Madame de Belliere’s Plate
The blow had been the more painful on account of its being unexpected.
It was some time before the marquise recovered herself; but once
recovered, she began to reflect upon the events so heartlessly
announced to her. She therefore returned, at the risk even of losing
her life in the way, to that train of ideas which her relentless friend
had forced her to pursue. Treason, then—deep menaces, concealed under
the semblance of public interest—such were Colbert’s maneuvers. A
detestable delight at an approaching downfall, untiring efforts to
attain this object, means of seduction no less wicked than the crime
itself—such were the weapons Marguerite employed. The crooked atoms of
Descartes triumphed; to the man without compassion was united a woman
without heart. The marquise perceived, with sorrow rather than
indignation, that the king was an accomplice in the plot which betrayed
the duplicity of Louis XIII. in his advanced age, and the avarice of
Mazarin at a period of life when he had not had the opportunity of
gorging himself with French gold. The spirit of this courageous woman
soon resumed its energy, no longer overwhelmed by indulgence in
compassionate lamentations. The marquise was not one to weep when
action was necessary, nor to waste time in bewailing a misfortune as
long as means still existed of relieving it. For some minutes she
buried her face in her cold fingers, and then, raising her head, rang
for her attendants with a steady hand, and with a gesture betraying a
fixed determination of purpose. Her resolution was taken.
“Is everything prepared for my departure?” she inquired of one of her
female attendants who entered.
“Yes, madame; but it was not expected that your ladyship would leave
for Belliere for the next few days.”
“All my jewels and articles of value, then, are packed up?”
“Yes, madame; but hitherto we have been in the habit of leaving them in
Paris. Your ladyship does not generally take your jewels with you into
the country.”
“But they are all in order, you say?”
“Yes, in your ladyship’s own room.”
“The gold plate?”
“In the chest.”
“And the silver plate?”
“In the great oak closet.”
The marquise remained silent for a few moments, and then said calmly,
“Let my goldsmith be sent for.”
Her attendants quitted the room to execute the order. The marquise,
however, had entered her own room, and was inspecting her casket of
jewels with the greatest attention. Never, until now, had she bestowed
such close attention upon riches in which women take so much pride;
never, until now, had she looked at her jewels except for the purpose
of making a selection, according to their settings or their colors. On
this occasion, however, she admired the size of the rubies and the
brilliancy of the diamonds; she grieved over every blemish and every
defect; she thought the gold light, and the stones wretched. The
goldsmith, as he entered, found her thus occupied. “M. Faucheux,” she
said, “I believe you supplied me with my gold service?”
“I did, your ladyship.”
“I do not now remember the amount of the account.”
“Of the new service, madame, or of that which M. de Belliere presented
to you on your marriage? for I have furnished both.”
“First of all, the new one.”
“The covers, the goblets, and the dishes, with their covers, the
eau-epergne, the ice-pails, the dishes for the preserves, and the tea
and coffee urns, cost your ladyship sixty thousand francs.”
“No more?”
“Your ladyship thought the account very high.”
“Yes, yes; I remember, in fact, that it was dear; but it was the
workmanship, I suppose?”
“Yes, madame; the designs, the chasings—all new patterns.”
“What proportion of the cost does the workmanship form? Do not hesitate
to tell me.”
“A third of its value, madame.”
“There is the other service, the old one, that which belonged to my
husband?”
“Yes, madame; there is less workmanship in that than in the other. Its
intrinsic value does not exceed thirty thousand francs.”
“Thirty thousand,” murmured the marquise. “But, M. Faucheux, there is
also the service which belonged to my mother; all that massive plate
which I did not wish to part with, on account of the associations
connected with it.”
“Ah! madame, that would indeed be an excellent resource for those who,
unlike your ladyship, might not be in a position to keep their plate.
In chasing that they worked in solid metal. But that service is no
longer in fashion. Its weight is its only advantage.”
“That is all I care about. How much does it weigh?”
“Fifty thousand livres at the very least. I do not allude to the
enormous vases for the buffet, which alone weigh five thousand livres,
or ten thousand the pair.”
“One hundred and thirty,” murmured the marquise. “You are quite sure of
your figures, M. Faucheux?”
“Positive, madame. Besides, there is no difficulty in weighing them.”
“The amount is entered in my books.”
“Your ladyship is extremely methodical, I am aware.”
“Let us now turn to another subject,” said Madame de, Belliere; and she
opened one of her jewel-boxes.
“I recognize these emeralds,” said M. Faucheux; “for it was I who had
the setting of them. They are the most beautiful in the whole court.
No, I am mistaken; Madame de Chatillon has the most beautiful set; she
had them from Messieurs de Guise; but your set madame, comes next.”
“What are they worth?”
“Mounted?”
“No; supposing I wished to sell them.”
“I know very well who would buy them,” exclaimed M. Faucheux.
“That is the very thing I ask. They could be sold, then?”
“All your jewels could be sold, madame. It is well known that you
possess the most beautiful jewels in Paris. You are not changeable in
your tastes; when you make a purchase it is of the very best; and what
you purchase you do not part with.”
“What could these emeralds be sold for, then?”
“A hundred and thirty thousand francs.”
The marquise wrote down upon her tablets the amount which the jeweler
mentioned. “The ruby necklace?” she said.
“Are they balas-rubies, madame?”
“Here they are.”
“They are beautiful—magnificent. I did not know that your ladyship had
these stones.”
“What is their value?”
“Two hundred thousand francs. The center one is alone worth a hundred
thousand.”
“I thought so,” said the marquise. “As for diamonds, I have them in
numbers; rings, necklaces, sprigs, earrings, clasps. Tell me their
value, M. Faucheux.”
The jeweler took his magnifying-glass and scales, weighed and inspected
them, and silently made his calculations. “These stones,” he said,
“must have cost your ladyship an income of forty thousand francs.”
“You value them at eight hundred thousand francs?”
“Nearly so.”
“It is about what I imagined—-but the settings are not included?”
“No, madame; but if I were called upon to sell or to buy, I should be
satisfied with the gold of the settings alone as my profit upon the
transaction. I should make a good twenty-five thousand francs.”
“An agreeable sum.”
“Very much so, madame.”
“Will you accept that profit, then, on condition of converting the
jewels into money?”
“But you do not intend to sell your diamonds, I suppose, madame?”
exclaimed the bewildered jeweler.
“Silence, M. Faucheux, do not disturb yourself about that; give me an
answer simply. You are an honorable man, with whom my family has dealt
for thirty years; you knew my father and mother, whom your own father
and mother served. I address you as a friend; will you accept the gold
of the settings in return for a sum of ready money to be placed in my
hands?”
“Eight hundred thousand francs! it is enormous.”
“I know it.”
“Impossible to find.”
“Not so.”
“But reflect, madame, upon the effect which will be produced by the
sale of your jewels.”
“No one need know it. You can get sets of false jewels made for me,
similar to the real. Do not answer a word; I insist upon it. Sell them
separately, sell the stones only.”
“In that way it is easy. Monsieur is looking out for some sets of
jewels as well as single stones for Madame’s toilette. There will be a
competition for them. I can easily dispose of six hundred thousand
francs’ worth to Monsieur. I am certain yours are the most beautiful.”
“When can you do so?”
“In less than three days’ time.”
“Very well, the remainder you will dispose of among private
individuals. For the present, make me out a contract of sale, payment
to be made in four days.”
“I entreat you to reflect, madame; for if you force the sale, you will
lose a hundred thousand francs.”
“If necessary, I will lose two hundred; I wish everything to be settled
this evening. Do you accept?”
“I do, your ladyship. I will not conceal from you that I shall make
fifty thousand francs by the transaction.”
“So much the better for you. In what way shall I have the money?”
“Either in gold, or in bills of the bank of Lyons, payable at M.
Colbert’s.”
“I agree,” said the marquise, eagerly; “return home and bring the sum
in question in notes, as soon as possible.”
“Yes, madame, but for Heaven’s sake——”
“Not a word, M. Faucheux. By the by, I was forgetting the silver plate.
What is the value of that which I have?”
“Fifty thousand francs, madame.”
“That makes a million,” said the marquise to herself. “M. Faucheux, you
will take away with you both the gold and silver plate. I can assign,
as a pretext, that I wish it remodelled on patterns more in accordance
with my own taste. Melt it down, and return me its value in money, at
once.”
“It shall be done, your ladyship.”
“You will be good enough to place the money in a chest, and direct one
of your clerks to accompany the chest, and without my servants seeing
him; and order him to wait for me in a carriage.”
“In Madame de Faucheux’s carriage?” said the jeweler.
“If you will allow it, and I will call for it at your house.”
“Certainly, your ladyship.”
“I will direct some of my servants to convey the plate to your house.”
The marquise rung. “Let the small van be placed at M. Faucheux’s
disposal,” she said. The jeweler bowed and left the house, directing
that the van should follow him closely, saying aloud that the marquise
was about to have her plate melted down in order to have other plate
manufactured of a more modern style. Three hours afterwards she went to
M. Faucheux’s house and received from him eight hundred thousand francs
in gold inclosed in a chest, which one of the clerks could hardly carry
towards Madame Faucheux’s carriage—for Madame Faucheux kept her
carriage. As the daughter of a president of accounts, she had brought a
marriage portion of thirty thousand crowns to her husband, who was
syndic of the goldsmiths. These thirty thousand crowns had become very
fruitful during twenty years. The jeweler, though a millionaire, was a
modest man. He had purchased a substantial carriage, built in 1648, ten
years after the king’s birth. This carriage, or rather house upon
wheels, excited the admiration of the whole quarter in which he
resided—it was covered with allegorical paintings, and clouds scattered
over with stars. The marquise entered this somewhat extraordinary
vehicle, sitting opposite the clerk, who endeavored to put his knees
out of the way, afraid even of touching the marquise’s dress. It was
the clerk, too, who told the coachman, who was very proud of having a
marquise to drive, to take the road to Saint-Mande.