Александр Дюма
The Queen's Necklace
CHAPTER LXXII.
THE LETTER AND THE RECEIPT
The day arrived for the payment of the first 500,000 francs. The jewelers had prepared a receipt, but no one came with the money in exchange for it. They passed the day and night in a state of cruel anxiety. The following day M. Bœhmer went to Versailles, and asked to see the queen; he was told that he could not be admitted without a letter of audience. However, he begged so hard, and urged his solicitations so well among the servants, that they consented to place him in the queen's way when she went out. Marie Antoinette, still full of joy from her interview with Charny, came along, looking bright and happy, when she caught sight of the somewhat solemn face of M. Bœhmer. She smiled on him, which he took for a favorable sign, and asked for an audience, which was promised him for two o'clock. On his return to Bossange, they agreed that no doubt the money was all right, only the queen had been unable to send it the day before. At two o'clock Bœhmer returned to Versailles.
"What is it now, M. Bœhmer?" asked the queen, as he entered. Bœhmer thought some one must be listening, and looked cautiously around him.
"Have you any secret to tell?" asked the queen, in surprise. "The same as before, I suppose – some jewels to sell. But make yourself easy; no one can hear you."
"Ahem!" murmured Bœhmer, startled at his reception.
"Well, what?"
"Then I may speak out to your majesty?"
"Anything; only be quick."
"I only wished to say that your majesty probably forgot us yesterday."
"Forgot you! what do you mean?"
"Yesterday the sum was due – "
"What sum?"
"Pardon me, your majesty, if I am indiscreet. Perhaps your majesty is not prepared. It would be a misfortune; but still – "
"But," interrupted the queen, "I do not understand a word of what you are saying. Pray explain yourself."
"Yesterday the first payment for the necklace was due."
"Have you sold it, then?"
"Certainly, your majesty," replied Bœhmer, looking stupefied.
"And those to whom you have sold it have not paid, my poor Bœhmer? So much the worse; but they must do as I did, and, if they cannot pay, send it you back again."
The jeweler staggered like a man who had just had a sunstroke. "I do not understand your majesty," he said.
"Why, Bœhmer, if ten purchasers were each to send it back, and give you 100,000 francs, as I did, you would make a million, and keep your necklace also."
"Your majesty says," cried Bœhmer, ready to drop, "that you sent me back the necklace!"
"Certainly. What is the matter?"
"What! your majesty denies having bought the necklace?"
"Ah! what comedy is this, sir?" said the queen, severely. "Is this unlucky necklace destined to turn some one's brain?"
"But did your majesty really say that you had returned the necklace?"
"Happily," replied the queen, "I can refresh your memory, as you are so forgetful, to say nothing more." She went to her secretaire, and, taking out the receipt, showed it to him, saying, "I suppose this is clear enough?"
Bœhmer's expression changed from incredulity to terror. "Madame," cried he, "I never signed this receipt!"
"You deny it!" said the queen, with flashing eyes.
"Positively, if I lose my life for it. I never received the necklace; I never signed the receipt. Were the headsman here, or the gallows, I would repeat the same thing!"
"Then, sir," said the queen, "do you think I have robbed you? do you think I have your necklace?"
Bœhmer drew out a pocket-book, and in his turn produced a letter. "I do not believe," said he, "that if your majesty had wished to return the necklace, you would have written this."
"I write! I never wrote to you; that is not my writing."
"It is signed," said Bœhmer.
"Yes, 'Marie Antoinette of France.' You are mad! Do you think that is the way I sign? I am of Austria. Go, M. Bœhmer; you have played this game unskilfully; your forgers have not understood their work."
"My forgers!" cried the poor Bœhmer, ready to faint at this new blow. "You suspect me?"
"You accuse me, Marie Antoinette?" replied she.
"But this letter?"
"This receipt? Give it me back, and take your letter; the first lawyer you ask will tell you how much that is worth." And taking the receipt from his trembling hands, and throwing the letter indignantly down, she left the room.
The unfortunate man ran to communicate this dreadful blow to his partner, who was waiting in the carriage for him; and on their way home their gestures and cries of grief were so frantic as to attract the attention of every passer-by. At last they decided to return to Versailles.
Immediately they presented themselves they were admitted by the order of the queen.
CHAPTER LXXIII.
"Roi ne puis, prince ne daigne,
Rohan je suis."2
"Ah!" cried the queen, immediately they entered, "you have brought a reinforcement, M. Bœhmer; so much the better."
Bœhmer kneeled at her feet, and Bossange followed his example.
"Gentlemen," said she, "I have now grown calm, and an idea has come into my head which has modified my opinion with regard to you. It seems to me that we have both been duped."
"Ah, madame, you suspect me no longer. Forger was a dreadful word."
"No, I do not suspect you now."
"Does your majesty suspect any one else?"
"Reply to my questions. You say you have not these diamonds?"
"No, madame, we have not."
"It then matters little to you that I sent them – that is my affair. Did you not see Madame de la Motte?"
"Yes, madame."
"And she gave you nothing from me?"
"No, madame; she only said to us, 'Wait.'"
"But this letter – who brought it?"
"An unknown messenger, during the night."
She rang, and a servant entered.
"Send for Madame de la Motte. And," continued the queen to M. Bœhmer, "did you see M. de Rohan?"
"Yes, madame; he paid us a visit in order to ask."
"Good!" said the queen. "I wish to hear no more now; but if he be mixed up with this affair, I think you need not despair. I think I can guess what Madame de la Motte meant by saying 'Wait.' Meanwhile, go to M. de Rohan, and tell him all you have told us, and that I know it."
The jewelers had a renewed spark of hope; only Bossange said that the receipt was a false one, and that that was a crime.
"True," replied Marie Antoinette, "if you did not write it, it is a crime; but to prove this I must confront you with the person whom I charged to return you the jewels."
"Whenever your majesty pleases; we do not fear the test."
"Go first to M. de Rohan; he alone can enlighten you."
"And will your majesty permit us to bring you his answer?"
"Yes; but I dare say I shall know all before you do."
When they were gone she was restless and unquiet, and despatched courier after courier for Madame de la Motte.
We will, however, leave her for the present, and follow the jewelers in their search after the truth.
The cardinal was at home, reading, with a rage impossible to describe, a little note which Madame de la Motte had just sent him, as she said, from Versailles. It was harsh, forbidding any hope, ordering him to think no more of the past, not to appear again at Versailles, and ending with an appeal to his loyalty not to attempt to renew relations which were become impossible.
"Coquette, capricious, perfidious!" cried he. "Here are four letters which she has written to me, each more unjust and tyrannical than the other. She encouraged me only for a caprice, and now sacrifices me to a new one."
It was at this moment that the jewelers presented themselves. Three times he refused them admittance, and each time the servant came back, saying that they would not go without an audience. "Let them come in, then," said he.
"What means this rudeness, gentlemen? No one owes you anything here."
The jewelers, driven to despair, made a half-menacing gesture.
"Are you mad?" asked the cardinal.
"Monseigneur," replied Bœhmer, with a sigh, "do us justice, and do not compel us to be rude to an illustrious prince."
"Either you are not mad, in which case my servants shall throw you out of the window; or you are mad, and they shall simply push you out of the door."
"Monseigneur, we are not mad, but we have been robbed."
"What is that to me? I am not lieutenant of police."
"But you have had the necklace in your hands, and in justice – "
"The necklace! is it the necklace that is stolen?"
"Yes, monseigneur."
"Well, what does the queen say about it?"
"She sent me to you."
"She is very amiable; but what can I do, my poor fellows?"
"You can tell us, monseigneur, what has been done with it."
"I?"
"Doubtless."
"Do you think I stole the necklace from the queen?"
"It is not the queen from whom it was stolen."
"Mon Dieu! from whom, then?"
"The queen denies having had it in her possession."
"How! she denies it? But I thought you had an acknowledgment from her."
"She says it is a forged one."
"Decidedly, you are mad!" cried the cardinal.
"We simply speak the truth."
"Then she denied it because some one was there."
"No, monseigneur. And this is not all: not only does the queen deny her own acknowledgment, but she produced a receipt from us, purporting that we had received back the necklace."
"A receipt from you?"
"Which also is a forgery, M. le Cardinal – you know it."
"A forgery, and I know it!"
"Assuredly, for you came to confirm what Madame de la Motte had said; and you knew that we had sold the necklace to the queen."
"Come," said the cardinal, "this seems a serious affair. This is what I did: first, I bought the necklace of you for her majesty, and paid you 100,000 francs."
"True, monseigneur."
"Afterwards you told me that the queen had acknowledged the debt in writing, and fixed the periods of payment."
"We said so. Will your eminence look at this signature?"
He looked at it, and said directly, "'Marie Antoinette of France:' you have been deceived, gentlemen; this is not her signature; she is of the House of Austria."
"Then," cried the jewelers, "Madame de la Motte must know the forger and the robber."
The cardinal appeared struck with this. He acted like the queen; he rang, and said, "Send for Madame de la Motte." His servants went after Jeanne's carriage, which had not long left the hotel.
M. Bœhmer continued, "But where is the necklace?"
"How can I tell?" cried the cardinal; "I gave it to the queen. I know no more."
"We must have our necklace, or our money," cried the jewelers.
"Gentlemen, this is not my business."
"It is Madame de la Motte," cried they in despair, "who has ruined us."
"I forbid you to accuse her here."
"Some one must be guilty; some one wrote the forged papers."
"Was it I?" asked M. de Rohan, haughtily.
"Monseigneur, we do not wish to say so."
"Well, who then?"
"Monseigneur, we desire an explanation."
"Wait till I have one myself."
"But, monseigneur, what are we to say to the queen? For she accused us at first."
"What does she say now?"
"She says that either you or Madame de la Motte has the necklace, for she has not."
"Well," replied the cardinal, pale with rage and shame, "go and tell her – no, tell her nothing; there is scandal enough. But to-morrow I officiate at the chapel at Versailles: when I approach the queen, come to us; I will ask her again if she has the necklace, and you shall hear what she replies; if she denies it before me, then, gentlemen, I am a Rohan, and will pay." And with these words, pronounced with an indescribable dignity, he dismissed them.
CHAPTER LXXIV.
LOVE AND DIPLOMACY
The next morning, about ten o'clock, a carriage bearing the arms of M. de Breteuil entered Versailles. Our readers will not have forgotten that this gentleman was a personal enemy of M. de Rohan, and had long been on the watch for an opportunity of injuring him. He now requested an audience from the king, and was admitted.
"It is a beautiful day," said Louis to his minister; "there is not a cloud in the sky."
"Sire, I am sorry to bring with me a cloud on your tranquillity."
"So am I," replied the king, "but what is it?"
"I feel very much embarrassed, sire, more especially as, perhaps, this affair naturally concerns the lieutenant of police rather than myself, for it is a sort of theft."
"A theft! well, speak out."
"Sire, your majesty knows the diamond necklace?"
"M. Bœhmer's, which the queen refused?"
"Precisely, sire," said M. de Breteuil; and ignorant of all the mischief he was about to do, he continued, "and this necklace has been stolen."
"Ah! so much the worse. But diamonds are very easy to trace."
"But, sire, this is not an ordinary theft; it is pretended that the queen has kept the necklace."
"Why, she refused it in my presence."
"Sire, I did not use the right word; the calumnies are too gross."
"Ah!" said the king with a smile, "I suppose they say now that the queen has stolen the necklace."
"Sire," replied M. Breteuil, "they say that the queen recommenced the negotiation for the purchase privately, and that the jewelers hold a paper signed by her, acknowledging that she kept it. I need not tell your majesty how much I despise all such scandalous falsehoods."
"They say this!" said the king, turning pale. "What do they not say? Had the queen really bought it afterwards, I should not have blamed her. She is a woman, and the necklace is marvelously beautiful; and, thank God, she could still afford it, if she wished for it. I shall only blame her for one thing, for hiding her wishes from me. But that has nothing to do with the king, only with the husband. A husband may scold his wife if he pleases, and no one has a right to interfere. But then," continued he, "what do you mean by a robbery?"
"Oh! I fear I have made your majesty angry."
The king laughed. "Come, tell me all; tell me even that the queen sold the necklace to the Jews. Poor woman, she is often in want of money, oftener than I can give it to her."
"Exactly so; about two months ago the queen asked for 500,000 francs, and your majesty refused it."
"True."
"Well, sire, they say that this money was to have been the first payment for the necklace. The queen, being denied the money, could not pay – "
"Well!"
"Well, sire, they say the queen applied to some one to help her."
"To a Jew?"
"No, sire; not to a Jew."
"Oh! I guess, some foreign intrigue. The queen asked her mother, or some of her family, for money."
"It would have been better if she had, sire."
"Well, to whom, then, did she apply?"
"Sire, I dare not – "
"Monsieur, I am tired of this. I order you to speak out at once. Who lent this money to the queen?"
"M. de Rohan."
"M. de Rohan! Are you not ashamed to name to me the most embarrassed man in my kingdom?"
"Sire," said M. de Breteuil, lowering his eyes.
"M. de Breteuil, your manner annoys me. If you have anything to say, speak at once."
"Sire, I cannot bring myself to utter things so compromising to the honor of my king and queen."
"Speak, sir; if there are calumnies, they must be refuted."
"Then, sire, M. de Rohan went to the jewelers, and arranged for the purchase of the necklace, and the mode of payment."
"Really!" cried the king, annoyed and angry.
"It is a fact, sire, capable of being proved with the greatest certainty. I pledge my word for this."
"This is most annoying," said the king; "but still, sir, we have not heard of a theft."
"Sire, the jewelers say that they have a receipt signed by the queen, and she denies having the necklace."
"Ah!" cried the king, with renewed hope; "she denies it, you see, M. de Breteuil."
"Oh, sire! I never doubted her majesty's innocence. I am indeed unfortunate, if your majesty does not see all my respect for the purest of women."
"Then you only accuse M. de Rohan?"
"Yes, sire. And appearances demand some inquiry into his conduct. The queen says she has not the necklace – the jewelers say they sold it to her. It is not to be found, and the word 'theft' is used as connected both with the queen and M. de Rohan."
"You are right, M. de Breteuil; this affair must be cleared up. But who is that passing below? Is it not M. de Rohan going to the chapel?"
"Not yet, sire; he does not come till eleven o'clock, and he will be dressed in his robes, for he officiates to-day."
"Then I will send for him and speak to him."
"Permit me to advise your majesty to speak first to the queen."
"Yes, she will tell me the truth."
"Doubtless, sire."
"But first tell me all you know about it."
M. de Breteuil, with ingenious hate, mentioned every particular which he thought could injure M. de Rohan. They were interrupted by an officer, who approached the king, and said, "Sire, the queen begs you will come to her."
"What is it?" asked the king, turning pale. "Wait here, M. de Breteuil."
CHAPTER LXXV.
CHARNY, CARDINAL, AND QUEEN
At the same moment as M. de Breteuil asked for an audience of the king, M. de Charny, pale and agitated, begged one of the queen. He was admitted, and touching tremblingly the hand she held out to him, said in an agitated voice, "Oh! madame, what a misfortune!"
"What is the matter?"
"Do you know what I have just heard? What the king has perhaps already heard, or will hear to-morrow."
She trembled, for she thought of her night with Charny, and fancied they had been seen. "Speak," said she; "I am strong."
"They say, madame, that you bought a necklace from M. Bœhmer."
"I returned it," said she quickly.
"But they say that you only pretended to do so, when the king prevented you from paying for it by refusing you the money, and that you went to borrow the amount from some one else, who is your lover."
"And," cried the queen, with her usual impetuous confidence, "you, monsieur – you let them say that?"
"Madame, yesterday I went to M. Bœhmer's with my uncle, who had brought some diamonds from the Indies, and wished to have them valued. There we heard this frightful story now being spread abroad by your majesty's enemies. Madame, I am in despair; if you bought the necklace, tell me; if you have not paid, tell me; but do not let me hear that M. de Rohan paid for you."
"M. de Rohan!"
"Yes, M. de Rohan, whom they call your lover – whom they say lent the money – and whom an unhappy man, called Charny, saw in the park in Versailles, kneeling before the queen, and kissing her hand."
"Monsieur," cried Marie Antoinette, "if you believe these things when you leave me, you do not love me."
"Oh!" cried the young man, "the danger presses. I come to beg you to do me a favor."
"What danger?"
"Oh, madame! the cardinal paying for the queen dishonors her. I do not speak now of the grief such a confidence in him causes to me. No; of these things one dies, but does not complain."
"You are mad!" cried Marie Antoinette, in anger.
"I am not mad, madame, but you are unhappy and lost. I saw you in the park – I told you so – I was not deceived. To-day all the horrible truth has burst out. M. de Rohan boasts, perhaps – "
The queen seized his arm. "You are mad," repeated she, with inexpressible anguish. "Believe anything – believe the impossible – but, in the name of heaven, after all I have said to you, do not believe me guilty. I, who never even thought of you without praying to God to pardon me for my fault. Oh, M. de Charny! if you do not wish to kill me, do not tell me that you think me guilty."
Charny wrung his hands with anguish. "Listen," said he, "if you wish me to serve you efficaciously."
"A service from you? – from you, more cruel than my enemies? A service from a man who despises me? Never, sir – never."
Charny approached, and took her hands in his. "This evening it will be too late. Save me from despair, by saving yourself from shame."
"Monsieur!"
"Oh, I cannot pick my words with death, before me! If you do not listen to me, we shall both die; you from shame, and I from grief. You want money to pay for this necklace."
"I?"
"Do not deny it."
"I tell you – "
"Do not tell me that you have not the necklace."
"I swear!"
"Do not swear, if you wish me to love you. There remains one way to save at once your honor and my love. The necklace is worth 1,600,000 francs – you have paid 100,000. Here is the remainder; take it, and pay."
"You have sold your possessions – you have ruined yourself for me! Good and noble heart, I love you!"
"Then you accept?"
"No; but I love you."
"And let M. de Rohan pay. Remember, madame, this would be no generosity towards me, but the refinement of cruelty."
"M. de Charny, I am a queen. I give to my subjects, but do not accept from them."
"What do you mean to do, then?"
"You are frank. What do the jewelers say?"
"That as you cannot pay, M. de Rohan will pay for you."
"What does the public say?"
"That you have the necklace hidden, and will produce it when it shall have been paid for; either by the cardinal, in his love for you, or by the king, to prevent scandal."
"And you, Charny; in your turn, I ask, what do you say?"
"I think, madame, that you have need to prove your innocence to me."
The Prince Louis, Cardinal de Rohan, was at that moment announced by an usher.
"You shall have your wish," said the queen.
"You are going to receive him?"
"Yes."
"And I?"
"Go into my boudoir, and leave the door ajar, that you may hear. Be quick – here he is."
M. de Rohan appeared in his robes of office. The queen advanced towards him, attempting a smile, which died away on her lips.
He was serious, and said, "Madame, I have several important things to communicate to you, although you shun my presence."
"I shun you so little, monsieur, that I was about to send for you."
"Am I alone with your majesty?" said he, in a low voice. "May I speak freely?"
"Perfectly, monseigneur. Do not constrain yourself," said she aloud, for M. de. Charny to hear.
"The king will not come?"
"Have no fear of the king, or any one else."
"Oh, it is yourself I fear," said he, in a moved voice.
"Well, I am not formidable. Say quickly and openly what you have to say. I like frankness, and want no reserve. They say you complain of me; what have you to reproach me with?"
The cardinal sighed.
