Kitabı oku: «The Queen's Necklace», sayfa 10

CHAPTER XIX.
MONSIEUR BEAUSIRE

Oliva ran to meet a man, who came in swearing furiously, and in a frightful passion.

"Come, Beausire," said she, apparently not at all frightened.

"Let me alone!" cried he, shaking her off brutally. "Ah! I see, it was because there is a man here that the door was not opened!" And as the visitor remained perfectly still, he advanced furiously towards him, saying, "Will you answer me, sir?"

"What do you want to know, my dear M. Beausire?"

"What are you doing here, and who are you?"

"I am a very quiet man, and I was simply talking to madame."

"That was all," said Oliva.

"Will you hold your tongue?" bawled Beausire.

"Now," said the visitor, "do not be so rude to madame, who has done nothing to deserve it; and if you are in a bad temper – "

"Yes, I am."

"He must have lost at cards," murmured Oliva.

"I am cleaned out, mort de diable!" cried Beausire. "But you, sir, will do me the favor to leave this room."

"But, M. Beausire – "

"Diable! if you do not go immediately it will be the worse for you."

"You did not tell me, mademoiselle, that he was troubled with these fits. Good heavens! what ferocity!"

Beausire, exasperated, drew his sword, and roared, "If you do not move, I will pin you to the sofa!"

"Really, it is impossible to be more disagreeable," said the visitor, also drawing a small sword, which they had not before seen.

Oliva uttered piercing shrieks.

"Oh, mademoiselle, pray be quiet," said he, "or two things will happen: first, you will stun M. Beausire, and he will get killed; secondly, the watch will come up and carry you straight off to St. Lazare."

Oliva ceased her cries.

The scene that ensued was curious. Beausire, furious with rage, was making wild and unskilful passes at his adversary, who, still seated on the sofa, parried them with the utmost ease, laughing immoderately all the time.

Beausire began to grow tired and also frightened, for he felt that if this man, who was now content to stand on the defensive, were to attack him in his turn, he should be done for in a moment. Suddenly, however, by a skilful movement, the stranger sent Beausire's sword flying across the room; it went through an open window, and fell into the street.

"Oh, M. Beausire," said he, "you should take more care; if your sword falls on any one, it will kill him."

Beausire ran down at his utmost speed to fetch his sword, and meanwhile, Oliva, seizing the hand of the victor, said:

"Oh, sir, you are very brave; but as soon as you are gone, Beausire will beat me."

"Then I will remain."

"Oh, no; when he beats me, I beat him in return, and I always get the best of it, because I am not obliged to take any care; so if you would but go, sir – "

"But, my dear, if I go now, I shall meet M. Beausire on the stairs; probably the combat will recommence, and as I shall not feel inclined to stand on the staircase, I shall have to kill M. Beausire."

"Mon Dieu! it is true."

"Well, then, to avoid that I will remain here."

"No, sir, I entreat; go up to the next story, and as soon as he returns to this room I will lock the door and take the key, and you can walk away while we fight it out."

"You are a charming girl. Au revoir!"

"Till when?"

"To-night, if you please."

"To-night! are you mad?"

"Not at all; but there is a ball at the Opera to-night."

"But it is now midnight."

"That does not matter."

"I should want a domino."

"Beausire will fetch it when you have beaten him."

"You are right," said Oliva, laughing.

"And here are ten louis to buy it with."

"Adieu! and thanks." And she pushed him out, saying, "Quick! he is coming back."

"But if by chance he should beat you, how will you let me know?"

She reflected a moment. "You have a servant?"

"Yes."

"Send him here, and let him wait under the window till I let a note fall."

"I will. Adieu!" And he went up-stairs.

Oliva drowned the sound of his footsteps by calling loudly to Beausire, "Are you coming back, madman?" for he did not seem in much hurry to reencounter his formidable adversary. At last, however, he came up. Oliva was standing outside the door; she pushed him in, locked it, and put the key in her pocket.

Before the stranger left the house, he heard the noise of the combat begin, and both voices loud and furious. "There is no doubt," said he to himself, "that this woman knows how to take care of herself." His carriage was waiting for him at the corner of the street, but before getting in he spoke to the footman, who thereupon stationed himself within view of Mademoiselle Oliva's windows.

CHAPTER XX.
GOLD

We must now return to the interior of the room. Beausire was much surprised to see Oliva lock the door, and still more so not to see his adversary. He began to feel triumphant, for if he was hiding from him he must, he thought, be afraid of him. He therefore began to search for him; but Oliva talked so loud and fast that he advanced towards her to try and stop her, but was received with a box on the ear, which he returned in kind. Oliva replied by throwing a china vase at his head, and his answer was a blow with a cane. She, furious, flew at him and seized him by the throat, and he, trying to free himself, tore her dress.

Then, with a cry, she pushed him from her with such force that he fell in the middle of the room.

He began to get tired of this, so he said, without commencing another attack, "You are a wicked creature; you ruin me."

"On the contrary, it is you who ruin me."

"Oh, I ruin her! – she who has nothing!"

"Say that I have nothing now, say that you have eaten, and drank, and played away all that I had."

"You reproach me with my poverty."

"Yes, for it comes from your vices."

"Do not talk of vices; it only remained for you to take a lover."

"And what do you call all those wretches who sit by you in the tennis-court, where you play?"

"I play to live."

"And nicely you succeed; we should die of hunger from your industry."

"And you, with yours, are obliged to cry if you get your dress torn, because you have nothing to buy another with."

"I do better than you, at all events;" and, putting her hand in her pocket, she drew out some gold and threw it across the room.

When Beausire saw this, he remained stupefied.

"Louis!" cried he at last.

She took out some more, and threw them in his face.

"Oh!" cried he, "Oliva has become rich!"

"This is what my industry brings in," said she, pushing him with her foot as he kneeled down to pick up the gold.

"Sixteen, seventeen, eighteen," counted he, joyfully.

"Miserable wretch!" said Oliva.

"Nineteen, twenty, twenty-one, twenty-two."

"Coward!"

"Twenty-three, twenty-four, twenty-five."

"Infamous wretch!"

He got up. "And so, mademoiselle, you have been saving money when you kept me without necessaries. You let me go about in an old hat, darned stockings, and patched clothes, while you had all this money! Where does it come from! From the sale of my things?"

"Scoundrel!" murmured Oliva, looking at him with contempt.

"But I pardon your avarice," continued he.

"You would have killed me just now," said Oliva.

"Then I should have been right; now I should be wrong to do it."

"Why, if you please?"

"Because now you contribute to our ménage."

"You are a base wretch.'"

"My little Oliva!"

"Give me back my money."

"Oh, my darling!"

"If you do not, I will pass your own sword through your body!"

"Oliva!"

"Will you give it?"

"Oh, you would not take it away?"

"Ah, coward! you beg, you solicit for the fruits of my bad conduct – that is what they call a man! I have always despised you."

"I gave to you when I could, Nicole."

"Do not call me Nicole."

"Pardon, then, Oliva. But is it not true?"

"Fine presents, certainly: some silver buckles, six louis d'or, two silk dresses, and three embroidered handkerchiefs."

"It is a great deal for a soldier."

"Hold your tongue! The buckles you stole from some one else, the louis d'or you borrowed and never returned, the silk dresses – "

"Oliva! Oliva!"

"Give me back my money."

"What shall I give you instead?"

"Double the quantity."

"Well," said the rogue, gravely, "I will go to the Rue de Bussy and play with it, and bring you back, not the double, but the quintuple;" and he made two steps to the door.

She caught him by the coat.

"There," said he, "you have torn my coat."

"Never mind; you shall have a new one."

"That will be six louis, Oliva. Luckily, at the Rue de Bussy they are not particular about dress."

Oliva seized hold of the other tail, and tore it right off.

Beausire became furious.

"Mort de tous les diables!" cried he, "you will make me kill you at last! You are tearing me to bits! Now I cannot go out."

"On the contrary, you must go out immediately."

"Without a coat?"

"Put on your great-coat."

"It is all in holes."

"Then do not put it on; but you must go out."

"I will not."

She took out of her pocket another handful of gold, and put it into his hands.

Beausire kneeled at her feet and cried, "Order, and I will obey!"

"Go quickly to the Capucin, Rue de Seine, where they sell dominoes for the bal masque, and buy me one complete, mask and all."

"Good."

"And one for yourself – black, but mine white; and I only give you twenty minutes to do it in."

"Are we going to the ball?"

"Yes, if you are obedient."

"Oh, always."

"Go, then, and show your zeal."

"I run; but the money?"

"You have twenty-five louis, that you picked up."

"Oh, Oliva, I thought you meant to give me those."

"You shall have more another time, but if I give you them now, you will stop and play."

"She is right," said he to himself; "that is just what I intended to do;" and he set off.

As soon as he was gone, Oliva wrote rapidly these words: "The peace is signed, and the ball decided on; at two o'clock we shall be at the Opera. I shall wear a white domino, with a blue ribbon on my left shoulder." Then, rolling this round a bit of the broken vase, she went to the window and threw it out.

The valet picked it up, and made off immediately.

In less than half an hour M. Beausire returned, followed by two men, bringing, at the cost of eighteen louis, two beautiful dominoes, such as were only turned out at the Capucin, makers to her majesty and the maids of honor.

CHAPTER XXI.
LA PETITE MAISON

We left Madame de la Motte at M. Mesmer's door, watching the queen's carriage as it drove off. Then she went home; for she also intended to put on a domino, and indulge herself by going to the Opera. But a contretemps awaited her: a man was waiting at her door with a note from the Cardinal de Rohan. She opened it, and read as follows:

"Madame la Comtesse, you have doubtless not forgotten that we have business together; even if you have a short memory, I never forget what has pleased me. I shall have the honor to wait for you where my messenger will conduct you, if you please to come."

Jeanne, although rather vexed, immediately reentered the coach, and told the footman to get on the box with the coachman. Ten minutes sufficed to bring her to the entrance of the Faubourg St. Antoine, where, in a hollow and completely hidden by great trees, was one of those pretty houses built in the time of Louis XV., with all the taste of the sixteenth, with the comfort of the eighteenth, century.

"Oh, oh! a petite maison!" said she to herself. "It is very natural on the part of M. de Rohan, but very humiliating for Valois. But, patience."

She was led from room to room till she came to a small dining-room, fitted up with exquisite taste. There she found the cardinal waiting for her. He was looking over some pamphlets, but rose immediately on seeing her.

"Ah, here you are. Thanks, Madame la Comtesse," and he approached to kiss her hand; but she drew back with a reproachful and indignant air.

"What is the matter, madame?" he asked.

"You are, doubtless, not accustomed, monseigneur, to receive such a greeting from the women whom your eminence is in the habit of summoning here."

"Oh! madame."

"We are in your petite maison, are we not, sir?" continued she, looking disdainfully around her.

"But, madame – "

"I had hoped that your eminence would have deigned to remember in what rank I was born. I had hoped that you would have been pleased to consider, that if God has made me poor, He has at least left me the pride of my race."

"Come, come, countess, I took you for a woman of intellect."

"You call a woman of intellect, it appears, monseigneur, every one who is indifferent to, and laughs at, everything, even dishonor. To these women, pardon me, your eminence, I have been in the habit of giving a different name."

"No, countess, you deceive yourself; I call a woman of intellect one who listens when you speak to her, and does not speak before having listened."

"I listen, then."

"I had to speak to you of serious matters, countess."

"Therefore you receive me in a dining-room."

"Why, would you have preferred my receiving you in a boudoir?"

"The distinction is nice," said she.

"I think so, countess."

"Then I am simply to sup with you?"

"Nothing else."

"I trust your eminence is persuaded that I feel the honor as I ought."

"You are quizzing, countess."

"No, I only laugh; would you rather I were angry? You are difficult to please, monseigneur."

"Oh; you are charming when you laugh, and I ask nothing better than to see you always doing so; but at this moment you are not laughing; oh, no! there is anger in that smile which shows your beautiful teeth."

"Not the least in the world, monseigneur."

"That is good."

"And I hope you will sup well."

"I shall sup well, and you?"

"Oh, I am not hungry."

"How, madame, you refuse to sup with me – you send me away?"

"I do not understand you, monseigneur."

"Listen, dear countess; if you were less in a passion, I would tell you that it is useless to behave like this – you are always equally charming; but as at each compliment I fear to be dismissed, I abstain."

"You fear to be dismissed? Really, I beg pardon of your eminence, but you become unintelligible."

"It is, however, quite clear, what I say. The other day, when I came to see you, you complained that you were lodged unsuitably to your rank. I thought, therefore, that to restore you to your proper place would be like restoring air to the bird whom the experimenter has placed under his air-pump. Consequently, beautiful countess, that you might receive me with pleasure, and that I, on my part, might visit you without compromising either you or myself – " He stopped and looked at her.

"Well!" she said.

"I hoped that you would deign to accept this small residence; you observe, I do not call it 'petite maison.'"

"Accept! you give me this house, monseigneur?" said Jeanne, her heart beating with eagerness.

"A very small gift, countess; but if I had offered you more, you would have refused."

"Oh, monseigneur, it is impossible for me to accept this."

"Impossible, why? Do not say that word to me, for I do not believe in it. The house belongs to you, the keys are here on this silver plate; do you find out another humiliation in this?"

"No, but – "

"Then accept."

"Monseigneur, I have told you."

"How, madame? you write to the ministers for a pension, you accept a hundred louis from an unknown lady – "

"Oh, monseigneur, it is different."

"Come, I have waited for you in your dining-room. I have not yet seen the boudoir, nor the drawing-room, nor the bedrooms, for I suppose there are all these."

"Oh, monseigneur, forgive me; you force me to confess that you the most delicate of men," and she blushed with the pleasure she had been so long restraining. But checking herself, she sat down and said, "Now, will your eminence give me my supper?"

The cardinal took off his cloak, and sat down also.

Supper was served in a few moments. Jeanne put on her mask before the servants came in.

"It is I who ought to wear a mask," said the cardinal, "for you are at home, among your own people."

Jeanne laughed, but did not take hers off. In spite of her pleasure and surprise, she made a good supper. The cardinal was a man of much talent, and from his great knowledge of the world and of women, he was a man difficult to contend with, and he thought that this country girl, full of pretension, but who, in spite of her pride, could not conceal her greediness, would be an easy conquest, worth undertaking on account of her beauty, and of a something piquant about her, very pleasing to a man "blasé" like him. He therefore never took pains to be much on his guard with her; and she, more cunning than he thought, saw through his opinion of her, and tried to strengthen it by playing the provincial coquette, and appearing silly, that her adversary might be in reality weak in his over-confidence.

The cardinal thought her completely dazzled by the present he had made her – and so, indeed, she was; but he forgot that he himself was below the mark of the ambition of a woman like Jeanne.

"Come," said he, pouring out for her a glass of cyprus wine, "as you have signed your contract with me, you will not be unfriendly any more, countess."

"Oh no!"

"You will receive me here sometimes without repugnance?"

"I shall never be so ungrateful as to forget whose house this really is."

"Not mine."

"Oh yes, monseigneur."

"Do not contradict me, I advise you, or I shall begin to impose conditions."

"You take care on your part – "

"Of what?"

"Why, I am at home here, you know, and if your conditions are unreasonable, I shall call my servants – "

The cardinal laughed.

"Ah, you laugh, sir; you think if I call they will not come."

"Oh, you quite mistake, countess. I am nothing here, only your guest. Apropos," continued he, as if it had just entered his head, "have you heard anything more of the ladies who came to see you?"

"The ladies of the portrait?" said Jeanne, who, now knowing the queen, saw through the artifice.

"Yes, the ladies of the portrait."

"Monseigneur, you know them as well and even better than I do, I feel sure."

"Oh, countess, you do me wrong. Did you not express a wish to learn who they were?"

"Certainly; it is natural to desire to know your benefactors."

"Well, if knew, I should have told you."

"M. le Cardinal, you do know them."

"No."

"If you repeat that 'no,' I shall have to call you a liar."

"I shall know how to avenge that insult."

"How?"

"With a kiss."

"You know the portrait of Maria Theresa?"

"Certainly, but what of that?"

"That, having recognized this portrait, you must have had some suspicion of the person to whom it belonged."

"And why?"

"Because it was natural to think that the portrait of a mother would only be in the hands of her daughter."

"The queen!" cried the cardinal, with so truthful a tone of surprise that it duped even Jeanne. "Do you really think the queen came to see you?"

"And you did not suspect it?"

"Mon Dieu, no! how should I? I, who speak to you, am neither son, daughter, nor even relation of Maria Theresa, yet I have a portrait of her about me at this moment. Look," said he – and he drew out a snuff-box and showed it to her; "therefore you see that if I, who am in no way related to the imperial house, carry about such a portrait, another might do the same, and yet be a stranger."

Jeanne was silent – she had nothing to answer.

"Then it is your opinion," he went on, "that you have had a visit from the queen, Marie Antoinette."

"The queen and another lady."

"Madame de Polignac?"

"I do not know."

"Perhaps Madame de Lamballe?"

"A young lady, very beautiful and very serious."

"Oh, perhaps Mademoiselle de Taverney."

"It is possible; I do not know her."

"Well, if her majesty has really come to visit you, you are sure of her protection. It is a great step towards your fortune."

"I believe it, monseigneur."

"And her majesty was generous to you?"

"She gave me a hundred louis."

"And she is not rich, particularly now."

"That doubles my gratitude."

"Did she show much interest in you?"

"Very great."

"Then all goes well," said the prelate; "there only remains one thing now – to penetrate to Versailles."

The countess smiled.

"Ah, countess, it is not so easy."

She smiled again, more significantly than before.

"Really, you provincials," said he, "doubt nothing; because you have seen Versailles with the doors open, and stairs to go up, you think any one may open these doors and ascend these stairs. Have you seen the monsters of brass, of marble, and of lead, which adorn the park and the terraces?"

"Yes."

"Griffins, gorgons, ghouls, and other ferocious beasts. Well, you will find ten times as many, and more wicked, living animals between you and the favor of sovereigns."

"Your eminence will aid me to pass through the ranks of these monsters."

"I will try, but it will be difficult. And if you pronounce my name, if you discover your talisman, it will lose all its power."

"Happily, then, I am guarded by the immediate protection of the queen, and I shall enter Versailles with a good key."

"What key, countess?"

"Ah, Monsieur le Cardinal, that is my secret – or rather it is not, for if it were mine, I should feel bound to tell it to my generous protector."

"There is, then, an obstacle, countess?"

"Alas! yes, monseigneur. It is not my secret, and I must keep it. Let it suffice you to know that to-morrow I shall go to Versailles; that I shall be received, and, I have every reason to hope, well received."

The cardinal looked at her with wonder. "Ah, countess," said he, laughing, "I shall see if you will get in."

"You will push your curiosity so far as to follow me?"

"Exactly."

"Very well."

"Really, countess, you are a living enigma."

"One of those monsters who inhabit Versailles."

"Oh, you believe me a man of taste, do you not?"

"Certainly, monseigneur."

"Well, here I am at your knees, and I take your hand and kiss it. Should I do that if I thought you a monster?"

"I beg you, sir, to remember," said Jeanne coldly, "that I am neither a grisette nor an opera girl; that I am my own mistress, feeling myself the equal of any man in this kingdom. Therefore I shall take freely and spontaneously, when it shall please me, the man who will have gained my affections. Therefore, monseigneur, respect me a little, and, in me, the nobility to which we both belong."

The cardinal rose. "I see," said he, "you wish me to love you seriously."

"I do not say that; but I wish to be able to love you. When that day comes – if it does comes – you will easily find it out, believe me. If you do not, I will let you know it; for I feel young enough and attractive enough not to mind making the first advances, nor to fear a repulse."

"Countess, if it depends upon me, you shall love me."

"We shall see."

"You have already a friendship for me, have you not?"

"More than that."

"Oh! then we are at least half way. And you are a woman that I should adore, if – " He stopped and sighed.

"Well," said she, "if – "

"If you would permit it."

"Perhaps I shall, when I shall be independent of your assistance, and you can no longer suspect that I encourage you from interested motives."

"Then you forbid me to pay my court now?"

"Not at all; but there are other ways besides kneeling and kissing hands."

"Well, countess, let us hear; what will you permit?"

"All that is compatible with my tastes and duties."

"Oh, that is vague indeed."

"Stop! I was going to add – my caprices."

"I am lost!"

"You draw back?"

"No," said the cardinal, "I do not."

"Well, then, I want a proof."

"Speak."

"I want to go to the ball at the Opera."

"Well, countess, that only concerns yourself. Are you not free as air to go where you wish?"

"Ah, but you have not heard all. I want you to go with me."

"I to the Opera, countess!" said he, with a start of horror.

"See already how much your desire to please me is worth."

"A cardinal cannot go to a ball at the Opera, countess. It is as if I proposed to you to go into a public-house."

"Then a cardinal does not dance, I suppose?"

"Oh no!"

"But I have read that M. le Cardinal de Richelieu danced a saraband."

"Yes, before Anne of Austria."

"Before a queen," repeated Jeanne. "Perhaps you would do as much for a queen?"

The cardinal could not help blushing, dissembler as he was.

"Is it not natural," she continued, "that I should feel hurt when, after all your protestations, you will not do as much for me as you would for a queen? – especially when I only ask you to go concealed in a domino and a mask; besides, a man like you, who may do anything with impunity!"

The cardinal yielded to her flattery and her blandishments. Taking her hand, he said, "For you I will do anything, even the impossible."

"Thanks, monseigneur; you are really amiable. But now you have consented, I will let you off."

"No, no! he who does the work can alone claim the reward. Countess, I will attend you, but in a domino."

"We shall pass through the Rue St. Denis, close to the Opera," said the countess. "I will go in masked, buy a domino and a mask for you, and you can put them on in the carriage."

"That will do delightfully."

"Oh, monseigneur, you are very good! But, now I think of it, perhaps at the Hôtel Rohan you might find a domino more to your taste than the one I should buy."

"Now, countess, that is unpardonable malice. Believe me if I go to the Opera, I shall be as surprised to find myself there as you were to find yourself supping tête-à-tête with a man not your husband."

Jeanne had nothing to reply to this. Soon a carriage without arms drove up; they both got in, and drove off at a rapid pace.