Le collier de la reine. English Page 9

  CHAPTER VII.

  THE QUEEN'S BED-CHAMBER.

  The next day, or rather the same morning, for our last chapter broughtus to two o'clock, the King Louis XVI., in a violet-colored morningdress, in some disorder, and with no powder in his hair, knocked at thedoor of the queen's ante-chamber.

  It was opened by one of her women.

  "The queen?" asked Louis, in a brusque manner.

  "Her majesty is asleep, sire."

  The king made a movement, as though to pass in but the woman did notmove.

  "Do you not see," he said, "that I wish to come in."

  "But the queen is asleep, sire," again she said timidly.

  "I told you to let me pass," answered the king, going in as he spoke.

  When he reached the door of the bedroom, the king saw Madame de Misery,the first lady-in-waiting, who was sitting reading from her mass book.

  She rose on seeing him. "Sire," she said, in a low voice, and with aprofound reverence, "her majesty has not yet called for me."

  "Really?" said the king, in an ironical tone.

  "But, sire, it is only half-past six, and her majesty never rings beforeseven."

  "And you are sure that her majesty is asleep in bed?"

  "I cannot affirm that she is asleep, sire, but I can that she is inbed."

  The king could contain himself no longer, but went straight to the door,which he opened with some noise. The room was in complete darkness, theshutters closed, and the curtains drawn. A night lamp burned on abracket, but it only gave a dim and feeble light.

  The king walked rapidly towards the bed.

  "Oh, Madame de Misery," said the queen, "how noisy you are--you havedisturbed me!"

  The king remained stupefied. "It is not Madame de Misery," he murmured.

  "What, is it you, sire?" said Marie Antoinette, raising herself up.

  "Good morning, madame," said the king, in a surly tone.

  "What good wind blows you here, sire? Madame de Misery, come and openthe shutters."

  She came in instantly, as usual, opened all the doors and windows, tolet in light and fresh air.

  "You sleep well, madame," said the king, seating himself, and castingscrutinizing glances round the room.

  "Yes, sire, I read late, and had your majesty not disturbed me, mighthave slept for some time longer."

  "How was it that you did not receive visitors yesterday?" asked theking.

  "Whom do you mean?--M. de Provence," said the queen, with great presenceof mind.

  "Yes, exactly; he wished to pay his respects to you, and was refused."

  "Well!"

  "They said you were out."

  "Did they say that?" asked the queen carelessly. "Madame de Misery----"

  The lady appeared, bringing in with her a number of letters on a goldsalver. "Did your majesty call?" she asked.

  "Yes. Did they tell M. de Provence yesterday that I was out? Will youtell the king, for really I forget."

  "Sire," said Madame de Misery, while the queen took her letters andbegan to read, "I told Monseigneur le Comte de Provence that her majestydid not receive."

  "And by whose orders?"

  "By the queen's, sire."

  Meanwhile, the queen had opened one of the letters, and read theselines: "You returned from Paris yesterday, and entered the chateau ateight o'clock in the evening; Laurent saw you."

  Madame de Misery left the room.

  "Pardon, sire," said the queen, "but will you answer me one question?"

  "What, madame?"

  "Am I, or am I not, at liberty to see M. de Provence only when itpleases me?"

  "Oh, perfectly at liberty, madame, but----"

  "Well, his conversation wearies me; besides, he does not love me, and Ilike him no better. I expected his visit, and went to bed at eighto'clock to avoid it. But you look disturbed, sire."

  "I believed you to be in Paris yesterday."

  "At what time?"

  "At the time at which you pretend to have gone to bed."

  "Doubtless, I went to Paris; but what of that?"

  "All, madame, depends on what time you returned."

  "Oh, you wish to know at what time exactly I returned?"

  "Yes."

  "It is easy. Madame de Misery----"

  The Lady reappeared.

  "What time was it when I returned from Paris yesterday?"

  "About eight o'clock, your majesty."

  "I do not believe it," said the king, "you make a mistake, Madame deMisery."

  The lady walked to the door, and called, "Madame Dural!"

  "Yes, madame," replied a voice.

  "At what time did her majesty return from Paris yesterday?"

  "About eight o'clock, madame," replied the other.

  "The king thinks we are mistaken."

  Madame Dural put her head out of the window, and cried, "Laurent!"

  "Who is Laurent?" asked the king.

  "The porter at the gate where her majesty entered," said Madame deMisery.

  "Laurent," said Madame Dural, "what time was it when her majesty camehome last evening?"

  "About eight o'clock," answered Laurent.

  Madame de Misery then left the room, and the king and queen remainedalone.

  He felt ashamed of his suspicions.

  The queen, however, only said coldly, "Well, sire, is there anythingelse you wish to know?"

  "Oh, nothing!" cried he, taking her hands in his; "forgive me; I do notknow what came into my head--my joy is as great as my repentance. Youwill not be angry, will you? I am in despair at having annoyed you."

  The queen withdrew her hand, and said; "Sire, a queen of France must nottell a falsehood."

  "What do you mean?"

  "I mean that I did not return at eight o'clock last evening."

  The king drew back in surprise.

  "I mean," continued the queen in the same cold manner, "that I onlyreturned at six o'clock this morning."

  "Madame!"

  "And that, but for the kindness of M. le Comte d'Artois, who gave me anasylum, and lodged me out of pity in one of his houses, I should havebeen left all night at the door of the chateau like a beggar."

  "Ah! you had not then returned?" said the king, gloomily; "then I wasright."

  "Sire, you have not behaved towards me as a gentleman should."

  "In what, madame?"

  "In this--that if you wish to know whether I return late or early, youhave no need to close the gates, with orders not to open them, butsimply to come to me and ask, 'Madame, at what time did you return?' Youhave no more reason to doubt, sire. Your spies have been deceived, yourprecautions nullified, and your suspicions dissipated. I saw you ashamedof the part you had played, and I might have continued to triumph in myvictory, but I think your proceedings shameful for a king, and unworthyof a gentleman; and I would not refuse myself the satisfaction oftelling you so.

  "It is useless, sire," she continued, seeing the king about to speak;"nothing can excuse your conduct towards me."

  "On the contrary, madame," replied he, "nothing is more easy. Not asingle person in the chateau suspected that you had not alreadyreturned; therefore no one could think that my orders referred to you.Probably they were attributed to the dissipations of M. le Comted'Artois--for that I care nothing. Therefore, madame, appearances weresaved, as far as you were concerned. I wished simply to give you asecret lesson, from which the amount of irritation you show leads me tohope you will profit. Therefore, I still think I was in the right, anddo not repent what I have done."

  The queen listened, and seemed to calm herself, by an effort, to preparefor the approaching contest. "Then, sire," she said, "you think you needno excuse for keeping at the door of your castle the daughter of MariaTheresa, your wife, and the mother of your children? No! it is in youreyes a pleasantry worthy of a king, and of which the morality doublesthe value. It is nothing to you, to have forced the Queen of France topass the night in this 'petite maison,' where the Comte d'Artoisreceives th
e ladies of the Opera and the 'femmes galantes' of yourcourt. Oh no! that is nothing. A philosopher king is above all suchconsiderations. Only, on this occasion, I have reason to thank heaventhat my brother-in-law is a dissipated man, as his dissipation has savedme from disgrace, and his vices have sheltered my honor."

  The king colored, and moved uneasily on his chair.

  "Oh yes!" continued the queen, with a bitter laugh, "I know that you area moral king, but your morality produces strange effects. You say thatno one knew that I was out. Will you tell me that M. de Provence, yourinstigator, did not know it; or M. le Comte d'Artois--or my women? who,by my orders, told you falsehoods this morning; or Laurent--bought by M.d'Artois and by me? Let us continue this habit, sire; you, to set spiesand Swiss guards; and I, to buy them over and cheat you; and in a monthwe will calculate together how much the dignity of the throne and ourmarriage has gained by it."

  It was evident that her words had made a great impression on him to whomthey were addressed.

  "You know," said he, in an altered voice, "that I am always sincere, andwilling to acknowledge if I have been wrong. Will you prove to me thatyou were right to go into Paris in sledges, accompanied by a gay party,which, in the present unhappy state of things, is likely to giveoffense? Will you prove to me, that you were right to disappear inParis, like maskers at a ball, and only to reappear scandalously late atnight, when every one else was asleep? You have spoken of the dignity ofthe throne, and of marriage; think you that it befits a queen, a wife,and a mother, to act thus?"

  "I will reply in a few words, sire; for it seems to me, that suchaccusations merit nothing but contempt. I left Versailles in a sledge,because it is the quickest way of getting to Paris at present. I wentwith Madlle. de Taverney, whose reputation is certainly one of thepurest in our court. I went to Paris, I repeat, to verify the fact thatthe King of France, the great upholder of morality--he who takes care ofpoor strangers, warms the beggars, and earns the gratitude of the peopleby his charities, leaves dying of hunger, exposed to every attack ofvice and misery, one of his own family--one who is as much as himself adescendant of the kings who have reigned in France."

  "What!" cried the king in surprise.

  "I mounted," continued the queen, "into a garret, and there saw, withoutfire, almost without light, and without money, the granddaughter of agreat prince, and I gave one hundred louis to this victim of royalforgetfulness and neglect. Then, as I was detained late there, and asthe frost was severe, and horses go slowly over ice, particularlyhackney-coach horses----"

  "Hackney-coach horses!" cried the king. "You returned in ahackney-coach?"

  "Yes, sire--No. 107."

  "Oh, oh!" said the king, with every sign of vexation.

  "Yes, and only too happy to get it," said the queen.

  "Madame!" interrupted he, "you are full of noble feelings; but thisimpetuous generosity becomes a fault. Remember," continued he, "that Inever suspected you of anything that was not perfectly pure and honest:it is only your mode of acting and adventurous spirit that displease me.You have, as usual, been doing good, but the way you set about it makesit injurious to yourself. This is what I reproach you with. You say thatI have faults to repair--that I have failed in my duty to a member of myown family. Tell me who the unfortunate is, and he shall no longer havereason to complain."

  "The name of Valois, sire, is sufficiently illustrious not to haveescaped your memory."

  "Ah!" cried Louis, with a shout of laughter, "I know now whom you mean.La petite Valois, is it not?--a countess of something or other."

  "De la Motte, sire."

  "Precisely, De la Motte; her husband is a gendarme."

  "Yes, sire."

  "And his wife is an intrigante. Oh! you need not trouble yourself abouther: she is moving heaven and earth; she worries my ministers, sheteases my aunts, and overwhelms me with supplications, memorials, andgenealogies."

  "And all this uselessly, sire."

  "I must confess it."

  "Is she, or is she not, a Valois?"

  "I believe she is."

  "Well, then, I ask an honorable pension for her and a regiment for herhusband. In fact, a decent position for this branch of the royalfamily."

  "An honorable pension? Mon Dieu! how you run on, madame. Do you knowwhat a terrible hole this winter has made in my funds? A regiment forthis little gendarme, who speculated in marrying a Valois? Why, I haveno regiments to give, even to those who deserve them, or who can pay forthem. An income befitting a Valois for these people? when we, monarch aswe are, have not one befitting a rich gentleman. Why, M. d'Orleans hassent his horses and mules to England for sale, and has cut off a thirdof his establishment. I have put down my wolf-hounds, and given up manyother things. We are all on the privation list, great and small."

  "But these Valois must not die of hunger."

  "Have you not just given them one hundred louis?"

  "And what is that?"

  "A royal gift."

  "Then give such another."

  "Yours will do for us both."

  "No, I want a pension for them."

  "No, I will not bind myself to anything fixed; they will not let meforget them, and I will give when I have money to spare. I do not thinkmuch of this little Valois."

  Saying these words, Louis held out his hand to the queen, who, however,turned from him and said, "No, you are not good to me, and I am angry."

  "You bear malice," said the king "and I----"

  "Oh, you shut the gates against me; you come at half-past six to myroom, and force open the door in a passion."

  "I was not in a passion," said the king.

  "You are not now, you mean."

  "What will you give me if I prove that I was not, even when I came in?"

  "Let me see the proof."

  "Oh, it is very easy; I have it in my pocket."

  "Bah!" said the queen; but adding, with curiosity, "You have broughtsomething to give me, but I warn you I shall not believe you, unless youshow it me at once."

  Then, with a smile full of kindness, the king began searching in hispockets, with that slowness which makes the child doubly impatient forhis toy, the animal for his food, and the woman for her present: at lasthe drew out a box of red morocco leather, artistically ornamented ingold.

  "A jewel box!" cried the queen.

  The king laid it on the bed.

  She opened it impatiently, and then called out, "Oh, mon Dieu! howbeautiful!"

  The king smiled with delight. "Do you think so?" said he.

  The queen could not answer--she was breathless with admiration. Then shedrew out of the box a necklace of diamonds, so large, so pure, soglittering, and so even, that, with sparkling eyes, she cried again,"Oh! it is magnificent."

  "Then you are content?" said the king.

  "Enchanted, sire; you make me too happy."

  "Really?"

  "See this first row; the diamonds are as large as filberts, and so even,you could not tell one from the other; then how beautifully thegradation of the rows is managed; the jeweler who made this necklace isan artist."

  "They are two."

  "Then I wager it is Boehmer and Bossange."

  "You have guessed right."

  "Indeed, no one but they would risk making such a thing."

  "Madame, take care," said the king; "you will have to pay too dear forthis necklace."

  "Oh, sire!" cried the queen, all the delight fading from hercountenance.

  "You must pay the price of letting me be the first to put it on:" and heapproached her, holding in his hands the two ends of the magnificentnecklace, of which the clasp was one great diamond.

  She stopped him, saying, "But, sire, is it very dear?"

  "Have I not told you the price?"

  "Ah, Louis, we must not jest. Put the necklace back again."

  "You refuse to allow me to put it on?"

  "Oh no, sire, if I were going to wear it."

  "What?" said the king, surprised.

  "No,"
she said; "no one shall see a necklace of this price round myneck."

  "You will not wear it?"

  "Never."

  "You refuse me."

  "I refuse to wear a million or a million and a half of francs round myneck, for this necklace must cost that."

  "I do not deny it," said the king.

  "Then I do refuse to wear such a necklace while the king's coffers areempty, when he is forced to stint his charities, and to say to the poor,'God help you, for I have no more to give.'"

  "Are you serious in saying this?"

  "Listen, sire; M. de Sartines told me a short time since that with thatsum we could build a ship of the line; and in truth, sire, the king hasmore need of a ship than the queen of a necklace."

  "Oh!" cried the king, joyfully, and with his eyes full of tears, "whatyou do is sublime. Thanks, Antoinette; you are a good wife!" and hethrew his arms round her neck and kissed her. "Oh! how France will blessyou," continued he; "and it shall hear what you have done."

  The queen sighed.

  "You regret," said he: "it is not too late."

  "No, sire; shut this case, and return it to the jewelers."

  "But listen, first; I have arranged the terms of payment, and I have themoney."

  "No, I have decided. I will not have the necklace; but I want somethingelse."

  "Diable! then my 1,600,000 francs are gone, after all."

  "What! it would have cost that?"

  "Indeed it would."

  "Reassure yourself; what I ask is much cheaper."

  "What do you wish for?"

  "To go to Paris once more."

  "Oh! that is easy enough, and not dear."

  "But wait----"

  "Diable!"

  "To the Place Vendome, to see M. Mesmer."

  "Diable!" again said the king; but added: "Well, as you have deniedyourself the necklace, I suppose I must let you go; but, on onecondition."

  "What?"

  "You must be accompanied by a princess of the blood."

  "Shall it be Madame de Lamballe?"

  "Yes, if you like."

  "I promise."

  "Then I consent."

  "Thanks, sire."

  "And, now," said the king, "I shall order my ship of the line, and callit the 'Queen's Necklace.' You shall stand godmother, and then I willsend it out to La Perouse;" and, kissing his wife's hand, he went awayquite joyful.