THE ACADEMY OF M. BEAUSIRE.
Beausire had followed the advice of the blue domino, and repaired to
the place of meeting in the Rue du Pôt au Fer. He was frightened by the
apparent exclusion which his companions had seemed to meditate, in not
communicating their plans to him; and he knew none of them to be
particularly scrupulous. He had acquired the reputation among them of a
man to be feared; it was not wonderful, as he had been a soldier, and
worn a uniform. He knew how to draw his sword, and he had a habit of
looking very fierce at the slightest word that displeased him—all
things which appear rather terrifying to those of doubtful courage,
especially when they have reason to shun the éclat of a duel and the
curiosity of the police.
Beausire counted, therefore, on revenging himself by frightening them a
little. It was a long way, but Beausire had money in his pocket; so he
took a coach, promised the driver an extra franc to go fast, and, to
make up for the absence of his sword, he assumed as fierce a look as he
could on entering the room.
It was a large hall, full of tables, at which were seated about twenty
players, drinking beer or syrups, and smiling now and then on some
highly rouged women who sat near them. They were playing faro at the
principal table, but the stakes were low, and the excitement small in
proportion.
On the entrance of the domino, all the women smiled on him, half in
raillery, and half in coquetry, for M. Beausire was a favorite among
them. However, he advanced in silence to the table without noticing any
one.
One of the players, who was a good-humored looking fellow, said to him,
“Corbleu, chevalier, you come from the ball looking out of sorts.”
“Is your domino uncomfortable?” said another.
“No, it is not my domino,” replied Beausire, gruffly.
“Oh!” said the banker, “he has been unfaithful to us; he has been
playing somewhere else and lost.”
“It is not I who am unfaithful to my friends; I am incapable of it. I
leave that to others.”
“What do you mean, dear chevalier?”
“I know what I mean,” replied he; “I thought I had friends here.”
“Certainly,” replied several voices.
“Well, I was deceived.”
“How?”
“You plan things without me.”
Several of the members began to protest it was not true.
“I know better,” said Beausire; “and these false friends shall be
punished.” He put his hand to his side to feel for his sword, but, as
it was not there, he only shook his pocket, and the gold rattled.
“Oh, oh!” said the banker, “M. Beausire has not lost. Come, will you
not play?”
“Thanks,” said Beausire; “I will keep what I have got.”
“Only one louis,” said one of the women, caressingly.
“I do not play for miserable louis,” said he. “We play for millions
here to-night—yes, gentlemen, millions.”
He had worked himself up into a great state of excitement, and was
losing sight of all prudence, when a blow from behind made him turn,
and he saw by him a great dark figure, stiff and upright, and with two
shining black eyes. He met Beausire’s furious glance with a ceremonious
bow.
“The Portuguese!” said Beausire.
“The Portuguese!” echoed the ladies, who abandoned Beausire to crowd
round the newcomer, he being their especial pet, as he was in the habit
of bringing them sweetmeats, sometimes wrapped up in notes of forty or
fifty francs. This man was one of the twelve associates.
He was used as a bait at their society. It was agreed that he should
lose a hundred louis a week as an inducement to allure strangers to
play. He was, therefore, considered a useful man. He was also an
agreeable one, and was held in much consideration.
Beausire became silent on seeing him.
The Portuguese took his place at the table, and put down twenty louis,
which he soon lost, thereby making some of those who had been stripped
before forget their losses.
All the money received by the banker was dropped into a well under the
table, and he was forbidden to wear long sleeves, lest he should
conceal any within them, although the other members generally took the
liberty of searching both sleeves and pockets before they left.
Several now put on their great-coats and took leave—some happy enough
to escort the ladies.
A few, however, after making a feint to go, returned into another room;
and here the twelve associates soon found themselves united.
“Now we will have an explanation,” said Beausire.
“Do not speak so loud,” said the Portuguese in good French. Then they
examined the doors and windows to make certain that all was secure,
drew the curtain close, and seated themselves.
“I have a communication to make,” said the Portuguese; “it was lucky,
however, I arrived when I did, for M. Beausire was seized this evening
with a most imprudent flow of eloquence.”
Beausire tried to speak.
“Silence,” said the Portuguese; “let us not waste words: you know my
ideas beforehand very well; you are a man of talent, and may have
guessed it, but I think ‘amour propre’ should never overcome
self-interest.”
“I do not understand.”
“M. Beausire hoped to be the first to make this proposition.”
“What proposition?” cried the rest.
“Concerning the two million francs,” said Beausire.
“Two million francs!” cried they.
“First,” said the Portuguese, “you exaggerate; it is not as much as
that.”
“We do not know what you are talking of,” said the banker.
“But are not the less all ears,” said another.
The Portuguese drank off a large glass of Orgeat, and then began: “The
necklace is not worth more than 1,500,000 francs.”
“Oh, then it concerns a necklace?” said Beausire.
“Yes, did you not mean the same thing?”
“Perhaps.”
“Now he is going to be discreet after his former folly,” said the
Portuguese; “but time presses, for the ambassador will arrive in eight
days.”
“This matter becomes complicated,” said the banker; “a necklace!
1,500,000 francs! and an ambassador! Pray explain.”
“In a few words,” said the Portuguese; “MM. Bœhmer and Bossange offered
to the queen a necklace worth that sum. She refused it, and now they do
not know what to do with it, for none but a royal fortune could buy it.
Well, I have found the royal personage who will buy this necklace, and
obtain the custody of it from MM. Bœhmer and Bossange; and that is my
gracious sovereign the Queen of Portugal.”
“We understand it less than ever,” said the associates.
“And I not at all,” thought Beausire; then he said aloud, “Explain
yourself clearly, dear M. Manoël; our private differences should give
place to the public interests. I acknowledge you the author of the
idea, and renounce all right to its paternity. Therefore speak on.”
“Willingly,” said Manoël, drinking a second glass of Orgeat; “the
embassy is vacant just now; the new ambassador, M. de Souza, will not
arrive for a week. Well, he may arrive sooner.”
They all looked stupefied but Beausire, who said, “Do you not see some
ambassador, whether true or false?”
“Exactly,” said Manoël; “and the ambassador who arrives may desire to
buy this necklace for the Queen of Portugal, and treat accordingly with
MM. Bœhmer and Bossange; that is all.”
“But,” said the banker, “they would not allow such a necklace to pass
into the hands of M. de Souza himself without good security.”
“Oh, I have thought of all that; the ambassador’s house is vacant, with
the exception of the chancellor, who is a Frenchman, and speaks bad
Portuguese, and who is therefore delighted when the Portuguese speak
French to him, as he does not then betray himself; but who likes to
speak Portuguese to the French, as it sounds grand. Well, we will
present ourselves to this chancellor with all the appearances of a new
legation.”
“Appearances are something,” said Beausire: “but the credentials are
much more.”
“We will have them,” replied Manoël.
“No one can deny that Don Manoël is an invaluable man,” said Beausire.
“Well, our appearances, and the credentials having convinced the
chancellor of our identity, we will establish ourselves at the house.”
“That is pretty bold,” said Beausire.
“It is necessary, and quite easy,” said Manoël; “the chancellor will be
convinced, and if he should afterwards become less credulous, we will
dismiss him. I believe an ambassador has the right to change his
chancellor.”
“Certainly.”
“Then, when we are masters of the hotel, our first operation will be to
wait on MM. Bœhmer and Bossange.”
“But you forget one thing,” said Beausire; “our first act should be to
ask an audience of the king, and then we should break down. The famous
Riza Bey, who was presented to Louis XIV. as ambassador from the Shah
of Persia, spoke Persian at least, and there were no savants here
capable of knowing how well; but we should be found out at once. We
should be told directly that our Portuguese was remarkably French, and
we should be sent to the Bastile.”
“We will escape this danger by remaining quietly at home.”
“Then M. Bœhmer will not believe in our ambassadorship.”
“M. Bœhmer will be told that we are sent merely to buy the necklace. We
will show him our order to do this, as we shall before have shown it to
the chancellor, only we must try to avoid showing it to the ministers,
for they are suspicious, and might find a host of little flaws.”
“Oh yes,” cried they all, “let us avoid the ministers.”
“But if MM. Bœhmer and Bossange require money on account?” asked
Beausire.
“That would complicate the affair, certainly.”
“For,” continued Beausire, “it is usual for an ambassador to have
letters of credit, at least, if not ready money; and here we should
fail.”
“You find plenty of reasons why it should fail,” said Manoël, “but
nothing to make it succeed.”
“It is because I wish it to succeed that I speak of the difficulties.
But stop—a thought strikes me: in every ambassador’s house there is a
strong box.”
“Yes; but it may be empty.”
“Well! if it be, we must ask MM. Bœhmer and Bossange who are their
correspondents at Lisbon, and we will sign and stamp for them letters
of credit for the sum demanded.”
“That will do,” said Manoël, “I was engrossed with the grand idea, but
had not sufficiently considered the details.”
“Now, let us think of arranging the parts,” said Beausire. “Don Manoël
will be ambassador.”
“Certainly,” they all said.
“And M. Beausire my secretary and interpreter,” said Manoël.
“Why so?” said Beausire, rather uneasily.
“I am M. de Souza, and must not speak a word of French; for I know that
that gentleman speaks nothing but Portuguese, and very little of that.
You, on the contrary, M. Beausire, who have traveled, and have acquired
French habits, who speak Portuguese also——”
“Very badly,” said Beausire.
“Quite enough to deceive a Parisian; and then, you know, the most
useful agents will have the largest shares.”
“Assuredly,” said the others.
“Well! it is agreed; I am secretary and interpreter. Then as to the
money?”
“It shall be divided into twelve parts; but I as ambassador and author
of the scheme shall have a share and a half; M. Beausire the same, as
interpreter, and because he partly shared my idea; and also a share and
a half to him who sells the jewels.”
“So far, then, it is settled! we will arrange the minor details
to-morrow, for it is very late,” said Beausire, who was thinking of
Oliva, left at the ball with the blue domino, towards whom, in spite of
his readiness in giving away louis d’or, he did not feel very friendly.
“No, no; we will finish at once,” said the others. “What is to be
prepared?”
“A traveling carriage, with the arms of M. de Souza,” said Beausire.
“That would take too long to paint and to dry,” said Manoël.
“Then we must say that the ambassador’s carriage broke down on the way,
and he was forced to use that of the secretary: I must have a carriage,
and my arms will do for that. Besides, we will have plenty of bruises
and injuries on the carriage, and especially round the arms, and no one
will think of them.”
“But the rest of the embassy?”
“We will arrive in the evening; it is the best time to make a début,
and you shall all follow next day, when we have prepared the way.”
“Very well.”
“But every ambassador, besides a secretary, must have a valet de
chambre. You, captain,” said Don Manoël, addressing one of the gang,
“shall take this part.”
The captain bowed.
“And the money for the purchases?” said Manoël. “I have nothing.”
“I have a little,” said Beausire, “but it belongs to my mistress. What
have we in our fund?”
“Your keys, gentlemen,” said the banker.
Each drew out a key, which opened one of twelve locks in the table; so
that none of these honest associates could open it without all the
others. They went to look.
“One hundred and ninety-eight louis, besides the reserve fund,” said
the banker.
“Give them to M. Beausire and me. It is not too much,” said Manoël.
“Give us two-thirds, and leave the rest,” said Beausire, with a
generosity which won all their hearts.
Don Manoël and Beausire received, therefore, one hundred and thirty-two
louis and sixty-six remained for the others.
They then separated, having fixed a rendezvous for the next day.
Beausire rolled up his domino under his arm, and hastened to the Rue
Dauphine, where he hoped to find Oliva in possession of some new louis
d’or.