FACES UNDER THEIR MASKS.
Two hours had elapsed, and the conversation still continued. The
cardinal was now the slave, and Jeanne was triumphant. Two men often
deceive each other as they shake hands, a man and a woman as they kiss;
but here, each only deceived the other because they wished to be
deceived: each had an end to gain, and for that end intimacy was
necessary.
The cardinal now did not demonstrate his impatience, but always managed
to bring back the conversation to Versailles, and to the honors which
awaited the queen’s new favorite.
“She is generous,” said he, “and spares nothing towards those she
loves. She has the rare talent of giving a little to every one, and a
great deal to a few.”
“You think, then, she is rich?”
“She makes resources with a word or a smile; no minister, except
perhaps Turgot, ever refused her anything.”
“Well,” said Madame de la Motte, “I have seen her poorer than you
think.”
“What do you mean?”
“Are those rich who are obliged to impose privations on themselves?”
“Privations! What do you mean, dear countess?”
“I will tell you what I saw—I saw the queen suffer. Do you know what a
woman’s desire is, my dear prince?”
“No, countess; but I should like you to tell me.”
“Well, the queen has a desire, which she cannot satisfy.”
“For what?”
“For a diamond necklace.”
“Oh, I know what you mean—the diamonds of MM. Bœhmer and Bossange.”
“Precisely.”
“That is an old story, countess.”
“Old or new, it is a real vexation for a queen not to be able to buy
what was intended for a simple favorite. Fifteen more days added to the
life of Louis XV., and Jeanne Vaubernier would have had what Marie
Antoinette cannot buy.”
“My dear countess, you mistake; the queen could have had it, and she
refused it; the king offered them to her.”
And he recounted the history of the ship of war.
“Well,” said she, “after all, what does that prove?”
“That she did not want them, it seems to me.”
Jeanne shrugged her shoulders.
“You know women and courts, and believe that? The queen wanted to do a
popular act, and she has done it.”
“Good!” said the cardinal; “that is how you believe in the royal
virtues. Ah, skeptic, St. Thomas was credulous, compared to you!”
“Skeptic or not, I can assure you of one thing—that the queen had no
sooner refused it than she earnestly desired to have it.”
“You imagine all this, my dear countess; for if the queen has one
quality more than another, it is disinterestedness. She does not care
for gold or jewels, and likes a simple flower as well as a diamond.”
“I do not know that; I only know she wishes for this necklace.”
“Prove it, countess.”
“It is easy. I saw the necklace, and touched it.”
“Where?”
“At Versailles, when the jewelers brought it for the last time to try
and tempt the queen.”
“And it is beautiful?”
“Marvelous! I, who am a woman, think that one might lose sleep and
appetite in wishing for it.”
“Alas! why have I not a vessel to give the king?”
“A vessel!”
“Yes, for in return he would give me the necklace, and then you could
eat and sleep in peace.”
“You laugh.”
“No, really.”
“Well, I will tell you something that will astonish you. I would not
have the necklace.”
“So much the better, countess, for I could not give it to you.”
“Neither you nor any one—that is what the queen feels.”
“But I tell you that the king offered it to her.”
“And I tell you that women like best those presents that come from
people from whom they are not forced to accept them.”
“I do not understand you.”
“Well, never mind; and, after all, what does it matter to you, since
you cannot have it?”
“Oh, if I were king and you were queen, I would force you to have it.”
“Well, without being king, oblige the queen to have it, and see if she
is angry, as you suppose she would be.”
The cardinal looked at her with wonder.
“You are sure,” said he, “that you are not deceived, and that the queen
wishes for it?”
“Intensely. Listen, dear prince. Did you tell me, or where did I hear
it, that you would like to be minister?”
“You may have heard me say so, countess.”
“Well, I will bet that the queen would make that man a minister who
would place the necklace on her toilet within a week.”
“Oh, countess!”
“I say what I think. Would you rather I kept silent?”
“Certainly not.”
“However, it does not concern you, after all. It is absurd to suppose
that you would throw away a million and a half on a royal caprice; that
would be paying too dearly for the portfolio, which you ought to have
for nothing, so think no more of what I have said.”
The cardinal continued silent and thoughtful.
“Ah, you despise me now!” continued she; “you think I judge the queen
by myself. So I do; I thought she wanted these diamonds because she
sighed as she looked at them, and because in her place I should have
coveted them.”
“You are an adorable woman, countess! You have, by a wonderful
combination, softness of mind and strength of heart; sometimes you are
so little of a woman that I am frightened; at others, so charmingly so,
that I bless Heaven and you for it. And now we will talk of business no
more.”
“So be it,” thought Jeanne; “but I believe the bait has taken,
nevertheless.”
Indeed, although the cardinal said, “Speak of it no more,” in a few
minutes he asked, “Does not Bœhmer live somewhere on the Quai de la
Ferraille, near the Pont Neuf?”
“Yes, you are right; I saw the name on the door as I drove along.”
Jeanne was not mistaken—the fish had taken the hook; and the next
morning the cardinal drove to M. Bœhmer. He intended to preserve his
incognito, but they knew him, and called him “Monseigneur” directly.
“Well, gentlemen,” said he, “if you know me, keep my secret from
others.”
“Monseigneur may rely upon us. What can we do for your eminence?”
“I come to buy the necklace which you showed her majesty.”
“Really we are in despair, but it is too late.”
“How so?”
“It is sold.”
“Impossible, as you offered it only yesterday to the queen.”
“Who again refused it, so our other bargain held good.”
“And with whom was this bargain?”
“It is secret, monseigneur.”
“Too many secrets, M. Bœhmer,” said he, rising; “but I should have
thought that a French jeweler would prefer selling these beautiful
stones in France. You prefer Portugal—very well.”
“Monseigneur knows that!” cried the jeweler.
“Well, is that astonishing?”
“No one knew it but the queen.”
“And if that were so?” said M. de Rohan without contradicting a
supposition that flattered him.
“Ah! that would change matters.”
“Why so, sir?”
“May I speak freely?”
“Certainly.”
“The queen wishes for the necklace.”
“You think so?”
“I am sure of it.”
“Then why did she not buy it?”
“Because she had already refused the king, and she thought it would
look capricious to buy it now.”
“But the king wished her to have it.”
“Yes, but he thanked her for refusing; therefore I think she wishes to
have it without seeming to buy it.”
“Well, you are wrong, sir.”
“I am sorry for it, monseigneur. It would have been our only excuse for
breaking our word to the Portuguese ambassador.”
The cardinal reflected for a moment. “Then, sir, let us suppose that
the queen wishes for your necklace.”
“Oh! in that case, monseigneur, we would break through anything, that
she should have it.”
“What is the price?”
“1,500,000 francs.”
“How do you want payment?”
“The Portuguese was to give 100,000 francs down, and I was to take the
necklace myself to Lisbon, where the balance was to be paid.”
“Well, the 100,000 francs down you shall have; that is reasonable. As
for the rest——”
“Your eminence wishes for time? With such a guarantee, we should not
object; only credit implies a loss. The interest of our money must be
considered.”
“Well, call it 1,600,000 francs, and divide the time of payment into
three periods, making a year.”
“That would be a loss to us, sir.”
“Oh! nonsense; if I paid you the whole amount to-morrow, you would
hardly know what to do with it.”
“There are two of us, monseigneur.”
“Well, you will receive 500,000 francs every four months. That ought to
satisfy you.”
“Monseigneur forgets that these diamonds do not belong to us; if they
did, we should be rich enough to wait; they belong to a dozen different
creditors. We got some from Hamburg, some from Naples, one at Buenos
Ayres, and one at Moscow. All these people wait for the sale of the
necklace to be paid. The profit that we make is all that will be ours;
and we have already had it two years on hand.”
M. de Rohan interrupted him. “After all,” said he, “I have not seen the
necklace.”
“True, monseigneur; here it is.”
“It is really superb,” cried the cardinal; “it is a bargain?”
“Yes, monseigneur. I must go to the ambassador and excuse myself.”
“I did not think there was a Portuguese ambassador just now.”
“M. de Souza arrived incognito.”
“To buy this necklace?”
“Yes, monseigneur.”
“Oh! poor Souza, I know him well,” said he, laughing.
“With whom am I to conclude the transaction?” asked M. Bœhmer.
“With myself; you will see no one else. To-morrow I will bring the
100,000 francs, and will sign the agreement. And as you are a man of
secrets, M. Bœhmer, remember that you now possess an important one.”
“Monseigneur, I feel it, and will merit your confidence and the
queen’s.”
M. de Rohan went away happy, like all men who ruin themselves in a
transport of passion.
The next day M. Bœhmer went to the hotel of the Portuguese ambassador.
At the moment he knocked at the door, M. Beausire was going through
some accounts with M. Ducorneau, while Don Manoël was taking over some
new plan with the valet, his associate.
M. Ducorneau was charmed to find an ambassador so free from national
prejudice as to have formed his whole establishment of Frenchmen. Thus
his conversation was full of praises of him.
“The Souzas, you see,” replied Beausire, “are not of the old school of
Portuguese. They are great travelers, very rich, who might be kings if
they liked.”
“And do they not?”
“Why should they? With a certain number of millions, and the name of a
prince, one is better than a king.”
“Ah, Portugal will soon become great with such men at its head. But
when is the presentation to take place? It is most anxiously looked
for. The people around begin to talk of it, and to collect about the
doors of the hotel, as though they were of glass, and they could see
through.”
“Do you mean the people of the neighborhood?” asked Beausire.
“And others; for, the mission of M. de Souza being a secret one, you
may be sure the police would soon interest themselves about it; and
look,” continued Ducorneau, leading Beausire to the window, “do you see
that man in the brown surtout, how he looks at the house?”
“Yes, he does indeed. Who do you take him to be?”
“Probably a spy of M. de Crosne. However, between ourselves, M. de
Crosne is not equal to M. Sartines. Did you know him?”
“No.”
“Ah! he would have found out all about you long ago, in spite of all
your precautions.”
A bell rang. “His excellency rings!” said Beausire, who was beginning
to feel embarrassed by the conversation, and opening the door quickly,
he nearly knocked down two of the clerks who were listening.