"Yesterday."
"And she replied?"
"By one word, "Wait." That evening we received from the queen, by a courier, a letter."
"A letter to you?"
"Or rather a guarantee, in due form."
"Let me see it."
"Oh! we would with pleasure, but her majesty enjoins that it is not to be shown to any one."
"Then you are safe?"
"Perfectly, monseigneur."
"The queen acknowledges the debt?"
"Fully."
"And engages to pay?"
"500,000 francs in three months, the rest in six;" and she adds, "let the affair rest between ourselves. You will have no cause to repent it."
"I am charmed that it is settled," said the cardinal.
We must now raise the veil, though, doubtless, our readers comprehend how Jeanne de la Motte had acted towards her benefactress, and how she had managed to satisfy both the queen and the jewelers by borrowing the pen of M. Reteau.
Three months were thus obtained for the completion of her design of crime and deception, and within three months everything would be arranged.
She went to M. de Rohan, and repeated to him what the jewelers had already told him.
He asked if the queen remembered his good intentions. She drew a picture of her grat.i.tude, which enchanted him.
Her intention had been to sell some of the diamonds to the value of 100,000 crowns, and then pa.s.s over to England, where, when necessary, she could dispose of the remainder. But her first essay frightened her; some offered despicably small sums for the stones, others went into raptures, declaring they had never seen such diamonds but in the necklace of MM. Boehmer and Bossange.
She abandoned this course, therefore, which she saw might soon bring about her ruin. She shut up the diamonds carefully, and resolved to wait. But her position was critical. A few words of explanation between the queen and the cardinal, and all would be discovered. She consoled herself by thinking that the cardinal was too much in love not to fall into all the snares she might lay for him.
One thought alone occupied her--how to prevent their meeting. That he would not be long satisfied without an interview she knew--what should she do? Persuade him to ask for one, and offend the queen by his presumption?--but then the queen would speak her anger out, and all would come to light. She must compromise her, and endeavor so to close her lips. But if they met by chance, what remained for her but flight?
That was easy; a few hours would suffice. Then, again, she thought of the name she would leave behind her, and bear with her; no longer a woman of rank, but a thief, whom justice only does not reach, because she is too far off. No, she would not fly, if she could help it. She would try what audacity and skill could do, remain here and act between them. "To prevent them from meeting--that is the difficulty, as he is in love, and a prince, who has a right to see the queen; and she is now grateful and will no longer fly from him; but if I excite him to too open an admiration and disgust her, I alienate them more than ever. She will take fire easily, but what I want is something to make the queen tremble as well as him; something which would give me power to say, "If you accuse me, I will accuse you and ruin you--leave me my wealth, and I will you your honor." This is what I must seek for, and what I must find."
CHAPTER LXI
THE PRISONER.
Meanwhile a different scene was pa.s.sing in the Rue St. Claude, where M.
de Cagliostro had lodged Oliva in the old house, to keep her from the pursuit of the police. There she lived, retired, and almost happy: Cagliostro lavished care and attentions on her, and she liked being protected by this great lord, who asked nothing from her in return. Only what did he want? she often asked herself, uselessly, for he must have some object. Her amour propre made her decide that after all he was in love with her; and she began to build castles in the air in which we must confess poor Beausire now very rarely had a place. Therefore the two visits a week paid to her by Cagliostro were always eagerly looked forward to, and between them she amused herself with her dreams, and playing the great lady. However, her books were soon read through, at least such as suited her taste, and pictures and music soon wearied her.
She soon began to regret her mornings pa.s.sed at the windows of the Rue Dauphine, where she used to sit to attract the attention of the pa.s.sers-by; and her delightful promenades in the Quartier St. Germain, where so many people used to turn to look after her. True, the police-agents were formidable people, but what availed safety if she was not amused; so she first regretted her liberty, and then regretted Beausire.
Then she began to lose her appet.i.te for want of fresh air, for she had been used to walk every day.
One day, when she was bemoaning her fate, she received an unexpected visit from Cagliostro. He gave his accustomed signal, and she opened the door, which was always kept bolted, with an eagerness which showed her delight; and, seizing his hands, she cried, in an impatient voice, "Monsieur, I am ennuyee here."
"This is unlucky, my dear child."
"I shall die here."
"Really?"
"Yes."
"Well," said he, soothingly, "do not blame me, blame the lieutenant of police, who persecutes you."
"You exasperate me with your sang froid, monsieur; I would rather you flew in a pa.s.sion."
"Confess, mademoiselle, that you are unreasonable," said he, seating himself.
"It is all very well for you to talk," replied she; "you come and go as you like, you breathe the fresh air, your life is full of pleasure. I vegetate in the s.p.a.ce to which you have limited me, and your a.s.sistance, is useless to me if I am to die here."
"Die!" said the count, smiling.
"You behave very badly to me; you forget that I love pa.s.sionately."
"M. Beausire?"
"Yes, Beausire, I love him. I always told you so. Did you think I had forgotten him?"
"So little did I think so, mademoiselle, that I bring you news of him."
"Ah!"
"He is a charming person, young and handsome, is he not?"
"Full of imagination and fire, rather rough toward me, but that is his way of showing his love."
"Therefore I wished to take you back to him."
"You did not wish that a month ago."
"No, but when I see how you love him."
"Ah! you are laughing at me."
"Oh, no, you have resisted all my advances so well."