 CHAPTER XXXI. HOW TWO FRIENDS BECAME ENEMIES. Alexandre however had gone to fetch the guard, but before she returned they had had time to light a fire, with the first numbers, and were throwing them in one after another as quickly as possible, when the guard appeared followed by a crowd of ragged men, women, and boys. Happily, Philippe and Charny knew Reteau's secret exit, so when they caught sight of the guard, they made their escape through it, carrying the key with them. Then Reteau began crying murder, while Al-Dijand, seeing the flames through the window, cried, Fire. The soldiers arrived but finding the young men gone, and the house not on fire, went away again, leaving Reteau to bathe his bruises. But the crowd lingered about all day, hoping to see a renewal of the fun. Then Tavarnay and Charnay found themselves in the revue Augustin. Monsieur, said Charny, Now we have finished that business. Can I be of any use to you? Thanks, sir. I was about to ask you the same question. Thank you, but I have private business, which will probably keep me in Paris all day. Permit me then to take leave of you. I am happy to have met you. And I you, sir. And the two young men bowed, but it was easy to see that all this courtesy went no farther than the lips. Philippe went towards the boulevard, while Charny turned to the river, each turned two or three times till he thought himself quite out of sight. But after walking for some time Charny entered the Rue Neuve Saint-Gilles, and there once more found himself face to face with Philippe. Each had again the same idea of demanding satisfaction from the Count de Caetchelostro. They could not now doubt each other's intentions. So Philippe said, I left you the cellar, leave me the mire. I left you the cane, leave me the sword. Sir, replied Charny, you left it to me simply because I came first, and for no other reason. Well, replied Teverny, here we arrive both together, and I will make no concession. I did not ask you for any, sir. Only I will defend my right. And that, according to you, Monsieur de Charny, is to make Monsieur de Caetchelostro burn his thousand copies. Remember, sir, that it was my idea to burn the others. Then I will have these torn. Monsieur, I am sorry to tell you that I wish to have the first turn with Monsieur de Caetchelostro. All that I can agree to, sir, is to take our chance. I will throw up a Louis, and whoever guesses right shall be first. Thanks, sir, but I am not generally lucky, and should probably lose. And he stepped towards the door. Charny stopped him. Stay, sir, we will soon understand each other. Well, sir, answered Philippe, turning back. Then before asking satisfaction of Monsieur de Caetchelostro, suppose we take a turn in the body below. It will be out of our way, but perhaps we can settle our dispute there. One of us will probably be left behind, and the other be uninterrupted. Really, Monsieur, said Philippe, you echo my own thoughts. Where shall we meet? Well, if my society be not insupportable to you, we need not part. I ordered my carriage to wait for me in the Place Royal, close by here. Then you will give me a seat, said Philippe, with the greatest pleasure. And they walked together to the carriage and, getting in, set off for the Champs-Élysées. First, however, Charny wrote a few words on his tablets, and gave them to the footman to take to his hotel. In less than half an hour, they reached the Bois de Bologna. The weather was lovely, and the air delightful. Although the power of the sun was already felt, the fresh leaves were appearing on the trees, and the violets filled the place with their perfume. It is a fine day for our promenade. Is it not, Monsieur de Tavernay? said Charny. Beautiful, sir. You may go, said Charny, to his coachman. Are you not wrong, sir, to send away your carriage? One of us may need it. No, sir, replied Charny. In this affair secrecy before everything, and once in the knowledge of a servant we risk it being talked of all over Paris tomorrow. As you please. But do you think the fellow does not know what he came here for? These people know well what brings two gentlemen to the Bois de Bologna, and even if he did not feel sure now, he will, perhaps afterwards, see one of us wounded and will have no doubts left then. Is it not better to keep him here, to take back either who shall need him, than to be left or leave me here, wounded and alone? You are right, Monsieur, replied Charny. And turning to the coachman, he said, No, stop Dauphin. You shall wait here. Dauphin remained accordingly. And as he perfectly guessed what was coming, he arranged his position, so as to see through the still leafless trees, all that passed. They walked on a little way, then Philippe said, I think, Monsieur de Charny, this is a good place. Excellent, Monsieur, said Charny, and added, Chevalier, If it were anyone but you, I would say one word of courtesy, and we were friends again, but to you, coming from America, where they fight so well, I cannot. And I, sir, to you, who the other evening gained the admiration of an entire court, by a glorious feat of arms, can only say, Monsieur de Charny, do me the honour to draw your sword. Monsieur, said Charny, I believe we have neither of us touched on the real cause of the quarrel. I do not understand you, con. Oh, you understand me perfectly, sir, and you blush while you deny it. Defend yourself, cried Philippe. Their swords crossed. Philippe soon perceived that he was superior to his adversary, and therefore became as calm as though he had been only fencing, and was satisfied with defending himself without attacking. You spare me, sir, said Charny. May I ask why? Philippe went on as before. Charny grew warm and wished to provoke him from the sang foie. Therefore he said, I told you, sir, that we had not touched, on the real cause of the quarrel. Philippe did not reply. The true cause continued Charny. Why you sought a quarrel, for it was you who sought it, was that you were jealous of me. Still, Philippe remained silent. What is your intention, again, said Charny? Do you wish to tire my arm? That is a calculation unworthy of you. Kill me if you can, but do not dally thus. Yes, sir, replied Philippe at last. Your reproach is just. The quarrel did begin with me, and I was wrong. That is not the question now. You have your sword in your hand. Use it for something more than mere defense. Monsieur, said Philippe, I have the honour to tell you once more I was wrong, and that I apologise. But Charny was by this time too excited to appreciate the generosity of his adversary. Oh, said he, I understand. You wish to play the magnanimous with me. That is it. Is it not Chevalier? You wish to relate to the ladies this evening how you brought me here, and then spared my life. Count, said Philippe, I fear you are losing your senses. You wish to kill Monsieur de Cagliostro to please the Queen. And for the same reason, you wish to turn me into ridicule. Ah, this is too much, cried Philippe, and proves to me that you have not as generous a heart as I had thought. Piers it then, cried Charny, exposing himself as Philippe made another pass. The sword glanced along his ribs and the blood flowed rapidly. At last, cried Charny, I am wounded. Now I may kill you if I can. Decidedly, said Philippe, you are mad. You will not kill me. You will only be disabled without cause and without profit, for no one will ever know for what you have fought. And as Charny made another pass, he dexterously sent his sword flying from his hand. Then, seizing it, he broke it across his foot. Monsieur de Charny, said he, you did not require to prove to me that you were brave. You must therefore detest me very much when you fight with such fury. Charny did not reply but grew visibly pale and then tottered. Philippe advanced to support him, but he repulsed him by saying, I can reach my carriage. At least take this handkerchief to stop the blood. Willingly. And my arm, sir, at the least obstacle you meet, you would fall and give yourself unnecessary pain. The sword has only penetrated the skin. I hope soon to be well. So much the better, sir, but I warn you, that you will find it difficult to make me your address area again. Charny tried to reply but the words died on his lips. He staggered and Philippe spent but just time to catch him in his arms and bear him half fainting to his carriage. Dauphin, who had seen what had passed, advanced to meet him and they put Charny in. Drive slowly, said Philippe, who then took his way back to Paris, murmuring to himself with a sigh, she will pity him. End of Chapter 31 Chapter 32 Of the Queen's Necklace by Alexandre Dumas The translator is unknown. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain, recording by Gael Timmerman Vaughn. Chapter 32 The House in the Rue Saint-Gilles Philippe jumped into the first coach he saw and told the man to drive to the Rue Saint-Gilles, where he stopped at the house of Monsieur de Cagliostro. A large carriage with two good horses was standing in the courtyard. The coachman was asleep, wrapped in a great coat of fox skins, and two footmen walked up and down before the door. Does Count Cagliostro live here? asked Philippe. He is just going out. The more reason to be quick, for I wish to speak to him first. Announced the chevalier Philippe de Tevenay, and he followed the men upstairs. Ask him to walk in, said from within, a voice, at once manly and gentle. Excuse me, sir, said the chevalier to a man whom he had already seen. First at the table of Monsieur de Richelieu, then at the exhibition of Monsieur Messmer in Oliva's room, and with her at the opera-ball. For what, sir? replied he. Because I prevent you from going out. You would have needed an excuse had you been much later, for I was waiting for you. For me? Yes, I was forewarned of your visit. Of my visit? Yes, two hours ago. It is about that time, is it not, since you were coming here before, when an interruption caused you to postpone the execution of your project? Philippe began to experience the same strange sensation, with which this man inspired everyone. Sit down, Monsieur de Tevenay, continued he. This armchair was placed for you. A truce to pleasantry, sir, said Philippe, in a voice which he vainly tried to render calm. I do not jest, sir. Then a truce to charlatanism. If you are a sorcerer, I did not come to make trial of your skill. But if you are so much the better, for you must know what I am come to say to you. Oh yes, you are come to seek a quarrel. You know that. Perhaps you also know why. On account of the Queen. Now, sir, I am ready to listen. And these last words were no longer pronounced, in the courteous tones of a host, but in the dry and hard ones of an adversary. Sir, there exists a certain publication. There are many publications, said Caigliostro. Well, this publication today was written against the Queen. Caigliostro did not reply. You know what I refer to count? Yes, sir. You have bought one thousand copies of it. I do not deny it. Luckily they have not reached your hands. What makes you think so, sir? Because I am at the porter, paid him, and sent him with him to my house. And my servant, instructed by me, will destroy them. You should always finish yourself the work you commence, sir. Are you sure these thousand copies are at your house? Certainly. You deceive yourself, sir, they are here. Ah, you thought that I, sorcerer than I am, would let myself be foiled in that way. You thought it a brilliant idea to buy off my messenger. Well, I have a steward, and you see it as natural for the steward of a sorcerer to be one also. He divined that you would go to the journalist, and that you would meet my messenger, whom he afterwards followed and threatened to make him give back the gold you had given him, if he did not follow his original instructions, instead of taking them to you. But I see you doubt. I do. Look then, and you will believe. And opening an oak cabinet, he showed the astonished Chevalier the thousand copies lying there. Philippe approached the count in a menacing attitude, but he did not stir. Sir, said Philippe, you appear a man of courage. I call upon you to give me immediate satisfaction. Satisfaction for what? For the insult to the queen of which you render yourself an accomplice, while you keep one number of this vile paper. Monsieur, said Cagliastro, you are in error. I like novelties, scandalous reports, and other amusing things, and collect them, that I may remember at a later date what I should otherwise forget. A man of honour, sir, does not collect infamies. But if I do not think this an infamy, you will allow at least that it is a lie. You deceive yourself, sir, the queen was at Monsieur Messmers. It is false, sir. You mean to tell me I lie? I do. Well, I will reply in a few words. I saw her there. You saw her, as plainly as I now see you. Philippe looked full at Cagliastro. I still say, sir, that you lie. Cagliastro shrugged his shoulders, as though he were talking to a madman. Do not hear me, sir, said Philippe. Every word. And do you not know what giving the lie deserves? Yes, sir, there is a French proverb which says it merits a box on the ears. Well, sir, I am astonished that your hand has not been already raised to give it, as you are a French gentleman, and know the proverb. Although a French gentleman, I am a man, and love my brother. Then you refuse me satisfaction. I only pay what I owe. Then you will compel me to take satisfaction in another manner. How? I exact that you burn the numbers before my eyes. Or I will proceed with you, as with the journalist. Oh, a beating, said Cagliastro, laughing. Neither more nor less, sir, doubtless, you can call your servants. Oh, I shall not call my servants. It is my own business. I am stronger than you, and if you approach me with your cane, I shall take you in my arms and throw you across the room, and shall repeat this as often as you repeat your attempt. Well, M. Erkul, I accept the challenge, said Philippe, throwing himself furiously upon Cagliastro, whom, seizing him round the neck and waist, with a grasp of iron, threw him on a pile of cushions, which lay some way off, and then remained standing as coolly as ever. Philippe rose as pale as death. Sir, said he, in a hoarse voice. You are, in fact, stronger than I am, but your logic is not as strong as your arm, and you forget, when you treated me thus, that you gave me the right to say, defend yourself count, or I will kill you. Cagliastro did not move. Draw your sword, I tell you, sir, or you, or a dead man. You are not yet sufficiently near for me to treat you as before, and I will not expose myself to be killed by you, like poor Gilbert. Gilbert, cried Philippe, reeling back. Did you say Gilbert? Happily you have no gun this time, only a sword. Monsieur, cried Philippe, you have pronounced a name, which has awakened a terrible echo in your remembrance, has it not? A name that you never thought to hear again. For you were alone with the poor boy in the grotto of Accor, when you assassinated him. Oh, said Philippe, will you not draw? If you knew, said Cagliastro, how easily I could make your sword fly from your hand. With your sword? Yes, with my sword, if I wished. Then try. No, I have a stillsurer method. For the last time defend yourself, said Philippe, advancing towards him. Then the count took from his pocket a little bottle, which he uncorked, and threw the contents in Philippe's face. Scarcely had it touched him, when he reeled, let his sword drop, and fell senseless. Cagliastro picked him up, put him on a sofa, waited for his senses to return, and then said, At your age, Chevalier, we should have done with follies. Cease, therefore, to act like a foolish boy, and listen to me. Philippe made an effort to shake off the torpor, which still held possession of him, and murmured, Oh, sir, do you call these the weapons of a gentleman? Cagliastro shrugged his shoulders. You repeat forever the same word, he said. When we of the nobility have opened our mouths wide enough to utter the word gentleman, we think we have said everything. What do you call the weapons of a gentleman? Is it your sword, which served you so badly against me, or is it your gun, which served you so well against Gilbert? What makes some men superior to others? Do you think that it is that high-sounding word gentleman? No, it is first reason, then strength. Most of all, science. Well, I have used all these against you. With my reason I braved your insults. With my strength I conquered yours. And with my science I extinguished at once your moral and physical powers. Now I wish to show you that you have committed two faults in coming here with menaces in your mouth. Will you listen to me? You have overpowered me, replied Philippe. I can scarcely move. You have made yourself master of my muscles and of my mind, and then you ask me if I will listen. Then Cagliostro took down from the chimney-piece another little gold file. Smell this chivalier, said he. Philippe obeyed, and it seemed to him that the cloud which hung over him dispersed. Oh, I revive, he cried. And you feel free and strong? Yes. With your full powers and memory of the past? Yes. Then this memory gives me an advantage over you. No, said Philippe, for I acted in defense of a vital and sacred principle. What do you mean? I defended the monarchy. You defended the monarchy. You who went to America to defend a republic. Oh, Mondio, be frank. It is not the monarchy you defended. Philippe colored. To those who disdain you, continued Cagliostro, who deceive and forget you, is the attribute of great souls. It is the law of the scriptures to return good for evil. You are a Christian, Monsieur de Tavernet. Monsieur, cried Philippe. Not a word more. If I did not defend the monarchy, I defended the queen. That is to say an innocent woman and to be respected even if she were not so, for it is a divine law not to attack the weak. The weak, the queen. You call a feeble being her to whom twenty-eight million human beings bow the knee. Monsieur, they calumnate her. How do you know? I believe it. Well, I believe the contrary. We have each the right to think as we please. But you act like an evil genius. Who tells you so? Quite Cagliostro, with sparkling eyes. How have you the temerity to assume that you are right and that I am wrong? You defend a royalty. Well, I defend the people. You say, render to Caesar the things which are Caesar's, and I say, render to God the things that are gods. Republican of America, I recall you to the love of the people, to the love of equality. You trample on the people to kiss the hands of a queen. I would throw down a queen to elevate a people. I do not distribute in your adoration. Leave me in peace at my work. You saved me die, for you have offended the object of my worship. And I say to you who combat mine, live, for I feel myself so strong in my principles that neither you nor anyone else can retard my progress for an instant. Sir, you frighten me, said Philippe. You show me the danger in which our monarchy is. Then be prudent and shun the opening gulf. You know, replied Philippe, that I would sooner entomb myself in it than see those whom I defend in danger. Well, I've warned you. And I, said Philippe, I, whom but a feeble individual, will use against you the arms of the weak. I implore you with tearful eyes and joined hands to be merciful towards those whom you pursue. I ask you to spare me the remorse of knowing you were acting against this poor queen and not preventing you. I beg you to destroy this publication, which would make a woman shed tears. I ask you, by the love which you have guessed, or I swear that with this sword, which has proved so powerless against you, I will pierce myself before your eyes. Ah, murmured Cagliostro, why are they not all like you? Then I would join them, and they should not perish. Monsieur, monsieur, I pray you to reply to me. See then, said Cagliostro, if all the thousand numbers be there and burn them yourself. Philippe ran to the cabinet, took them out, and threw them on the fire. Adieu, monsieur. Then he said, a hundred thanks for the favor you have granted me. I owe the brother, said Cagliostro, when he had gone. Some compensation for all I made the sister endure. Then he called for his carriage. End of Chapter 32 Chapter 33 Of the Queen's Nicholas By Alexandre Dumas The translator is unknown. The Slibervox recording is in the public domain. Chapter 33 The head of the Tavernet family. While this was passing in the Rue Saint-Gilles, the elder Monsieur Tavernet was walking in his garden, followed by two footmen who carried a chair, with which they approached him every five minutes that he might rest. While doing so, a servant came to announce the chivalier. My son, said the old man, come, Philippe, you arrive à propos. My heart is full of happy thoughts. But how solemn you look! Do I, sir? You know already the results of that affair? What affair? The old man looked to see that no one was listening, then said. I speak of the ball. I do not understand. Oh, the ball at the opera. Philippe coloured. Sit down, continued his father. I want to talk to you. It seems that you so timid and delicate at first now compromise her too much. Whom do you mean, sir? Pat, yeah. Do you think I'm ignorant of your escapade? Both together at the opera-ball? It was pretty. Sir, I protest. Oh, do not be angry. I only mean to warn you for your own good. You are not careful enough. You were seen there with her. I was seen? Pat, yeah, had you or not a blue domino. Philippe was about to explain that he had not, and did not know what his father meant. But he caught to himself. It is of no use to explain to him. He never believes me. Besides, I wish to learn more. You see, continued the old man triumphantly. You were recognised. Indeed, Monsieur de Richelieu, who was at the ball in spite of his 84 years, wondered who the blue domino could be with whom the queen was walking, and he can only suspect you for he knew all the others. And pray, how does he say he recognised the queen? Not very difficult, when she took her mask off. Such audacity as that surpasses all imagination. She must really be mad about you. But take care, Chevalier. You have jealous rivals to fear. It is an envied post to be the favourite of the queen, when the queen is really the king. Pardon my moralising, but I do not wish that the breath of chance should blow down what you have reared so skillfully. Philippe rose. The conversation was hateful to him, but a kind of savage curiosity impelled him to hear everything. We are already envied to continue the old man. That is natural. We have not yet attained the height to which we shall rise. To you will belong the glory of raising our name. And now you are progressing so well. Only be prudent, or you will fail after all. Soon, however, you must ask for some high post and obtain for me a Lord Lieutenancy not too far from Paris. Then you can have a peerage and become a Duke and Lieutenant General, in two years if I am still alive. Enough, enough, gruntfully. Oh, if you are satisfied with that, I am not. You have a whole life before you. I, perhaps, only a few months. However, I do not complain. God gave me two children, and if my daughter has been useless in repairing our fortunes, you will make up for it. I see in you the great tavernée, and you inspire me with respect, for your conduct has been admirable. You show no jealousy, but leave the field apparently open to everyone, while you really hold it alone. I do not understand you, replied Philippe. Oh, no modesty. It was exactly the conduct of Monsieur Potemkin, who astonished the world with his fortunes. He saw that Catherine left variety in her amour that if left free she would fly from flower to flower, returning always to the sweetest and most beautiful, but that if pursued she would fly right away. He took his part, therefore, he even introduced new favourites to his sovereign to wear her out with their number, but through and after the quickly succeeding reigns of the Twelve Caesars, as they were ironically called, Potemkin in reality was supreme. What incomprehensible infamies murmured pourfully, but the old man went on. According to his system however, you have been still a little wrong. He never abandoned his surveillance and you are too lax in this. Philippe replied only by shrugging his shoulders. He really began to think his father was crazy. Ah, you thought I did not see your game. You are already providing a successor, for you have divined that there is no stability in the Queen's amours, and in the event of her changing you wish not to be quite thrown down. Therefore you make friends with Monsieur de Charny. Who might otherwise, when his turn comes, exile you, as you now might Monsieur Coigny, Vaudrai, and others. Philippe, with an angry flush, said, Once more enough, I am ashamed to have listened so long. Those who say that the Queen of France is Messelina are criminal column-niators. I tell you, said the old man, no one can hear and I approve your plan. Monsieur de Charny will repay your kindness some day. Your logic is admirable, sir, but Monsieur de Charny is so much my favourite, that I have just passed my sword through his ribs. What! cried the old man, somewhat frightened at his son's flashing eyes. You have not been fighting? Yes, sir. That is my method of conciliating my successors, and he turned to go away. Philippe, you jest. I do not, sir. The old man rose and tottered off to the house. Quick, he said to the servant, let a man on horseback go at once, and ask after Monsieur de Charny, who has been wounded, and let him be sure to say he comes from me, then he murmured to himself, mine is still the only head in the family. And of Chapter 33 Chapter 34 of the Queen's Necklace by Alexandre Dumas The translator is unknown. This Librivox recording is in the public domain, recording by Gael Timmerman Vaughn. Chapter 34 The Stances of Monsieur de Provence While these events were passing in Paris and in Versailles, the king, tranquil as usual, sat in his study, surrounded by maps and plans, and traced new paths for the vessels of La Perousse. A slight knock at his door roused him from his study, and the voice said, May I come in, brother? The Count de Provence growled the king, discontentedly. Enter. A short person came in. You did not expect me, brother? He said. No, indeed. Do I disturb you? Have you anything particular to say? Such a strange report. Oh, some scandal? Yes, brother. Which has amused you? Because it is so strange. Something against me. Should I laugh if it were? Then against the queen? Sire, imagine that I was told quite seriously that the queen slept out the other night. That would be very sad if it were true, replied the king. But it is not true, is it? No. Nor that the queen was seen waiting outside the gate at the reservoir? No. The day you know that you ordered the gates to be shut at eleven o'clock? I do not remember. Well, brother, they pretend that the queen was seen arm in arm with Monsieur d'Artois at half-past twelve that night. Where? Going to a house which he possesses behind the stables. Has not your majesty heard this report? Yes, you took care of that. How, Sire, what have I done? Some verses which were printed in the mercury. Some verses, said the Count, growing red. Oh, yes, you were a favourite of the muses. Not I, Sire. Oh, do not deny it. I have the manuscript in your writing. Now, if you had informed yourself of what the queen really did that day, instead of writing these lines against her, and consequently against me, you would have written an ode in her favour. Perhaps the subject does not inspire you, but I should have liked a bad ode, better than a good satire. Sire, you overwhelm me, but I trust you will believe I was deceived, and did not mean harm. Perhaps. Besides, I did not say I believed it, and then a few verses or nothing. Now, a pamphlet like the one I have just seen. A pamphlet? Yes, Sire, and I want an order for the Bastille, for the author of it. The King rose. Let me see it, he said. I do not know if I ought. Certainly you ought. Have you got it with you? Yes, Sire. And he drew from his pocket the history of the Queen Etoniatna, one of the fatal numbers which it escaped from Philippe and Charny. The King glanced over it rapidly. Infamous, he cried. You see, Sire, they pretend the Queen went to miss your mismers. Well, she did go. She went? Authorized by me. Oh, Sire! That is nothing against her. I gave her my consent. Did your Majesty intend that she should experimentalize on herself? The King stamped with rage as the Count said this. He was reading one of the most insulting passages, the history of her contortions, voluptuous disorder, and the intention she had excited. Impossible, he cried, growing pale. And he rang the bell. Oh, the police shall deal with this. Fetch, Monsieur de Crosne. Sire, it is his day for coming here, and he is now waiting. Let him come in. Shall I go, brother? said the Count. No, remain. If the Queen be guilty, you are one of the family and must know it. If innocent, you who have suspected her must hear it. Monsieur de Crosne entered and bowed, saying, The report is ready, Sire. First, sir, said the King. Explain how you allow such infamous publications against the Queen. A teniotna? asked Monsieur de Crosne. Yes. Well, Sire, it is a man called Roteau. You know his name and have not arrested him. Sire, nothing is more easy. I have an order already prepared in my portfolio. Then why is it not done? Monsieur de Crosne looked at the Count. I see Monsieur de Crosne wishes me to leave, said he. No, replied the King. Remain. And you, Monsieur de Crosne, speak freely. Well, Sire, I wished first to consult your Majesty whether you would not rather give him some money and send him away to be hanged elsewhere. Why? Because, Sire, if these men tell lies, the people are glad enough to see them whipped or even hanged. But if they chance upon a truth? A truth. It is true that the Queen went to Monsieur Messmers, but I gave her permission. Oh, Sire, cried Monsieur de Crosne. His tone of sincerity struck the King more than anything. Monsieur de Provence had said. And he answered, I suppose, sir, that was no harm. No, Sire, but her Majesty has compromised herself. Monsieur de Crosne, what have your police told you? Sire, many things, which with all possible respect for her Majesty agree in many points with this pamphlet. Let me hear. That the Queen went in a common dress, in the middle of this crowd, and alone. Alone, cried the King. Yes, Sire, you are deceived, Monsieur de Crosne. I do not think so, Sire. You have bad reporters, sir. So exact that I can give your Majesty a description of her dress, of all her movements, of her cries. Her cries! Even her sighs were observed, Sire. It is impossible. She could have so far forgotten what is due to me, and to herself. Oh, yes, said the Count de Provence. Her Majesty is surely incapable. Louis XVI interrupted him. Sir, said he to Monsieur de Crosne, you maintain what you have said? Unhappily, yes, Sire. I will examine into it further, said the King. Pasmias handkerchief over his forehead, on which the drops hung from anxiety and vexation. I did not permit the Queen to go, but ordered her to take with her a person safe, irreproachable, and even holy. Ah, said Monsieur de Crosne, if she had but done so. Yes, said the Count, if a lady like Madame de Lomballe, for instance. It was precisely she whom the Queen promised to take. Unhappily, Sire, she did not do so. Well, said the King with agitation, if she has disobeyed me so openly, I ought to punish and I will punish. Only some doubts still remain on my mind. These doubts you do not share, that is natural. You are not the King, husband, and friend, of her whom they accuse. However, I will proceed to clear the affair up. He rang. Let some one see, he said to the person who came, where Madame de Lomballe is. Sire, she is walking in the garden with Her Majesty, and another lady. Beg her to come to me. Now, gentlemen, in ten minutes we shall know the truth. All were silent. Monsieur de Crosne was really sad, and the Count put on an affectation of it, which might have solemnized Momus himself. End of Chapter 34 Chapter 35 Of the Queen's Necklace By Alexandre Dumas The translator is unknown. This Lubrox recording is in the public domain. Recording by Gail Timmerman Vaughn Chapter 35 The Princess de Lomballe The Princess de Lomballe entered beautiful and calm, her hair drawn back from her noble forehead, her dark-penciled eyebrows, her clear blue eyes and beautiful lips, and her unrivalled figure, formed a lovely two ensemble. She seemed always surrounded by an atmosphere of virtue and grace. The King looked at her with a troubled expression, dreading what he was about to hear. Then Bowing said, Sit down, Princess. What does Your Majesty desire? Asked she in a sweet voice. Some information, Princess. What day did you last go with the Queen to Paris? Wednesday, Sire. Pardon me, Cousin, said Louis XVI. But I wish to know the exact truth. You will never hear anything else from me, Sire. What did you go there for? I went to miss your mesmer's plas fondum. The two witnesses trembled. The King coloured with delight. Alone, asked the King. No, Sire, with the Queen. With the Queen, cried Louis, seizing her hand. Yes, Sire. Monsieur de Provence and Monsieur de Cousin looked stupefied. Your Majesty had authorised the Queen to go, at least, so she told me. Continued the Princess. It was true, Cousin. Gentlemen, I breathe again. Madame de Lambelle never tells a falsehood. Never, Sire. Oh, never, Sire, said Monsieur de Cousin, with perfect sincerity. But will you permit me, Sire? Certainly miss your question. Search as much as you please. I place the Princess at your disposal. Madame de Lambelle smiled. I am ready, she said. Madame, said the Lieutenant of Police. Have the goodness to tell His Majesty what you did there and how the Queen was dressed. She had on a dress of grey taffeta, a mantle of embroidered muslin, an ermine muff, and a rose-coloured velvet bonnet, trimmed with black. Monsieur de Cousin looked astonished. It was a totally different dress from that which he had had described to him. The Cont de Provence bit his lips with vexation, and the King rubbed his hands. What did you do on entering? Asked he. Sire, you are right to say on entering, for we had hardly entered the room. Together? Yes, Sire, and we could scarcely have been seen. For everyone was occupied with the experiments going on, when a lady approached the Queen, and, offering her a mask, implored her to turn back. And you stopped? Yes, Sire. You never went through the rooms, asked Monsieur de Cousin. No, Monsieur. And you never quitted the Queen, asked the King. Not for a moment, Sire, her Majesty never left my arm. Now cried the King. What do you say, Monsieur de Cousin, and you, Brother? It is extraordinary, quite supernatural, said the Count, who affected a gaiety which could not conceal his disappointment. There is nothing supernatural, said Monsieur de Cousin, who felt real remorse. What Madame de Lambeau says is undoubtedly true. Therefore my informants must have been mistaken. Do you speak seriously, Sire? Ask the Count. Perfectly Monsignor, her Majesty, did what Madame de Lambeau states, and nothing more. I feel convinced. My agents were somehow or other deceived. As for this journalist, I won't immediately send the order for his imprisonment. Madame de Lambeau looked from one to the other with an expression of innocent curiosity. One moment, said the King. You spoke of a lady who came to stop you. Tell us who she was. Her Majesty seemed to know her, Sire. Because Cousin, I must speak to this person. Then we shall learn the key to this mystery. That is my opinion also, Sire, said Monsieur de Cousin. Did the Queen tell you that she knew this person? Said the Count. She told me so, Monsignor. My brother means to say that you probably know her name. Madame de Lambeau Valois. That Intriguer, cried the King. Diabla said the Count. She will be difficult to interrogate. She is cunning. We will be as cunning as she, said Monsieur de Cousin. I do not like such people about the Queen, said Louis. She is so good that all the beggars crowd around her. Madame de Lambeau is a true Valois, said the Princess. However that may be, I will not see her here. I prefer depriving myself of the pleasure of hearing the Queen's innocence confirmed to doing that. But you must see her, Sire, said the Queen, entering at that moment, pale with anger, beautiful with a noble indignation. It is not now for you to say, I do or I do not wish to see her. She is a witness from whom the elegance of my accusers, said she, looking at her brother-in-law. And the justice of my judges, turning the King and Monsieur de Cousin, must draw the truth. I, the accused, demand that she be heard. Madame, said the King. We will not do Madame de Lambeau the honour of sending for her, to give evidence either for or against you. I cannot stake your honour against the veracity of this woman. You need not send for her. She is here. Here! cried the King. Sire, you know I went to see her one day, that day of which so many things were said, and she looked again at the Comte Provence, who felt ready to sink through the ground. And I then dropped at her house a box, containing a portrait, which she was to return to me to-day, and she is here. No, no, said the King. I am satisfied, and do not wish to see her. But I am not satisfied, and shall bring her in. Besides, why this repugnance? What has she done? If there be anything, tell me. You, Monsieur Decausne, you know everything? I know nothing against this lady, replied he. Really? Certainly not. She is poor and perhaps ambitious. But that is all. If there be no more than that against her, the King can surely admit her. I do not know why, said Louis. But I have a pre-sentiment, that this woman will be the cause of misfortune to me. Oh, Sire, that is superstition. Pray fetch her Madame de Lambeau. Five minutes after Jean, with a timid air, although with a distinguished appearance, entered the room. Louis XVI, strong in his antipathies, had turned his back towards her and was leaning his head on his hands, seeming to take no longer a part in the conversation. The compte de Provence cast on her a look which, had her monesty been real, would have increased her confusion. But it required much more than that to trouble Jean. Madame, so the Queen, have the goodness to tell the King exactly what passed the other day at Mr. Mesmer's? Jean did not speak. It requires no consideration, continued the Queen. We want nothing but the simple truth. Jean understood immediately that the Queen had need of her and knew that she could clear her in a moment by speaking the simple truth. But she felt inclined to keep her secret. Sire, said she, I went to see Mr. Mesmer from curiosity, like the rest of the world. The spectacle appeared to me rather a coarse one. I turned and suddenly saw her Majesty entering, whom I had already had the honour of seeing, but without knowing her till her generosity revealed her rank. It seemed to me that her Majesty was out of place in this room, where much suffering and many ridiculous exhibitions were going on. I beg pardon for having taken it on myself to judge. It was a woman's instinct, but I humbly beg pardon if I pass the bounds of proper respect. She seemed overcome with emotion as she concluded. Everyone but the King was pleased. Madame de Lambeau thought her conduct delicate, and herself timid, intelligent, and good. The Queen thanked her by a look. Well, she said, you have heard, Sire. He did not move but said, I did not need her testimony. I was told to speak, said Jean timidly, and I obeyed. It is enough, answered he, when the Queen says a thing she needs no witnesses to confirm her. And when she has my appropriation, as she has it, she need care for that of no one else. He cast an overwhelming look on his brother, and kissing the hands of the Queen and the Princess, and begging pardon of the latter, for having disturbed her for nothing. He made a slight bout de Jean. The ladies then left the room. Brother, said Louis to the Count. Now I will detain you no longer. I have work to do with M. de Crosne. You have heard your sister's complete justification, and it is easy to see you are as pleased as myself. Pray sit down, M. de Crosne. End of Chapter 35 Chapter 36 Of the Queen's Necklace by Alexandre Dumas The translator is unknown. The Slippervox recording is in the public domain. Recording by Gail Timmerman Vaughn. Chapter 36 The Queen The Queen, after leaving the King, felt deeply the danger she had been so nearly incurring. She was therefore pleased with Jean, who had been the means of preventing it, and said to her with a gracious smile. It is really fortunate, madame, that you prevented my prolonging my stay at M. Messmers, for only think they have taken advantage of my being there, to say that I was under the influence of the magnetism. But, said M. de Lambeau, it is very strange that the police should have been so deceived, and have affirmed that they saw the Queen in the inner room. It is strange, said the Queen. And M. de Crosne is an honest man, and would not willingly injure me, but his agents may have been bought. I have enemies, dear Lambeau. Still, there must have been some foundation for this tale. This infamous libel represents me, as intoxicated, and overcome to such a degree by the magnetic fluid, than I lost all control over myself, and all womanly reserve. Did any such scene take place, madame La Contesse? Was there anyone who behaved like this? Jean Cullard. The secret, once told. She lost all the fatal influence, which she could now exercise over the Queen's destiny. Therefore she again resolved to keep silent on this point. Madame, said she, there was a woman much agitated, who attracted great attention by her contortions and cries. Probably some actress or loose character. Possibly, madame. Countess, you replied very well to the King, and I will not forget you. Have you now advanced in your own affairs? At this moment M. de Miserie came in to say that mademoiselle de Tavernée wished to know if Her Majesty would receive her. Assuredly, said the Queen, how ceremonious you always are, André. Why do you stand so much upon etiquette? Your Majesty is too good to me. Madame de Lomballe now availed herself of André's entrance to take leave. Well, André, the Queen then said, here is this lady whom we went to see the other day. I recognize Madame, said André, bowing. Do you know what they have been saying of me? Yes, madame. M. de Provence has been repeating the story. Oh, no doubt. Therefore we will leave that subject. Countess, we were speaking of you. Who protects you now? You, madame, replied Jean boldly, since you permit me to come and kiss your hand. Few people, she continued, dared to protect me when I was in obscurity. Now that I have been seen with your Majesty, everyone will be anxious to do so. Then, said the Queen, no one has been either brave enough or corrupt enough to protect you for yourself. I had first, madame, de bouillant VDA, a brave protector, then her husband, a corrupt one. But since my marriage, no one. Oh, yes, I forget. One brave man, a generous Prince. Prince, Countess, who is it? Monsieur, the Cardinal de Laurent. My enemy, said the Queen, smiling. Your enemy? Oh, madame. It seems you are astonished that a Queen should have an enemy. It is evident you have not lived at court. But, madame, he adores you. The devotion of the Cardinal equals his respect for you. Oh, doubtless, said the Queen, with a hearty laugh. That is why he is my enemy. Jean looked surprised. And you are his protégé, continued the Queen. Tell me all about it. It is very simple. His eminence has assisted me in the most generous, yet the most considerate manner. Good! Prince Louis is generous. No one can deny that. But do you not think, André, that Monsieur le Cardinal also adores this pretty Countess a little? Come, Countess, tell us. And Marie Antoinette laughed again in her frank, joyous manner. All this gaiety must be put on, thought Jean. So she entered in a grave tone. Madame, I have the honour to affirm to Your Majesty that Monsieur de Laurent, well, since you are his friend, ask him what he did with some hair of mine, which he bribed a certain hairdresser to steal, and which trick cost the poor dear man, for he lost my custom. Your Majesty surprises me. Monsieur de Laurent did that? Oh, yes, all his adoration, you know. After having hated me at Vienna and having employed every means, to try and prevent my marriage, he at last began to perceive that I was a woman and his Queen, and that he had offended me forever. Then this dear Prince began to fear for his future, and like all of his profession, who seemed most fond of those whom they most fear. And as he knew me young and believed me foolish in vain, he turned. He became a professed admirer, and began with sighs and glances. He adores me, does he not, André? Madame. Oh, André will not compromise herself. But I say what I please, at least. I may have that advantage from being a Queen. So it is a settled thing, that the Cardinal adores me, and you may tell him Countess, that he has my permission. Jean, instead of seeing on all this only the angry disdain of a noble character, which she was incapable of appreciating, thought at all peak against Monsieur de Rouen. Hiding another feeling for him, and therefore began to defend him with all her eloquence. The Queen listened. Good, she listens, thought Jean, and did not understand, that she listened through generosity, and through pleasure at anything so novel as to hear any person defend one whom the Sovereign chose to speak ill, and felt pleased with her, thinking she saw a heart where none was placed. All at once a joyous voice was heard, and the Queen said, Here is the Count de Troyes, when he entered the Queen introduced the Countess to him. Pray, do not let me send you away, Madame la Contesse, said he, as Jean made a move to depart. The Queen also requested her to stay. You have returned from the Wolfhunt, then? She said. Yes, sister, and have had good sport. I have killed seven. I am not sure, continued he laughing, but they say so. However, do you know, I have gained seven hundred francs. How? Why, they pay a hundred francs ahead for these beasts. It is dear, but I would give two hundred of them just now, for the head of a certain journalist. Ah, you know the story. Monsieur de Provence told me. He is indefeatable. But tell me how he related it. So as to make you whiter than snow or Venus Aphroditus. It seemed you came out of it gloriously. You are fortunate. Oh, you call that fortunate. Do you hear him, André? Yes, for you might have gone alone without Madame de l'Ambal, and you might not have had Madame de la Mot there to stop your entrance. Ah, you know that too. Oh, yes, the Count told everything. Then you might not have had Madame de la Mot at hand to give her testimony. You will tell me, downless, that virtue and innocence are like the violet, which does not require to be seen in order to be recognized. But still I say you are fortunate. Badly proved. I will prove it still better, saved so well from the unlucky scrape of the cabaret de l'E, saved from this affair, and then the ball, whispering in her ear. What ball? The ball of the opera. What do you mean? I mean the ball of the opera. But I beg pardon. I should not have mentioned it. Really, brother, you puzzle me. I know nothing about the ball and the opera. The words ball and opera caught Jean's ear, and she listened intently. I am dumb, said the Prince. But Count, I insist on knowing what it means. Oh, pray, allow me to let it drop. Do you want to oblige me? No, sister, but I have said quite enough for you to understand. You have told me nothing. Oh, sister, it is needless with me. But really, I am an earnest. You wish me to speak, immediately. Not here, said he, looking at the others. Yes, here. There cannot be too many at such an explanation. Then you mean to say you are not at the last ball. I cried the Queen. At the ball at the opera? Hush, I beg. No, I will not hush. I will speak it aloud. You say I was at the ball? Certainly I do. Perhaps you saw me? She said ironically. Yes, I did. Me? Yes, you. Oh, it is too much. Why did you not speak to me? Muff-ois, I was just going to do so when the crowd separated us. You are mad. I should not have spoken of it. I have been very foolish. The Queen rose and walked up and down the room, in great agitation. Andre trembled with fear and disquietude, and Jean could hardly keep from laughing. Then the Queen stopped and said, My friend, do not just any more. You see, I am so passionate that I have lost my temper already. Tell me at once that you were joking with me. I will, if you please, sister. Be serious, Charles. You have invented all this, have you not? He went to the ladies and said, Oh yes, of course. You do not understand me, brother, cried the Queen vehemently. Say yes or no. Do not tell falsehoods. I only want the truth. Well then, sister, he said, in a low voice. I have told the truth. But I am sorry I spoke. You saw me there? As plain as I see you now and you see me. The Queen uttered a cry, and, running up to Andre and Jean, cried, Ladies, Monsieur le Comte d'Ottois affirms that he saw me at the ball of the opera. Let him prove it. Well said he. I was with Monsieur de Richelieu and others. When your mask fell off. My mask? I was about to say, This is too rash, sister. But the gentleman with you drew you away so quickly. Ah, mon Dieu, you will drive me mad. What gentleman? The Blue Domino. The Queen passed her hand over her eyes. What day was this? She asked. Saturday, the next day, I set off to hunt before you were up. What time do you say you saw me? Between two and three. Decidedly, one of us is mad. Oh, it is I. It is all a mistake. Do not be so afraid. There is no harm done. At first I thought you were with the King. But the Blue Domino spoke German, and he does not. Well, brother, on Saturday I went to bed at eleven. The Count bowed, with an incredulous smile. The Queen rang. Madame de Miserie shall tell you. Why do you not colorant also? Said he, laughing. Oh, cried the Queen in a rage. Not to be believed. My dear sister, if I believed you others would not. What others? Those who saw you as well as myself. Who were they? Monsieur Philippe de Tavernay, for instance. My brother? cried André. Yes, shall we ask him? Immediately. Mon Dieu! murmured André. My brother a witness. Yes, I wish it. And she went to seek him at his father's. He was just leaving after the scene we have described with his father. When the messenger met him, he came quickly and Marie Antoinette turned to him at once. Sir, said she, are you capable of speaking the truth? Incapable of anything else, madame? Well, then say frankly, have you seen me at any public place, within the last week? Yes, madame. All hearts beat so that you might have heard them. Where? Said the Queen, in a terrible voice. Philippe was silent. Oh, no concealment, sir. My brother says you saw me at the ball of the opera. I did, madame. The Queen sank on a sofa. Then, rising furiously, she said, It is impossible for I was not there. Take care, Monsieur de Tavernay. Your Majesty, said André Pell, with anger. If my brother says he saw you, he did see you. You also, cried Marie Antoinette, it only remains now for you to have seen me. Parble, my enemies overwhelm me. When I saw that the blue domino was not the King, said the Condar-toi, I believed him to be that nephew of Monsieur de Souffren, whom you received so well here the other night. The Queen colored. Did it not look something like his tournure, Monsieur de Tavernay? Continued the count. I did not remark Monsieur, said he, in a choking voice. But I soon found out that it was not he, for suddenly I saw him before me, and he was close by you, when your mask fell off. So he saw me, too. If he were not blind, he did. The Queen rang. What are you about to do? Send for him also, and ask. I will drain this cup to the drinks. I do not think he can come, said Philippe. Why? Because I believe he is not well. Oh, he must come, Monsieur. I am not well either, but I would go to the end of the world barefoot to prove. All at once André, who was near the window, uttered an exclamation. What is it? cried the Queen. Oh, nothing. Only here comes Monsieur de Charnay. The Queen and her excitement ran to the window, opened it, and cried. Monsieur de Charnay. He, full of astonishment, hastened to enter. End of Chapter 36 Chapter 37 Of the Queen's Necklace By Alexandre Dumas The translator is unknown. This Le Brevoque's recording is in the public domain. Recording by Gail Timmerman Vaughn Chapter 37 An Alibi Monsieur de Charnay entered a little pale but upright, and not apparently suffering. Take care, sister, said the Condoix. What is the use of asking so many people? Brother, I will ask the whole world, till I meet someone who will tell you that you are deceived. Charnay and Philippe bowed courteously to each other, and Philippe said in a low voice, You are surely mad to come out wounded, and one would say you wish to die. One does not die from the scratch of a thorn in the wad balonia, replied Charnay. The Queen approached and put an end to this conversation. Monsieur de Charnay said she. These gentlemen say that you were at the ball of the opera. Yes, Your Majesty. Tell us what you saw there. Does Your Majesty mean whom I saw there? Precisely, and no complacent reserve, Monsieur de Charnay. Must I say, madame? The cheeks of the Queen assumed once more that deadly paleness, which had many times that morning alternated with a burning red. Did you see me? she asked. Yes, Your Majesty, at the moment when your mask unhappily fell off. Marie Antoinette clasped her hands. Monsieur said she, almost sobbing. Look at me well. Are you sure of what you say? Madame, your features are engraved in the hearts of your subjects. To see Your Majesty once is to see you forever. But Monsieur said she, I assure you I was not at the ball of the opera. Oh, madame, said the young man bowing low, has not Your Majesty the right to go where you please? I do not ask you to find excuses for me. I only ask you to believe. Well, I believe all Your Majesty wishes me to believe, cried he. Sister, sister, it is too much, murmured the Count. No one believes me, cried she, throwing herself on the sofa with tears in her eyes. Sister, pardon me, sent the Count tenderly. You are surrounded by devoted friends. The secret which terrifies you so. We alone know. It is confined to our hearts, and no one shall drag it from us while we have life. The secret? Oh, I want nothing but to prove the truth. Madame, said André, someone approaches. The King was announced. The King? Oh, so much the better. He is my only friend. He would not believe me guilty, even if he thought he saw me. The King entered with an air of calmness, in strange contrast to the disturbed countenances, of those present. Sire, said the Queen, you come on propos. There is yet another columny, another insult to combat. What is it? Said Louis, advancing. An infamous report. Aid me, Sire, for now it is no longer my enemies that accuse me but my friends. Your friends? Yes, Sire. Monsieur de Condor-Troix, Monsieur de Tavernet, and Monsieur de Charney affirm that they saw me at the ball of the opera. At the ball of the opera, cried the King. A terrible silence ensued. Madame de La Motte saw the mortal paleness of the Queen, the terrible disquietude of the King, and of all the others, and with one word she could have put an end to all of this and saved the Queen, not only now but in the future, for much distress. But she said to herself that it was too late, that they would see if she spoke now, that she had deceived them before when the simple truth would have been of such advantage to the Queen, and she should forfeit her newly acquired favour. So she remained silent. The King repeated, with an air of anguish, at the ball of the opera, does Monsieur de Provence know this? But Sire, it is not true. Monsieur de Condor-Troix is deceived. Monsieur de Tavernet is deceived. Monsieur de Charney, you are deceived. One may be mistaken, all bound. Come, continued she, call all my people, ask everyone. You say it was Saturday. Yes, sister. Well, what did I do on Saturday? Let someone tell me for I think I am going mad, and she'll begin at last to believe that I did go to this infamous ball. But, gentlemen, if I had been there, I would have confessed it. At this moment the King approached her. Every cloud gone from his brow. Well, Marie, said he, if it was Saturday, there is no need to call your women, or to ask them at what hour I came to your room. I believe it was past eleven. Oh! cried the Queen joyfully. You are right, Sire. And she threw herself into his arms, then blushing and confused. She hit her face on his shoulder, while he kissed her tenderly. Well, said the Condattoir, full of both surprise and joy, I will certainly buy spectacles. But on my word I would not have lost this scene for a million of money. Would you, gentlemen? Philippe was leaning against the wainscot, as pale as death. Charney wiped the burning drops from his forehead. Therefore, gentlemen, said the King, turning towards them. I know it to be impossible that the Queen was that night at the ball at the opera. Believe it or not, as you please, the Queen I am sure is content that I know her to be innocent. Well, said Monsieur D'Artois, Provence may say what he pleases, but I defy his wife to prove an alibi in the same way, if she should be accused of passing the night out. Charles, pardon, Sire, now I will take my leave. Well, I will go with you. And once more kissing the Queen's hand, they left the room. Monsieur de Tavarnay said the Queen severely when they were gone. Do not accompany Monsieur D'Artois. Philippe started, all the blood rushed to his head, and he had hardly strength to bow and leave the room. André was to be pitied also. She knew that Philippe would have given the world to have taken Monsieur de Charney away with him. But she felt as though she could not follow to comfort him, leaving Charney alone with the Queen, or only with Madame de la Mort, who, she instinctively felt, was worse than no one. But why this feeling? She could not love Charney. That, she told herself, was impossible. So slight and recent an acquaintance, and she who had found to love no one. Why did she suffer so much, when Charney addressed words of such respectful devotion to the Queen? Was this not jealousy? Yes, she thought. But only jealousy that this woman should draw all hearts towards her, while the whole world of gallantry and love passed her coldly by. It was no attraction to be a living problem ever called and reserved like André. They felt it, turned from her beauty and her intellect, and contented themselves with mere politeness. André felt this deeply, but on the night when they first met Charney, he showed towards her nothing of this coldness or reserve. She was to him as interesting as any other beautiful woman, and she felt cheered and warmed by it. But now the Queen absorbed his every look and thought, and left her lonely again. Therefore she did not follow her brother, although she suffered in his sufferings, and almost idolized him. She did not, however, attempt to mingle in the conversation, but sat down by the fire almost with her back to the Queen and Charney, while Madame Le Ramotte stood in one of the deep windows, nearly out of sight, although she could observe all that passed. The Queen remained silent for some minutes, then she said almost to herself, Would anyone believe that such things pass here? Then, turning to Charney, said, We hear, sir, of the dangers of the sea, and of the fury of tempests, but you have doubtless encountered all their assaults, and you are still safe and honoured. Madame, Then the English are enemies of attacked you, with their guns and their power, but still you are safe, and on account of the enemies you have conquered, the King facilitates and admires you, and the people bless and love you. Therefore blessed are such enemies who menace us only with death. Our enemies do not endanger existence. It is true, but they add years to our lives. They make us bow the head, fearing, though innocent, to meet, as I have done, the double attacks of friends and enemies. And then, sir, if you knew how hard it is to be hated. Andre listened anxiously for his reply, but he only leaned against the wall and grew pale. The Queen looked at him and said, It is too hot here. Madame de la Motte, open the window. Monsieur is accustomed to the fresh sea breezes. He would stifle in our boudoirs. It is not that, Madame, but I am on duty at two o'clock, and unless your Majesty wishes me to remain. Oh no, Monsieur, we know what duty is. You are free, said the Queen, in a tone of slight peak. Shiny bad and disappeared, like a man in haste. But in a minute they heard from the antechamber the sound of a groan and people hurrying forward. The Queen, who was near the door, opened it, and uttered an exclamation, and was going out when Andre rose quickly, saying, Oh no, Madame. Then they saw through the open door the guards assisting Monsieur de Charny, who had fainted. The Queen closed the door and sat down again, pensive and thoughtful. Alas, she said, It is an odd thing, but I do not believe Monsieur de Charny was convinced. Oh, Madame, in spite of the King's word, impossible. He may have thought the King said it for his own sake. My brother was not so incredulous, said Andre. It would be very wrong, continued the Queen, not heeding her. He could not have as noble a heart, as I thought. But after all, why should he believe? He thought he saw me. They all thought so. There is something in all this, something that I must clear up. Andre, I must find out what it all means. Your Majesty is right, you must investigate it. Four, continued the Queen. People said they saw me at Monsieur Messmer's. But your Majesty was there, said Madame de Lamotte. Yes, but I did not do what they insist they saw me do. And they saw me at the opera, and I was not there. Oh, cried she, at last I guess the truth. The truth, stammered the Countess. Oh, I hope so, said Andre. Sent for Monsieur de Crosne, said the Queen, joyously. End of Chapter 37 Chapter 38 Of the Queen's Necklace by Alexandre Dumas The translator is unknown. This Librevox recording is in the public domain. Recording by Gail Timmerman Vaughn. Chapter 38 Monsieur de Crosne Monsieur de Crosne had felt himself in no slight degree embarrassed, since his interview with the King and Queen. It was no light matter to have the care of the interests of the Crown and of the fame of a Queen, and he feared that he was about to encounter all the weight of a woman's anger and a Queen's indignation. He knew, however, that he had done his duty, and he entered therefore tranquilly with a smile on his face. Now Monsieur de Crosne, said the Queen, it is our turn for an explanation. I am at your Majesty's orders. You want to know the cause of all that has happened to me, Sir. Monsieur de Crosne looked round him, rather frightened. Never mind these ladies, said the Queen. You know them both, you know everyone. Nearly, said the Magistrate, and I know the effects, but not the cause, of what has happened to your Majesty. Then I must enlighten you, although it is a discreable task. I might tell you in private, but my thoughts and words are always open as the day. All the world may know them. I attribute the attacks that have been made upon me to the misconduct of someone who resembles me, and who goes everywhere. And thus your agents have made these mistakes. A resemblance, cried Monsieur de Crosne, too much occupied with the idea to observe the unquiet look which one could not for a moment prevent appearing. Well, Sir, do you think this is impossible, or do you prefer to think that I am deceiving you? Oh, nomadam! But surely, however strong a resemblance may be, there must be some points of difference to prevent people from being so deceived. It seems not, Sir, some are deceived. Oh, and I remember, said André. When we lived at the taffernet Maison Rouge, we had a servant who very strongly resembled me, most wonderfully your Majesty, and what became of her. We did not then know the great generosity of your Majesty's mind, and my father feared that this resemblance might be disagreeable to you. And when we were at Trianon, we kept her out of sight. You see, Monsieur de Crosne, ah, this interests you. Much, madame. Afterwards, dear André, madame this girl, who was of an ambitious disposition and troublesome temper, grew tired of this quiet life, and a doubtless made bad acquaintances. For one night when I went to bed, I was surprised not to see her. We sought her in vain, but she had disappeared. Did she steal anything? Nothing, madame. You did not know all this, Monsieur de Crosne? No, madame. Thus then there is a woman, whose resemblance to me is striking, and you do not know her. I fear your police is badly organised. No, madame. A police magistrate is but a man, and though the vulgar may rate his power as something almost superhuman, your Majesty is more reasonable. Still, Sir, when a man has secured all possible powers for penetrating secrets, when he pays agents and spies, and to such an extent as to know every movement I make, he might prevent this sort of thing. Madame, when your Majesty passed the night out, I knew it. The day you went to see madame at the Rue Saint Claude, therefore my police is not bad. When you went to miss your messmers, my agents saw you, when you went to the opera. The Queen started. Pardon me, madame, if I saw you, but if your own brother-in-law mistook you, surely an agent at a crown a day, may be pardoned for having done so. They thought they saw you, and reported accordingly. Therefore my police is not bad. They also knew this affair of the journalist, so well punished by Monsieur de Charny. Monsieur de Charny cried the Queen and André in a breath. Yes, madame, his blows are yet fresh on the shoulders of the journalist. Monsieur de Charny committed himself with his fellow. I know it by my column-niated police, madame, and also, which was more difficult, the duo which followed. A duo, Monsieur de Charny fought. With the journalist, asked André. No, madame, the journalist was too well beaten to give Monsieur de Charny the sword thrust, which made him faint here just now. Wounded, cried the Queen. How and when? He was here just now. Oh, said André, I saw that he suffered. What do you say, cried the Queen almost angrily? You saw that he suffered and did not mention it. André did not reply. Jean, who wished to make a friend of her, came to her aid, saying, I also, madame, saw that Monsieur de Charny had difficulty in standing up while your Majesty spoke to him. Monsieur said the Queen again to Monsieur de Cosne, with whom and why did Monsieur de Charny fight? With a gentleman who, but really, madame, it is useless now. The two adversaries are friends again, for they spoke just now, in your Majesty's presence. In my presence? Yes, madame, the conqueror left about twenty minutes ago. Monsieur de Taffané cried the Queen. My brother, murmured André, I believe, said Monsieur de Cosne, that it was he with whom Monsieur de Charny fought. The Queen made an angry gesture. It is not right, she said. These are American manners brought to Versailles. It is not because one has fought under Monsieur Lafayette and Washington that my court should be disgraced by such proceedings. André, did you know your brother had fought? Not till this moment, madame. Why did he fight? If my brother fought, said André, it was in your Majesty's service. That is to say that Monsieur de Charny fought against me. Your Majesty, I spoke only of my brother and of no one else. The Queen tried hard to remain calm. She walked once or twice up and down the room, and then said, Monsieur de Cosne, you have convinced me. I was much disturbed by these rumours and accusations. Your police is efficient, but I beg you not to forget to investigate this resemblance of which I have spoken. Adieu! And she held out her hand to him with her own peculiar grace. André made a moment to depart. The Queen gave her a careless adieu. Jean also prepared to leave when Madame de Misery entered. Madame, said she to the Queen, did your Majesty appoint this hour to receive Monsieur Beaumé in moissange? Oh yes, it is true, let them come in. Remain a little longer, Madame de la Motte. I want the King to make a full peace with you. Perhaps you wish to peek André. Buy this favour to the newcomer, but André did not seem to heed. All these taffelonets are made of iron, thought the Queen. All gentlemen, what do you bring me now? You know I have no money. End of Chapter 38 Chapter 39 Of the Queen's Necklace By Alexandre Dumas The translator is unknown. The slip-revox recording is in the public domain. Recording by Gail Timmerman Vaughn. Chapter 39 The Temptress Madame de la Motte remained there for as before. Madame, replied Monsieur Beaumé, we do not come to offer anything to your Majesty. We should fear to be indiscreet. But we have come to fulfil a duty and that has emboldened us. A duty? Concerning the necklace which your Majesty did not deign to take. Oh, then the necklace has come again, said Marie-Antoinette Laffing. It was really beautiful, Monsieur Beaumé. So beautiful, said Beaumé, that your Majesty alone was worthy to wear it. My consolation is, said the Queen, with a sigh, which did not escape Jean, that it cost a million and a half. Was that not the price, Monsieur Beaumé? Yes, your Majesty. And in these times, continued the Queen, there is no sovereign that can give such a sum for a necklace, so that although I cannot wear it no one else can, and once broken up I should care nothing about it. That is an error of your Majesties. The necklace is sold. Sold, cried the Queen, to whom? Amidam, that is a state secret. Oh, said the Queen, I think I am safe. A state secret means that there is nothing to tell. With your Majesty, continued Beaumé, as gravely as ever, we do not act as with others. The necklace is sold, but in the most secret manner, and an ambassador. I really think he believes it himself. Interrupted the Queen, laughing again. Come, Monsieur Beaumé, tell me at least the country he comes from, or at all events, the first letter of his name. Madame, it is the ambassador from Portugal. Said Beaumé, in a low voice, that Madame de la Morte might not hear. The ambassador from Portugal, said the Queen. There is none here, Monsieur Beaumé. He came expressly for this, Madame. Do you imagine so? Yes, Madame. What is his name? Monsieur de Souza. The Queen did not reply for a few minutes, and then said, Well, so much the better for the Queen of Portugal. Let us speak of it no more. But allow us one moment, Madame, said Beaumé. Have you ever seen those diamonds? Said the Queen de Jean. No, Madame. They are beautiful. It is a pity these gentlemen have not brought them. They are here, said Beaumé, opening the case. Come count as you are a woman, and these will please you. Jean uttered a cry of admiration when she saw them and said, They are indeed beautiful. One million five hundred thousand francs, which you hold in the palm of your hand, said the Queen. Monsieur was right, said Jean, when he said that no one was worthy to wear these diamonds, but your Majesty. However, my Majesty will not wear them. We could not let them leave France without expressing our regret to your Majesty. It is a necklace which is now known all over Europe, and we wish to know definitively that your Majesty really refused it before we parted with it. My refusal has been made public, said the Queen, and has been too much applauded for me to repent of it. Oh Madame, said Beaumé, if the people found it admirable, that your Majesty preferred a ship of war to a necklace. The nobility, at least, would not think it surprising if you bought the necklace after all. Do not speak of it any more, said Marie Antoinette, casting at the same time a longing look at the casket. Jean sighed. Ah, you sigh countess. In my place you would act differently. I do not know, Madame. Have you looked enough? Oh no, I could look forever. Let her look, gentlemen, that takes nothing from the value. Unfortunately, they are still worth one million five hundred thousand francs. Oh, thought Jean. She is regretting it. And she said, on your neck, Madame, they would make all women die with jealousy. Were they as beautiful as Cleopatra or Venus? And approaching she clasped it round her neck. Ah, your Majesty is beautiful so. The Queen turned to the mirror. It was really splendid. Everyone must have admired. Marie Antoinette forgot herself for a time in admiration, then seized with fear she tried to take it off. It has touched your Majesty's neck. It ought not to belong to anyone else, said Beaumont. Impossible, said the Queen firmly. Gentlemen, I have amused myself with these jewels. To do more would be a fault. We will return tomorrow, said Beaumont. No, I must pay sooner or later. And besides, doubtless you want your money. You will get it soon. Yes, your Majesty said the merchant a man of business again. Take the necklace back, said the Queen, put it away immediately. Your Majesty forgets that such a thing is equal to money itself. And that, in a hundred years, it will be worth as much as it is now, said Jean. Give me one million five hundred thousand francs, said the Queen, and we shall see. Oh, if I had them. Messers Beaumont and Beaumont took as long as possible to put back the necklace, but the Queen did not speak. At last they said, your Majesty refuses them? Yes, oh yes, and they quitted the room. Marie-Antoinette remained sitting, looking rather gloomy, and beating with her foot in an impatient manner. At last she said, Countess, it seems the King will not return. We must defer our supplication till another time. Jean bowed respectfully. But I will not forget you, added the Queen. She is regretting and desiring, thought Jean as she left. And yet, she is a Queen. End of Chapter 39 Chapter 40 Of The Queen's Necklace by Alexandre Dumas The translator is unknown. The Slipper Rocks' recording is in the public domain. Recording by Gail Timmerman Vaughn. Chapter 40 Two Ambitions That Wished to Pass for Two Loves When Jean returned to her pretty little house in the Faux Bourg, it was still early, so she took a pen and wrote a few rapid lines, and closed them in a perfumed envelope and rang the bell. Take this letter to Monsignor the Cardinal de Rouen, she said. In five minutes the man returned. Well, said Madame de Lamotte impatiently, why are you not gone? Just as I left the house Madame, his eminence came to the door. I told him I was about to go to his hotel with a letter from you. He read it and is now waiting to come in. Let him enter, said the Countess. Jean had been thinking all the way home, of the beautiful necklace, and wishing it was hers. It would be a fortune in itself. The Cardinal entered. He also was full of desires and ambitions, which he wished to hide under the mask of love. Ah, dear Jean, said he, you have really become so necessary to me that I have been going me all day, knowing you to be so far off, but you have returned from Versailles? As you see, Monsignor. And content? Enchanted. The Queen received you then. I was introduced immediately on my arrival. You were fortunate. I suppose from your triumphant air that she spoke to you. I passed three hours in her Majesty's cabinet. Three hours? You are really an enchantress whom no one can resist. But perhaps you exaggerate. Three hours, he repeated, how many things a clever woman like you might say in three hours. Oh, I assure you, Monsignor, that I did not waste my time. I daresay that in a whole three hours you did not once think of me. Ungrateful man. Really, cried the Cardinal. I did more than think of you. I spoke of you. Spoke of me? To whom? Asked the prelate, in a voice from which all his power over himself could not vanish some emotion. To whom should it be but to the Queen? Ah, dear Countess, tell me about it. I interest myself so much, in all that concerns you, that I should like to hear the most minute details. Jean smiled. She knew what interested the Cardinal as well as he did himself. Then she related to him all the circumstances, which had so fortunately made her, from a stranger, almost the friend and confidant of the Queen, scarcely had she finished, when the servant entered, to announce supper. Jean invited the Cardinal to accompany her. He gave her his arm, and they went in together. During supper the Cardinal continued to drink in long drafts of love and hope, from the recitals which Jean kept making to him from time to time. He remarked also with surprise that, instead of making herself salt, like a woman that knows that you have need of her, she had thrown off all her former pride, and only seemed anxious to please him. She did the honors of her table, as if she had all her life mixed in the highest circles. There was neither awkwardness nor embarrassment. Countess said he at length. There are two women in you. How so? One of yesterday and another of today. And which does your Excellency prefer? I do not know, but at least the one of this evening is a Cersei, a something irresistible. And which you will not attempt to resist, I hope, Prince as you are. The Cardinal imbredded a long kiss on her hand. End of Chapter 40 Chapter 41 of the Queen's Necklace My Alexandre Dumas The translator is unknown. This LubriVox recording is in the public domain. Recording by Gail Timmerman Vaughn. Chapter 41. Faces under their masks. Two hours had elapsed, and the conversation still continued. The Cardinal was now the slave, and Jean was triumphant. Two men often deceive each other as they shake hands, and a man and a woman as they kiss. But here, each only deceived the other because they wished to be deceived. Each had an end to gain, and for that end intimacy was necessary. The Cardinal now did not demonstrate his impatience, but always managed to bring back the conversation to Versailles, and to the honours which awaited the Queen's new favourite. She is generous, said he, and spares nothing towards those she loves. She has the real talent of giving a little to everyone, and a great deal to a few. You think, then, she is rich. She makes resources with a word or a smile. No minister, except perhaps to a go, ever refused her anything. Well, said Madame de Lamotte, I have seen her poorer than you think. What do you mean? Are those rich, who are obliged to impose privations on themselves? Privations? What do you mean, dear Countess? I will tell you what I saw. I saw the Queen suffer. Do you know what a woman's desire is, my dear Prince? No, Countess, but I should like you to tell me. Well, the Queen has a desire which she cannot satisfy. For what? For a diamond necklace. Oh, I know what you mean, the diamonds of Monsieur Pommet and Bossange. Precisely. That is an old story, Countess. Older knew it is a real vexation for a Queen, not to be able to buy what was intended for a simple favorite. Fifteen more days added to the life of Louis XV, and Jean-Vaud Bernier would have had what Marie-Antoinette cannot buy. My dear Countess, you mistake. The Queen could have had it, and she refused it. The King offered them to her. And he recounted the history of the Ship of War. Well, said she, after all, what's that proof? That she did not want them, it seems to me. Jean shrugged her shoulders. You know women in courts and believe that? The Queen wanted to do a popular act, and she has done it. Good, said the Cardinal. That is how you believe in the royal virtues. Ah, skeptic, St. Thomas was credulous compared to you. Skeptic or not, I can assure you of one thing, that the Queen had no sooner refused it, than she earnestly desired to have it. You imagine all this, my dear Countess. For if the Queen has one quality more than another, it is disinterestedness. She does not care for gold or jewels, and likes a simple flower as well as a diamond. I do not know that. I only know she wishes for this necklace. Fervid Countess. It is easy. I saw the necklace and touched it. Where? At Versailles, when the jewelers brought it for the last time, to try and tempt the Queen. And is it beautiful, marvellous? I, who am a woman, think that one might lose sleep and appetite in wishing for it. Alas, why have I not a vessel to give the King a vessel? Yes, for in return he would give me the necklace, and then you could eat and sleep in peace. You laugh. No, really. Well, I will tell you something that will astonish you. I would not have the necklace. So much of the better, Countess, for I could not give it to you. Neither you nor anyone, that is what the Queen feels. But I tell you that the King offered it to her, and I tell you that women like best those presents that come from people from whom they are not forced to accept them. I do not understand you. Well, never mind. And after all, what does it matter to you, since you cannot have it? Oh, if I were King and you were Queen, I would force you to have it. Well, without being King, oblige the Queen to have it, and see if she is angry as you suppose she would be. The Countess looked at her with wonder. You are sure, said he, that you are not deceived, and that the Queen wishes for it? Intensely, listen, dear Prince, did you tell me, or where did I hear it, that you would like to be minister? You may have heard me say so, Countess. Well, I bet that the Queen would make that man a minister, who would place the necklace on her toilette within a week. Oh, Countess, I say what I think. Would you rather I kept silent? Certainly not. However, it does not concern you, after all. It is absurd to suppose that you would throw away a million and a half on a royal caprice. That would be paying too dearly for the portfolio, which you ought to have for nothing. So think no more of what I have said. The cardinal continued silent and thoughtful. Ah, you despise me now, continued she. You think I judge the Queen by myself. So I do. I thought she wanted these diamonds, because she sighed, as she looked at them, and because in her place I should have coveted them. You are an adorable woman, Countess. You have, by a wonderful combination, softness of mind and strength of heart. Sometimes you are so little of a woman that I am frightened, at others so charmingly so that I bless heaven and you for it. And now we will talk of business no more. So be it, thought Jean, but I believe the bait has taken nevertheless. Indeed, although the cardinal said, speak of it no more, in a few minutes, he asked, Does not Beaumé live somewhere on the quai de la ferraille, near the Pont-Neuf? Yes, you are right. I saw the name on the door as I drove along. Jean was not mistaken, the fish had taken the hook. And the next morning the cardinal drove to Monsieur Beaumé. He intended to preserve his incognito, but they knew him and called him Monsignor directly. Well, gentlemen, said he, if you know me, keep my secret from others. Monsignor may rely upon us, but what can we do for your eminence? I come to buy the necklace, which you showed Her Majesty. Really, we are in despair, but it is too late. How so? It is sold. Impossible, as you offered it only yesterday to the Queen, who again refused it, so our other bargain held good. And with whom was this other bargain? It is secret, Monsignor. Too many secrets, Monsieur Beaumé, he said, rising. But I should have thought that a French jeweler would prefer selling these beautiful stones in France. You prefer Portugal very well. Monsignor knows that, cried the jeweler. Well, is that astonishing? No one knew it but the Queen. And if that were so, said Monsieur Durand, without contradicting a supposition that flattered him. Ah, that would change matters. Why so, sir? May I speak freely, certainly? The Queen wishes for the necklace. You think so? I am sure of it. Then why did she not buy it? Because she had already refused the King, and she thought it would look apricious to buy it now. But the King wished her to have it. Yes, but he thanked her for refusing. Therefore I think she wishes to have it, without seeming to buy it. Well, you are wrong, sir. I am sorry for it, Monsignor. It would have been our only excuse for breaking our word to the Portuguese ambassador. The cardinal reflected for a moment. Then, sir, let us suppose that the Queen wishes for your necklace. Oh, in that case, Monsignor, we would break through anything that she should have it. What is the price? One million five hundred thousand francs. How do you want payment? The Portuguese was to give one hundred thousand francs down, and I was to take the necklace myself to Lisbon, where the balance was to be paid. Well, the one hundred thousand francs down you shall have, that is reasonable, as for the rest. Your Eminence wishes for time. With such a guarantee we should not object, only credit implies a loss. The interest of our money must be considered. Well, call it one thousand six hundred francs, and divide the time of payment into three periods, making a year. That would be a loss to us, sir. Oh, nonsense! If I paid you the whole amount, tomorrow, you would hardly know what to do with it. There are two of us, Monsignor. Well, you will receive five hundred thousand francs every four months, that ought to satisfy you. Monsignor forgets that these diamonds do not belong to us. If they did, we should be rich enough to wait. They belong to a dozen different creditors. We got some from Hamburg, some from Naples, one at Buenos Aires, and one at Moscow. All these people wait for the sale of the necklace to be paid. The profit that we make is all that will be ours, and we have already had it two years on hand. Monsieur de Laurent interrupted him. After all, said he, I have not seen the necklace. True, Monsignor, here it is. It is really superb, cried the cardinal. Is it a bargain? Yes, Monsignor, I must go to the ambassador and excuse myself. I did not think there was a Portuguese ambassador just now. Monsieur de Souza arrived in Cognito. To buy this necklace, yes, Monsignor. Oh poor Souza, I know him well, said he, laughing. With whom am I to conclude the transaction? Asked Monsieur Beaumé. With myself you will see no one else. Tomorrow I will bring the 100,000 francs, and will sign the agreement. And as you are a man of secrets, Monsieur Beaumé, remember that you now possess an important one. Monsignor, I feel it, and will merit your confidence and the Queen's. Monsieur de Laurent went away happy, like all men who ruin themselves in a transport of passion. The next day, Monsieur Beaumé went to the hotel of the Portuguese ambassador. At the moment he knocked at the door, Monsieur Beaumé was going through some accounts with Monsieur du Corneau, while Don Manuel was talking over some new plan with the ballet, his associate. Monsieur du Corneau was charmed to find an ambassador so free from national prejudice, as to have formed his whole establishment of Frenchmen. Thus his conversation was full of praises of him. The Souza's you see, replied Bossiere, are not of the old school of Portuguese. They are great travellers, very rich, who might be kings if they liked. And do they not? Why should they? With a certain number of millions and the name of a prince, one is better than a king. Ah, Portugal will soon become great with such men at its head. But when is the presentation to take place? It is most anxiously looked for. The people around begin to talk of it and to collect about the doors of the hotel, as though they were of glass and they could see through. Do you mean the people of the neighborhood? Asked Bossiere. And others. For the mission of Monsieur du Souza being a secret one, you may be sure the police would soon interest themselves about it, and look, continued du chrono, needing Bossiere to the window. Do you see that man in the brown sur-tout? How he looks at the house? Yes, he does indeed. Who do you take him to be? Probably a spy of Monsieur de Crosna. However, between ourselves, Monsieur de Crosna is not equal to Monsieur de Sartine. Did you know him? No. Ah, he would have found out all about you long ago, in spite of all your precautions. A bell rang. His Excellency rings said Bossiere, who was beginning to feel embarrassed by the conversation, and opening the door quickly, he nearly knocked down two of the clerks who were listening. End of Chapter 41. Chapter 42 of the Queen's Nicholas by Alexandre Dumas. The translator is unknown. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Recording by Gail Timmerman Vaughn. Chapter 42. In which Monsieur de Crosna understands nothing of what is passing. Don Manuel was less yellow than usual, that is to say, he was more red. He had just been having a fierce altercation with his valet, and they were still disputing when Bossiere entered. Come, Monsieur Bossiere, and set us right, said the valet. About what? This one hundred thousand francs. It is the property of the association, is it not? Certainly. Ah, Monsieur Bossiere agrees with me. Wait, said Don Manuel. Well then, continued the valet. The chest ought not to be kept close to the ambassador's room. Why not? asked Bossiere. Monsieur Manuel ought to give us each a key to it. Not so, said Manuel. Do you suspect me of wishing to rob the association? I may equally suspect you when you ask for a key. But, said the valet, we have all equal rights. Really, Monsieur, if you wish to make us all equal, we ought to have played the ambassador in turn. It would have been less plausible in the eyes of the public, but it would have satisfied you. And besides, said Bossiere, Monsieur Manuel has the incontestable privilege of the inventor. Oh! replied the valet. The thing once started, there are no more privileges. I do not speak for myself only. All our comrades think the same. They are wrong, said both Manuel and Bossiere. I was wrong myself to take the opinion of Monsieur Bossiere. Of course the secretary supports the ambassador. Monsieur, replied Bossiere, you are a naïve whose ears I would slit. If it had not already been done too often, you insult me by saying that I have an understanding with Manuel. And me also, said Manuel. And I demand satisfaction, added Bossiere. Oh! I am no fighter. So I see, said Bossiere, seizing hold of him. Help, help! cried the valet, attacked at once by both of them. But just then they heard a bell ring. Leave him and let him open the door, said Manuel. Our comrades shall hear all this, replied the valet. Tell them what you please, we will answer for our conduct. Monsieur Bonet cried the porter from below. Well, we shall have no more contests about the one hundred thousand francs, said Manuel, for they will disappear with Monsieur Bonet. Monsieur Bonet entered, followed by Bossiere. Both looked humble and embarrassed. Bonet began and explained that political reasons would prevent their fulfilling their contract. Manuel cried out angrily. Bossiere looked fierce. Manuel said that the bargain was completed and the money ready. Bonet persisted. Manuel, always through Bossiere, replied that his government had been apprised of the conclusion of the bargain and that it was an insult to his queen to break it off. Monsieur Bonet was very sorry, but it was impossible to act otherwise. Bossiere, in Manuel's name, refused to accept the retraction and abused Monsieur Bonet as a man without faith and ended by saying, You have found someone to pay more for it. The jewelers coloured. Bossiere saw that he was right and feigned to consult his ambassador. Well, said he at length, if another will give you more for your diamonds we would have to do the same rather than have this affront offered to our queen. Will you take fifty thousand francs more? Bonet shook his head. One hundred or even one hundred and fifty thousand continued Bossiere. Willing to offer anything rather than lose the booty. The jewelers looked dazzled for a moment, consulted together, and then said, No Monsieur, it is useless to tempt us. A will more powerful than our own compels us to decline. You understand no doubt that it is not we who refuse. We only obey the orders of one greater than any of us. Bossiere and Manuel saw that it was useless to say more and tried to look and speak indifferently on the matter. Meanwhile de Valle had been listening attentively, and just then making an unlucky movement stumbled against the door. Bossiere ran to the ante-chamber. What on earth are you about? cried he. Monsieur, I bring the morning dispatches. Good, said Bossiere, taking them from him. Now go. They were letters from Portugal generally very insignificant, but which, passing through their hands, before going to do carnaux, often gave them useful information about the affairs of the embassy. The jewelers, hearing the word dispatches, rose to leave like men who had received their congé. Well, said Manuel, when they were gone, we are completely beaten. Only one hundred thousand francs, a poor spoil. We shall have but eight thousand each. It is not worth the trouble, but it might be fifty thousand each. Good, replied Manuel, but the valet will never leave us now. He knows this affair has failed. Oh, I know how we will manage him. He will return immediately and claim his share, and that of his comrades, and we shall have the whole house on our hands. Well, I will call him first to a secret conference, then leave me to act. I think I understand, said Manuel. Neither, however, would leave his friend alone with a chest, while he went to call him. Manuel said that his dignity as ambassador prevented him from taking such a step. You are not ambassador to him, said Bossiere. However, I will call through the window. The valet, who was just beginning a conversation with the porter, hearing himself called, came up. Bossiere said to him with a smiling air. I suppose you were telling this business to the porter? Oh, no. Are you sure? I swear. For if you were, you were committing a great folly, and have lost a great deal of money. How so? Why at present only we three know the secret, and could divide the one hundred thousand francs between us, as they all now think we have given it to Monsieur Beaumont. Moire bleu, cried the valet. It is true, thirty-three thousand three hundred francs each. Then you accept? I should think so. I said you were a rogue, said Bossiere, in a thundering voice. Come, Don Manuel, help me to seize this man, and give him up to our associates. Pardon, pardon, cried the unfortunate. I did but jest. Shut him up until we can devise his punishment. The man began to cry out. Take care, said Bossiere, that Ducourneau does not hear us. If you did not leave me alone, said the valet, I will denounce you all. And I will strangle you, said Don Manuel, trying to push him into a neighbouring closet. Send away Ducourneau somewhere Bossiere while I finish this fellow. When he had locked him up he returned to the room. Bossiere was not there. Don Manuel felt tempted. He was alone and Bossiere might be some little time. He could open the chest, take out all the banknotes, and be off in two minutes. He ran to the room where it was. The door was locked. Ah, thought he. Bossiere distrusted me and locked the door before he went. He forced back to lock with his sword, and then uttered a terrible cry. The chest was opened and empty. Bossiere had got, as we know, a second key. He had forestalled Manuel. Manuel ran down like a madman. The porter was singing at the door. He asked if Bossiere had passed. He asked some ten minutes ago. Manuel became furious, some of them all, and ran to release the unfortunate Valet. But when he told his story, Manuel was accused of being an accomplice of Bossiere, and they all turned against him. Monsieur Ducourneau felt ready to faint when he entered and saw the men, preparing to hang Monsieur de Souza. Hang Monsieur de Souza, cried he. It is high treason. At last they threw him into a cellar, fearing his cries would arouse the neighbourhood. At that moment, Lad Nox at the door disturbed them. They looked at each other in dismay. The Nox were repeated, and someone cried, open in the name of the Portuguese ambassador. On hearing this, each made his escape in terror, as best he could, scrambling over walls and roofs. The true ambassador could only enter by the help of the police. They found and arrested Monsieur Ducourneau, who slept that night in the Châtelet. Thus ended the adventure of the Cham Embassy from Portugal. End of Chapter 42 Chapter 43 of The Queen's Necklace by Alexandre Dumas The translator is unknown. The Slippervox recording is in the public domain, recording by Gael Timmerman Vaughn. Chapter 43. Illusions and realities Bossiere, unleaving the house, ran as fast as possible down the road coquillère, then into the rue Saint-Honoré, and took everywhere the most intricate and improbable turnings he could think of, and continued this until he became quite exhausted. Then thinking himself tolerably safe, he sat down in the corn market on a sack to recover his breath. Ah, thought he! Now I have made my fortune. I will be an honest man for the future, and I will make Antliva an honest woman. She is beautiful, and she will not mind leading a retired life with me in some province, where we shall live like lords. She is very good, she has but two faults, idleness and pride, and as I shall satisfy her on both these points, she will be perfect. He then began to reflect on what he should do next. They would seek him, of course, and most likely divide into different parties, and some would probably go first to his own house. Here lay his great difficulty, for there they would find Oliva, and they might ill-treat her. They might even take her as a hostage, speculating on his love for her. What should he do? Love carried the day, he ran off again like lightening, took a coach, and drove to the Paul Neuf. He then looked cautiously down the rue Dauphine to reconnoitre, and he saw two men who seemed almost looking anxiously down the street. He thought they were police spies, but that was nothing uncommon in that part of the town, so bending his back and walking lamely for disguise, he went on till he nearly reached his house. Suddenly he thought he saw the coat of a gendarme in the courtyard. Then he saw one at the window of Oliva's room. He felt ready to drop, but he thought his best plan was to walk quietly on. He had that courage, and passed the house. Heavens, what a sight! The yard was full of soldiers, and among them a police commissioner. Both Sears' rapid glance showed him what he thought disappointed faces. He thought that Mr. De Crosna had somehow begun to suspect him, and, sending to take him, had found only Oliva. I cannot help her now, thought he. I should only lose my money and destroy us both. No, let me place that in safety, and then I will see what can be done. He therefore ran off again, taking his way, almost mechanically, towards the Luxembourg. But as he turned the corner of a roussage or man, he was almost knocked down by a handsome carriage, which was driving towards the Rue Dauphine, and raising his head to swear at the coachman, he thought he saw Oliva inside, talking with much animation, to a handsome man who sat by her. He gave a cry of surprise and would have run after it, but he could not again encounter the Rue Dauphine. He felt bewildered for he had before settled that Oliva had been arrested in her own house, and he fancied his brain must be turning when he believed he saw her in the carriage. But he started off again and took refuge in a small cabaret at the Luxembourg, where the hostess was an old friend. There he began to recover again his courage and hope. He thought the police would not find him, and that his money was safe. He remembered also that Oliva had committed no crime, and that the time was past when people were kept prisoners for nothing. He also thought that his money would soon obtain her release, even if she were sent to prison, and he would then set off with her for Switzerland. Such were his dreams and projects, as he sat sipping his wine. End of Chapter 43 Chapter 44 Of The Queen's Necklace by Alexandre Dumas The translator is unknown. The Slupe of Rock's recording is in the public domain. Recording by Gail Temmerman Vaughn. Chapter 44 Oliver begins to ask what they want of her. If Monsieur de Beauxirre had trusted to his eyesight, which was excellent, instead of trusting his imagination, he would have spared himself much regret and many mistakes. It was, in fact, Oliva, who sat in the carriage by the side of a man whom he would also have recognized if he had looked a little longer. She had gone that morning as usual to take a walk in the gardens of Luxembourg, where she had met the strange friend whose acquaintance she had made the day of the ball at the opera. It was just as she was about to return that he appeared before her and said, Where are you going? Oh, Monsieur, just what the people want who are waiting there for you. Waiting for me? No one is there for me. Oh, yes, a dozen visitors at least. A whole regiment, perhaps, said Oliva laughing. Perhaps, had it been possible to send a whole regiment, they would have done so. You astonish me. You would be far more astonished if I let you go. Why? Because you would be arrested. I arrested. Assuredly. The twelve gentlemen who wait for you are sent by Monsieur de Crosne. Oliva trembled. Some people are always fearful on certain points. But she said, I have done nothing. Why should they arrest me? For some intrigue, perhaps. I have none. But you have had. Oh, perhaps. Well, perhaps they are wrong to wish to arrest you. But the fact is that they do desire to do so. Will you still go home? You deceive me, said Oliva. If you know anything, tell me at once. Is it not Bocir they want? Perhaps he may have a conscience, less clear than yours. Poor fellow. Pity him if you like, but if he is taken, there is no need for you to be taken, too. What interest have you in protecting me? asked she. It is not natural for a man like you. I would not lose time if I were you. They are very likely to seek you here, finding you did not return. How should they know I am here? Are you not always here? My carriage is close by, if you will come with me. But I see you doubt still. Yes. Well, we will commit an imprudence to convince you. We will drive past your house, and when you have seen these gentlemen there, I think you will better appreciate my good offices. He led her to the carriage and drove to the Rue Dauphin, as a corner of which they passed Bociere. Had all of us seen him doubtless she would have abandoned everything to fly with him, and share his fate, whatever it might be. But Cagliostro, who did see him, took care to engage her attention by showing her the crowd, which was already in sight, and which was waiting to see what the police would do. When Oliva could distinguish the soldiers who filled her house, she threw herself into the arms of her protector in despair. Save me, save me, she cried. He pressed her hand. I promise you. But they will find me out anywhere. Not where I shall take you. They will not seek you at my house. Oh! cried she, frightened. Am I to go home with you? You are foolish, said he. I am not your lover, and do not wish to become so. If you prefer a prison, you are free to choose. No, replied she. I trust myself to you. Take me where you please. He conducted her to the Rue Nouve Saint-Gilles, into a small room on the second floor. How at least, said she, here without liberty and without even a garden to walk in. You are right, said he, besides my people would see you here at last, and would betray me perhaps. No fear of that, but I will look out for another abode for you. I do not mean you to remain here. Oliva was consoled. Besides, she found amusing books and easy chairs. He left her saying, if you want me ring, I will come directly, if I am at home. Ah! cried she, get me some news of Beaux-sirs, before everything. Then as he went down, he said to himself, it will be a profanation to lodge her in that house in the Rue Saint-Claude, but it is important that no one should see her, and there no one will, so I will extinguish the last spark of my old light. End of Chapter 44 Chapter 45 of the Queen's Nicholas by Alexandre Dumas The translator is unknown. This lipovox recording is in the public domain. Recording by Gail Timmerman Vaughn. Chapter 45 The Deserted House When Cagliostro arrived at the deserted house in the Rue Saint-Claude, with which our readers are already acquainted, it was getting dark, and but few people were to be seen in the streets. Cagliostro drew a key from his pocket and applied it to the lock, but the door was swollen with a damp and stiff with age, and it required all his strength to open it. The courtyard was overgrown with moss, the steps crumbling away, all looked desolate and deserted. He entered the hall and lighted a lamp which he had brought with him. He felt a strange agitation as he approached the door which he had so often entered to visit Lorenza. A slight noise made his heart beat quickly. He turned and saw an adder gliding down the staircase. It disappeared in a hole near the bottom. He entered the room. It was empty, but in the grate still lay some ashes. The remains of the furniture which had adorned it and which he had burned there. Among it several pieces of golden silver still sparkled. As he turned he saw something glittering on the floor. He picked it up. It was one of those silver arrows with which the Italian women were in the habit of confining their hair. He pressed it to his lips and a tear stood in his eyes as he murmured, Lorenza. It was but for a moment. Then he opened the window and threw it out saying to himself, adieu. This last souvenir which would soften me. This house is about to be profaned. Another woman will ascend the staircase and perhaps even into this room where Lorenza's last sigh still vibrates. But to serve my end the sacrifice shall be made. I must however have some alterations made. He then wrote on his tablets the following words. To Miss Yolaine Noir, my architect, clean out the court and vestibule, restore the coach house and stable and demolish the interior of the pavilion to be done in eight days. And now let us see, said he to himself, if we can perfectly distinguish the window of the countess. It is infallible, said he, after looking out. The women must see each other. The next day fifty workmen had invaded the house and convinced the projected alterations which were completed within the given time. Some of the pastors by saw a large rat hung up by the tail. End of Chapter 45 Chapter 46 of The Queen's Necklace by Alexandre Dumas The translator is unknown. The slipper vox recording is in the public domain. Recording by Gail Timmerman Vaughn Chapter 46 Jean the protectress Monsieur le Cardinal de Rouen received, two days after his visit to Monsieur Beaumé, the following note. His eminence the Cardinal de Rouen knows doubtness where he will sup this evening. From the little countess, said he, I will go. Among the footmen given to her by the Cardinal, Jean had distinguished one, black-haired and dark-eyed, and, as she thought, active and intelligent. She set this man to watch the Cardinal and learn from him that he had been twice to Monsieur Beaumé's. Therefore she concluded the necklace was bought, and yet he had not communicated it to her. She frowned at the thought and wrote the note, which we have seen. Monsieur de Rouen sent before him a basket of touquet and other rarities, just as if he was going to sup with la glimare or mademoiselle d'enquivie. Jean determined not to use any of it at supper. When they weren't alone, she said to him, really, Monsignor, one thing afflicts me. What countess? To see not only that you no longer love me, but that you never have loved me. Oh, countess, how can you say so? Do not make excuses, Monsignor, it would be lost time. Oh, countess! Do not be uneasy. I am quite indifferent about it now. Love you or not? Yes, because I do not love you. That is not flattering. Indeed, we are not exchanging compliments but facts. We have never loved each other. Oh, as for myself, I cannot allow that. I have a great affection for you, countess. Come, Monsignor, let us esteem each other enough to speak the truth, and that is, that there is between us a much stronger bond than love. That is, interest. Oh, countess, what a shame! Monsignor, if you are ashamed, I am not. Well, countess, supposing ourselves interested, how can we serve each other? First Monsignor, I wish to ask you a question. Why have you failed in confidence towards me? I, how so, pray? Will you deny that after skillfully drawing from me the details, which I confess I was not unwilling to give you, concerning the desire of a certain great lady for a certain thing. You have taken means to gratify that desire without telling me. Countess, you are a real enigma, a sphinx. Oh, no enigma cardinal. I speak of the queen, and of the diamonds, which you bought yesterday, of Monsieur Bommet and Poisson. Countess, cried he, growing pale. Oh, do not look so frightened, continued she. Did you not conclude your bargain yesterday? He did not speak, but looked uncomfortable, and half angry. She took his hand. Pardon, Prince, said she, but I wish to show you your mistake about me. You believe me foolish and spiteful. Oh, Countess, now I understand you perfectly. I expected to find you a pretty woman and a clever one, but you are better than this. Listen to me. You have, you say, been willing to become my friend without loving me. I repeat it, replied she. Then you had some object. Assuredly, do you wish me to tell it to you? No, I understand it. You wish to make my fortune. That once done. You are sure that my first care would be for yours. Am I right? Yes, Monseigneur, but I have not pursued my plans with any repugnance. The road has been a pleasant one. You are an amiable woman, Countess, and it is a pleasure to discuss business with you. You have guessed rightly that I have a respectful attachment towards a certain person. I saw it as yoppeur-bol, she said. I know well that this affection will never be returned. Oh, a queen is only a woman, and you are surely equal to Cardinal Mazarin. He was a very handsome man, said Monsieur de Rouen, laughing. And an excellent minister, said Jean. Countess, it is superfluous trouble to talk to you. You guess and know everything. Yes, I do wish to become Prime Minister. Everything entitles me to it. My birth, my knowledge of business, my standing with foreign courts, and the affection which is felt for me by the French people. There is but one obstacle, said Jean. An antipathy. Yes, of the queens and the king always ends by liking what she likes and hating what she hates. And she hates me. Be frank, Countess. Well, Monsignor, she does not love you. Then I am lost of what uses the necklace. You deceive yourself, Prince. It is bought. At least it will show the queen that you love her. You know, Monsignor, we have agreed to call things by their right names. Then you say you do not despise of seeing me, one day, Prime Minister. I am sure of it. And what are your own ambitions? I will tell you, Prince, when you are in a position to satisfy them. We will hope for that day. Now let us up. I am not hungry. Then let us talk. I have nothing more to say. Then go. How? Is that what you call our alliance? You send me away? Yes, Monsignor. Well, Countess, I will not deceive myself again about you. Before leaving, however, he turned and said, What must I do now, Countess? Nothing. Wait for me to act. I will go to Versailles. When? Tomorrow. And when shall I hear from you? Immediately. Then I abandon myself to your protection. Au revoir, Countess. End of Chapter 46