 Chapter 86 of The Queen's Necklace by Alexandre Dumas. The translator is unknown. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Recording by Gail Timmerman Vaughan. Chapter 86. How it came to pass that Monsieur Beaucir was tracked by the agents of Monsieur de Crosne. Madame de Ramois was imprisoned as the queen had threatened, and the whole affair created no little talk and excitement through France. Monsieur de Ramois lived at the Bastille like a prince. He had everything but liberty. He demanded to be confronted with Madame de la Motte as soon as he had heard of her arrest. This was done. She whispered to him, sent everyone away, and I will explain. He asked this, but was refused. They said his counsel might communicate with her. She said to this gentleman that she was ignorant of what had become of the necklace, but that they might well have given it to her and recompense for the services she had rendered the queen and the cardinal, which were well worth a million and a half. The cardinal turned pale on hearing this repeated, and felt how much they were in Jean's power. He was determined not to accuse the queen, although his friends endeavored to convince him that it was his only way to prove his innocence of the robbery. Jean said that she did not wish to accuse either the queen or the cardinal, but that if they persisted in making her responsible for the necklace she would do so to show that they were interested in accusing her of falsehood. Then Monsieur de Rouen expressed all his contempt for her and said that he began to understand much of Jean's conduct, but not the queen's. All this was reported to Marie-Antoinette. She ordered another private examination of the parties but gained nothing from it. Jean denied everything to those sent by the queen, but when they were gone she altered her tone and said, if they do not leave me alone I will tell all. The cardinal said nothing and brought no accusations. But rumors began to spread fast, and the questions soon became not. Has the queen stolen the necklace? But has she allowed someone else to steal it, because she knew all about her amour? Madame Palamotte had involved her in a maze, from which there seemed no honourable exit, but she determined not to lose courage. She began to come to the conclusion that the cardinal was an honest man and did not wish to ruin her but was acting like herself, only to preserve his honour. They strove earnestly but ineffectually to trace the necklace. All opinions were against Jean and she began to fear that, even if she dragged down the queen and cardinal, she should be quite overwhelmed under the ruins she had caused, and she had not even at hand the fruits of her dishonesty to corrupt her judges with. Others were in this state when a new episode changed the face of things. Oliva and Missy Bossiere were living happy and rich in a country house, when one day Bossiere, going out hunting, fell into the company of two of the agents of Missy de Crosne, whom he had scattered all over the country. They recognised Bossiere immediately. But as it was Oliver whom they most wanted, they did not arrest him there, but only joined the chase. Bossiere, seeing two strangers, called the huntsman and asked who they were. He replied that he did not know, but if he had permission he would send them away. On his questioning them they said they were friends of that gentleman, pointed to Missy Bossiere. Then the man brought them to him saying, Missy de la vie. These gentlemen say they are friends of yours. Ah! You are called de la vie now, Missy Bossiere. Bossiere trembled. He had concealed his name so carefully. He sent away the huntsman and asked them who they were. Take us home with you and we will tell you. Home? Yes. Do not be inhospitable. Bossiere was frightened, but still feared to refuse these men who knew him. End of chapter 86. Chapter 87 of The Queen's Necklace by Alexandre Dumas. The translator is unknown. This Libervox recording is in the public domain. Recording by Gail Timmerman Vaughn. The turtles are caged. Bossiere, unentering the house, made a noise to attract Oliva's attention, for though he knew nothing about her later escapades, he knew enough about the bality opera, and the mourning at Missy Messmers, to make him fear letting her be seen by strangers. Accordingly Oliva, hearing the dog's bark, looked out, and seeing Bossiere returning with two strangers, did not come to meet him as usual. Unfortunately, the servant asked if he should call Madame. The men rallied him about the lady whom he had concealed. He let them laugh, but he did not offer to call her. They dined. Then Bossiere asked where they had met him before. We are, replied they, friends of one of your associates in a little affair about the Portuguese Embassy. Bossiere turned pale. Ah, said he, and you came on your friend's part. Yes, dear Monsieur Bossiere, to ask for ten thousand francs. Gentlemen, replied Bossiere, you cannot think I have such a sum in the house. Very likely not, Monsieur. We do not ask for impossibilities. How much have you? Not more than fifty or sixty, Louis. We will take them to begin with. I will go and fetch them, said Bossiere, but they did not choose to let him leave the room without them, so they caught hold of him by the coat, saying, Oh, no, dear Monsieur Bossiere, do not leave us. But how am I to get the money if I do not leave you? We will go with you. But it is in my wife's bedroom. Ah, cried one of them. You hide your wife from us. Are we not presentable? Asked the other. We wish to see her. You are tipsy, and I will turn you out, said Bossiere. They laughed. Now you shall not even have the money I promised, said he, emboldened by what he thought there intoxication, and he ran out of the room. They followed and caught him, he cried out, and at the sound a door opened and a woman looked out with a frightened air. On seeing her the men released Bossiere and gave a cry of exultation, for they recognized her immediately, who resembled the Queen of France so strongly. Bossiere, who believed him for a moment disarmed by the sight of a woman, was soon cruelly undeceived. One of the men approached Oliva and said, I arrest you. Arrest her? Why? cried Bossiere. Because it is miss you to Crosne's orders. A thunderbolt falling between the lovers would have frightened them less than this declaration. At last Bossiere said, you came to arrest me? No, it was a chance. Never mind, you might have arrested me, and for Sixty Louis you were about to leave me at liberty. Oh, no, we should have asked another Sixty, however for one hundred we will still do so. And Madame? Oh, that is quite a different affair. She is worth two hundred Louis, said Bossiere. They laughed again, and this time Bossiere began to understand this terrible love. Three hundred, four hundred, a thousand, C, I will give you one thousand Louis to leave her at liberty. They did not answer. Is not that enough? Ah, you know I have money, and you want to make me pay. Well, I will give you two thousand Louis. It will make both your fortunes. For one hundred thousand crowns we would not give up this woman. Monsieur de Rouen will give us five hundred thousand francs for her, and the queen one million. Now we must go. You doubtless have a carriage of some kind here. Have it prepared for Madame. We will take you also for formsake, but on the way you can escape, and we shall shut our eyes. Bossiere replied. Where she goes I will go, I will never leave her. Oh, so much the better the more prisoners we bring Monsieur de Crosne, the better he will be pleased. A quarter of an hour after Bossiere's carriage started with the two lovers in it. One may imagine the effect of this capture on Monsieur de Crosne. The agents probably did not receive the one million francs they hoped for, but there is reason to believe they were satisfied. Monsieur de Crosne went to Versailles, followed by another carriage well guarded. He asked to see the queen, and was instantly admitted. She judged from his face that he had good news for her, and felt the first sensation of joy she had experienced for a month. Madame, said Monsieur de Crosne, have you a room where you can see without being seen? Oh yes, my library. Well Madame, I have a carriage below, in which is someone whom I wish to introduce into the castle, unseen by any one. Nothing more easy, replied the queen, bringing to give her orders. Always executed as he wished. Then she conducted Monsieur de Crosne to the library where, concealed from view behind a large screen, she soon saw enter a form which made her utter a cry of surprise. It was Oliver dressed in one of her own favorite costumes, a green dress with broad stripes of black marée, green satin slippers with high heels, and her hair dressed like her own. It might have been herself reflected in the glass. What says your Majesty to this resemblance? asked Monsieur de Crosne triumphantly. Incredible, said the queen. She then thought to herself, ah, charny, why are you not here? What does your Majesty wish? Nothing, sir, but that the king should know. And Monsieur de Provence, see her, shall he not, Madame? As Monsieur de Crosne, you hold now, I think, the clue to the whole plot. Nearly so, Madame. And Monsieur de Rouen knows nothing yet. Ah, cried the queen, in this woman doubtless lies all his error. Possibly, Madame, but if it be his error it is the crime of someone else. Seek well, sir, the honour of France is in your hands. Believe me worthy of the trust, at present the accused parties deny everything. I shall wait for the proper time to overwhelm them with this living witness that I now hold. Madame de Lamotte knows nothing of this capture. She accuses Monsieur de Cagliostro of having excited the cardinal to say what he did. And what does Monsieur de Cagliostro say? He has promised to come to me this morning. He is a dangerous man, but a useful one, and attacked by Madame de Lamotte, I am in hopes he will sting back again. You hope for revelations? I do. How so, sir? Tell me everything which can reassure me. These are my reasons, Madame. Madame de Lamotte lived in the Rue Saint-Claude, and Monsieur de Cagliostro just opposite her. So I think her movements cannot have been unnoticed by him. But if your Majesty will excuse me, it is close to the time he appointed to meet me. Go, Monsieur, go, and assure yourself of my gratitude. When he was gone the queen burst into tears. My justification begins, said she. I shall soon read my triumph in all faces, but the one I most cared to know me innocent, him I shall not see. Monsieur de Crosne drove back to Paris, where Monsieur de Cagliostro waited for him. He knew all, for he had discovered Beaucir's retreat, and was on the road to see him and induce him to leave France, when he met the carriage containing Beaucir and Olivier. Beaucir saw the count, and the idea crossed his mind that he might help them. He therefore accepted the offer of the police agents, gave them the Hundred Louis, and made his escape in spite of the tears shed by Olivier, saying, I'd go to try and save you. He ran after Monsieur de Cagliostro's carriage, which he soon overtook, as the count had stopped it being useless to proceed. Beaucir soon told his story. Cagliostro listened in silence, then he said, she is lost. Why so? And Cagliostro told him all he did not already know, all the entries in the park. Oh, save her, cried Beaucir, and I will give her to you if you love her still. My friend, replied Cagliostro, you deceive yourself. I never loved mademoiselle Olivier. I had but one aim, that of weaning her from the life of debauchery, she was lading with you. But said Beaucir, that astonishes you. Know that I belong to a society whose object is moral reform. Ask her if she ever heard from my mouth one word of gallantry, or if my services were not disinterested. Oh, Monsieur, but will you save her? I will try, but it will depend on yourself. I will do anything. Then return with me to Paris, and if you follow my instructions implicitly, we may succeed in saving her. I only impose one condition, which I will tell you when I reach home. I promised beforehand, but can I see her again? I think so, and you can tell her what I say to you. In two hours they overtook the carriage containing Olivier, and Beaucir bought for fifty Louis permission to embrace her, and tell her all the count had said. The agents admired this violent love, and hoped for more Louis, but Beaucir was gone. Cagliostro drove him to Paris. We will now return to Monsieur de Crosne. This gentleman knew a good deal about Cagliostro, his former names, his pretensions to ubiquity, and perpetual regeneration, his secrets in alchemy and magnetism, and looked upon him as a great charlatan. Monsieur said he to Cagliostro, you asked me for an audience, I have returned from Versailles to meet you. Sir, I thought you would wish to question me about what is passing, so I came to you. Question you, said the magistrate, affecting surprise. On what? Monsieur, replied Cagliostro, you are much occupied about Madame de la Mort, and the missing necklace. Have you found it? Asked Monsieur de Crosne, laughing. No, sir, but Madame de la Mort lived in the Rue Saint-Claude. I know opposite you. Oh, if you know all about Olivier, I have nothing more to tell you. Who is Olivier? You do not know, then, sir. Imagine a young girl very pretty, with blue eyes, and a noble face, a style of beauty something like Her Majesty, for instance. Well, sir? This young girl led a bad life. It gave me pain to see it, for she was once in the service of an old friend of mine, Monsieur de Tavernay. But I weary you. Oh, no, pray go on. Well, Olivier led not only a bad life, but an unhappy one, with a fellow she called her lover, who beat and robbed her. Bocir, said the magistrate. Ah, you know him. You are still more a magician than I am. While one day when Bocir had beaten the poor girl more than usual, she fled to me for refuge. I pitied her and gave her shelter in one of my houses. In your house, cried Monsieur de Crosne, in surprise. Oh, why not? I am a bachelor, said Cagliostro, with an heir which quite deceived Monsieur de Crosne. That is then the reason why my agents could not find her. What? You were seeking this little girl? Had she then been guilty of any crime? No, sir, no, pray go on. Oh, I have done. I lodged her at my house, and that is all. No, sir, for you just now associated her name with Adam, Madame de Lamotte. Only as neighbors. But, sir, this Olivier whom you say you had in your house, I found in the country with Bocir. With Bocir, ah, then I have wronged Madame de Lamotte. How so, sir? Why, just as I thought I had hopes of reforming Olivier and bringing her back to an honest life, someone carried her away from me. That is strange. Is it not? And I firmly believed it to be Madame de Lamotte. But as you found her with Bocir, it was not she, and all her signals and correspondence with Oliver meant nothing. With Oliver? Yes. They met? Yes, Madame de Lamotte found a way to take Oliver out every night. Are you sure of this? I saw and heard her. Oh, sir, you tell me what I would have paid for with one thousand francs a word, but you are a friend of M. de Laurent? Yes. You ought to know how far he was connected with this affair. I do not wish to know. But you know the object of these nightly excursions of Madame de Lamotte and Olivier? Of that also, I wish to be ignorant. Sir, I only wish to ask you one more question. Have you proofs of the correspondence of Madame de Lamotte and Olivier? Plenty. What are they? Notes, which Madame de Lamotte used to throw over to Oliver with a crossbow. Several of them did not reach their destination, and were picked up either by myself or my servants, in the street. Sir, you will be ready to produce them if called upon. Certainly they are perfectly innocent and cannot injure anyone. And have you any other proofs of intimacy? I know that she had a method of entering my house to see Olivier. I saw her myself, just after Olivier had disappeared, and my servants saw her also. But what did she come for if Olivier was gone? I did not know. I saw her come out of a carriage at the corner of the street. My idea was that she wished to attach Olivier to her, and keep her near her. And you let her do it? Why not? She is a great lady, and received a court. Why should I have prevented her, taking charge of Olivier, and taking her off my hands? What did she say, when she found that Olivier was gone? She appeared distressed. You suppose that both Sir carried her off? I suppose so, for you tell me that you found them together. I did not suspect them before, for he did not know where she was. She must have let him know herself. I think not, as she had fled from him. I think Madame de la Mort must have sent him a key. Ah, what day was this? The evening of Saint Louis. Monsieur, you have rendered a great service to me and to the State. I am happy to hear it. You shall be thanked as you deserve, may I count on the production of the proofs you mention. I am ready, Sir, to assist justice at all times. As Cagliastre left he muttered, Ah, Countess, you tried to accuse me. Take care of yourself. Meanwhile, Monsieur de Pritchoy was sent by the King to examine Madame de la Mort. She declared that she had proofs of her innocence, which she would produce at the proper time. She also declared that she would only speak the truth in the presence of the Cardinal. She was told that the Cardinal laid all the blame upon her. Tell him then, she said, that I advise him not to persist in such a foolish system of defence. Whom, then, do you accuse? asked Monsieur de Pritchoy. I accuse no one, was her reply. A report was spread at last that the diamonds were being sold in England by Monsieur de Pritchoy. This man was soon found and arrested, and brought over and confronted with Jean. To her utter confusion he acknowledged that he had forged a receipt from the jewellers and a letter from the Queen at the request of Madame de la Mort. She denied furiously and declared that she had never seen Monsieur de Pritchoy. Monsieur de Cosna produced, as witness, a coachman, who swore to having driven her, on the day named, to the house of Monsieur de Pritchoy. Also, one of the servants of Monsieur de Cagliastre deposed to having seen this man on the box of Jean's carriage, on the night that she came to his master's house. Now Jean began to abuse the Count, and accused him of having inspired Monsieur de Rouen, with the ideas inimical to the royal dignity. Monsieur de Rouen defended him, and Jean at once plainly accused the cardinal of a violent love for the Queen. Monsieur de Cagliastre requested to be incarcerated and allowed to prove his innocence publicly. Then the Queen caused to be published all the reports made to the King about the nocturnal promenades, and requested Monsieur de Cosna to state all that he knew about it. This public avowal overturned all Jean's plans, and she denied having assisted at any meetings between the Queen and the Cardinal. This declaration would have cleared the Queen had it been possible to attach any credence to what this woman said. While Jean continued to deny that she had ever been in the park, they brought forward Oliver, at last, a living witness of all the falsehoods of the Countess. When Oliver was shown to the Cardinal the blow was dreadful. He saw at last how infamously he had been played upon. This man so full of delicacy and noble passions discovered that an adventurous had learned him to insult and despise the Queen of France, a woman whom he loved and who was innocent. He would have shed all his blood at the feet of Marie- Antoinette to make atonement, but he could not even acknowledge his mistake without owning that he loved her. Even his excuse would involve an offence. So he was obliged to keep silent and allow Jean to deny everything. Oliver confessed all without reserve. At last Jean, driven from every hold, confessed that she had deceived the Cardinal, but declared that it was done with the consent of the Queen who watched and enjoyed the scene hidden behind the trees. To this story she kept. The Queen could never disprove it, and there were plenty of people willing to believe it true. CHAPTER 88 THE LAST HOPE LOST Here the affair therefore rested, for Jean was determined to share the blame with someone, as she could not turn it from herself. All her calculations had been defeated by the frankness with which the Queen had met, and made public, every accusation against her. At last Jean wrote the following letter to the Queen. Madame, in spite of my painful position in rigorous treatment, I have not uttered a complaint. All that has been tried to extort avowals from me has failed to make me compromise my sovereign. However, although persuaded that my constancy and discretion will facilitate any release from my present position, the friends of the Cardinal make me fear I shall become his victim. A long imprisonment, endless questions, and the shame and despair of being accused of such crimes, begin to exhaust my courage, and I tremble lest my constancy should at last give way. Your Majesty might end all this by a few words to Monsieur de Bretoye, who could give the affair in the King's eyes any colour your Majesty likes without compromising you. It is the fear of being compelled to reveal all which makes me beg your Majesty to take steps to relieve me from my painful position. I am, with profound respect, humble servant de la Morte. Jean calculated, either, that this letter would frighten the Queen or what was more probable would never reach her hands but be carried by the messenger to the Governor of the Bastille, where it would hardly fail to tell against the Queen. She then wrote to the Cardinal, I cannot conceive Montsignor why you persist in not speaking plainly. It seems to me that your best plan would be to confide fully in our judges. As for me, I am resolved to be silent if you will not second me. But why do you not speak? Explain all the circumstances of this mysterious affair, for if I were to speak first and you not support me, I should be sacrificed to the vengeance of her who wishes to ruin us, but I have written her a letter which will perhaps induce her to spare us, who have nothing to reproach ourselves with. This letter she gave to the Cardinal and their last confrontation. He grew pale with anger at her audacity and left the room. Then John produced her letter to the Queen in Begley Abelackel, Chaplain of the Bastille, who had accompanied the Cardinal, and was devoted to him to take charge of it and convey it to the Queen. He refused to take it. She declared that if he did not, she would produce Mr. de Rouen's letters to the Queen, and take care, sir, at it she, for they will cause his head to fall on the scaffold. At this moment the Cardinal reappeared. Madame said he let my head fall, so that I have the satisfaction of seeing also the scaffold, which you shall mount as a thief and a forger. Come, obey! He went away leaving John devoured with rage, and disappointed at her failures at every turn. End of Chapter 88 Chapter 89 of the Queen's Necklace by Alexandre Dumas The translator is unknown. The Sluber-Vox recording is in the public domain. Recording by Gail Timmerman Vaughn. Chapter 89 The Baptism of the Deter-Bossiere Madame de la Maud had deceived herself on all points, cagliostro upon none. Once at the Bastille he saw a good opportunity for working at the Rouen of the Monarchy, which he had been trying to undermine for so many years. He prepared the famous letter dated from London, which appeared a month after. In this letter, after attacking King, Queen and Cardinal, and even Monsieur de Bretagne, he said, Yes, I repeat now, free, after my imprisonment. There is no crime that would not be expiated by six months in the Bastille. They ask me if I shall ever return to France. Yes, I reply, when the Bastille becomes a public promenade. You have all that is necessary to happiness, you Frenchman, a fertile soil and genial climate, good hearts, gay tempers, genius and grace. You only want, my friends, one little thing, to feel sure of sleeping quietly in your beds when you are innocent. Oliver kept her word faithfully to cagliostro and uttered no word that could compromise him. She threw all the blame on Madame de la Maud and asserted vehemently her own innocent participation in what she believed to be a joke played on the gentleman unknown to her. All this time she did not see Bossiere, but she had a souvenir of him, for in the month of May she gave birth to a son. Bossiere was allowed to attend the baptism which took place in the prison, which he did with much pleasure, swearing that if Oliver ever recovered her liberty he would make her his wife. End of CHAPTER XXXVIII of the Queen's Necklace by Alexandre Dumas. The translator is unknown. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Recording by Gail Temmerman Vaughan. CHAPTER XXXV the trial. The day at last arrived, after long investigations, when the judgment of the court was to be pronounced. All the accused had been removed to the Conciergerie to be in readiness to appear when called on. Oliver continued to be frank and timid, cagliostro, tranquil, and indifferent, reto, despairing cowardly and weeping, and Jean violent, menacing and venomous. She had managed to interest the keeper and his wife, and thus obtained more freedom and indulgences. The first who took his place on the wooden stool, which was appropriated for the accused, was Retot, who asked pardon with tears and prayers, declaring all he knew and avowed his crimes. He interested no one, he was simply a nave and a coward. After him came Madame de la Mont. Her appearance produced a great sensation. At the side of the graceful seat prepared for her, she who called herself a valois, threw around her furious looks, but meeting curiosity instead of sympathy, repressed her rage. When interrogated she continued as before to throw out insinuations, stating nothing clearly but her own innocence. When questions asked of the letters which she was reported to have said passed between the Queen and the Cardinal, she answered that she did not wish to compromise the Queen, and that the Cardinal was best able to answer this question himself. Ask him to produce them, said she, I wish to say nothing about them. She inspired in nearly all a feeling of distrust and anger. When she retired her only consolation was the hope of seeing the Cardinal in the seat after her, and her rage was extreme when she saw it taken away and an armchair brought for his use. The Cardinal advanced, accompanied by four attendants, and the Governor of the Bastille walked by his side. At his entrance he was greeted by a long murmur of sympathy and respect. It was echoed by loud shouts from without. It was the people who cheered him. He was pale and much moved. The President spoke politely to him and begged him to sit down. When he spoke it was with a trembling voice and a troubled and even humble manner. He gave excuses, rather than proofs, and supplications more than reasons, but said little, and seemed to be deserted by his former eloquence. Oliver came next. The wooden stool was brought back for her. Many people trembled at seeing this living image of the Queen sitting there as a criminal. Then Cagliostro was called, but almost as a matter of form and dismissed immediately. The court then announced that the proceedings were concluded and the deliberations about to begin. All the prisoners were locked for the night in the Caussière Chérie. The sentence was not pronounced till the following day. Jean seated herself early at the window, and before long heard a tremendous shouting from the crowd collected to hear the sentence. This continued for some time, when she distinctly heard a passer-by say, a grand day for the cardinal. For the cardinal, thought Jean, then he is acquitted. And she ran to Monsieur Hubert, the keeper to ask, but he did not know. He must be acquitted, she said. They said it was a grand day for him, but I. Well, madame, said he, if he is acquitted, why should you not be acquitted also? Jean returned to the window. You are wrong, madame, said madame Hubert to her. You only become agitated without perfectly understanding what is passing. Pray remain quiet until your counsel comes to communicate your fate. I cannot, said Jean, continuing to listen to what passed in the street. A woman passed, gaily dressed, and with a bouquet in her hand. He shall have my bouquet, the dear man, said she. Oh, I would embrace him if I could. And I also said another. He is so handsome, said a third. It must be the cardinal, said Jean. He is acquitted. And she said this with so much bitterness, said the keeper said. But madame, do you not wish the poor prisoner to be released? Jean, unwilling to lose their sympathy, replied, oh, you misunderstand me. Do you believe me so envious and wicked as to wish ill to my companions in misfortune? Oh, no, I trust he is free. It is only my impatience to learn my own fate. And you tell me nothing. We do not know, replied they. Then other loud cries were heard. Jean could see the crowd pressing round an open carriage, which was going slowly along. Flowers were thrown, hats waved. Some even mounted on the steps to kiss the hand of a man who sat grave and half-frightened at his own popularity. This was the cardinal. Another man sat by him and cries of, Vive Cadlyostro, were mingled with the shouts for Monsieur de Roant. Jean began to gather courage from all the sympathy for those whom she chose to call the Queen's victims. But suddenly the thought flashed on her. They are already set free, and no one has even been to announce my sentence. And she trembled. Two shouts now drew her attention to a coach, which was also advancing, followed by a crowd. And in this Jean recognized Oliva, who sat smiling with delight at the people who cheered her, holding her child in her arms. Then Jean, seeing all these people free, happy, and fetid, began to utter loud complaints that she was not also liberated, or at least told her fate. Calm yourself, Madame, said Madame Uberre. But tell me for you must know. Madame. I implore you, you see how I suffer. We are forbidden, Madame. Is it so frightful that you dare not? Oh, no, calm yourself. Then speak. Will you be patient and not betray us? I swear. Well, the cardinal is acquitted. I know it. Monsieur de Cadlyostro and mademoiselle Oliva are also acquitted. Monsieur Roetot condemned to the galleys. And I, cried Jean furiously, Madame, you promise to be patient. See, speak, I am calm. Banished, said the woman feebly. A flash of delight shown for a moment in the eyes of the Countess. Then she pretended to faint and threw herself into the arms of Madame Uberre. What would it have been, thought she, if I had told her the truth? Banishment, thought Jean, that is liberty, riches, vengeance. It is what I hoped for. I have won. End of chapter ninety. Chapter ninety-one of The Queen's Necklace by Alexandre Dumas. The translator is unknown. This Librevox recording is in the public domain. Recording by Gael Timmerman Vaughn. Chapter ninety-one, The Execution. Jean waited for her council to come and announce her fate. But, being now at ease, she said to herself, What do I care that I am thought more guilty than Monsieur de Rouen? I am banished, that is to say. I can carry away my million and a half with me, and live under the orange trees of Seville during the winter and in Germany or Ingun in the summer. Then I can tell my own story, and young, rich, and celebrated, and live as I please, among my friends. Pleasing herself with these notions, she commenced setting all her future plans, the disposal of her diamonds, and her establishment in London. This brought to her mind Monsieur Reteau. Poor fellow, thought she. It is he who pays for all. Someone must suffer. And it always falls on the humblest instrument. Monsieur Reteau pays now for his pamphlets against the Queen. He has led a hard life of blows and escapes, and now it terminates with galleys. She died with Monsieur and Madame Uber, and was quite gay, but they did not respond and were silent and uneasy. Jean however felt so happy that she cared little for their manner toward her. After dinner she asked when they were coming to read her sentence. Monsieur Uber said they were probably waiting till she returned to her room. She therefore rose to go, when Madame Uber ran to her and took her hands, looking at her with an expression of so much pity and sympathy that it struck her for a moment with terror. She was about to question her, but Uber took her hand and led her from the room. When she reached her own apartment she found eight soldiers waiting outside. She felt surprised but went in, and allowed the man to lock her in as usual. Soon however the door opened again, and one of the turn keys appeared. Will Madame please to follow me? He said. Where? Below? What for? What do they want with me? Madame, Monsieur Violet, your counsel, wishes to speak to you. Why does he not come here? Madame, he has received letters from Versailles, and wishes to show them to you. Letters from Versailles? So Jean, perhaps the Queen has interested herself for me since the sentence was passed. Wait a little, she said, till I arranged my dress. In five minutes she was ready. Perhaps, she thought, Monsieur Violet has come to get me to leave France at once, and the Queen is anxious to facilitate the departure of so dangerous an enemy. She followed the turn key downstairs and they entered a room which looked like a vault. It was damp and almost dark. Sir, said she, trying to overcome her terror, where is Monsieur Violet? The man did not reply. What do you want, continued she. Have you anything to say to me? You have chosen a very singular place for rendezvous. We are waiting for Monsieur Violet, he replied. It is not possible that Monsieur Violet should wish for me to wait for him here. All at once another door, which Jean had not before observed, opened, and three men entered. Jean looked at them in surprise and with growing terror. One of them, who was dressed in black, with a roll of papers in his hand advanced, and said, You are Jean de Saint-Rémy-de-Valois, wife of Marie Antoinette-Con de la Morte? Yes, sir. Barnet font-tête, on the 22nd of July, 1756? Yes, sir. You live in Paris, Roussin-Claude? Yes, sir, but why these questions? Madame, I am the registrar of the court, and I am come to read to you the sentence of the court, of the 31st of May, 1786. Jean trembled again, and now looked at the other two men. One had a grey dress with steel buttons. The other, a fur cap on, and an apron, which seemed to her spotted with blood. She drew back, but the registrar said, On your knees, madame, if you please. On my knees, cried Jean, I, of Valois. It is the order, madame. But, sir, it is an unheard of thing, except where some degrading sentence has been pronounced, and management is not such. I did not tell you you were sentenced to banishment, he said gravely. But to what then? I will tell you, madame, when you are on your knees. Never, madame, I only follow my instructions. Never, I tell you. Madame, it is the order that when the condemned refuse to kneel, they should be forced to do it. Forced to a woman, there is no distinction in the eyes of justice. Ah, cried Jean, this is the queen's doings I recognize the hands of an enemy. You are wrong to accuse the queen. She has nothing to do with the orders of the court. Come, madame, I beg you to spare me the necessity of violence, and kneel down. Never, and she planted herself firmly in a corner of the room. The registrar then signed to the two other men who, approaching, seized her, and in spite of her cries, dragged her into the middle of the room, but she banded up again. Let me stand, said she, and I will listen patiently. Madame, whenever criminals are punished by whipping, they kneel to receive the sentence. Whipping screamed Jean, miserable wretch, how dare you. The men forced her on her knees once more, and held her down, but she struggled so furiously that they called out, read quickly, monsieur, for we cannot hold her. I will never hear such an infamous sentence. She cried, and indeed she drowned his voice so effectually with her screams that although he read, not a word could be heard. He replaced his papers in his pocket, and she, thinking he had finished, stopped her cries. Then he said, and the sentence shall be executed at the place of executions. Cours de justice. Publicly, screamed she, monsieur de Paris, I deliver you this woman, said the registrar, addressing the man with a leather apron. Who is this man? cried Jean in a fright. The executioner replied the registrar. The two men then took hold of her to lead her out, but her resistance was so violent that they were obliged to drag her along by force, and she never ceased uttering the most frantic cries. They took her thus into the court called Cours de justice, where there was a scaffold, and which was crowded with spectators. On a platform raised about eight feet, was a post garnished with iron rings, and with a ladder to mount it. This place was surrounded with soldiers. When she appeared, cries of, here she is, mingled with much abuse, were heard from the crowd. Numbers of the partisans of Monsieur de Laurent had assembled to hoot her, and cries of, Abba Lamotte, the forger, were heard on every side. And those who tried to express pity for her were soon silenced. Then she cried in a loud voice. Do you know who I am? I am of the blood of your kings. They strike in me, not a criminal, but a rival. Not only a rival, but an accomplice. Yes, replied she, as the people kept silence to kept listen and accomplice. They punished one who knows the secrets of. Take care, interrupted the registrar. She turned and saw the executioner with a whip in his hand. At this site she forgot her desire to captivate the multitude, and even her hatred and sinking on her knees, she said, have pity and seized his hand. But he raised the other and let the whip fall lightly on her shoulders. She jumped up and was about to try and throw herself off the scaffold when she saw the other man who was drawing from the fire a hot iron. At this site she uttered a perfect howl which was echoed by the people. Help, help! She cried, trying to shake off the cord with which they were tying her hands. The executioner at last forced her on her knees and tore open her dress. But she cried with a voice which was heard through all the tumult. Cowardly Frenchman, you do not defend me but let me be tortured. Oh, it is my own fault. If I had said all I knew of the Queen I should have been, she could say no more, for she was gagged by the attendants. Then two men held her while the executioner performed his office. At the touch of the iron she fainted and was carried back insensible to the concierge Cherie when the crowd gradually dispersed. End of chapter 91. Chapter 92 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 92. The Marriage. On the same day at noon the King entered a drawing-room where the Queen was sitting in full dress but pale through her rouge and surrounded by a party of ladies and gentlemen. He glanced frequently toward the door. Are not the young couple ready? I believe it is noon, he said. Sire, Monsieur de Châtenay is waiting in the gallery for Your Majesty's orders, said the Queen with a violent effort. Oh, let him come in! The Queen turned from the door. The bride ought to be here also, continued the King. It is time. Your Majesty must excuse Mademoiselle de Tavernay if she is late, replied Monsieur de Charnay, advancing. For since the death of her father she has not left her bed until to-day and she fainted when she did so. This dear child loved her father so much, replied the King. But we hope a good husband will console her. Monsieur de Bretay, he said, turning to that gentleman. Have you made out the order of punishment for Monsieur de Calliostro? Yes, Sire. And that de la mot, is it not to-day that she is to be branded? At this moment, Andre appeared, dressed in white like a bride and with cheeks nearly as white as her dress. She advanced, leaning on her brother's arm. Monsieur de Souffren, leading his nephew, came to meet her and then drew back to allow her to approach the King. Maud-Moiselle, said Louis, taking her hand. I begged of you to hasten this marriage instead of waiting until the time of your morning had expired, that I might have the pleasure of assisting at the ceremony. For tomorrow the Queen and I commenced a tour throughout France and he led Andre to the Queen who could hardly stand and did not raise her eyes. The King then, putting Andre's hand into Philippe, said, gentlemen to the chapel and they began to move. The Queen kneeled on her prix-dieu, her face buried in her hands, praying for strength. Charny, though pale as death, feeling that all eyes were upon him, appeared calm and strong. Andre remained immovable as a statue. She did not pray. She had nothing to ask, to hope for or to fear. The ceremony over the King kissed Andre on the forehead, saying, Madame la Contesse, go to the Queen. She wishes to give you a wedding present. Oh, murmured Andre to Philippe. It is too much, I can bear no more. I cannot do that. Courage, sister, one effort more. I cannot, Philippe, if she speaks to me, I shall die. Then you will be happier than I, for I cannot die. Andre said no more, but went to the Queen. She found her in her chair with closed eyes and clasped hands, seeming more dead than alive, except for her shutters which shook her from time to time. Andre waited, trembling to hear her speak. But after a minute she rose slowly and took from the table a paper which she put into Andre's hands. Andre opened it and read, Andre, you have saved me. My honor comes from you. My life belongs to you. In the name of this honor which has cost you so dear, I swear to you that you may call me sister without blushing. This paper is the pledge of my gratitude, the dowry which I give you. Your heart is noble and will thank me for this gift. Marie-Antoinette de Lorraine d'Autriche. Andre looked at the Queen and saw tears falling from her eyes. She seemed expecting an answer, but Andre, putting the letter in the fire, turned and left the room. Then Channis, who was waiting for her, took her hand and they, each pale and silent, left the room. Two traveling carriages were in the courtyard. Andre got into one and then said, Sir, I believe you go to Picardy. Yes, madame. And I, to where my mother lies dead. Adieu, monsieur. Channis bowed but did not reply and Andre drove off. Channis himself, after giving his hand to Philippe, got into the other and also drove off. Then Philippe cried in a tone of anguish. My task is done and he too vanished. End of chapter 92, End of the Queen's Necklace by Alexandre Dumas. The translator is unknown. Recording by Gail Timmerman Vaughan.