MADAME DE BELLIERE'S PLATE AND DIAMONDS.
Hardly had Fouquet dismissed Vanel, than he began to reflect for a few
moments: "A man never can do too much for the woman he has once loved.
Marguerite wishes to be the wife of a procureur-general--and why not
confer this pleasure upon her? And now that the most scrupulous and
sensitive conscience will be unable to reproach me with anything, let my
thoughts be bestowed on her who has shown so much devotion for me.
Madame de Belliere ought to be there by this time," he said, as he
turned toward the secret door.
After he had locked himself in, he opened the subterranean passage, and
rapidly hastened toward the means of communicating between the house at
Vincennes and his own residence. He had neglected to apprise his friend
of his approach by ringing the bell, perfectly assured that she would
never fail to be exact at the rendezvous; as, indeed, was the case, for
she was already waiting. The noise the surintendant made aroused her;
she ran to take from under the door the letter that he had thrust there,
and which simply said, "Come, marquise; we are waiting supper for you."
With her heart filled with happiness Madame de Belliere ran to her
carriage in the Avenue de Vincennes, and in a few minutes she was
holding out her hand to Gourville, who was standing at the entrance,
where, in order the better to please his master, he had stationed
himself to watch her arrival. She had not observed that Fouquet's black
horses had arrived at the same time, smoking and covered with foam,
having returned to Saint-Mandé with Pellisson and the very jeweler to
whom Madame de Belliere had sold her plate and her jewels. Pellisson
introduced the goldsmith into the cabinet, which Fouquet had not yet
left. The surintendant thanked him for having been good enough to regard
as a simple deposit in his hands the valuable property which he had had
every right to sell; and he cast his eyes on the total of the account,
which amounted to thirteen hundred thousand francs. Then, going for a
few moments to his desk, he wrote an order for fourteen hundred thousand
francs, payable at sight, at his treasury, before twelve o'clock the
next day.
"A hundred thousand francs profit!" cried the goldsmith. "Oh,
monseigneur, what generosity!"
"Nay, nay, not so, monsieur," said Fouquet, touching him on the
shoulder; "there are certain kindnesses which can never be repaid. The
profit is about that which you would have made; but the interest of your
money still remains to be arranged." And, saying this, he unfastened
from his sleeve a diamond button, which the goldsmith himself had often
valued at three thousand pistoles. "Take this," he said to the
goldsmith, "in remembrance of me. And farewell; you are an honest man."
"And you, monseigneur," cried the goldsmith, completely overcome, "are
the noblest man that ever lived."
Fouquet let the worthy goldsmith pass out of the room by a secret door,
and then went to receive Madame de Belliere, who was already surrounded
by all the guests. The marquise was always beautiful, but now her
loveliness was more dazzling than ever. "Do you not think, gentlemen,"
said Fouquet, "that madame is more than usually beautiful this evening?
And do you happen to know why?"
"Because madame is really the most beautiful of all women," said some
one present.
"No; but because she is the best. And yet--"
"Yet?" said the marquise, smiling.
"And yet, all the jewels which madame is wearing this evening are
nothing but false stones." At this remark the marquise blushed most
painfully.
"Oh, oh!" exclaimed all the guests, "that can very well be said of one
who has the finest diamonds in Paris."
"Well?" said Fouquet to Pellisson, in a low tone.
"Well, at last I have understood you," returned the latter; "and you
have done excellently well."
"Supper is ready, monseigneur," said Vatel, with majestic air and tone.
The crowd of guests hurried, less slowly than is usually the case with
ministerial entertainments, toward the banqueting room, where a
magnificent spectacle presented itself. Upon the buffets, upon the
side-tables, upon the supper-table itself, in the midst of flowers and
light, glittered most dazzlingly the richest and most costly gold and
silver plate that could possibly be seen--relics of those ancient
magnificent productions which the Florentine artists, whom the Medici
family had patronized, had sculptured, chased, and cast for the purpose
of holding flowers, at a time when gold yet existed in France. These
hidden marvels, which had been buried during the civil wars, had timidly
reappeared during the intervals of that war of good taste called La
Fronde; at a time when noblemen fighting against noblemen, killed, but
did not pillage each other. All the plate present had Madame de
Belliere's arms engraved upon it. "Look," cried La Fontaine, "here is a
P and a B."
But the most remarkable object present was the cover which Fouquet had
assigned to the marquise. Near her was a pyramid of diamonds, sapphires,
emeralds, antique cameos, sardonyx stones, carved by the old Greeks of
Asia Minor, with mountings of Mysian gold; curious mosaics of ancient
Alexandria, mounted in silver; massive Egyptian bracelets lay heaped up
in a large plate of Palissy ware, supported by a tripod of gilt bronze
which had been sculptured by Benvenuto. The marquise turned pale, as she
recognized what she had never expected to see again. A profound silence
seemed to seize upon every one of the restless and excited guests.
Fouquet did not even make a sign in dismissal of the richly liveried
servants who crowded like bees round the huge buffets and other tables
in the room. "Gentlemen," he said, "all this plate which you behold once
belonged to Madame de Belliere, who having observed one of her friends
in great distress, sent all this gold and silver, together with the
heap of jewels now before her, to her goldsmith. This noble conduct of a
devoted friend can well be understood by such friends as you. Happy
indeed is that man who sees himself loved in such a manner. Let us drink
to the health of Madame de Belliere."
A tremendous burst of applause followed his words, and made poor Madame
de Belliere sink back dumb and breathless on her seat. "And then," added
Pellisson, who was always affected by a noble action, as he was
invariably impressed by beauty, "let us also drink to the health of him
who inspired madame's noble conduct; for such a man is worthy of being
worthily loved."
It was now the marquise's turn. She rose, pale and smiling; and as she
held out her glass with a faltering hand, and her trembling fingers
touched those of Fouquet, her look, full of love, found its reflection
and response in that of her ardent and generous-hearted lover. Begun in
this manner, the supper soon became a fete; no one tried to be witty,
for no one failed in being so. La Fontaine forgot his Gorgny wine and
allowed Vatel to reconcile him to the wines of the Rhone and those from
the shores of Spain. The Abbe Fouquet became so kind and good-natured
that Gourville said to him, "Take care, Monsieur l'Abbe; if you are so
tender, you will be eaten."
The hours passed away so joyously, that, contrary to his usual custom,
the surintendant did not leave the table before the end of the dessert.
He smiled upon his friends, delighted as a man is, whose heart becomes
intoxicated before his head--and, for the first time, he had just looked
at the clock. Suddenly, a carriage rolled into the courtyard, and,
strange to say, it was heard high above the noise of the mirth which
prevailed. Fouquet listened attentively, and then turned his eyes toward
the antechamber. It seemed as if he could hear a step passing across it,
and that this step, instead of pressing the ground, weighed heavily upon
his heart. "M. d'Herblay, bishop of Vannes," the usher announced. And
Aramis' grave and thoughtful face appeared upon the threshold of the
door, between the remains of two garlands, of which the flame of a lamp
had just burned the thread that had united them.