"Oh, I know what you mean--the diamonds of MM. Boehmer 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 a.s.sure 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 appet.i.te 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 Boehmer 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. Boehmer. He intended to preserve his incognito, but they knew him, and called him "Monseigneur" directly.