WHEREIN MAY BE SEEN THAT A BARGAIN WHICH CANNOT BE MADE WITH ONE PERSON
CAN BE CARRIED OUT WITH ANOTHER.
Aramis had been perfectly correct in his supposition; for hardly had she
left the house in the Place Baudoyer, than Madame de Chevreuse proceeded
homeward. She was, doubtless, afraid of being followed, and by this
means thought she might succeed in throwing those who might be following
her off their guard; but scarcely had she arrived within the door of the
hotel, and hardly had assured herself that no one who could cause her
any uneasiness was on her track, when she opened the door of the garden,
leading into another street, and hurried toward the Rue Croix des Petits
Champs, where M. Colbert resided.
We have already said that evening, or rather night, had closed in; it
was a dark, thick night, besides; Paris had once more sunk into its
calm, quiescent state, enshrouding alike within its indulgent mantle the
high-born duchesse carrying out her political intrigue, and the simple
citizen's wife, who, having been detained late by a supper in the city,
was making her way slowly homeward, hanging on the arm of a lover, by
the shortest possible route. Madame de Chevreuse had been too well
accustomed to nocturnal political intrigues to be ignorant that a
minister never denies himself, even at his own private residence, to any
young and beautiful woman who may chance to object to the dust and
confusion of a public office, or to old women, as full of experience as
of years, who dislike the indiscreet echo of official residences. A
valet received the duchesse under the peristyle, and received her, it
must be admitted, with some indifference of manner; he intimated, after
having looked at her face, that it was hardly at such an hour that one
so advanced in years as herself could be permitted to disturb Monsieur
Colbert's important occupations.
But Madame de Chevreuse, without feeling or appearing to be annoyed,
wrote her name upon a leaf of her tablets--a name which had but too
frequently sounded so disagreeably in the ears of Louis XIII. and of the
great cardinal. She wrote her name in the large, ill-formed characters
of the higher classes of that period, folded the paper in a manner
peculiarly her own, handed it to the valet without uttering a word, but
with so haughty and imperious a gesture, that the fellow, well
accustomed to judge of people from their manners and appearance,
perceived at once the quality of the person before him, bowed his head,
and ran to M. Colbert's room. The minister could not control a sudden
exclamation as he opened the paper; and the valet, gathering from it the
interest with which his master regarded the mysterious visitor, returned
as fast as he could to beg the duchesse to follow him. She ascended to
the first floor of the beautiful new house very slowly, rested herself
on the landing-place, in order not to enter the apartment out of breath,
and appeared before M. Colbert, who, with his own hands, held both the
folding doors open. The duchesse paused at the threshold, for the
purpose of well-studying the character of the man with whom she was
about to converse. At the first glance, the round, large, heavy head,
thick brows, and ill-favored features of Colbert, who wore, thrust low
down on his head, a cap like a priest's _calotte_, seemed to indicate
that but little difficulty was likely to be met with in her negotiations
with him, but also that she was to expect as little interest in the
discussion of particulars; for there was scarcely any indication that
the rough and uncouth nature of the man was susceptible to the impulses
of a refined revenge, or of an exalted ambition. But when, on closer
inspection, the duchesse perceived the small piercingly black eyes, the
longitudinal wrinkles of his high and massive forehead, the
imperceptible twitching of the lips, on which were apparent traces of
rough good humor, Madame de Chevreuse altered her opinion of him, and
felt she could say to herself: "I have found the man I want."
"What is the subject, madame, which procures me the honor of a visit
from you?" he inquired.
"The need I have of you, monsieur," returned the duchesse, "as well as
that which you have of me."
"I am delighted, madame, with the first portion of your sentence; but,
as far as the second portion is concerned--"
Madame de Chevreuse sat down in the armchair which M. Colbert advanced
toward her. "Monsieur Colbert, you are the intendant of finances, and
are ambitious of becoming the surintendant?"
"Madame!"
"Nay, do not deny it; that would only unnecessarily prolong our
conversation, and that is useless."
"And yet, madame, however well disposed and inclined to show politeness
I may be toward a lady of your position and merit, nothing will make me
confess that I have ever entertained the idea of supplanting my
superior."
"I said nothing about supplanting, Monsieur Colbert. Could I
accidentally have made use of that word? I hardly think that likely. The
word 'replace' is less aggressive in its signification, and more
grammatically suitable, as M. de Voiture would say. I presume,
therefore, that you are ambitious of replacing M. Fouquet."
"M. Fouquet's fortune, madame, enables him to withstand all attempts.
The surintendant in this age plays the part of the Colossus of Rhodes;
the vessels pass beneath him and do not overthrow him."
"I ought to have availed myself precisely of that very comparison. It is
true. M. Fouquet plays the part of the Colossus of Rhodes; but I
remember to have heard it said by M. Conrart, a member of the Academy, I
believe, that when the Colossus of Rhodes fell from its lofty position,
the merchant who had cast it down--a merchant, nothing more, M.
Colbert--loaded four hundred camels with the ruins. A merchant! and that
is considerably less than an intendant of finances."
"Madame, I can assure you that I shall never overthrow Monsieur
Fouquet."
"Very good, Monsieur Colbert, since you persist in showing so much
sensitiveness with me, as if you were ignorant that I am Madame de
Chevreuse, and also that I am somewhat advanced in years; in other
words, that you have to do with a woman who has had political dealings
with the Cardinal de Richelieu, and who has no time to lose; as, I
repeat, you do not hesitate to commit such an imprudence, I shall go and
find others who are more intelligent and more desirous of making their
fortunes."
"How, madame, how?"
"You give me a very poor idea of negotiators of the present day. I
assure you that if, in my earlier days, a woman had gone to M. de
Cinq-Mars, who was not, moreover, a man of very high order of intellect,
and had said to him about the cardinal what I have just now said to you
of M. Fouquet, M. de Cinq-Mars would by this time have already set
actively to work."
"Nay, madame, show a little indulgence, I entreat you."
"Well, then, you do really consent to replace M. Fouquet?"
"Certainly, I do, if the king dismisses M. Fouquet."
"Again a word too much; it is quite evident that if you have not yet
succeeded in driving M. Fouquet from his post, it is because you have
not been able to do so. Therefore, I should be the greatest simpleton
possible if, in coming to you, I did not bring you the very thing you
require."
"I am distressed to be obliged to persist, madame," said Colbert, after
a silence which enabled the duchesse to sound the depth of his
dissimulation, "but I must warn you that for the last six years
denunciation after denunciation has been made against M. Fouquet, and he
has remained unshaken and unaffected by them."
"There is a time for everything, Monsieur Colbert; those who were the
authors of those denunciations were not called Madame de Chevreuse, and
they had no proofs equal to the six letters from M. de Mazarin which
establish the offense in question."
"The offense!"
"The crime, if you like it better."
"The crime! committed by M. Fouquet!"
"Nothing less. It is rather strange, M. Colbert, but your face, which
just now was cold and indifferent, is now positively the very reverse."
"A crime!"
"I am delighted to see it makes an impression upon you."
"It is because that word, madame, embraces so many things."
"It embraces the post of surintendant of finance for yourself, and a
letter of exile, or the Bastille, for M. Fouquet."
"Forgive me, Madame la Duchesse, but it is almost impossible that M.
Fouquet can be exiled; to be imprisoned or disgraced, that is already a
great deal."
"Oh, I am perfectly aware of what I am saying," returned Madame de
Chevreuse, coldly. "I do not live at such a distance from Paris as not
to know what takes place there. The king does not like M. Fouquet, and
he would willingly sacrifice M. Fouquet if an opportunity were only
given him."
"It must be a good one, though."
"Good enough, and one I estimate to be worth five hundred thousand
francs."
"In what way?" said Colbert.
"I mean, monsieur, that holding this opportunity in my own hands, I will
not allow it to be transferred to yours except for a sum of five hundred
thousand francs."
"I understand you perfectly, madame. But since you have fixed a price
for the sale, let me now see the value of the articles to be sold."
"Oh, a mere trifle; six letters, as I have already told you, from M. de
Mazarin; and the autographs will most assuredly not be regarded as too
highly priced, if they establish, in an irrefutable manner, that M.
Fouquet has embezzled large sums of money from the treasury and
appropriated them to his own purposes."
"In an irrefutable manner, do you say?" observed Colbert, whose eyes
sparkled with delight.
"Perfectly so; would you like to read the letters?"
"With all my heart! Copies, of course?"
"Of course, the copies," said the duchesse, as she drew from her bosom a
small packet of papers, flattened by her velvet bodice. "Read," she
said.
Colbert eagerly snatched the papers and devoured them.
"Excellent!" he said.
"It is clear enough, is it not?"
"Yes, madame, yes; M. Mazarin must have handed the money to M. Fouquet,
who must have kept it for his own purposes; but the question is, what
money?"
"Exactly--what money; if we come to terms, I will join to these six
letters a seventh, which will supply you with the fullest particulars."
Colbert reflected. "And the originals of these letters?"
"A useless question to ask; exactly as if I were to ask you, Monsieur
Colbert, whether the money-bags you will give me will be full or empty."
"Very good, madame."
"Is it concluded?"
"No; for there is one circumstance to which neither of us has given any
attention."
"Name it?"
"M. Fouquet can be utterly ruined, under the circumstances you have
detailed, only by means of legal proceedings."
"Well?"
"A public scandal, for instance; and yet neither the legal proceedings
nor the scandal can be commenced against him."
"Why not?"
"Because he is procureur-general of the parliament; because, too, in
France, all public administrations, the army, justice itself, and
commerce, are intimately connected by ties of good fellowship, which
people call _esprit de corps_. In such a case, madame, the parliament
will never permit its chief to be dragged before a public tribunal; and
never, even if he be dragged there by royal authority, never, I say,
will he be condemned."
"Well, Monsieur Colbert, I do not see what I have to do with that."
"I am aware of that, madame; but I have to do with it, and it
consequently diminishes the value of what you have brought to show me.
What good can a proof of crime be to me, without the possibility of
obtaining a condemnation?"
"Even if he be only suspected, M. Fouquet will lose his post of
surintendant."
"Is that all!" exclaimed Colbert, whose dark, gloomy features were
momentarily lighted up by an expression of hate and vengeance.
"Ah, ah! Monsieur Colbert," said the duchesse, "forgive me, but I did
not think you were so impressionable. Very good; in that case, since you
need more than I have to give you, there is no occasion to speak of the
matter at all."
"Yes, madame, we will go on talking of it; only as the value of your
commodities has decreased, you must lower your pretensions."
"You are bargaining, then?"
"Every man who wishes to deal loyally is obliged to do so."
"How much will you offer me?"
"Two hundred thousand francs," said Colbert.
The duchesse laughed in his face, and then said suddenly, "Wait a
moment, I have another arrangement to propose: will you give me three
hundred thousand francs?"
"No, no."
"Oh, you can either accept or refuse my terms; besides, that is not
all."
"More still! you are becoming too impracticable to deal with, madame."
"Less so than you think, perhaps, for it is not money I am going to ask
you for."
"What is it, then?"
"A service; you know that I have always been most affectionately
attached to the queen, and I am desirous of having an interview with her
majesty."
"With the queen?"
"Yes, Monsieur Colbert, with the queen, who is, I admit, no longer my
friend, and who has ceased to be so for a long time past, but who may
again become so if the opportunity be only given her."
"Her majesty has ceased to receive any one, madame. She is a great
sufferer, and you may be aware that the paroxysms of her disease occur
with greater frequency than ever."
"That is the very reason why I wish to have an interview with her
majesty; for in Flanders there is a great variety of these kind of
complaints."
"What, cancers--a fearful, incurable disorder?"
"Do not believe that, Monsieur Colbert. The Flemish peasant is somewhat
a man of nature, and his companion for life is not alone a wife, but a
female laborer also; for while he is smoking his pipe, the woman works:
it is she who draws the water from the well; she who loads the mule or
the ass, and even bears herself a portion of the burden. Taking but
little care of herself, she gets knocked about, first in one direction,
and then in another, and very often is beaten by her husband, and
cancers frequently arise from contusions."
"True, true," said Colbert.
"The Flemish women do not die the sooner on that account. When they are
great sufferers from this disease they go in search of remedies, and the
Béguines of Bruges are excellent doctors for every kind of disease. They
have precious waters of one sort or another; specifics of various kinds;
and they give a bottle of it and a wax candle to the sufferer, whereby
the priests are gainers, and Heaven is served by the disposal of both
their wares. I will take the queen some of this holy water, which I will
procure from the Béguines of Bruges; her majesty will recover, and will
burn as many wax candles as she may think fit. You see, Monsieur
Colbert, to prevent my seeing the queen is almost as bad as committing
the crime of regicide."
"You are, undoubtedly, Madame la Duchesse, a woman of exceedingly great
abilities, and I am more than astounded at their display; still I cannot
but suppose that this charitable consideration toward the queen in some
measure covers a slight personal interest for yourself."
"I have not given myself the trouble to conceal it, that I am aware of,
Monsieur Colbert. You said, I believe, that I had a slight personal
interest? On the contrary, it is a very great interest, and I will prove
it to you, by resuming what I was saying. If you procure me a personal
interview with her majesty, I will be satisfied with the three hundred
thousand francs I have claimed: if not, I shall keep my letters, unless,
indeed, you give me, on the spot, five hundred thousand francs for
them."
And, rising from her seat with this decisive remark, the old duchesse
plunged M. Colbert into a disagreeable perplexity. To bargain any
further was out of the question; and not to bargain was to pay a great
deal too dearly for them. "Madame," he said, "I shall have the pleasure
of handing you over a hundred thousand crowns; but how shall I get the
actual letters themselves?"
"In the simplest manner in the world, my dear Monsieur Colbert--whom
will you trust?"
The financier began to laugh silently, so that his large eyebrows went
up and down like the wings of a bat, upon the deep lines of his yellow
forehead. "No one," he said.
"You surely will make an exception in your own favor, Monsieur Colbert?"
"In what way, madame?"
"I mean that if you would take the trouble to accompany me to the place
where the letters are, they would be delivered into your own hands, and
you would be able to verify and check them."
"Quite true."
"You would bring the hundred thousand crowns with you at the same time,
for I, too, do not trust any one?"
Colbert colored to the tips of his ears. Like all eminent men in the art
of figures, he was of an insolent and mathematical probity. "I will take
with me, madame," he said, "two orders for the amount agreed upon,
payable at my treasury. Will that satisfy you?"
"Would that the orders on your treasury were for two millions, Monsieur
l'Intendant! I shall have the pleasure of showing you the way, then?"
"Allow me to order my carriage."
"I have a carriage below, monsieur."
Colbert coughed like an irresolute man. He imagined, for a moment, that
the proposition of the duchesse was a snare; that perhaps some one was
waiting at the door; and that she, whose secret had just been sold to
Colbert for a hundred thousand crowns, had already offered it to Fouquet
for the same sum. As he still hesitated a good deal, the duchesse looked
at him full in the face.
"You prefer your own carriage?" she said.
"I admit that I do."
"You suppose that I am going to lead you into a snare or trap of some
sort or other?"
"Madame la Duchesse, you have the character of being somewhat
inconsiderate at times, and, as I am clothed in a sober, solemn
character, a jest or practical joke might compromise me."
"Yes; the fact is, you are afraid. Well, then, take your own carriage,
as many servants as you like, only think well of what I am going to say.
What we two may arrange between us, we are the only persons who know it;
if a third had witnessed, we might as well have told the whole world of
it. After all, I do not make a point of it; my carriage shall follow
yours, and I shall be satisfied to accompany you in your own carriage to
the queen."
"To the queen!"
"Have you forgotten that already? Is it possible that one of the clauses
of the agreement of so much importance to me, can have escaped you
already? How trifling it seems to you, indeed; if I had known it I
should have asked double what I have done."
"I have reflected, madame, and I shall not accompany you."
"Really--and why not?"
"Because I have the most perfect confidence in you."
"You overpower me. But provided I receive the hundred thousand crowns?"
"Here they are, madame," said Colbert, scribbling a few lines on a piece
of paper, which he handed to the duchesse, adding, "You are paid."
"The trait is a fine one, Monsieur Colbert, and I will reward you for
it," she said, beginning to laugh.
Madame de Chevreuse's laugh was a very sinister sound; every man who
feels youth, faith, love, life itself, throbbing in his heart, would
prefer tears to such a lamentable laugh. The duchesse opened the front
of her dress and drew forth from her bosom, somewhat less white than it
once had been, a small packet of papers, tied with a flame-colored
ribbon, and, still laughing, she said, "There, Monsieur Colbert, are the
originals of Cardinal Mazarin's letters; they are now your own
property," she added, re-fastening the body of her dress; "your fortune
is secured, and now accompany me to the queen."
"No, madame; if you are again about to run the chance of her majesty's
displeasure, and it were known at the Palais Royal that I had been the
means of introducing you there, the queen would never forgive me while
she lived. No; there are certain persons at the palace who are devoted
to me, who will procure you an admission without my being compromised."
"Just as you please, provided I enter."
"What do you term those religious women at Bruges who cure disorders?"
"Béguines."
"Good; you are one."
"As you please, but I must soon cease to be one."
"That is your affair."
"Excuse me, but I do not wish to be exposed to a refusal."
"That is again your own affair, madame. I am going to give directions to
the head valet of the gentlemen in waiting on her majesty to allow
admission to a Beguine, who brings an effectual remedy for her majesty's
sufferings. You are the bearer of my letter, you will undertake to be
provided with the remedy, and will give every explanation on the
subject. I admit a knowledge of a Beguine, but I deny all knowledge of
Madame de Chevreuse. Here, madame, then, is your letter of
introduction."