- 
 self you will have to deal only with 
 me.' 
 
 * And when ?' 
 ' To-morrow.' 
 
 'The hundred thousand livres?' 
 1 1 will bring them here to-morrow.' 
 4 And the notes ?' 
 
 ' I will sign them here to-morrow.' 
 ' Nothing can be better, monseigneur.' 
 ' And as you are a man of secrets, 
 Monsieur Boehmer, remember well 
 that you are now entrusted with one of 
 the greatest importance.' 
 
 ' Monseigneur, I feel it to be so, and 
 I will deserve your confidence, as well 
 as that of her majesty.' added he, slily. 
 M. de Rohan blushed, and left the 
 room somewhat embarrassed, but happy 
 as every man ia who ruins hiuiself iu a 
 paroxysm of passion. 
 
 CHAPTER XLI1 
 
 JEANNE, A PATRONESS 
 
 Tux cardinal de Rohan, two days af- 
 ter his visit to Boehmer, received a note 
 couched in the following terms: 
 ~ ' His eminence, the Cardinal de Ro- 
 han, knows where he will sup to-night.' 
 
 From the little countess,' said he, 
 inhaling the perfume -of the note. ! 
 shall be there. 1 
 
 The following wen- the reasons which 
 had induced Madame de la Mothe to 
 request this interview. 
 
 Of the live lackeys which his emi- 
 nence had placed in her service, she 
 hdd remarked one with Mack hair, ha 
 /.el eyes, a florid complexion, though 
 .somewhat approaching to tliu bilious. 
 Thus t'> her keen observation, denoted 
 an active, intelligent, und firm organiza- 
 tion. 
 
 She sent fur this man, and in a qunr- 
 Uour she obtained through hid 
 

 
 200 
 
 THE QUEEN'S NECKLACE; OR, THE 
 
 docility and perspicacity, ull the infor- 
 mation she required. 
 
 This iiinn followed the cnrdinnl, nnd 
 reported that he had seen his eminence 
 go twice in two days to the house of 
 Messieurs Boehmer and Bossange. 
 . This was enough lor Jeanne. She 
 knew that sucli u man aa M. de Rohan 
 nivor attempts to drive a bin-gain. Such 
 adroit tradesmen as Boehmer and Bos- 
 sange do not allow a good customer to 
 leave them dissatisfied. Tile necklace 
 must, therefore have been sold. 
 
 Sold by Boehmer. 
 
 Bought by M. de Rohan ! and the lat- 
 tdr hud not even whispered u word upon 
 the subject to his confidant to his mis- 
 tress ! 
 
 The symptom was a serious one. 
 Jeanne knitted her brows, pursed up her 
 thin lips, and wrote the note we huve 
 seen to the cardinal. 
 
 M. de Rohan came in the evening. 
 He had sent on before him a bosket of 
 Tekuy and some delicacies, precisely as 
 be would have done had he been going 
 to sup at la (luimard's, or with Made- 
 moiselle Dungeville. 
 
 This shade of feeling did not pass 
 more unobserved by Jeanne, than so 
 m;uiy otlierw had done; she avoided hav- 
 ing tiny of the delicacies the cardinal 
 bud sent served at the table ; and when 
 the servants had withdrawn, and they 
 were left alone, she, with u certain de- 
 gree of tenderness in her manner, thus 
 commenced the conversation. 
 
 'I must frankly tellyou, monseigneur,' 
 said she, ' there is one thing which has 
 considerably afflicted me.' 
 
 And what can that be, countess T 
 cried M. de Rohan, with that affectation 
 of alarm which is not always a sure sign 
 of being really alarmed. 
 
 4 Well then, monseigneur, the cause 
 of my affliction is 'o find, not that you 
 no longer love me, but that you have 
 never loved me.' 
 
 Oli, countess ! wtoat in it you- are 
 Bay in .' 
 
 4 L><> not excuse yourself, motiseig- 
 Dtiur, 'twould be lost, time.' 
 
 4 For me !' gallantly said the cardinal. 
 1 No, lor me,' briefly ivplied the coun- 
 te ; ' moreover, do not alii lot yourself, 
 monseigneur, for it is perfectly indif- 
 ferent to me. 1 
 
 4 That I should love you or not love 
 you '.'' 
 
 Yes.' 
 
 4 And why is it so indifferent to you !' 
 4 Why .' in good truth, because I do 
 cot love you.' 
 
 Countess, do you know thnt what 
 you have done me the honor to say to 
 me, is by' no means obliging.' 
 
 4 It, is indeed true that we have not 
 commenced by saying agreeable things, 
 but there is one fuel of which we should 
 be convinced.' 
 
 What fact?' 
 
 4 That I have never loved you more,' 
 monseigneur, than you yourself have 
 loved me.' 
 
 4 Oh ! ns to me, you must not say 
 that !' cried the prince, with an accent 
 that sounded almost like truth. 4 1 
 have had a great affection for you,-coun- 
 tess. Therefore, please not to put ina 
 up nt the same sign with yourself.* 
 
 ' Corno now, monseigneur, let us es- 
 teem each other sufficiently to speak 
 the truth.' 
 
 4 And what is the truth, then ?' 
 
 4 There is between us a tie, which 
 has infinitely more power than love.' 
 
 4 What tie ?' 
 
 4 Interest.' 
 
 4 Interest! countess, that IB too de- 
 grading.' 
 
 Monseigneur. I will say to you as 
 the Norman peasant said to his BOD 
 about the gibbet, 4 - if it disgusts you, 
 there is no occasion for you to disgust 
 other people with it." Interest,, de- 
 grading, inonseigueur, how you run 
 on !' 
 
 'Come, now, let us see, countess ; 
 let us si ppose that we are interested ; 
 in what can I serve your interests, aad 
 you mine ? 
 
 ' In the first place, monseigneur, and 
 before any thing else, I have a strong 
 desire to ask you one question.' 
 
 Do HO, countess.' 
 
 You have shown a want of confid- 
 ence in me, that is to say of esteem." 
 
 4 1 ! nnd in what, if you please ?' . 
 
 4 In what! can you deny ihat after 
 having skilfully dragged from me de- 
 tuils, which I was almost dying to com- 
 municate ' 
 
 4 Upon what, countess ?' 
 
 4 Upon the taste of a certain great 
 lady for a certain thing; you immedia- 
 tely took measures to satisfy that taste, 
 but without mentioning them to me.' 
 
 ' Drag details from you! the taste of 
 a certain great lady ! satisfy that tasto' 
 Why, i:ynnte!-.s, you are positively an 
 enigma, a peifert Sphynx. Ah ! I had 
 certainly seen the head and neck of a 
 woman, bin I h,.<l not yet seen ihc liona 
 daws. It. appears ihut you are about 
 to show (hem to me, well bo it so.' 
 
 4 By no means. I will show you uo-
 
 MYSTERIES OF THE COURT OF LOUIS XVI. 
 
 201 
 
 thing at nil, monseigneur, seeing that' 
 you have no longer the desire to'see 
 any thing. I will only give you, purely 
 and plainly, the word of the enigma. 
 The (It-tails lire, nil that happened ;it 
 Versailles; the taste of a certain lady 
 is the diamonds; that certain, lady is 
 the queen, and the satisfaction given to 
 this taste of the queen, is the pui chase 
 whirl) you made yesterday of Messieurs 
 Boehmer and Bossonge, of their cele- 
 brated necklace.' 
 
 ' Countess !' murmured the cardinal, 
 pale and trembling. 
 
 'Tell me now, why do you look nt 
 me thus, with such an air of alarm .' 
 Did you not yesterday enter into an 
 agreement with those jewellers at their 
 house on the Quay de 1'Ecole ?' 
 
 A Rohan never utters 11 falsehood, 
 even to a woman the cardinal uttered 
 not a word. 
 
 And as he was about to blush, a spe- 
 cies of painful feeling for which a man 
 never forgives the woman who occa- 
 sions it, Jeanne hastened to take his 
 hand. 
 
 ' Your pardon, prince,' said she, * I 
 was anxious to tell you in what you had 
 deceived yourself with regard to me. 
 You thought me stupid and spiteful.' 
 
 'Oh ! oh '. countess.' 
 
 'In short ' 
 
 ' Not a word more ; allow me to speak 
 in my turn. I shall perhaps convince 
 you, for from this moment I compre- 
 hend with whom I have to deal. I 
 thought I bad found in you a pretty wo- 
 man, a woman of much talent, a charm- 
 ing mistress ; but you are .superior to 
 all this. Listen to me.' 
 
 Jeanne drew nearer to the cardinal, 
 leaving her hand in both his. 
 
 ' You have been pleased to become 
 ray mistress, my friend, without loving 
 me. You told me so, yourself,' added 
 M. de Rohan. 
 
 'And I repeat itto you,' cried Madame 
 de la Mdthe. 
 
 ' You had some object in view, then?' 
 
 ' Undoubtedly.' 
 
 'And that object, countess.' 
 
 ' Is it necessary that I should explain 
 it to you ?' 
 
 'No; I can well divine it; you wis'i 
 to make my fortune. Is it not certain 
 that once my fortune assured, my first 
 care will be to secure yours. Is not that 
 the case, or can I have deceived my- 
 self?' 
 
 You have not deceived yourself, 
 monseigneur, and that is really the case. 
 Only believe, and I say it without cir- 
 
 cumlocution, I have not pursued that 
 object amid antipathies mid repugnance 
 
 tin? road lias been a pleasant one,.' 
 
 ' You are an amiable woman, coun- 
 tess, and tospei.k even on business with 
 you, is perfectly delightful. I wiis say- 
 ing then, thai you had lightly guessed. 
 You know that I entertain tor some one 
 a most respectful attachment .'' 
 
 ' I perceived that at the opera bull, 
 prince.' 
 
 'That attachment will never be reci- 
 procated. Oh ! may (*od preserve mo 
 from over believing it.' 
 
 'Why,' cried the countess, 'a wo- 
 man is not always a queen, and you 
 are, as I conceive, the equal in all re- 
 spects of Cardinal Mnxarin.' 
 
 ' He was a very handsome man, also,' 
 said M. de Rohan, laughing. 
 
 4 And an excellent Prime Minister,' 
 rejoined Jeanne with the greatest cal m- 
 ness. 
 
 Countess, with you it is a uselesa 
 trouble to think; it is twenty times 
 more than superabundant to utter ones 
 thoughts. You think and speak also for 
 your friends. Yes, my views are to 
 become prime minister. Every thing 
 urges me to that point ; my itirth, my 
 experience in political matters ; a cer- 
 tain kind consideration evinced towards 
 me by foreign courts; the great sym- 
 pathy which the people of France have 
 shown me.' 
 
 ' All, in short, with but one excep- 
 tion ?' 
 
 4 Except, you would say, but one re- 
 pugnance.' 
 
 4 Yes, on the part of the quaen, and 
 that repugnance is the real obstacle. 
 What the queen likes, the king must 
 also like in the eud ; whatever she dis- 
 likes, he hates by anticipation.' 
 
 4 And she hates me T ' Oh ." 
 
 4 Let us be frank, we must not do 
 things by halves, countess.' 
 
 4 Well then, monseigneur, in truth 
 the queen does not like you.' 
 
 ' Then 1 am lost ! uo necklace in the 
 world could save me.' 
 
 ' And there it 1 is, prince, that you 
 may, perchance, be mistaken.' 
 
 'The necklace is bought.' 
 
 ' At all events the queen will see, that 
 if she loves you not, you love her.' 
 
 ' Oh ! countess ' 
 
 4 Y'ou know, monseignpur, that wo 
 have agreed to call things by their pro- 
 per names.' 
 
 4 Be it so ; you say, then, thnt you do 
 not despair of seeing mo, some day, 
 prime uiiuister ?'
 
 202 
 
 THE QUEEN'S NECKLACE; OR, THE 
 
 1 1 nm certnin of it.' 
 
 1 I should be angry with myself did I 
 not ask you, what is your ambition ?' 
 
 4 1 will tell you that, prince, when 
 you shall be in a position lo satisfy it.' 
 
 4 That, is speaking to the point. Well, 
 on thiit diiy I shall expect you.' 
 
 'Thank you; but now we'll finish 
 our supper.' 
 
 The cardinal took Jeanne's hand and 
 pressed it as Jeanne had, some days 
 previously, so ardently desired it should 
 be pressed, but that time had gone by. 
 
 She withdrew her hand, 
 
 'Well, countess ?' 
 
 4 Let us continue our supper, I tell 
 you, monseigneur.' 
 
 4 But I have no appetite.' 
 
 'Then we will talk.' 
 
 1 But I have nothing mote to say.' 
 
 ' Then we had better say. good night.' 
 
 And ihis,' said he. ' is what you call 
 our alliance. You dismiss me ?' 
 
 4 In order to belong more truly to each 
 other,' said she, ' let us be both com- 
 pletely masters of ourselves.' 
 
 'You are again right, countess; par- 
 don me for having once more on this oc 
 cosion been mistaken with regard to 
 you. 1 Hwear to you it shall be the 
 la^-t.' 
 
 And he again took her hand and 
 kissed it so respectfully that he saw not 
 the mocking diabolical smile of the 
 countess at the moment of his uttering 
 these words. 
 
 4 1 swear it shall be the last time I 
 shall be mistaken with regard to you.' 
 
 Jeanne rose and accompanied the 
 prince to the ante-chamber. There he 
 paused and in a whisper said : 
 
 4 And what is to be done uext, coun- 
 tess ?' 
 
 4 That is plain enough. 1 
 
 4 What am I to do?' 
 
 'Nothing ; wait for me.' 
 
 ' And you will go ?' 
 
 4 To Versailles.' 
 
 When?' 
 
 4 To-morrow.' 
 
 ' And I shall have nn nnswer?' 
 
 1 Immediately on my return.' 
 
 ' Well then, my patroness, I abandon 
 all to your good guidance.' 
 
 ' Lravf all to me.' 
 
 And she retired to her own apart- 
 ment, went to bed, ami gay.ing vaguely 
 at thf beautiful marble Eudymiou, ex- 
 pecting his Diana. 
 
 ' Decidedly, liberty is after all most 
 desirublo,' murmured Jouniio. 
 
 CHAPTER XLIII. 
 
 E PATRONISE D, 
 
 Mistress of such a secret, with so 
 rich and brilliant a perspective, being 
 sustained by two such powerful support- 
 ers, Jeanne fel: herself strong enough 
 to move even the world itself. 
 
 She allowed herself a fortnight's time 
 before she should be able to enjoy fully 
 the delicious flavor of the grapes which 
 fortune had thus suspended above her 
 head 
 
 To appear at court, no longer as a 
 solicitress, no longer as the poor mendi- 
 cant who had been relieved by Madame 
 de Boulainvilliers, but as a d'escendant 
 of the Valois, possessed of an income of 
 a hundred thousand livres, with a hus- 
 band who would be duke and peer of 
 France; to be called the queen's favo- 
 rite, and in those days of intrigue and 
 commotion, to govern the state, by gov- 
 erning the king through Marie Antoi- 
 nette. Such was in short the panora- 
 ma which unrolled itself before the in- 
 exhaustible imagination of the Countess 
 de la Mothe. 
 
 As soon as it was daylight ?he hasten- 
 ed to Versailles. She had no letter ap- 
 pointing an audience, but her faith in 
 her good fortune had become so strong, 
 that Jeanne doubted not that etiquette 
 would give way before her wishes. 
 
 And she was right ; all the oflicioua 
 persons about the court, so anxious to 
 guess evfMi the tastes of their sovereign, 
 had already remarked the great pleasure 
 which Marie Antoinette enjoyed in the 
 society of the pretty countess. 
 
 This WHS sufficient ; for an intelli- 
 gent usher, anxious for promotion, plac- 
 ed himseli in the path by which th 
 queen returned from morning mass in 
 the chapel, and there, as if by chance, 
 pronounced the following words to one 
 of the gentlemen in waiting on the 
 queen : 
 
 ' Pray, sir. what can be done for the 
 Countess de hi Mothe Valois, who has 
 no letter of audience ?' 
 
 The queen was conversing with Ma- 
 dame. de la Lamballe ; Jeanne's name 
 being adroitly uttered by the usher so 
 as to cutch her ear, stopped the conver- 
 sation, /'or the queen turned round, 
 
 4 Did not some one say,' she inquired, 
 4 that Madame do la Mothn Vuloia la 
 hcr<- ?' 
 
 4 1 bc.lieve so, your majesty,' replied 
 tho gentleman. 
 
 4 And who was it that said so T' 

 
 MYSTERIES OF THE COURT OF LOUIS XVI. 
 
 20J 
 
 This unher, madam.' 
 
 The usher modestly bowed. 
 
 ' I will receive Madame In Mothe 
 Valois,' said the queeu, as .she passed 
 on ; and then, us she \%as entering her 
 npartmenld, ' You will let her be con- 
 ducted to the bat! ling cabinet,' she ad- 
 ded. And she went on. 
 
 Jeanne, to whom this man related 
 what he had just done, immediately 
 took out her purse, but' the man stop- 
 ped her with u. smile. 
 
 ' My lady countees,' said he, ' pray 
 allow this debt to accumulate ; you will 
 eoori be in a position to repay it with 
 better interest.' 
 
 Jeanne replaced her money in her 
 pocket. 
 
 ' You are right, my friend I thank 
 you.' 
 
 ' And why,' said she to herself, 
 'should I not patronize tin usher who 
 has patronized me ? I do as much for 
 a cardinal.' 
 
 Jeanne soon found herself in the pre- 
 sence of her sovereign. 
 
 Marie Antoinette was very grave, 
 and in appearance little disposed to con- 
 versation, perhaps from the very feel- 
 ing that she had too much favored the 
 countess by the granting this unexpect- 
 ed reception. 
 
 It is probable,' thought M. de Ro- 
 han's friend, 'that the queen imagines 
 I have come again to beg. Uefore 1 
 shall have uttered twenty words she 
 will either have unbent her brows or 
 will have had me driven from her doors.' 
 
 'Madam,' said the queen, 'I have 
 not yet had an opportunity of speaking 
 to the i\ing.' 
 
 ' Ah ! madam,' replied Jeanne, 'your 
 majesty has already been but too good 
 to me, and I expect nothing further. I 
 cumr " 
 
 ' What, is it that you come for ?' said 
 the queen, who was very skilful in 
 catching every transition cf manner. 
 ' You have not requested an audience ; 
 there is something perhaps of urgent 
 neoessily for you 
 
 'Urgent! yes, madam; but win re- 
 gard to myself no.' 
 
 J'oi me, then. Well, countess, let 
 U3 hear, speak on.' 
 
 And the .jiicen led Jeanne into the 
 bath-room, whore her women were 
 waiting for her. 
 
 The countess, who stiw so many per- 
 ilous around the queen, did not venture 
 to commence a conversation. 
 
 The queen having gut into the bath, 
 eot uvvuy her women, 
 
 ' Madam,' said Jeanne, ' your rnaj-Htv 
 ( will perceive that I am much cmbur- 
 russed.' 
 
 ' And why so? did I not lull you ' 
 
 ' I believe I told your majesty the 
 very gracious manner in which the 
 Cardinal de Rohan has obliged me.' 
 
 The queen frowned. 
 
 'I do not. remember,' she said. 
 
 ' I believed ' 
 
 ' No matter say on.' 
 
 Well then, madam, the day before 
 yesterday his Eminence did me the 
 honor to pay me a visit.' , 
 
 'Ah." 
 
 It was for u good work which I have 
 undertaken.' 
 
 ' Very well, counters, very well ; I 
 will also contribute to your good work.' 
 
 ' Your majesty is mistaken. I have 
 had the honor to observe that I do not 
 ask for anything. M. d Rohan, as U 
 usual with him, spoke to me of the 
 goodness of the queen, of her inex- 
 haustible benevolence.' 
 
 ' And requested that I should protect 
 his protegees.' 
 
 ' He did so, your majesty, in the first 
 instance.' 
 
 ' 1 will do so, not for the saku 01' the 
 cardinal, but for that of persons in dis- 
 tress, whom I always endeavor to as- 
 sist, come whence they may. Only, 
 tell his Eminence, that 1 am somewhat 
 straightened.' 
 
 - ! that is precisely what I stated 
 to him, and that is the embarrassment 
 of which I spoJie just now.' 
 
 \h! ah " 
 
 'I represented to the cardinal, the 
 fervent charity which overflows your 
 majesty's heart whenever you are in- 
 fiirmed of the' distress of any one, be 
 they who they may ; the generosity 
 which is for ever emptying the queen's 
 purse, always too limited for her d- 
 sires." 
 
 'Well! well." 
 
 ' See now, unouseigneur,' said I to 
 him, 'her majesty renders herself a 
 slave to her own kind heart. She sac- 
 rifices herself for the good 'of the poor. 
 The good she does produce.- evil to her- 
 sc'.f. And therefore I accused myself.' 
 
 ' How could that be, countess .'' said 
 the queen, who WHS listening attentive- 
 ly, whether it \vu.s lluii Jeanne had Mat- 
 tered her by tlms alluding t< her foible\ 
 or that tiie "superior perspicacity of Ma- 
 rie Antoinette had discerned from the 
 length of this preamble, that something 
 de.'-|>)y interesting to hem. If must result 
 from so much preuur.iliou.
 
 204 
 
 THE QUEEN'S NECKLACE; OR, THE 
 
 4 1 told him that your majesty had 
 given me a large sum only a few days 
 before. And that during two years at 
 least, a thousand instances of the same 
 nature had occurred ; that had the queen 
 been less feeling, less generous, she 
 would have had two millions in her cof- 
 fers; in which case, there would have 
 been no reason to forego the purchase of 
 the beautiful diamond necklace, so no- 
 bly, so courageously, and permit me to 
 add, madam, so unnecessarily refused.' 
 
 The queen blushed and looked fixed- 
 ly at Jeanne. The pith of tue whole 
 matter was evidently in the last sen- 
 tence. , .Was there any snare in all 
 this? of \vas it merely adulation? 
 This being once admitted, there could 
 not fail to be some danger to be appre- 
 hended. But her majesty on observ- 
 ing attentively Jeanne's features, saw 
 them impressed with so much sweet- 
 ness, so much candid kindness, so much 
 pure trpth, that there was nothing in 
 such a countenance which could, for a 
 moment, induce a suspicion of either 
 perfidy or adulation. 
 
 And as thequeen herself possessed a 
 soul replete with truly generous feel- 
 ings, and as in generosity there is al- 
 ways strength, iu strength always soli- 
 dity of truth, Marie Antoinette heaving 
 a sigh, said, 
 
 ' Yes, the necklace is beautiful; or 
 rather I mean to say was beautiful; 
 and therefore I am pleused that a woman 
 of taste should praise rne for having re- 
 jected it.' 
 
 If you knew, madam,' exclaimed 
 Jeanne, adroitly interrupting the queeu, 
 * how we at last learn to appreciate the 
 feelings of persons, when we, ourselv-s 
 feel an interest for them whom those 
 persons love.' 
 
 ' What do you mean ?' 
 
 1 I mean to say, madam, thiit on being 
 informed of the heroic sacrifice your 
 majv'.sty had made with regard to the 
 ntscUi.ico, 1 MIW M. de Rohan turn pale.' 
 
 Turn pule !' 
 
 1 in an instant, his eyes were filled 
 with t^irs. 1 know not, madam, whe- 
 ther it be true that M. de Rohan is a 
 handsome man, or an accomplished no- 
 fclenmn, as many pretend ho is. All 
 that 1 know is, that his features at thnt 
 moment, ;.nimated by the. feelings ol'his 
 soul, and furrowed by tears excited by 
 your generous disinterestedness, what 
 do I say, by your sublime abnegation, 
 thoso features can never bo cHiicud from 
 my remembrance.' 
 
 The quuun lor a moment stoppud the 
 
 water which wns flowing from the gild- 
 ed head of u swan, suspended over the 
 marble bath. 
 
 Well then, countess, as M. de R<v 
 linn appeared to you so handsome and 
 accomplished, as you have just now 
 said, I should advise you not to allow, 
 him to perceive you think so. He is a 
 worldly prelate, a pastor who seines on 
 the lamb, as much tor himself as for th 
 Lord.' 
 
 Oh ! madam.' 
 
 4 Well ! what is there strange in that. ; 
 do I caluminiate him ? Is not that his 
 reputation ? Does he not even make a 
 boast of it 1 Do you not see him, evea 
 when performing religious ceremonies, 
 holding up his well-formed hands, they, 
 are handsome it is true, in order to 
 make them appear still whiter, and on 
 those hands sparkling with the pastoral 
 ring, the devotees fix their eyes, even 
 more brilliant than the cardinal's dia- 
 mond ?' 
 
 Jeanne curtseyed. 
 
 4 The cardinal's trophies,' continued 
 the queen, angrily, 4 are numerous. 
 Some of them, even, have been the 
 cause of scandal. The cardinal is a 
 lover, like those of the Fronde. Let 
 those who please, praise him. I ant 
 not one of them.' 
 
 4 Well, then, madam,' t-aid Jeanne, 
 whom this familiarity had completely 
 restored- to confidence, as well as tha 
 physical position of the queen at that 
 moment; 4 I do not know whether the 
 cardinal was thinking of these devotees 
 while he was speaking to me so fervent- 
 ly of the virtues of your majesty, but 
 this I know, that his fine hands, instead 
 of being held in the air, were pressed 
 upon his heart.' 
 
 The queen shook her head, with a 
 constrained laugh. 
 
 1 Ho ! ho !' thought Jeanne, 4 are 
 things going even better than wo could 
 have anticipated ; is mortification be- 
 coming our auxiliary ? Oh, our work 
 will then be but too easy.' 
 
 The queen quickly resumed her no- 
 ble and unconcerned air. 
 
 1 Continue,' she said. 
 
 ' Your majesty freezes me ; this mo- 
 desty, which repels even praise ' 
 
 1 That of the cardinal ? Oh, yes !' 
 
 1 Rut why so, madam ?' 
 
 1 Because I doubt its sincerity, coun- 
 tess.' 
 
 1 It belongs not to me,' replied .Jean- 
 ne, with the most profound respect, 4 to 
 defend him, who haa been unfortunate 
 enough tu have incurred your majesty's
 
 MYSTERIES OF THE COURT OF LOUIS XVI. 
 
 20.' 
 
 displeasure ; no one can for n moment 
 dciuht he must be guilty, siuce ho hna 
 displeased the queen. ' 
 
 4 M. de Rohan has not displeased me, 
 lie tins offended me. But I nin n queen 
 and a Christian, and consequently doubly 
 inclined to forget offences.' 
 
 And the queen sjiid these words with 
 thnt majestic kindness which belonged 
 only to herself. 
 
 Jennne remained silent. 
 
 4 You say nothing more.' 
 
 Your majesty would suspect me ; I 
 should incur disgrace your reprehen- 
 sion, should I express nn opinion in op- 
 position to that of your majesty.' 
 
 ' Your opinion is then contrary to 
 mine wilh regard to tire cardinal ?' 
 
 ' Diametrically, madam.' 
 
 You would not speak thus were you 
 to be informed of that which Prince 
 Louis hag done against me.' 
 
 * I know only that which I have seen 
 him do for the service of your majesty.' 
 
 'Some gallantries?' 
 
 Jeanne bowed. 
 
 Some courtesies, wishes, compli- 
 ments,' continued the queen. 
 
 Jeanne made no reply. 
 
 'You have a very earnest friendship 
 for M. de Rohan, countess; I will not 
 again attack him before you.' 
 
 And the queen laughed. 
 
 4 Madam,' replied Jeanne, I would 
 rather endure your majesty's anger than 
 your raillery. The feeling M. de Ro- 
 han entertains towards your majesty is 
 on BO eminentry respectful, that I feel 
 assured, did he see the queen deriding 
 him, it would kill him. 1 
 
 ' Oh! oh! he has much changed, then.' 
 
 ' But your majesty did me the honor 
 to tell me, only the other day, that for 
 more thun ten years past M. de Rohan 
 was passionately ' 
 
 'I was jesting then,' replied the queen, 
 frowningly. 
 
 Jeanne, thus reduced to silence, ap- 
 peared to the queen to have given up 
 the contest, but Marie Antoinette was 
 mistaken. To those women who com- 
 bine the nature of the tiger mid the ser- 
 pent, the moment; of their recoiling ia 
 always the prelude to a fresh attack, it 
 concentrated repose precedes their 
 spring. 
 
 You were speaking of those dia- 
 1 mends,' imprudently observed the 
 'queen, 'acknowledge that you have 
 keen thinking of them.' 
 
 'Night and day, madam,' cried 
 Jeanne, 'with the joy of a general who, 
 when on the field of battle, necs uis 
 
 enemy commit Home decisive error, 
 'they are so beautiful, they would so 
 much become your majesty.' 
 
 ' How so ?' 
 
 ' Yes, madam, yes. I say become 
 your majesty. 1 
 
 ' Hnl they are sold !' 
 
 4 Yes, they are sold.' 
 
 'To the Portuguese ambassador?* 
 
 Jeanne gently shook her head. 
 
 4 No." cried the queen joyfully. 
 
 'No, madam.' 
 
 4 To whom then?' 
 
 4 M. de Rohan has bought them.' 
 
 The queen sprang forwards-hut sud- 
 denly looking cold v again : 
 
 ' Oh !' she exclaimed. 
 
 ' Permit me to tell you, madam,' said 
 Jeanne with, fervent and impassioned 
 eloquence, ' M. de Rohan's conduct in 
 this instance lias been superb; the im- 
 pulse was most praiseworthy; a soul 
 like that of your majesty cannot fail to 
 sympathi/.e with all that is good and 
 feeling. M. de Rohan had scarcely 
 been informed, and I acknowledge that 
 it was by me, of the temporary incon- 
 venience your majesty was suffering un- 
 der, than he exclaimed, 44 How ! the 
 queen of France denies herself that 
 which a receiver-general's wife would 
 not deny herself? How ! the queen 
 may some day be exposed to the annoy- 
 ance of seeing Madame Necker decked 
 out in these diamonds ?" M. de Ro- 
 han was then ignorant as to the Portu- 
 guese ambassador having bargained for 
 them. I informed him of it. His in- 
 dignation was redoubled. 4l It is," said 
 he, l4 no longer a mere question of doing 
 that which might please the queen ; it 
 is a question of royal dignity. I know 
 the spirit that prevails in all these fo- 
 reign courts, their vanity, their osten- 
 tation ; they will laugh at the queen of 
 France for not having wherewithal to 
 satisfy a legitimate desire ; and shall I 
 suffer this mockery of the queen of 
 France ! No, never," and he quitted 
 me abruptly. One hour afterwards I 
 knew that he had purchased the dia- 
 monds.' 
 
 'Fifteen hundred thousand livres?' 
 
 'Sixteen hundred thousand livres.' 
 
 'And what was his intention in pur- 
 chasing them .'' 
 
 'That since they could not belong to 
 your majesty, they should not belong to 
 any other woman.' 
 
 4 And are you sure that it is not to 
 present them to some mistress that M. 
 de Rohan purchased them/' 
 
 ' ( am sure that it is for the purpose 

 
 206 
 
 THE QUEEN'S NECKLACE; OR, THE 
 
 of annihilating them rather than that 
 they should adorn any other neck than 
 tlmt of the queen.' 
 
 Marie Antoinette meditated ; and her 
 countenance reflected, und without a 
 veil, all that,,was passing in her soul. 
 
 4 That which M. do Rohan has done, 
 Is well,' said she, ' it. is a noble action, 
 and evinces delicate devoted ness.' 
 
 Jeanne ardently drank in these 
 words 
 
 You will, therefore, thank M. de 
 Rohiin,' continued the queen. 
 
 4 Oh ! yea, madam.' 
 
 ' You, ..will add that M. de Rohan's 
 friendship is now proved to me, and 
 that I rffc an honest man, as the Empress 
 Catherine says, ' I accept every thing 
 from friendship, on the condition of re- 
 turn. Therefore, I accept, not the gift 
 of M. de Rohan ' 
 
 ' What, then ?' 
 
 'Bui his advance M. de Rohan has 
 been pleased to advance his money or 
 his credit, i unorder to do mo pleasure. 
 I will reimburse him. Boehmer want- 
 ed ready money, I believe ?' 
 
 ' Yes, madam.' 
 
 ' How much : two hundred thousand 
 livres ?' 
 
 Two hundred and fifty thousand 
 livres.' 
 
 That is just the quarter's pension 
 which the king allows me. It has been 
 sent to me this morning, in advance, it 
 is true, but in short it was sent to me.' 
 
 The queen rang hastily for her wo- 
 men, who dressed her, after having 
 first wrapped hnr up in hot cumbric 
 of the finest texture. 
 
 She then pioceeded to her own room : 
 when oncn more alone with Jeanne, she 
 Baid to her : 
 
 1 lie wo good as to open that drawer.' 
 
 'The first?' 
 
 1 No. the second you -cc a pocket- 
 book ?' 
 
 ' Mere it is, madam.' 
 
 There are two hundred and fitty 
 ihousaud livres in it count, them.' 
 
 , I'boyed. 
 .- ! In in to the cardinal, and 
 
 arrange matters 
 this manner. 
 
 Tell him that I will 
 
 M> ;is ID pay him 
 The interest can be 
 
 ing a friend who, with great delicacy* 
 has served me.' 
 
 She again paused. 
 
 And also a friend who has divined 
 my wishes,' pursued the queen, hold- 
 ing out her hand to the countess, who 
 sei/,ed it eagerly. 
 
 And then as she was about to leave 
 the room, after having again hesitated : 
 
 ' Countess,' said she, in a tone, as if 
 alarmed at what she was about lo say; 
 'you will inform M. de Rohan that he 
 will be welcome at Versailles, that I 
 have thanks to offer him.' 
 
 Jeanne rushed out of the room, not 
 only intoxicated, but mad with joy and 
 satisfied pride. 
 
 She grasped the bank notes, as a vul- 
 ture would have grasped its stolen prey. 
 
 gulated afii-rwardb. In thi* w;:> I shall! mnined pitiless. 
 
 CHAPTER XLIV. 
 THE QUEEN'S POCKET-BOOK. 
 
 It might have been tnought that the 
 horses which bore away Jeanne de Va 
 lois from Versailles, felt the importance 
 of the fortu; e with which she was en- 
 trusted as deeply as did Jeanne herself. 
 
 If ever horses eager to gain a prize 
 flew along the race course, they were 
 the two \oor horses attached to her 
 hired carriage. , 
 
 Their coachman, stimulated by the 
 countess, made them believe that they 
 were of the race of the quadiupeds of 
 Klis, whose master was to gain two ta- 
 lents of gold, and a triple feed of pearl- 
 barley for themselves. 
 
 The cardinal had not gone out when 
 Madame de la Mothe reached hishous6, 
 she entered it at once, and publicly 
 among all his servants. 
 
 She caused herself to be announced 
 more ceremoniously than she hud done 
 to the queen. 
 
 ' You come from Versailles ?' said he 
 inquiringly. 
 
 ' Yes moils* igm-ur.' 
 
 He 1< 'wr intently ; she was 
 
 impenetrable. 
 
 She saw that h shuddered, that he 
 was sorrowful and agitated, but. she re- 
 
 have the necklace which HO much pleas 
 ed me; and if I iiirunvemeiic. myself 
 in paying for it, i -<h,i!l not. at all events, 
 inconvenience the king.' 
 
 She reflected for a minute. 
 
 ' And I shall by this have gained,' 
 continued she, the assurance of iiav- 
 
 Well !' cried the cardinal. 
 
 - Well ! tell me, monseigneur, what 
 i- it you dusire. Speak a little, that I 
 may not have to reproach myself too 
 much." 
 
 ' Ah ! countess, you nay that with an 
 air '
 
 MYSTERIES OF THE COURT OF LOUIS XVI. 
 
 207 
 
 4 Most sorrowful, is it not?' 
 
 Killing.' 
 
 You wished that I should see the 
 queen ?' 
 
 Yes.' 
 
 '1 hnvo seen her.' 
 
 Ah." 
 
 'You wished thnt she should nllow 
 rno to spenk to her of you ; she who 
 hud Severn I limes evinced her aversion 
 to you, and her displeasure even when 
 she heard your mime pronounced be- 
 fore her?' 
 
 ' I clearly see, that had I formed such 
 a desire. I must for ev^r renounce its 
 being fulfilled.' 
 
 Not BO ; the queen spoke of you to 
 me.' 
 
 4 Or, rather, you were kind enough to 
 
 speak to her of me.' 
 4 Thai is true.' 
 
 4 And her majesty listened to youT 
 ' That requires an explanation.' 
 ' Do txpt say another word, countess ; 
 
 I eee at once the great repugnance her 
 
 majesty evinced 
 
 4 Why, not so very great; I ventured 
 
 eren to mention the necklace,' 
 
 * Did you dare to say that I had 
 thought ' 
 
 4 Of purchasing it for her ? Yes.' 
 
 Oh! countess, that was sublimely 
 generous in you and she listened to 
 you ?' 
 
 4 Why yes.' 
 
 4 You told her that I offered those 
 diamonds to her ?' 
 
 4 Yes, and she decidedly refused ' 
 
 4 1 am lost.' 
 
 4 Refused them as a gift yes ; but 
 the loan ' 
 
 4 The loan and did you so delicately 
 turn my offer.' 
 
 'So delicately, that she accepted it.' 
 
 I lend to the queen! oh! coun- 
 tess, can that be possible ?' 
 
 4 It IH more than if you absolutely gave 
 is it nol so?' 
 
 ' A thousand times.' 
 
 1 And that is my opinion ; at all 
 events, lien' majesty accwpts.' 
 
 The cardinal rose from his chair, and 
 then sat down again ; lie once more 
 rose, approached Jmiime, and taking 
 her hands: 'Do not deceive me,' said 
 he, imploringly, 'remember that wilh 
 one word you can make me the must, 
 miserable of men.' 
 
 4 True passion is not to be played 
 with, inonfieigneur; it is well to do so, 
 with ridiculous ones, but men of your 
 high rank and merit cuu never be ridi- 
 culous.' 
 
 4 Thnt is true. Then all that you 
 have said ' 
 
 ' Is the precise truth.' 
 
 4 1 have, then, a secret with the 
 queen? 
 
 A secret n mortal secret.' 
 
 The cardinal energetically pressed 
 j Jeanne's haul. 
 
 4 1 like that shako of the hand,' said 
 the countess, it is that of u man to a 
 man.' 
 
 4 It is that of a happy man to a pro- 
 tecting angel. 1 
 
 . 4 Monseigneur, do not exaggerate in 
 any thing.' 
 
 'Oh ! but it is so my joy, my grati- 
 tude never ' 
 
 4 But you are exaggerating both the 
 one and the other. Was it not your 
 wish to lead a million and n half to the 
 queen ?' 
 
 The cardinal sighed. 
 
 'Buckingham Would have asked for 
 something more, monseigneur, after 
 having strewn his pearls upon the floor 
 of the royal chamber.' 
 
 ' Thnt which Buckingham obtained, 
 countess, I would not even wish for, 
 were it in a dream.' 
 
 ' You can enter into that explanation, 
 monseigneur, with the queen, for she 
 ordered me to inform you that she will 
 see you with pleasure at Versailles.' 
 
 The imprudent woman had no sooner 
 allowed these words to escape her lips, 
 than the cardinal turned as pale as a 
 timid youth, when receiving the first 
 kiss of love. He felt around him, like 
 u drunken man, and seized the first 
 chair his hand encountered, to support 
 his trembling limbs. 
 
 Ah! ah !' thought Jeanne, 4 it is even 
 more serious than I had believed ; I 
 had thought of a duchy, a peerage, an 
 income of a hundred thousand livres, 
 but 1 may now soar as high as a princi- 
 pality, even to an income of half a mil- 
 lion ; for M. de Kohan is moved by nei- 
 thor ambition, nor by avarice, but by 
 love.' 
 
 M. de Rohan soon recovered his self- 
 posseSsion ; joy is not a malady of long 
 duration, and as his was a solid mind, 
 he thought it would be proper to con* 
 verse with Jeanne on business matters, 
 in order that she inil<t fur-el he had 
 just been speaking of IOVB. She ullovr- 
 c-d him to go on as lie pleased. ^ 
 
 My friend,' aiiid lie, pressing Jean- 
 ne in'his arms, what does' tint queen 
 mean to do as to the loan which you 
 have proposed to her .'' 
 
 You ask me that, because it u
 
 '208 
 
 THE QUEEN'S NECKLACE ; OR, THE 
 
 thought 'ht, the queen is out of funds?' 
 
 1 Precisely.* 
 
 ' Well then, the queen menns to iny 
 you us if slie wore paying Hoehmer, 
 with this difference, that if she hud 
 bought of Koehmer, nil Paris would 
 have; known it u thing which would be 
 impossible to her, ;ift.erlier famous say- 
 ing as to the ship-of-the-line ; nnd be- 
 cause, were the king to pout, till France 
 would make wry faces nt her. Tin: 
 queen will therefore receive the dia- 
 monds in detail, and pay in detail for 
 them. You furnish her this opportu- 
 nity ; you are a discreet, a solvent ca- 
 shier, ll the t;vent of her suffering any 
 embarrassment, and that is nil. She is 
 happy, and she pays do not ask for 
 more.' 
 
 Sue pnys ! 4iow ?' 
 
 4 The queen, a woman whom nothing 
 can escape, knows well that you have 
 many debts, monseigneur; and besides, 
 he is proud she is not a friend who 
 will receive presents. When 1 told her 
 that you had advanced two hundred and 
 fifty thousand livres ' 
 
 You told her that?' 
 
 'And why not?' 
 
 'It was at once rendering the affair 
 impossible to her.' 
 
 4 It was procuring her the means, the 
 reason for accepting it. " Nothing for 
 nothing,'' that is the quee-n'a motto.' 
 
 'Good heaven !' 
 
 Jeanne very quietly put her hand into 
 her pocket, and took out the queen's 
 pocket-book. 
 
 What is that ?' asked M. de Rohan. 
 
 4 A pocket-book, which contains bank 
 notes for two hundred and fifty thous- 
 and livres, and which the queen sends 
 'to you with very gracious thanks.' 
 
 Oh ." 
 
 4 The amount is there, I counted 
 them.' 
 
 4 Oh ! that is not the point.' 
 
 4 But what are you gazing at so ear- 
 nestly ?' 
 
 4 1 was looking at that pocket-book, 
 which I do not remember having seen 
 you wear In-fore.' 
 
 It pleases you; and yet it 19 neither 
 handsome nor rich.' 
 
 4 1 know not why, but it pleases me.' 
 
 4 You have good taste.' 
 
 4 You are mocking me ? In what is 
 it you >-.i> i ii <'..- good taste?' 
 
 Undoubit- !l , you linve, since your 
 taste siccuivis with that of the queen.' 
 
 'This pockelt-bqok ' 
 
 ' Was tii> queens, monseigneur.' 
 
 4 A ud do you prize it ?' 
 
 4 Oh ! very much.' 
 
 M. de Rohan sighed. 
 
 4 That I can readily conceive,' said he. 
 
 4 And yet, if it would give you much 
 pleasure,' said the countess, with that 
 smilt! which would have brought perdi- 
 tion on a saint, 
 
 1 You cannot doubt that, countess j 
 but I would not deprive you of it.' 
 
 4 T?ikeit.' 
 
 ' Countess,' cried the cardinal trans- 
 ported with delight, 4 you are the most 
 precious friend, the most intellectual, 
 the most 
 
 Yes, yes, aH that ' 
 
 4 And between us it shall be ' 
 
 * Through life and death that is al- 
 ways the end of the story. No, I have 
 but one merit.' 
 
 4 And what is that ?' 
 
 'That of having succeeded in your 
 affairs with tolerably good fortune and 
 much zeal.' 
 
 ' If that were your only merit, my 
 dear friend, I might tell you that I am 
 almost equally worthy with yourself, 
 seeing that while you, poor dear, were 
 jolting along the Versailles road, 1 have 
 also beeu at work for you.' 
 
 Jeanne looked at the cardinal with 
 surprise. 
 
 ' Yes, 'tis a mere trifle,' said he. 
 ' A man came here, my banker, to 
 propose to me to take some shares in, I 
 know not what affair some draining of 
 a marsh, and cultivating it.' 
 
 'Ah!' 
 
 1 The profit was quite cer- tain, 30 
 I agreed to it.' 
 
 ' And rightly did you.' 
 
 4 Oh ! you shall see that you always 
 occupy the first place in my thoughts. 1 
 
 4 The second, and that would be much 
 more than I deserve ; but let us hear.' 
 
 4 My banker gave me two hundred 
 shares, I took one fourth of them for 
 you, the last.' ' Oh ! monseigneur.' 
 
 4 Let me go on. In two hours after- 
 wards he returned. The sole fact of 
 the purchase t>f those very shnres. pro- 
 duced a rise upon the exchange of a 
 hundred per cent. He gave me a hun- 
 dred thousand livres.' 
 
 ' A* magnificent speculation.' 
 
 *Of which here is your share, dear 
 countess I should have snid,dearfriend.' 
 \nd of the packet of two hundred and 
 fifty thousand livres sent by the queen, 
 he slipped twenty-five thousand into 
 the hand of the countess. 
 
 'This is right well, rnons-eigneur; 
 you no sooner receive than pay. But
 
 
 MYSTERIES OF THE COITRT OF LOUIS XVI. 
 
 209 
 
 that which most {ilwases me is. that you 
 have thought of me.' 
 
 ' And I shall always do so,' replied 
 the cardinal, kissing her hand. 
 
 1 And you may calculate on the same, 
 said Jeanne. ' We shall soon meet 
 again, raonseigneur and at Versailles.' 
 
 And she hurried home, after having 
 given to the cardinal a note of the dates 
 fixed by the queen for the several pay- 
 ments. 
 
 CHAPTER XLV. 
 
 UT WHICH MONSIEUR DUCORNEAU ABSO- 
 LUTELY CANNOT COMPREHEND EVEN 
 A TITTLE Or ALL THAT IS PASSING 
 AROUND HIM. 
 
 We must now return to our worthies 
 at the Hotel of the Portuguese embassy 
 in the Rue de la Jussienne, who were 
 impatiently awaiting the promised visit 
 from Boehmer, which was to secure to 
 them definitely the possession of the 
 BO much coveted necklace. 
 
 On the day following that on which 
 the sale of the necklace to the Cardinal 
 de Rohan had been consummated, 
 Boehmer accompanied by his partner, 
 both of them assuming as composed an 
 ir as the circumstances would permit, 
 set out for the mansion of the great 
 Minister Plenipotentiary de Souza. 
 
 At the moment they were about to 
 knock at the gate M, Beausire, first 
 secretary of legation, was making M. 
 Ducorneau give him an exact and parti- 
 cular account of his finances ; and Don 
 Manoel y Souza, the ambassador, was 
 explaining a new plan of campaign to his 
 partner, the valet de chambre. 
 
 Since M. de Boehmer's last visit to 
 the Rue de la Jussienne, the hotel of 
 the embassy had undergone many im- 
 ' poitant transformations. 
 
 The whole of the household after dis- 
 embarking, as we have before stated, 
 from two post carriages, had establish- 
 ed themselvesaecording to the exigency 
 of the case and the various posts they 
 wero appointed to fill in the establish- 
 ment of the new ambassador. 
 
 It must be admitted that the partners, 
 dividing thus the different parts between 
 them, and which they performed ad- 
 mirably well, had the opportunity of 
 watching over their own individual inte- 
 rests ; a feeling which imparts a certain 
 degree of courage even while subjected 
 to the most menial and painful duties. 
 
 M. Ducorneau, enchanted with th 
 intelligence of nil these new officers and 
 valets, admired the ambassador for 
 evincing so tittle national prejudice a* 
 to have composed his household entire- 
 ly of Frenchmen, even from his first 
 'secretary down to the lowest valet. 
 
 And therefore it was while summing 
 up his figures with M. de Beausire that 
 he entered into a conversation with him, 
 highly laudatory of the chief of the em- 
 bassy. 
 
 ' The Souzas do you see,' said Beau- 
 sire, 'are not like those antiquated 
 Portuguese, completely encrusted with 
 the manners of the fourteenth century, 
 of which ihere are many slill dristiog 
 in our provinces. No, they are gentle- 
 men travellers, possessed of millions, 
 and 'who might be kings some where, did 
 it happen tote their fancy. 
 
 ' But it does not,' archly replied M. 
 Ducorneau. 
 
 ' And why should if, good M. Chan- 
 cellor ? Is not a iniin with a certain 
 number of millions, and a princely name., 
 equal to a king?' 
 
 ' Why these are philosophic doc- 
 trines,' cried M. Ducornoan, much sur- 
 prised. 4 1 never expected to hear these 
 equalizing maxims issue from the mouth 
 of a Portuguese diplomatist.' 
 
 * We are an exception.' replied Beaa- 
 sire, a little annoyed at the anachronism 
 he had been guilty of; without being 
 a Voltaire, or an Armenian after Rous- 
 seau's manner, a man may be something 
 of a philosopher he may know the na- 
 tural theories of the inequality of condi- 
 tions and of powers.' 
 
 ' Do you know,' cried the chancellor, 
 enthusiastically, ' that it is very fortu- 
 nate for the rest of Europe that Portu- 
 gal is but a small state.' 
 
 4 And why so ?' 
 
 * Because with such men at its head, 
 it would soon become more powerful 
 than any other.' 
 
 'Oh! you flatter ns, dear chancellor. 
 No, we are merely talking on political 
 philosophy. It i specious, but not ap- 
 plicable. But, let us atop there. You 
 
 thousand livrea in hand ?' 
 
 ' Yes, M. Secretary, one hundred and 
 erght thousand livres.' 
 
 \nd no debts?' 
 
 ' Not a sous.' 
 
 'That is exemplary. Give me the 
 statement you have drawn up of it, if 
 you please.' 
 
 ' Here it is. But when is the presen- 
 tation to take place, M. Secretary ? I
 
 210 
 
 THE QUEEN'S NECKLACE; OR, THE 
 
 must tell you that it is a subject of eager 
 curiosity to the whole neighborhood 
 of inexhaustible comments, I might say, 
 almost of iinxiety.' 
 
 Ha! ha." 
 
 4 Yes, and people are seen every now 
 and then prowling and peeping about 
 the hotel, who would seern to wish the 
 gates were of glass.' 
 
 ' People ?' said Beausire, ' oh, people 
 of the neighborhood, I suppose.' 
 
 4 And others ; the ambassador's mis- 
 sion being a secret one, you can readily 
 imagine that the police will immediate- 
 ly do all it can to ferret out its nature.' 
 
 ' I liave thought as you do of it,' re- 
 plied Beausire, somewhat agitated. 
 
 'Look there, M. Secretary,' said Du- 
 corneau, leading Beausire to the iron 
 grating of a window, which opened upon 
 the street. ' Do you see that man in a 
 shabby brown coat yonder ?' 
 
 ' Yes, I see him.' 
 
 4 How eagerly' he looks, hey !' 
 
 4 That is true, faith. What do you 
 think he is ?' 
 
 4 How can I know ; one of M. de 
 Crosne's spies, perhaps.' 
 
 ' That's very likely.' 
 
 Between ourselves, Mr. Secretary, 
 M. de Crosne has not the ability of the 
 late M. de Sartines. Did you know M. 
 de Siirtines?' 
 
 * No, sir, no !' 
 
 4 Oh ! he would have found you out 
 ten times over before this : it is true 
 you take great precautions ' 
 
 A bell rang. 
 
 4 The ambassador calis for me,' cried 
 Beausire, glad to break off, for the con- 
 versation began to embarrass him ; and 
 opening the folding door quickly and 
 violeutlfy, he overturned two of the 
 partners, who, the one with a pen 
 behind his ear, the other with a broom 
 in his hand, thinking Beausire's con- 
 versation with the chancellor rather 
 
 The discussion was not completely 
 terminated. When Beausire entered the 
 room, the two gamecocks were pluck- 
 ing each pther's last feathers. 
 
 ' Come, now, M. Beausire, you shall 
 decide between us," said the commaud- 
 
 4 And on what subject ?' said the se- 
 cretary, assuming the airs of an arbi- 
 trator, after exchanging a glance with 
 the ambassador, his natural ally. 
 
 4 You know,' said the valet de cham- 
 bre, that M. Boehmer is to come here 
 to-day to conclude the affair of the 
 necklace.' 
 
 4 1 know it.' 
 
 'And that the sum of a hundred 
 thousand livres is to be paid to him.' 
 
 ' I know that also.' 
 
 ' That hundred thousand livres is the 
 property of the partnership, is it not?' 
 
 ' Who doubts it ?' 
 
 4 Ah ! you see that M. de Beausire is 
 of my opinion,' said the commandant, 
 turning towards Don Manoel. 
 
 4 1 coincide with you only in opinion 
 on this point,' said Beausire, ' that the 
 hundred thousand livres belong to the 
 association.' 
 
 That is enough, I ask for nothing 
 more. That being admitted, the safe 
 in which that sum is deposited ought 
 not to be placed in the only office of the 
 embassy contiguous to the chamber of 
 the ambassador. ' 
 
 ' And why so ?' said Beausire. 
 
 '.If it be so,' resumed the commander, 
 the ambassador ought to give to each of 
 us a key to that 
 
 ' By no means.' said the Portuguese. 
 
 4 Your reasons ?' 
 
 4 Oh, yes, your reasons?' added Beau- 
 sire. 
 
 I arn mistrusted,' snid the Portu- 
 guese stroking his beard, 4 why should 
 not I mistrust others. It appears to me 
 that if I am accused of robbing the as- 
 
 long, ami wishing to ascertain the sub- sociation, I may suspect the associatioj 
 
 ject of it had glued their ears to the of wishing to rob me. We are all people 
 
 . door. of equal worth.' 
 
 Beausire inferred from this that he ' Agreed.' said the valet de chambre, 
 
 was suspected by his confederates, and 4 but it is precisely on that account that 
 
 resolved on being doubly vigilant. we have all equal rights.' 
 
 He, iheivfore, \\cnt up stairs to the ' Then, my dear sir, as you wish for 
 
 ambassador, after having, in the dark a complete system of equality, you 
 
 pa&Rge, given a friendly squeeze of the ought in the first instance to have 
 
 hand o e:i<-h of his two suspicious j determined, that we should each in our 
 
 partners. turn play the part of the ambassador. 
 
 Duo Manoel deSouKa was rather less It would perhaps hjwe appeared less 
 
 yellow than usual ; that is to sny, he credible in the eyes of the public, but 
 
 was rather ivu>i'-r. He had just had the associates would have felt more 
 
 a somewhat paint' I altercation wi.h secure. That is true is it not?' 
 
 the commandant, vulet de chambre. 'And first of all, M. Commandant, 

 
 MYSTERIES OF THE COURT OF LOUIS XVI. 
 
 211 
 
 Ci 
 r 
 
 aid Beausire interrupting his reply, 
 4 you do not net as a true companion. 
 Has not the Senhor Don Mnnoel an in- 
 contestible privilege, thnt of having in- 
 vented the whole scheme ?' 
 
 'Ah! undoubtedly,' said the ambas- 
 sador, 'and, M. de Beausire shares that 
 with me.' 
 
 4 Oh !' replied the commandant, 
 'when once an affair is in operation no 
 farther attention is paid to privileges.' 
 
 Agreed, but attention to good man- 
 ners should still be continued, observed 
 Beausire. 
 
 4 1 am not the only one to make this 
 demand,' said the commandant, some- 
 what ashamed, 4 all our comrades think 
 as I do.' 
 
 4 And they are all wrong," replied the 
 Portuguese. . 
 
 * 4 They are wrong,' repeated Beausire. 
 
 The commandant again held up his head. 
 ' It was I who was in the wrong,' 
 did he spitefully, to ask M. de Beau- 
 sire's opinion. The secretary could 
 not fail to side with the ambassador,' 
 
 4 M. Commandant,' replied Beausire, 
 with surprising coolness, 4 you are a 
 scoundrel and I will cut olf your ears, if 
 you still have ears, but they have been 
 already clipped too often.' 
 
 4 What's that ?' cried the command- 
 ant drawing himself up. 
 
 4 We are here very snugly in the ca- 
 binet of his' excellency the ambassador, 
 and can quietly settle this matter in a 
 family w,ay. Now you have just in- 
 sulted me by saying that I urn in collu- 
 sion with Don Manoel. 
 
 4 And you have insulted me also," 
 coldly said the Portuguese, coming to 
 the assistance of Beausire. 4 And for 
 this you must give satisfaction, M. 
 Commandant.' 
 
 4 Oh ! I am no Hector,' cried the valet 
 de chambre. 
 
 I see that clearly enough,' replied 
 Beausire; 4 and consequently you will 
 receive a thrashing, commandant.' 
 
 4 Help ! help!' cried tin- letter, already 
 seized by the lover of Mademoiselle 
 Oliva, and almost strangled by the Por- 
 tuguese. 
 
 But. at the moment that the two chiefs 
 were aboutto take justice into their own 
 hands, a bell from below announced that 
 a visitor w;:s ascending. 
 
 4 Let him go,' said Don Mnnoel. 
 4 And let him attend to his service,' 
 said Beausire. 
 
 'Our partners shall know this,' said the 
 commandant, adjusting the disorder of 
 his attire. 
 
 4 Oh ! tell them what you please, we 
 shall know how to answer it.' 
 
 4 Monsieur Boehmer !' cried the Swiav 
 from the foot of the staircase. 
 
 4 And this settles the whole matter, 
 dear commandant,' cried Beausire, giv- 
 ing his adversary a slight blow on the 
 back of his neck ; ' we shall no longer 
 have any contest wkh regard to the 
 hundred thousand livres, since the hun- 
 dred thousand livres are about to dis- 
 appear with Ml Boehmer. There now, 
 make yo'ir bow, good M. valet de cham- 
 bre. and mind your duty,' 
 
 The commandant went out grumbling, 
 but resumed his humble air, in order 
 properly to introduce the jeweller to the 
 (jrown. 
 
 Boehmer entered the room, followed 
 by Bossange ; both, their countenances 
 were humble and confused, on seeing 
 which the two keen observers of the 
 embassy could not but surmise that some 
 new difficulty had arisen. 
 
 While accepting the chairs offered by 
 Beausire, the latter continued his inves- 
 tigation, watching at the same time the 
 eye of Don Manoel, to keep up a per- 
 fect correspondence between them. 
 
 Manoel retained his dignified and of- 
 ficial deportment. 
 
 Boehmer, the initiatory genius of the 
 house, was the one to speak, under 
 these difficult circumstances. He ex- 
 plained that political reasons of high im- 
 portance prevented his carrying out the 
 previous negotiation. 
 
 Manoel exclaimed loudly ; Beausire 
 gave 'a hem!' M. Boehmer became 
 more and more embarrassed. 
 
 Don Manoel observed to him that the 
 bargain had been concluded ; that the 
 money for the payment on account was 
 ready. Boehmer persisted. 
 
 The ambassador, still by the interpre- 
 tation of Beausire, replied, that he had 
 forwarded to his government information 
 of the conclusion of the bargain; that to 
 breaK it olf was to subject her majesty 
 to a quasi insult. 
 
 M. Boehmer observed that he had 
 well considered all the importance of 
 these reflections, but to return to his 
 first ideas lunl heroine impossible to him. 
 
 Beausire could not make up his mind 
 to agree to this rupture ufthe, contract; 
 he declared that such M retractation was 
 the conduct of an unfaithful tiflHesmao, 
 of a man whose word was of no vnlue. 
 
 Bossange then m-citiue the orator, in 
 order to defend trade thus vilified in the 
 person of his associate and himself, but 
 he WHH not eloquent.
 
 212 
 
 THE Q [TEEN'S NECKLACE; OR,' "THE 
 
 Beausire closed his month at once by 
 this sole assertion. 
 
 Yon have found a higher bidder :' 
 The jewellers, who wero not very 
 well versed in politics, nnd who hnd nn 
 exceedingly high opinion of diplomatists 
 in general, and of Portuguese diploma 
 tists in particular, blushed, conceiving 
 thnt the ambassador hnd diviued then 
 motives. 
 
 Benusire saw that he had strnck 
 home, and as it'wns essentiiilly impor- 
 tnnt'ro him that the affair should be car- 
 ried through, for n fortune depended on 
 it, he pretended to consult his ambas- 
 sador in the Portuguese language, and 
 then turning to the jewellers : 
 
 ' Gentlemen,' said he, 'you have been 
 offered a more advantageous price ; no- 
 thing can be more natural; it proves 
 that the diamonds were offered us at a 
 fair value. Well ! her Portuguese ma- 
 jesty would not desire to obtain u thing 
 cheaply to the prejudice of worthy 
 tradesmen. Must we offer you fifty 
 thousand livres more ?' 
 
 Boehmer shook his head. 
 
 One hundred thousand livres one 
 hundred and fifty thousand,' continued 
 Beausire, decided, without in the 
 slightest degree thereby injuring him- 
 eif, to offer even a million more, rather 
 than lose the chance of gaining his pro- 
 portion of the fifteen hundred thousand 
 livres. 
 
 The jewellers being dazzled by this 
 offer, were for a moment or two much 
 embarrassed; then having consulted 
 ftch other. 
 
 * No, Mr. Secretary,' said Boehmer, 
 4 do not take the trouble to tempt us. 
 The bargain is concluded. A will, 
 more powerful than ours, compels us 
 to sell the necklace in this country. 
 You, doubtless, understand us ; it IH not 
 we who refuse ; therefore, be not ill- 
 disposed towards us. It is from some 
 one greater than ourselves, greater than 
 erven you, that comes thia'opposition.' 
 
 Beausire and Manoel could find no 
 feply to this ; on the contrary, they paid 
 a sort of compliment to the jewellers, 
 and endeavored to affect indifference, 
 
 They were so intent upon this that 
 they did not observe the commandant's 
 valet de chambre, who was occupied in 
 listening nt the door of the antecham- 
 ber, wliich he had slightly opened, in 
 order to hear how the affair, from which 
 they wished to exclude him, was likely 
 to terminate. 
 
 This worthy associate, however, 
 managed it very awkwardly, for while 
 
 leaning towards the door his foot slip- 
 ped, and he knocked his head against 
 one of the panels, making a loud noise. 
 
 Beausire rushed out of the room and 
 found the unhappy man, stretched upon 
 the ground, and greatly terrified. 
 
 What are you doing there, wretch!' 
 exclaimed Beausire. 
 
 'Sir,' replied the commandant, 'I 
 was bringing in this morning's post.' 
 
 "Tis well,' said Beausire, 'begone!' 
 
 And taking the despatches he dismis- 
 sed the commandant. 
 
 These despatches were the corre- 
 spondence of the embassy. Letters 
 from Portugal nnd Spain, for the most 
 part very unimportant, which formed 
 the daily work of M. Ducorneau, but 
 which always passing through the 
 hands of Beausire and Don Manoel be- 
 fore being sent to the chancery, gave 
 them some very useful intelligence as to 
 the affairs of the embassy. 
 
 On hearing the word ' despatches' the 
 jewellers rose from their chnirs nmcfi* 
 relieved, as people who receive per- 
 mission to withdraw after an embarrass- 
 ing audience. 
 
 They were allowed to depart, and the 
 valet de chambre was ordered to nc- 
 company them down to the court.yard. 
 
 He had scarcely reached the stair- 
 
 ase when Don Manoel and Beausire 
 
 exchanged one of those looks which 
 
 speedily lead to action theydrew close 
 
 to one another. 
 
 Well ." said Don Manoel, the affair 
 bus failed.' 
 
 * Completely" replied Beausire. 
 
 Out of one hundred thousand Hvres, 
 n paltry theft, we shall each receive on- 
 y eight thousand four hundred livres.' 
 
 It is not worth the while,' observed 
 Beausire. 
 
 ' And so think I, while in the safe 
 
 here,' and he pointed at the safe BO 
 
 eagerly coveted by the commandant, 
 
 there- in that safe are a hundred and 
 
 eight thousand livres.' 
 
 ' Fifty-four thousand each ?' 
 
 Well ! 'tis agreed,' replied Don 
 Vlanoel. ' Let us divide.' 
 
 ' Be it so ; but the commandant, now 
 hat he knows the affair has failed, will 
 not leave us for a moment.' 
 
 I will find out some means,' said 
 Don Manoel in a singularly impresnive 
 
 10. 
 
 ' And I have found one already,' said 
 Beausire, 
 
 ' What is it ?' 
 
 'This. The commandant will BOOB 
 eturn ?'
 
 MYSTERIES OF THE COURT OF LOUIS XVI. 
 
 213 
 
 We shnll have the whole housevup- 
 on our bucks ?' 
 
 Yes,' 
 
 4 Let us call the commandant as if to 
 entrust some secret to him, and then let 
 me manage ft.' 
 
 ' It appears to me that I already guess 
 it,' said. Don. Munoel, 'you had better 
 go down si airs and meet him.' 
 
 ' I was about to tell you to do so your- 
 self.' 
 
 Neither the one nor the other would 
 consent to leave his friend alone so near 
 the safe. Confidence. is. a scarce jewel. 
 
 Don Manoel replied, that his quality 
 of ambassador prevented him from tak- 
 ing such a step. 
 
 4 To him. you are not an ambassador,' 
 . ^ wad Beausire ; but no matter.' 
 
 ' You are going down ]' 
 
 No; I will call him from the win- 
 dow.' Arid. Beausire hailed the com- 
 mandant from the window, who was 
 just at that moment about to begin a 
 conversation with the Swiss. 
 
 The commandant*, on hearing himself 
 called, immediately hurried up stairs. 
 
 He found the two chiefs in the room 
 , next to that in which the safe WHH 
 standing. Beausire addressed him with 
 th a smiling face, ' I will wager,' said 
 he, -that I know what .you were- say- 
 ing to the Swiss.' 
 JfT- -Who, I?' 
 
 4 Yes, you were telling him that the 
 affair with Boehmer had failed.' 
 
 1 No, on my -word.' 
 
 4 You are lying.' 
 
 1 swear to you I am not.' 
 
 'So much the be tier*, for if you had 
 you would have committed a great stu- 
 pidity, and have lost a good sum of mo- 
 ney.' 
 
 4 How so ?' said the commandant, sui'. 
 prised ; ' what sum of money ' 
 
 4 You will readily understand that we 
 three, alone, are -in possession of this' 
 secret.' 
 
 ' That is true ?' 
 
 1 And thnt. consequently* we three 
 have the hundred and eight, thousand 
 livres, since the others believe that 
 Bpehrner and Bossonge have taken it 
 away with them.' 
 
 By Jupiter !' cried the commandant, 
 transported with joy, ' that is true !' 
 
 4 Thirty-three thousand three hun- 
 dred and thirty-throe livres, six sous, for 
 each of us,' observed Don Manoel. 
 
 4 More ! more!' cried the comman- 
 dant; 'there is ^he fraction of eight 
 thousand livres.' 
 
 4 Oh ! yes,' said Beausire, 'do-yoa 
 agree ?' 
 
 4 Do I agree-?' cried the valet de 
 chambre, joyfully rubbing his hands ; 4 1 
 believe I do, indeed ! This is as it 
 should be that is what call speaking.' 
 
 ' That is what I call speaking like a 
 scoundrel,' cried. Beausire, in a voice of 
 thunder ; ' dtd I not tell you that you 
 were a mere rascal. Come, Don Ma- 
 noel, you who are so powerful, seize 
 that fellow, and. let us hand him over to 
 our partners, telling them what a traitor 
 he has proved.' 
 
 4 Mercy ! mercy !' cried the unhappy 
 wrelch, ' what I said, was only in jest.' 
 
 4 Come, come ! into the dark room* 
 with him, until we can punish him MK 
 amply as he deserves,' 
 
 4 Mercy !' again shrieked the can*. 
 mandarit. 
 
 Take care,' said, Beausire to D*B: 
 Manoel, who had seized the perfidious 
 commandant,; 4 take care that M. Do* 
 corneau does not hear us.' 
 
 4 If you do not release me,' said th 
 commands! nt, ' 1 will denounce you all,' 
 
 ' And if you are not quiet I will 
 strangle you,' said Don Manoel in a 
 voice of furious anger and pushing UM 
 valet de chambre into a d;irk closet. 
 
 4 Send away M. Ducorneau,' whispr 
 ered he into Beausire's cars. 
 
 The latter did noi wair to have the 
 suggestion repeated. He rapidly ra*. 
 into the room contiguous to that of the. 
 ambassador, while the latter was shut 
 ting up the commandant in his dark . 
 dungeon 
 
 Some two minutes passed and Beau- 
 sire did not return. 
 
 A sudden idea struck Don MamiHl ; 
 the safe was there at not ten puces dis- 
 tance ; to open it, to take out the hun- 
 dred and eight thousand livres in bank 
 notes, to jump out of the window and 
 get through the garden , with his prey, 
 would be the work of only two muiutes 
 to a strong and wrll experienced thiet 
 
 Don Miinoc.l calculated thut it would 
 take Beausire or night 
 
 minutes to got ridof Ducorneiiu aifd re- 
 turn to lli'i room. 
 
 I7 nulled i. 'he 
 
 room in which 
 
 found that the duoi IM<! ln'-'n loc^Ai 
 Don Manuel was powerful, skilful, lie 
 woul 1 have opened the gato of a cily 
 with a watch key. 
 
 4 Beuusiro hna misti usted me,' thought 
 lu>, ' because I ouly have the key, aud 
 ho has locked the doors, that is quite na- 
 tural,'
 
 214 
 
 THE QUEEN'S NECKLACE; OR, THE 
 
 With the point of his sword he push- 
 ed back the bolt of the lock. 
 
 Oh reaching the safe he uttered a 
 shriek of terror. The safe stood there 
 with gaping doors, and empty. There 
 was nothing within its rifled dra>vers. 
 
 Beausire, who had a second key, had 
 entered the. room by another door and 
 had swept away the contents of the 
 afe. 
 
 Don Manoel ran like a mad man to 
 the porter's lodge where he found the 
 Swiss singing. 
 
 Beausire had distanced him by at 
 least five minutes. 
 
 When the Portuguese by his cries 
 and groans, had informed the whole of 
 the occupnnts of the hotel of the mis- 
 hap ; when, in order to prove what he 
 had said, he released the commandant, 
 he found himself surrounded by his as- 
 sociates, all of whom were Furious and 
 incredulous. 
 
 They accused him of having concoct- 
 ed the whole plot with Beausire, who 
 had set out before him but would divide 
 the spoil with him. 
 
 There was no longer any mystery; all 
 masks were thrown aside, and poor 
 honest Dacorneau could not compre- 
 hend with what persons he had thus 
 become allied. 
 
 He very nearly fainted when he saw 
 the diplomatists preparing to hang Don 
 Maopei under a shed, who could in no 
 wise help himself. 
 
 ' Hani: M de Sou/,a,' cried he, ' why 
 that would be high treason ! take care 
 what you ar d'-ing !' 
 
 He cried so loud that they deter- 
 mined on throwing him into a cellar. 
 
 At that moment three solemn knocks 
 were heard nt the fiont gate which 
 made the associates shudder. 
 
 Silence was immediately restored 
 among them. 
 
 The three knocks were repented. 
 
 Then a shrill voice cried out in Por- 
 
 tU&U* 
 
 In the namo of the ambassador from 
 Portugal, open the gate !' 
 
 Tin- ambassador!' muttered the 
 whole band of rascals: Mini immediate- 
 ly dispersing in all directions, some 
 through the gardens, others climbing 
 the neighboring walls, or scrambling 
 over the roofs of houses, a general #auv 
 aui pint ensued, a most admired con- 
 fusion. 
 
 The real unibas.-uulor, who had in fact 
 arrived, could not gain admittance to his 
 own* hotel, but wim the aid of the po- 
 liue-archers. who broke open the gate, 
 
 in the presence of an immense crowd, 
 which had collected to witness this most 
 extraordinary spectacle. 
 
 Then search was made in every di- 
 rection, and poor M. Ducorneau being 
 found in the cellar, completely stupified 
 by all these strange occurrences, was 
 arrested and conducted with more than 
 diplomatic ceremony to the prison cal- 
 led le Chatelet, where he slept that 
 night. 
 
 
 CHAPTER XLVI. 
 
 ILLUSIONS AND REALITIES. 
 
 Ir the Swiss of the embassy could , 
 have run after Beausire as Don Manoel 
 had ordered him, we must acknowledge 
 he would have undertaken a very diffi- 
 ent task. 
 
 Beausire, when once he had cleared 
 the gate, had run at n hard gallop to the 
 Rue Coquilliere, and afterwards at the 
 top of his speed into the Rue Saint 
 Honore. Always imagining that he was 
 pursued, he endeavored to puzzle thos* 
 upon his track by making various doubles 
 in the tortuous and narrow streets which 
 surrounded our .corn market, called the 
 Halle aux BUs. After a- few rainute 
 spent in this way, he felt assured that 
 no one could have followed him : there 
 was another thing of which he felt also 
 convinced, and this was that his strength 
 was altogether exhausted ; and, in fact, 
 a good race-horse could not have cover- 
 ed much more ground in the same num- 
 ber of seconds. 
 
 Beausire seated himself upon a sack 
 of wheat in the Hrae de Viarmes, which 
 runs along one side of the market, and 
 pretended to be examining with the 
 most minute attention the Medician co- 
 lumn which Baehaumofit had purchased 
 to save it from the mallet of the demo- 
 lishes, and had presented it to the 
 municipality of Paris.* 
 
 The fact is, thai .M . de Beiuisire was 
 neither looking at M. Philibert Delor- 
 me's column, nor at the sundial with 
 which M. de Pingrr: had adorned it. 
 
 * The tide of Demolishes (demolisseurs) was 
 given to a company of men formed in Parif, for the 
 t purchnflng old buildings in order to pull 
 tli^ui down I olitiiin the uiHtrriiiU of which they 
 trurti-d. On tBn breaking out of the re- 
 volution, tiii-: ciimjinny vv.-.a extended Knd formed a 
 -lerully known t>y the niune of the Bando 
 Moire, or lilnclc Band, woo went about the country 
 Buying up the estates of the nobility, who had eai 
 ?rut-)d t<i foruign
 
 MYSTERIES OF THE COURT OF LOUIS XVI. 
 
 215- 
 
 He was painfully drawing from the 
 lowest region of his lungs loud aspira- 
 tions, hoarse us the sound of a worn out 
 forge bellows. 
 
 During several minutes he could not 
 succeed in supplying the mass of air, 
 which he hud expended through his 
 larynx, necessary to the re-establish- 
 ment of the equilibrium between suffo- 
 cation and plethora. 
 
 At last he did succeed, anfl this was 
 with a sigh that might have been heard 
 by all the inhabitants of the rue de Vi- 
 armes had they not been more profita- 
 bly employed in selling or in weighing 
 out their grain. 
 
 'Ah!' thought Beausire 'at last my 
 dream is realised I am in possession of 
 a fortune.' And he again drew a long 
 breath. 
 
 'I shall now be able to become a per- 
 fectly honest man. I seem already to 
 be getting fatter.' 
 
 And in truth, if not getting fatter, he 
 was swelling visibly. 
 L I shall' said he, continuing his unut- 
 tered soliloquy 'make Oliva as honest a 
 woman as I shall be a man. She is 
 handsome, she is simple in her tastes.' 
 
 The unfortunate fellow ! 
 
 She will not dislike a retired country 
 life in a beautiful farm, which I will 
 purchase and we,, will cull it our estate; 
 it will be in the neighborhood of some 
 small city where tin- inhabitants will 
 readily conceive us to be people of su- 
 perior rank.' 
 
 'Nicoll is good : she has only two de- 
 fects : idleness and pride.' 
 
 Mere trifles ! poor Beauaire ! only 
 two deadl}' sins. 
 
 And notwithstanding those two de- 
 tects, which I will satisfy, I, the equi- 
 vocal Beausire, I shall have acquired 
 for myself uri acomplished and loving 
 wife.' 
 
 He did not proceed any further, his 
 respiration had resumed its wonted 
 quiet. 
 
 He wiped his forehead, ascertained 
 that the one hundred and eight thou- 
 sand Hvref were still safe in his breast- 
 pocket, and being then easier in body 
 as Wfll MS mind, he again began to re- 
 flect. 
 
 Hia enraged confederates would not 
 seek for him in the roe de Vitirmes, 
 but they would seek for him. The 
 gentlemen of the ernbassywere not per- 
 sons who could with satisfaction con- 
 sent to bo deprived of their share of the 
 booty. 
 
 They would therefore divide them- 
 
 selves into several parties, and they 
 would begin by exploring the residence 
 of their defaulting partner : in that resi- 
 dence lived Oliva. 
 
 There lay all the difficulty: they 
 would inform her of all that had hap- 
 pened, they would, perhaps, ill treat 
 her. Whit might they not do ? They 
 might even push their cruelty so far a 
 to make her a hostage. 
 
 Why should those rascals not be a- 
 ware that Mademoiselle Oliva wa 
 Beausire's passion, and why, if thoy 
 were aware of it, should they not spe- 
 culate on that passion / 
 
 The mere thought of these two dan- 
 gers almost maddened Beausire. Lov 
 was triumphant : he would not allow 
 any one to touch even the object of hw 
 love : he shot off with the swiftness <f 
 an arrow towards the rue DaupIRne 
 
 He had moreover an unlimited confi- 
 dence in the rapidity of his movements. 
 His enemies, however active they 
 might be, could not have outstripped 
 him. 
 
 Moreover, to make nil sure, he jirmp>- 
 ed into a hackney coach, to the driver 
 of which he displayed a six livre crown 
 piece, saying to him, ' to the Pont 
 Neuf. ; 
 
 The horses did not merely i;allop 
 they absolutely flew. 
 
 The evening was closing in. 
 
 Beausire was driven to the open ^piu-.o 
 upon the bridge, behind the stutuo of 
 Henry IV. In those dn\ > the approach 
 to it was allowed ; it was a place of 
 meeting then much used. 
 
 Then venturing to put his head out 
 of the coach window, his eyes eagerly 
 scrutinized the rue Dauphine. 
 
 Beausire had some experience ui:b 
 regard to police matters : he hud spent 
 ten years in endeavoring to recognize- 
 its agents, that he might know how to 
 avoid them should it at any rime be> 
 necessary. j 
 
 He observed two men, who, standing 
 on th<- de*c;-nt of the bridge, and t 
 some distance from, each other with 
 outstretched necks, were ga/,inu . t ^>m* 
 object in the nie Biiuphine. 
 
 The-< . ;is by 
 
 no moans a ni re occurrence to see enio'n 
 on the Fon) N.-,,!' .<- ), j)ro . 
 
 verb in those days -.viiich said, fh), 
 anyone wished to see atone iim; the 
 same moment n j relate, a girl of th 
 town and a white horse, they had Only 
 to go to the Pont Neuf and their curi- 
 osity was sure to be gratified. 
 
 Now, as while horses, clerical babili-
 
 THE QUEEN'S NECKLACE ; OR, THE 
 
 ments and girls of the town hare always 
 been objects of attention to police offi- 
 cers, Beausire felt merely annoyed and 
 inconverienced by this circumstance. 
 He, however got oat of the hackney- 
 coach, and making himnelf appear hump- 
 backed, and limping to disguise himself 
 as much as possible, nnd pushing 
 through the crowd, he thus reached 
 the rue Dauphine. 
 
 There was no appearance, of the de- 
 scription he hnd apprehended ; he could 
 already see the front of that house at 
 whose windows Oliva, his guiding star, 
 so often showed herself. 
 
 The windows were closed ; she was 
 doubtless reclining on the sofa, reading 
 -some miserable novel, or enjoying some 
 little delicacy. 
 
 Beausire suddenly thought he per- 
 ceived a soldier's uniform in the alley 
 opposite the windows; and more than 
 .this, he actually saw one appear at the 
 window of the small sitting-room. 
 
 The perspiration once more stood 
 upon his brow : but this time it was 
 cold, and that is particularly unwhole- 
 some ; he could not, however, retreat: 
 it was necessary to pass before the 
 house. 
 
 Beausire was courageous enough to 
 do so ; he passed by the house and 
 looked at it. 
 
 What a spectacle ! 
 
 The passage crowded with soldiers 
 of the Paris guard, in the midst of 
 whom was a commissm-y from the 
 Chatelet, dressed all in black. The ex 
 perienced eye of Beuusire soon per- 
 ceived that these people were embar- 
 rassed, alarmed, and disappointed. Peo- 
 ple have, or have not, been accustomed 
 to read the countenances of persons 
 attached to the police. When they 
 have, as was the cnse with Beausire, 
 they would not have occasion to look 
 twice to perceive that the ones in ques- 
 tion had missed their aim. 
 
 Beaut-ire snid to himself that M. de 
 ^rqsne, having received information, 
 no. mattor how or from whom, had 
 wished to have him arrested, and had 
 found only Oliva. Indt irot. Hence 
 their disappointment. (Vrtes, had 
 BeHUBin- been in onMnury circum- 
 stances, had he not had a hundred thou- 
 sand livn-s in his porkut, he would have 
 thrown himself in the midst of all these 
 alguabiln, crying like Nisus, 'I am here! 
 1 am here ! it is I who have done all!' 
 But the idea that these people would 
 finger the hundred thousand livrea, and 
 exult over their success during their 
 
 whole lives the idea, that the master- 
 stroke which he, Buausire, had with BO 
 much audacity and skill performed, 
 would be for the sole advantage of the 
 myrmidons of the lieutenant of police. 
 This idea triumphed over every other 
 feeling, and, we must avow it, stifled 
 eveu the bitter regrets caused by his 
 anxious love. 
 
 ' Let us reason,' said he to himself, 
 I allow myself to be taken by that I 
 let them take the hundred thousand 
 livres I do not assist Oliva I ruin my- 
 self I prove to her that I madly love 
 her and I should deserve that sho 
 should say to me, " You are a brute 
 you ought to have loved me less, and 
 saved me." ' 
 
 ' Decidedly ; it will be better to make 
 the best use of my legs, and put this 
 money in some place of safety, for mo- 
 ney is the source of all Liberty, happi- 
 ness, philosophy.' 
 
 Saying this, Beausire pressed the 
 bank notes to his heart, and walked on 
 towards the Luxembourg, for during 
 the last hour he had only moved by in- 
 stinct, and having been an hundred time* 
 10 the Luxembourg Gardens to fetch 
 Oliva home, he allowed his legs to con- 
 duct him thither. 
 
 For a man so eminently logical, Lhi* 
 was but a poor reason.' 
 
 And in factfjthe archers who knew 
 the habits of robbers, as well as Beau- 
 sire knew the habits of the archers, 
 would naturally have gone to the Lux- 
 embourg in search of, Beausire. 
 
 But heaven, or the devil, had decided 
 thftt M. de Crosne should not effect anj 
 thing against Beausire on this occasion. 
 
 The lover of Nuole had scarcely 
 turned the corner of the Rue Saint 
 Germain dos Pres, than he was almost 
 run over by an ulegani carriage, the 
 horses of which were proudly prancing 
 towards the Rue Dauphine. 
 
 Beausire had merety time enough, 
 thanks to that Parisian agility unknown 
 to all the rest of the continent of Eu- 
 rope, to get out of tho way of the pole. 
 It is true that he did not escape the 
 oath and tho lash of the coachman's 
 whip. But the proprietor of a hundred 
 thousand livre does not stand upon 
 punctilio for tuich a trifling point of ho- 
 nor, particularly when IIH has companies 
 ut' th- star guards and the guards of 
 Paris at hi.s hods. 
 
 Beausire, therefore, jumped aside 
 bat while doing so, he saw Oliva and a 
 very handsome man conversing in an 
 animated uiuuuer in that very carriage.
 
 MYSTERIES OF THE COURT OF LOUIS XVI. 
 
 217 
 
 He uttered n slight cry, which served 
 only to make the horses go quicker. He 
 would have followed the carriage, but 
 it was going towards the Rue Dauphino, 
 the only street in Paris which Beausire 
 at that moment was particularly desir- 
 ous to avo^d. 
 
 We must, however, for the moment, 
 leave Beausire to pursue his peregri- 
 nations and continue to indulge in his 
 profound meditations, in order to ac- 
 count to our readers for the singular 
 apparition of Mademoiselle Oliva in 
 this splendid equipage, and accompanied 
 by a so very handsome uud aristocratic 
 looking personage. 
 
 CHAPTER XLVH. 
 
 UT WHICH OLIVA BEGINS TO ASK HER- 
 SELF WHAT CAN BE THE PART SHE 
 WILL BE REQUIRED TO ACT. 
 
 It was, in fact, Mademoiselle Oliva 
 whom Beausire had seen in the car- 
 riage, seated beside a person whom he 
 had not recognized in the momentary 
 glance he had cast upon him, but had 
 he had the opportunity of "catching a 
 second glimpse of him he would assur- 
 edly have remembered him. 
 
 Oliva, who had, as was customary 
 with her, gone that day to take her 
 walk in the gardens of the Luxembourg 
 Palace, had been detained there beyond 
 her dinner hour, having met, accosted, 
 questioned, and had a long conversation 
 with the extraordinary friend whose 
 acquaintance she had so mysteriously 
 formed on the night of the celebrated 
 opera ball. She had, therefore, taken 
 some refreshment in the restaurant at- 
 tached to the gardens, and after saun- 
 tering about for some time had hired a 
 chair.* 
 
 She had just paid the chairwoman, 
 intending to return home and was be- 
 stowing a gracious smile on the keeper 
 of the restaurant, whose constant cus- 
 tomer she was, \vln-n the mysterious 
 and seemingly ubiquitous Cagliostro, 
 advancing from one of the walks, ran 
 up to her and caught her by the- arm. 
 
 She uttered a i'.iint scream. 
 
 Where are you going now?' nuidhe. 
 
 * In all the public promt-nudes nf Paris, nnd on the 
 Boulevards also, cluiir.i an- Irt out HI two cor 
 to peri-om wi.-hiug to rest thfin^-lrpe. Tli. 
 cuttom prevails w nil the principal ttiwnn ttiruuiih- 
 out France. 
 
 ' Why, to the rue Dauphene, to our 
 
 house.' 
 
 ' That will jump marvellously well 
 with the wishes of the people who are 
 there waiting for you,' rejoined the un- 
 known nobleman. 
 
 * People wailing for me how can 
 that be ? Why, there is no one ex- 
 pecting me.' 
 
 ' Oh ! yes. a dozen of visitors, at 
 least.' 
 
 A dozen visitors,' cried Oliva, why 
 do you not say a whole regiment at 
 once.' 
 
 ' Fail h, had it been possible to send a 
 regiment into the rue Dauphine, it 
 would be there.' 
 
 ' You astonish me !' 
 
 I You would be much more aston- 
 ished did I allow you to go to the rue 
 Dauphine.' 
 
 4 Because ?' 
 
 4 Because you would to arrested 
 there, my dear Oliva.' 
 
 Arrested! I?' 
 
 'Assuredly; the twelve gentlemen 
 who are waiting for you are. archera. 
 sent by the Lieutenant of Police, M. 
 de Crosne.' 
 
 Oliva shuddered ; certain people are 
 always afraid of certain things. 
 
 Nevertheless, after having consulted 
 her conscience in every way, she. said 
 in a firmer tone, 
 
 I 1 have done nothing wrong. Where. 
 fore should they arrest me ?' 
 
 ' Why do they arrest women ? on 
 account of some intrigue, some miser- 
 able trine.' 
 
 ' I have no intrigues.' 
 
 1 But you may have had some, I sup 
 pose ?' 
 
 Oh ! 1 do not deny that.' 
 
 ' In short, they may be wrong in ax. 
 resting you ; but the fact is, they are 
 endeavoring to arrest you. Shall we 
 still go to the rue Dnuphine ?' 
 
 Oliva stopped, pale and agitated. 
 
 ' You play with me as does a cat 
 with a poor mouse,' said she. ' Coma, 
 now, if you know any thing, tell it me. 
 Is it not Beausire they are trying to get 
 hold of?' 
 
 And she gazed at Cagliostro with a 
 supplicating look. 
 
 It may, indeed, be so. 1 should 
 rather suspect his conscience u not 
 quite so clear as yours.' 
 
 ' Poor fellow !' 
 
 'Pity him, if you will, but if he ha 
 been arrested, do not follow his exam- 
 ple by allowing yourself to be token in 
 your turn.'
 
 J1LJ. 
 
 Kl-iN > .Nt( KLA< K ; U. 1 I IK 
 
 ' But .vhat interest can you have in 
 thus protecting me ? what interest can 
 you have ,in thus watching over rne ? 
 Come, now,' said she boldly. ' it IB not 
 natural that a man like yon' 
 
 4 Do not go on. for you would only| 
 speak sheer folly, und moments an- 
 precious now. fur \! d. V- she's ;i; 
 finding you io*not return home, nre 
 quite capable of .> inin. ':.>< in search 
 of you.' 
 
 'Here ! they MIUVV that. I urn here ?' 
 
 'A mighty wouderfui thing indeed, 
 that they should know it, 1 knew it 
 well. I will go on with what I was | 
 Baying. As I interest myself for you 
 and wish you well, the rest is no con- 
 cern of yours. Quick, let us get into 
 the rue d'Enfer. My carriage is there 
 waiting for you. Ah ! you doubt still ? 
 
 'Yes.' 
 
 'Well then : we will do a thing v which 
 is highly imprudent, but which will, 
 once for nil, I hope, convince you ; we 
 will pass before your house in my car- 
 riage, and when you shall havo seen 
 these police gentlemen, at a sufficient 
 distance not to be taken by them, but 
 near enough to judge of their intentions I 
 with regard to you, you will then esti- 
 mate my intentions al their proper va- 
 lue.' 
 
 And while thus speaking, he had led 
 Oliva to the gate opening into the rue 
 d'Enfer. The carriage had drawn up, 
 received the couple and conveyed Cag- 
 liostro and Oliva towards the rue Dau- 
 phine to the spo' in which Beausiro 
 had seen them both. 
 
 Had he but called loud enough at that 
 moment, had he followed the carriage, 
 Oliva would have done all in her power 
 to get to him, to save him if pursued, or 
 if at liberty to follow him. 
 
 But Cugliostro saw the wretched fel- 
 low, and diverted Oliva's attention from 
 him, by pointing to the crowd which 
 hurl already collected around her door, j 
 
 The moment that Oliva perceived the 
 police soldiers, and her house invaded 
 by them, she threw herself into the 
 arms of ht-i ;troieetor in .^uch despair, 
 that it would liave softened the heart of 
 >in\ other but thi.- man of iron. 
 
 All he did was to press the hand of 
 l he terrified girl, and in order to con- 
 r'-alher, pulled down thr (.-> T'I ;igr. blinds. 
 
 1 Save me! save me ." cried ;he pom 
 girl, repi-atedls . 
 
 J pioinise yoi' f will," he replied. 
 
 . ieli me these p. dice 
 oi'lic er:- know every thing, they will al- 
 ways find me.' 
 
 Oh .' by no means ; in the place that 
 you are going to, no one will discover 
 you, foif although they may come to 
 your house to take you. they will not 
 venture into mine.' 
 
 Oh!' cried she with terror, 'your 
 house are we then going to your 
 house ?' 
 
 You are tmid,' he replied; 'one 
 would think that you no longer remem- 
 ber what we had agreed upon together. 
 I am not your lover, my good girl, and 
 never mean to be so.' 
 
 Then 'tis a prison you are offering 
 me.' 
 
 it you prefer the hospital,* you are 
 free to do so." 
 
 Well, then,' replied she, much al- 
 armed, I surrender myself to you do 
 with me as you please.' 
 
 He took her to his house in the rue-''' 
 Neuve-Saint Gilles, in which we have 
 seen him receive Philippe de Taverney. 
 
 When he had installed her in a small 
 apartment on l.ho second story, far from 
 the observation of his servants : 
 
 It will be hard, but you shall be hap-_ 
 pier in future than you will be here.' 
 
 Happier! And how so .'' cried she 
 with a sweliin. heart. Happy ! with- 
 out liberty , or being able to take my 
 walks ' It is -o gloomy here -not even 
 a garden ! I should die here.' 
 
 And she threw a vague and disap- 
 point* *. glance from the window of the 
 room. 
 
 'You are right!' said he ; 'it is not 
 my wish you should be deprived of any 
 thing. Yon would be uncomfortable 
 here, and moreover my servants would 
 at last see you, and inconvenience you.' 
 
 Or they might sell me to the police,' 
 she added. 
 
 ' As to that, you need be under no ap- 
 prehension : my servants sell nothing 
 but what I liny of them, my dear child; 
 but in order that you should enjoy all 
 possible tranquility, I shall immediately 
 occnpv myself in seeking yon another 
 dwelling.' 
 
 Oliva appeared somewhat consoled by 
 these promises. Besides, ihe apart- 
 ment WHS comtortable in every respect. 
 She found there every thing she could 
 desire : among other things, some amun- 
 in^ books. 
 
 Her projector left her, saying : 
 
 *'I do not mean to tame you down by 
 starving von, dear child : when you 
 
 no-pital ol Saint l.iizmv at 'Paris a 
 i which women of improper couUuct ar 
 
 \V8.
 
 MYSTERIES OF THE COURT OF LOUIS XVI. 
 
 vrish to seo me, ring this bell ; if I am 
 at home I will immediately come to 
 you, if not, the instant I return.' 
 
 He kissed her hand, ami was with- 
 drawing, 
 
 Ah!"criod she, , ' let me above all 
 have some intelligence of Beausire. 1 
 
 It shall be my first care,' replied the 
 count. 
 
 Then, as he was pensively descending 
 the stair- : 
 
 It will be,' said he, 'a profanation to 
 lodge her in that house in the rue Saint 
 Claude. But it is necessary she should 
 be seen by no one ; if, on the contrary,, 
 it become necessary that one person 
 should catch a glimpse of her, it must 
 be in that house in the rue Saint Claude, 
 and in no other. Well, still this one sa- 
 crifice. Let us extinguish this last 
 spark of the brilliant lignt which in for- 
 mer days burned so ardently.' 
 
 The count put on a large great coat, 
 searched his secretary for some keys, 
 selected several, which he gazed upon 
 with an afflicted tenderness, left his ho- 
 tel on foot and alone, and went up the 
 rue Saint Louis du Murais. 
 
 Having thus deposited the amiable 
 Mademoiselle Oliva in a place of per- 
 fect security, safe from the prying eyes 
 of M. de Grosiie, and these were far 
 more numerous than those of Argus, 
 for his myrmidons, since the queen's 
 request, were searching in every di- 
 reotion for the person who had thus 
 dared to resemble her majesty ; we will 
 return to the unhappy lover of Oliva, 
 whom we left wending his way toward 
 ' the Luxembourg. 
 
 If M. Beausire had been pleased to 
 trust to the conviction of his own eyes, 
 which were excellent, instead of allow- 
 ing his imagination, at that moment 
 confused and blinded, to persuade him 
 that he must huve been mistaken, he 
 would have spared himself much sor- 
 row and delusion. 
 
 But he went on arguing with him- 
 self against the probability of its hav- 
 ing been Olivia : how could she have 
 been in siu-h a magnificent equipage ? 
 it was u perfect illuoion, a phantasma, 
 a mere coinage of his own bruin; he 
 said his sight was troubled, or rather 
 doubled, for he had seen Oliva where 
 he was not . 
 
 He had ctill another argument lo dis- 
 prove, the possibility of its having been 
 Oliva, for how could it have been her, 
 he having been arrested by M. de 
 Crosne's archers in the rue Dnuphine. 
 
 Poor Beaudiro boiug both morully and 
 
 physically worn out, turned into the 
 rue des Fosses-Monsieur-le-Prince, 
 reached the Luxembourg, crossed the 
 already, deserted garden, casting anxi- 
 ous glances at the well-known spots 
 where ho had eo often beon wont to 
 meet his beloved Oliva. He then went 
 into the Rue d'Enfer, hastened to place 
 the barrier between himself and hia ex- 
 pected pursuers, and took up his quar- 
 ters in a small public-house, the mis- 
 tress of which had always been parti- 
 cularly kind and attentive to him. Here 
 he felt more secure than within the 
 walls of Paris. 
 
 He installed himself in a small room 
 on the first floor of thi* miserable house, 
 and having told his hostess that he was 
 suffering from a severe cold, he should 
 wish to go at once to bed, and requested 
 her to send him a bottle of mulled wine. 
 
 When alone, he removed one of the 
 tiles with which the room was floored, 
 concealed his bank notes under it, pl.ic.od 
 the foot of his bed upon this tile, and 
 went to bed swearing and perspiring, 
 bur intermingling with his blasphemous 
 oaths the most fenranl thanks to Alt i- 
 cury for his success, allaying his f -ver- 
 ish nausea by long draughts of the 
 spiced wine, a beverage well adapted <o 
 the excitation of perspiration to the 
 skin and to restore confidence to the 
 heart. 
 
 He felt sure that the police would 
 never think of searching for him there ; 
 he was sure that no one could despoil 
 him of his treasure. 
 
 He was sure, even if Nicole had been 
 arrested, that she was guilty of no crime, 
 and that the age for perpetual seclu- 
 sions had gone by. 
 
 Ho was sure, in short, that his one 
 hundred and eight thousand livres would 
 enable him to release* his inseparable 
 companion, his adored Olira, from a 
 prison, should she have been unfortu- 
 nately immured in one. 
 
 There, then, remained his confede- 
 rates of the Embassy. With them hii 
 .it-count was much more difficult, and 
 could not be very satisfactorily regula- 
 ted. 
 
 But Beausire had in his <>wn mind 
 made a securu provision for this also ; 
 he had determined, as soon as Made- 
 moiselle Oliva hud gained her liberty, 
 to leave his dc;u ussociates in France, 
 and go with her to Switzerland, that 
 free and moral country where every 
 Bini^r nit might feel assured of safety. 
 
 Nothing of tll thin Deausire had so 
 seriously resolved whilo drinking his
 
 220 
 
 THE QUEEN'S NECKLACE. 
 
 mulled wine was destined to take place ; the wine had produced a soporific ef 
 fute hud decreed it otherwise. feet cm poor Beausire, and ho fell asleep 
 
 Man always commits the error of j after gtWng a lust glance at the tile ue- 
 imagining that he sees things when he I ueath which reposed his treasure. 
 
 does not see thorn. He is still more in 
 
 Thus terminated the famous sham 
 
 rror when iie imagines that he has not Embassy from Portugal; thu8termina- 
 seon things which have actually passed j ted the first great jieril of THE Q 
 iiiiro Ills eyes. |NCKLAC. 
 
 While mediUitingoa all these matters, j 

 
 o?- 
 
 University of California 
 
 SOUTHERN REGIONAL LIBRARY FACILITY 
 
 Return this material to the library 
 
 from which it was borrowed. 
 
 OCTO 1
 
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