Александр Дюма
The Queen's Necklace
CHAPTER LXV.
THE QUEEN'S HAND
When Charny reentered the house, he felt overwhelmed by what he had seen – that he should have discovered this retreat, which he had thought so precious, only to be the witness of a crime, committed by the queen against her conjugal duty and royal dignity. This man must be a lover; in vain did he try to persuade himself that the rose was the pledge of some political compact, given instead of a letter, which might have been too compromising. The passionate kiss which he had seen imprinted on it forbade this supposition. These thoughts haunted him all night and all the next day, through which he waited with a feverish impatience, fearing the new revelations which the night might bring forth. He saw her taking her ordinary walk with her ladies, then watched the lights extinguished one by one, and he waited nervously for the stroke of midnight, the hour of the rendezvous of the preceding night. It struck, and no one had appeared. He then wondered how he could have expected it; she surely would not repeat the same imprudence two nights following. But as these thoughts passed through his mind, he heard the key turn again and saw the door open. Charny grew deadly pale when he recognized the same two figures enter the park. "Oh, it is too much," he said to himself, and then repeated his movements of the night before, swearing that, whatever happened, he would restrain himself, and remember that she was his queen. All passed exactly as the night before: the confidante left and returned with the same man; only this time, instead of advancing with his former timid respect, he almost ran up to the queen, and kneeled down before her. Charny could not hear what he said, but he seemed to speak with passionate energy. She did not reply, but stood in a pensive attitude; then he spoke again, and at last she said a few words, in a low voice, when the unknown cried out, in a loud voice, so that Charny could hear, "Oh! thanks, your majesty, till to-morrow, then." The queen drew her hood still more over her face, and held out both her hands to the unknown, who imprinted on them a kiss so long and tender that Charny gnashed his teeth with rage. The queen then took the arm of her companion and walked quickly away; the unknown passed also. Charny remained in a state of fury not to be described; he ran about the park like a madman: at last he began to wonder where this man came from; he traced his steps to the door behind the baths of Apollo. He comes not from Versailles, but from Paris, thought Charny, and to-morrow he will return, for he said, "to-morrow." Till then let me devour my tears in silence, but to-morrow shall be the last day of my life, for we will be four at the rendezvous.
CHAPTER LXVI.
WOMAN AND QUEEN
The next night the door opened at the same time, and the two ladies appeared. Charny had taken his resolution – he would find out who this lover was; but when he entered the avenue he could see no one – they had entered the baths of Apollo. He walked towards the door, and saw the confidante, who waited outside. The queen, then, was in there alone with her lover; it was too much. Charny was about to seize this woman, and force her to tell him everything; but the rage and emotion he had endured were too much for him – a mist passed over his eyes, internal bleeding commenced, and he fainted. When he came to himself again, the clock was striking two, the place was deserted, and there was no trace of what had passed there. He went home, and passed a night almost of delirium. The next morning he arose, pale as death, and went towards the Castle of Trianon just as the queen was leaving the chapel. All heads were respectfully lowered as she passed. She was looking beautiful, and when she saw Charny she colored, and uttered an exclamation of surprise.
"I thought you were in the country, M. de Charny," she said.
"I have returned, madame," said he, in a brusque and almost rude tone.
She looked at him in surprise; then, turning to the ladies, "Good morning, countess," she said to Madame de la Motte, who stood near.
Charny started as he caught sight of her, and looked at her almost wildly. "He has not quite recovered his reason," thought the queen, observing his strange manner. Then, turning to him again, "How are you now, M. de Charny?" said she, in a kind voice.
"Very well, madame."
She looked surprised again; then said:
"Where are you living?"
"At Versailles, madame."
"Since when?"
"For three nights," replied he, in a marked manner.
The queen manifested no emotion, but Jeanne trembled.
"Have you not something to say to me?" asked the queen again, with kindness.
"Oh, madame, I should have too much to say to your majesty."
"Come," said she, and she walked towards her apartments; but to avoid the appearance of a tête-à-tête, she invited several ladies to follow her. Jeanne, unquiet, placed herself among them; but when they arrived, she dismissed Madame de Misery, and the other ladies, understanding that she wished to be alone, left her. Charny stood before her.
"Speak," said the queen; "you appear troubled, sir."
"How can I begin?" said Charny, thinking aloud; "how can I dare to accuse honor and majesty?"
"Sir!" cried Marie Antoinette, with a flaming look.
"And yet I should only say what I have seen."
The queen rose. "Sir," said she, "it is very early in the morning for me to think you intoxicated, but I can find no other solution for this conduct."
Charny, unmoved, continued, "After all, what is a queen? – a woman. And am I not a man as well as a subject?"
"Monsieur!"
"Madame, anger is out of place now. I believe I have formerly proved that I had respect for your royal dignity. I fear I proved that I had an insane love for yourself. Choose, therefore, to whom I shall speak. Is it to the queen, or the woman, that I shall address my accusation of dishonor and shame?"
"Monsieur de Charny," cried the queen, growing pale, "if you do not leave this room, I must have you turned out by my guards!"
"But I will tell you first," cried he, passionately, "why I call you an unworthy queen and woman! I have been in the park these three nights!"
Instead of seeing her tremble, as he believed she would on hearing these words, the queen rose, and, approaching him, said, "M. de Charny, your state excites my pity. Your hands tremble, you grow pale; you are suffering. Shall I call for help?"
"I saw you!" cried he again; "saw you with that man to whom you gave the rose! saw you when he kissed your hands! saw you when you entered the baths of Apollo with him!"
The queen passed her hands over her eyes, as if to make sure that she was not dreaming.
"Sit down," said she, "or you will fall."
Charny, indeed, unable to keep up, fell upon the sofa.
She sat down by him. "Be calm," said she, "and repeat what you have just said."
"Do you want to kill me?" he murmured.
"Then let me question," she said. "How long have you returned from the country?"
"A fortnight."
"Where do you live?"
"In the huntsman's house, which I have hired."
"At the end of the park?"
"Yes."
"You speak of some one whom you saw with me."
"Yes."
"Where?"
"In the park."
"When?"
"At midnight. Tuesday, for the first time, I saw you and your companion."
"Oh, I had a companion! Do you know her also?"
"I thought just now I recognized her, but I could not be positive, because it was only the figure – she always hid her face, like all who commit crimes."
"And this person to whom you say I gave a rose?"
"I have never been able to meet him."
"You do not know him, then?"
"Only that he is called monseigneur."
The queen stamped her foot.
"Go on!" said she. "Tuesday I gave him a rose – "
"Wednesday you gave him your hands to kiss, and yesterday you went alone with him into the baths of Apollo, while your companion waited outside."
"And you saw me?" said she, rising.
He lifted his hands to heaven, and cried, "I swear it!"
"Oh, he swears!"
"Yes. On Tuesday you wore your green dress, moirée, with gold; Wednesday, the dress with great blue and brown leaves; and yesterday, the same dress that you wore when I last kissed your hand. Oh, madame, I am ready to die with grief and shame while I repeat that, on my life, my honor, it was really you!"
"What can I say?" cried the queen dreadfully agitated. "If I swore, he would not believe me."
Charny shook his head.
"Madman!" cried she, "thus to accuse your queen – to dishonor thus an innocent woman! Do you believe me when I swear, by all I hold sacred, that I was not in the park on either of those days after four o'clock? Do you wish it to be proved by my women – by the king? No; he does not believe me."
"I saw you," replied he.
"Oh, I know!" she cried. "Did they not see me at the ball at the Opera, at Mesmer's, scandalizing the crowd? You know it – you, who fought for me!"
"Madame, then I fought because I did not believe it; now I might fight, but I believe."
The queen raised her arms to heaven, while burning tears rolled down her cheeks.
"My God," she cried, "send me some thought which will save me! I do not wish this man to despise me."
Charny, moved to the heart, hid his face in his hands.
Then, after a moment's silence, the queen continued:
"Sir, you owe me reparation. I exact this from you. You say you have seen me three nights with a man; I have been already injured through the resemblance to me of some woman, I know not whom, but who is like her unhappy queen; but you are pleased to think it was me. Well, I will go with you into the park; and if she appears again, you will be satisfied? Perhaps we shall see her together; then, sir, you will regret the suffering you have caused me."
Charny pressed his hands to his heart.
"Oh, madame, you overwhelm me with your kindness!"
"I wish to overwhelm you with proofs. Not a word, to any one, but this evening, at ten o'clock, wait alone at the door of the park. Now go, sir."
Charny kneeled, and went away without a word.
Jeanne, who was waiting in the ante-chamber, examined him attentively as he came out. She was soon after summoned to the queen.
CHAPTER LXVII.
WOMAN AND DEMON
Jeanne had remarked the trouble of Charny, the solicitude of the queen, and the eagerness of both for a conversation.
After what we have already told of the meetings between Jeanne and Oliva, our readers will have been at no loss to understand the scenes in the park. Jeanne, when she came in to the queen, watched her closely, hoping to gather something from her; but Marie Antoinette was beginning to learn caution, and she guarded herself carefully. Jeanne was, therefore, reduced to conjectures. She had already ordered one of her footmen to follow M. de Charny; the man reported that he had gone into a house at the end of the park.
"There is, then, no more doubt," thought Jeanne; "it is a lover who has seen everything, it is clear. I should be a fool not to understand. I must undo what I have done."
On leaving Versailles, she drove to the Rue St. Claude; there she found a superb present of plate, sent to her by the cardinal. She then drove to his house, and found him radiant with joy and pride. On her entrance he ran to meet her, calling her "Dear countess," and full of protestations and gratitude.
"Thank you also, for your charming present. You are more than a happy man; you are a triumphant victor."
"Countess, it frightens me; it is too much."
Jeanne smiled.
"You come from Versailles?" continued he.
"Yes."
"You have seen her?"
"I have just left her."
"And she said nothing?"
"What do you expect that she said?"
"Oh, I am insatiable."
"Well, you had better not ask."
"You frighten me. Is anything wrong? Have I come to the height of my happiness, and is the descent to begin?"
"You are very fortunate not to have been discovered."
"Oh! with precautions, and the intelligence of two hearts and one mind – "
"That will not prevent eyes seeing through the trees."
"We have been seen?"
"I fear so."
"And recognized?"
"Oh, monseigneur, if you had been – if this secret had been known to any one, Jeanne de Valois would be out of the kingdom, and you would be dead."
"True; but tell me quickly. They have seen people walking in the park; is there any harm in that?"
"Ask the king."
"The king knows?"
"I repeat to you, if the king knew, you would be in the Bastile. But I advise you not to tempt Providence again."
"What do you mean, dear countess?"
"Do you not understand?"
"I fear to understand," he replied.
"I shall fear, if you do not promise to go no more to Versailles."
"By day?"
"Or by night."
"Impossible!"
"Why so, monseigneur?"
"Because I have in my heart a love which will end only with my life."
"So I perceive," replied she, ironically; "and it is to arrive more quickly at this result that you persist in returning to the park; for most assuredly, if you do, your love and your life will end together."
"Oh, countess, how fearful you are – you who were so brave yesterday!"
"I am always brave when there is no danger."
"But I have the bravery of my race, and am happier in the presence of danger."
"But permit me to tell you – "
"No, countess, the die is cast. Death, if it comes; but first, love. I shall return to Versailles."
"Alone, then."
"You abandon me?"
"And not I alone."
"She will come?"
"You deceive yourself; she will not come."
"Is that what you were sent to tell me?"
"It is what I have been preparing you for."
"She will see me no more?"
"Never; and it is I who have counseled it."
"Madame, do not plunge the knife into my heart!" cried he, in a doleful voice.
"It would be much more cruel, monseigneur, to let two foolish people destroy themselves for want of a little good advice."
"Countess, I would rather die."
"As regards yourself, that is easy; but, subject, you dare not dethrone your queen; man, you will not destroy a woman."
"But confess that you do not come in her name, that she does not throw me off."
"I speak in her name."
"It is only a delay she asks?"
"Take it as you wish; but obey her orders."
"The park is not the only place of meeting. There are a hundred safer spots – the queen can come to you, for instance."
"Monseigneur, not a word more. The weight of your secret is too much for me, and I believe her capable, in a fit of remorse, of confessing all to the king."
"Good God! impossible."
"If you saw her, you would pity her."
"What can I do then?"
"Insure your safety by your silence."
"But she will think I have forgotten her, and accuse me of being a coward."
"To save her."
"Can a woman forgive him who abandons her?"
"Do not judge her like others."
"I believe her great and strong. I love her for her courage and her noble heart. She may count on me, as I do on her. Once more I will see her, lay bare my heart to her; and whatever she then commands, I will sacredly obey."
Jeanne rose. "Go, then," said she, "but go alone. I have thrown the key of the park into the river. You can go to Versailles – I shall go to Switzerland or Holland. The further off I am when the shell bursts the better."
"Countess, you abandon me. With whom shall I talk of her?"
"Oh! you have the park and the echoes. You can teach them her name!"
"Countess, pity me; I am in despair."
"Well, but do not act in so childish and dangerous a manner. If you love her so much, guard her name, and if you are not totally without gratitude, do not involve in your own ruin those who have served you through friendship. Swear to me not to attempt to see or speak to her for a fortnight, and I will remain, and may yet be of service to you. But if you decide to brave all, I shall leave at once, and you must extricate yourself as you can."
"It is dreadful," murmured the cardinal; "the fall from so much happiness is overwhelming. I shall die of it."
"Suffering is always the consequence of love. Come, monseigneur, decide. Am I to remain here, or start for Lausanne?"
"Remain, countess."
"You swear to obey me."
"On the faith of a Rohan."
"Good. Well, then, I forbid interviews, but not letters."
"Really! I may write?"
"Yes."
"And she will answer."
"Try."
The cardinal kissed Jeanne's hand again, and called her his guardian angel. The demon within her must have laughed.
CHAPTER LXVIII.
THE NIGHT
That day, at four o'clock, a man on horseback stopped in the outskirts of the park, just behind the baths of Apollo, where M. de Rohan used to wait. He got off, and looked at the places where the grass had been trodden down. "Here are the traces," thought he; "it is as I supposed. M. de Charny has returned for a fortnight, and this is where he enters the park." And he sighed. "Leave him to his happiness. God gives to one, and denies to another. But I will have proof to-night. I will hide in the bushes, and see what happens."
As for Charny, obedient to the queen's commands, he waited for orders; but it was half-past ten, and no one appeared. He waited with impatient anxiety. Then he began to think she had deceived him, and had promised what she did not mean to perform. "How could I be so foolish – I, who saw her – to be taken in by her words and promises!" At last he saw a figure approaching, wrapped in a large black mantle, and he uttered a cry of joy, for he recognized the queen. He ran to her, and fell at her feet.
"Ah, here you are, sir! it is well."
"Ah, madame! I scarcely hoped you were coming."
"Have you your sword?"
"Yes, madame."
"Where do you say those people came in?"
"By this door."
"At what time?"
"At midnight each time."
"There is no reason why they should not come again to-night. You have not spoken to any one."
"To no one."
"Come into the thick wood, and let us watch, I have not spoken of this to M. de Crosne. I have already mentioned this creature to him, and if she be not arrested, he is either incapable, or in league with my enemies. It seems incredible that any one should dare to play such tricks under my eyes, unless they were sure of impunity. Therefore, I think it is time to take the care of my reputation on myself. What do you think?"
"Oh, madame! allow me to be silent! I am ashamed of all I have said."
"At least you are an honest man," replied the queen, "and speak to the accused face to face. You do not stab in the dark."
"Oh, madame, it is eleven o'clock! I tremble."
"Look about, that no one is here."
Charny obeyed.
"No one," said he.
"Where did the scenes pass that you have described?"
"Oh, madame! I had a shock when I returned to you; for she stood just where you are at this moment."
"Here!" cried the queen, leaving the place with disgust.
"Yes, madame; under the chestnut tree."
"Then, sir, let us move, for they will most likely come here again."
He followed the queen to a different place. She, silent and proud, waited for the proof of her innocence to appear. Midnight struck. The door did not open. Half an hour passed, during which the queen asked ten times if they had always been punctual.
Three-quarters struck – the queen stamped with impatience. "They will not come," she cried; "these misfortunes only happen to me;" and she looked at Charny, ready to quarrel with him, if she saw any expression of triumph or irony: but he, as his suspicions began to return, grew so pale and looked so melancholy, that he was like the figure of a martyr.
At last she took his arm, and led him under the chestnut tree. "You say," she murmured, "that it was here you saw her?"
"Yes, madame."
"Here that she gave the rose?" And the queen, fatigued and wearied with waiting and disappointment leaned against the tree, and covered her face with her hands, but Charny could see the tears stealing through. At last she raised her head:
"Sir," said she, "I am condemned. I promised to prove to you to-day that I was calumniated; God does not permit it, and I submit. I have done what no other woman, not to say queen, would have done. What a queen! who cannot reign over one heart, who cannot obtain the esteem of one honest man. Come, sir, give me your arm, if you do not despise me too much."
"Oh, madame!" cried he, falling at her feet, "if I were only an unhappy man who loves you, could you not pardon me?"
"You!" cried she, with a bitter laugh, "you love me! and believe me infamous!"
"Oh, madame!"
"You accuse me of giving roses, kisses, and love. No, sir, no falsehoods! you do not love me."
"Madame, I saw these phantoms. Pity me, for I am on the rack."
She took his hands. "Yes, you saw, and you think it was I. Well, if here under this same tree, you at my feet, I press your hands, and say to you, 'M, de Charny, I love you, I have loved, and shall love no one else in this world, may God pardon me' – will that convince you? Will you believe me then?" As she spoke, she came so close to him that he felt her breath on his lips. "Oh!" cried Charny, "now I am ready to die."
"Give me your arm," said she, "and teach me where they went, and where she gave the rose," – and she took from her bosom a rose and held it to him. He took it and pressed it to his heart.
"Then," continued she, "the other gave him her hand to kiss."
"Both her hands," cried Charny, pressing his burning lips passionately on hers.
"Now they visited, the baths – so will we; follow me to the place." He followed her, like a man in a strange, happy dream. They looked all round, then opened the door, and walked through. Then they came out again: two o'clock struck. "Adieu," said she; "go home until to-morrow." And she walked away quickly towards the château.
When they were gone, a man rose from among the bushes. He had heard and seen all.
