The three musketeers
to intercede for her with your Majesty.”
“Let her humble herself, then, and come to me first.”
“On the contrary, sire, set the example. You have committed the first
wrong, since it was you who suspected the queen.”
“What! I make the first advances?” said the king. “Never!”
“Sire, I entreat you to do so.”
“Besides, in what manner can I make advances first?”
“By doing a thing which you know will be agreeable to her.”
“What is that?”
“Give a ball; you know how much the queen loves dancing. I will answer
for it, her resentment will not hold out against such an attention.”
“Monsieur Cardinal, you know that I do not like worldly pleasures.”
“The queen will only be the more grateful to you, as she knows your
antipathy for that amusement; besides, it will be an opportunity for
her to wear those beautiful diamonds which you gave her recently on her
birthday and with which she has since had no occasion to adorn
herself.”
“We shall see, Monsieur Cardinal, we shall see,” said the king, who, in
his joy at finding the queen guilty of a crime which he cared little
about, and innocent of a fault of which he had great dread, was ready
to make up all differences with her, “we shall see, but upon my honor,
you are too indulgent toward her.”
“Sire,” said the cardinal, “leave severity to your ministers. Clemency
is a royal virtue; employ it, and you will find that you derive
advantage therein.”
Thereupon the cardinal, hearing the clock strike eleven, bowed low,
asking permission of the king to retire, and supplicating him to come
to a good understanding with the queen.
Anne of Austria, who, in consequence of the seizure of her letter,
expected reproaches, was much astonished the next day to see the king
make some attempts at reconciliation with her. Her first movement was
repellent. Her womanly pride and her queenly dignity had both been so
cruelly offended that she could not come round at the first advance;
but, overpersuaded by the advice of her women, she at last had the
appearance of beginning to forget. The king took advantage of this
favorable moment to tell her that he had the intention of shortly
giving a fête.
A fête was so rare a thing for poor Anne of Austria that at this
announcement, as the cardinal had predicted, the last trace of her
resentment disappeared, if not from her heart, at least from her
countenance. She asked upon what day this fête would take place, but
the king replied that he must consult the cardinal upon that head.
Indeed, every day the king asked the cardinal when this fête should
take place; and every day the cardinal, under some pretext, deferred
fixing it. Ten days passed away thus.
On the eighth day after the scene we have described, the cardinal
received a letter with the London stamp which only contained these
lines: “I have them; but I am unable to leave London for want of money.
Send me five hundred pistoles, and four or five days after I have
received them I shall be in Paris.”
On the same day the cardinal received this letter the king put his
customary question to him.
Richelieu counted on his fingers, and said to himself, “She will
arrive, she says, four or five days after having received the money. It
will require four or five days for the transmission of the money, four
or five days for her to return; that makes ten days. Now, allowing for
contrary winds, accidents, and a woman’s weakness, there are twelve
days.”
“Well, Monsieur Duke,” said the king, “have you made your
calculations?”
“Yes, sire. Today is the twentieth of September. The aldermen of the
city give a fête on the third of October. That will fall in wonderfully
well; you will not appear to have gone out of your way to please the
queen.”
Then the cardinal added, “_A propos_, sire, do not forget to tell her
Majesty the evening before the fête that you should like to see how her
diamond studs become her.”
Chapter XVII.
BONACIEUX AT HOME
It was the second time the cardinal had mentioned these diamond studs
to the king. Louis XIII. was struck with this insistence, and began to
fancy that this recommendation concealed some mystery.
More than once the king had been humiliated by the cardinal, whose
police, without having yet attained the perfection of the modern
police, were excellent, being better informed than himself, even upon
what was going on in his own household. He hoped, then, in a
conversation with Anne of Austria, to obtain some information from that
conversation, and afterward to come upon his Eminence with some secret
which the cardinal either knew or did not know, but which, in either
case, would raise him infinitely in the eyes of his minister.
He went then to the queen, and according to custom accosted her with
fresh menaces against those who surrounded her. Anne of Austria lowered
her head, allowed the torrent to flow on without replying, hoping that
it would cease of itself; but this was not what Louis XIII. meant. Louis
XIII. wanted a discussion from which some light or other might break,
convinced as he was that the cardinal had some afterthought and was
preparing for him one of those terrible surprises which his Eminence
was so skillful in getting up. He arrived at this end by his
persistence in accusation.
“But,” cried Anne of Austria, tired of these vague attacks, “but, sire,
you do not tell me all that you have in your heart. What have I done,
then? Let me know what crime I have committed. It is impossible that
your Majesty can make all this ado about a letter written to my
brother.”
The king, attacked in a manner so direct, did not know what to answer;
and he thought that this was the moment for expressing the desire which
he was not going to have made until the evening before the fête.
“Madame,” said he, with dignity, “there will shortly be a ball at the
Hôtel de Ville. I wish, in order to honor our worthy aldermen, you
should appear in ceremonial costume, and above all, ornamented with the
diamond studs which I gave you on your birthday. That is my answer.”
The answer was terrible. Anne of Austria believed that Louis XIII. knew
all, and that the cardinal had persuaded him to employ this long
dissimulation of seven or eight days, which, likewise, was
characteristic. She became excessively pale, leaned her beautiful hand
upon a _console_, which hand appeared then like one of wax, and looking
at the king with terror in her eyes, she was unable to reply by a
single syllable.
“You hear, madame,” said the king, who enjoyed the embarrassment to its
full extent, but without guessing the cause. “You hear, madame?”
“Yes, sire, I hear,” stammered the queen.
“You will appear at this ball?”
“Yes.”
“With those studs?”
“Yes.”
The queen’s paleness, if possible, increased; the king perceived it,
and enjoyed it with that cold cruelty which was one of the worst sides
of his character.
“Then that is agreed,” said the king, “and that is all I had to say to
you.”
“But on what day will this ball take place?” asked Anne of Austria.
Louis XIII. felt instinctively that he ought not to reply to this
question, the queen having put it in an almost dying voice.
“Oh, very shortly, madame,” said he; “but I do not precisely recollect
the date of the day. I will ask the cardinal.”
“It was the cardinal, then, who informed you of this fête?”
“Yes, madame,” replied the astonished king; “but why do you ask that?”
“It was he who told you to invite me to appear with these studs?”
“That is to say, madame—”
“It was he, sire, it was he!”
“Well, and what does it signify whether it was he or I? Is there any
crime in this request?”
“No, sire.”
“Then you will appear?”
“Yes, sire.”
“That is well,” said the king, retiring, “that is well; I count upon
it.”
The queen made a curtsy, less from etiquette than because her knees
were sinking under her. The king went away enchanted.
“I am lost,” murmured the queen, “lost!—for the cardinal knows all, and
it is he who urges on the king, who as yet knows nothing but will soon
know everything. I am lost! My God, my God, my God!”
She knelt upon a cushion and prayed, with her head buried between her
palpitating arms.
In fact, her position was terrible. Buckingham had returned to London;
Mme. de Chevreuse was at Tours. More closely watched than ever, the
queen felt certain, without knowing how to tell which, that one of her
women had betrayed her. Laporte could not leave the Louvre; she had not
a soul in the world in whom she could confide. Thus, while
contemplating the misfortune which threatened her and the abandonment
in which she was left, she broke out into sobs and tears.
“Can I be of service to your Majesty?” said all at once a voice full of
sweetness and pity.
The queen turned sharply round, for there could be no deception in the
expression of that voice; it was a friend who spoke thus.
In fact, at one of the doors which opened into the queen’s apartment
appeared the pretty Mme. Bonacieux. She had been engaged in arranging
the dresses and linen in a closet when the king entered; she could not
get out and had heard all.
The queen uttered a piercing cry at finding herself surprised—for in
her trouble she did not at first recognize the young woman who had been
given to her by Laporte.
“Oh, fear nothing, madame!” said the young woman, clasping her hands
and weeping herself at the queen’s sorrows; “I am your Majesty’s, body
and soul, and however far I may be from you, however inferior may be my
position, I believe I have discovered a means of extricating your
Majesty from your trouble.”
“You, oh, heaven, you!” cried the queen; “but look me in the face. I am
betrayed on all sides. Can I trust in you?”
“Oh, madame!” cried the young woman, falling on her knees; “upon my
soul, I am ready to die for your Majesty!”
This expression sprang from the very bottom of the heart, and, like the
first, there was no mistaking it.
“Yes,” continued Mme. Bonacieux, “yes, there are traitors here; but by
the holy name of the Virgin, I swear that no one is more devoted to
your Majesty than I am. Those studs which the king speaks of, you gave
them to the Duke of Buckingham, did you not? Those studs were enclosed
in a little rosewood box which he held under his arm? Am I deceived? Is
it not so, madame?”
“Oh, my God, my God!” murmured the queen, whose teeth chattered with
fright.
“Well, those studs,” continued Mme. Bonacieux, “we must have them back
again.”
“Yes, without doubt, it is necessary,” cried the queen; “but how am I
to act? How can it be effected?”
“Someone must be sent to the duke.”
“But who, who? In whom can I trust?”
“Place confidence in me, madame; do me that honor, my queen, and I will
find a messenger.”
“But I must write.”
“Oh, yes; that is indispensable. Two words from the hand of your
Majesty and your private seal.”
“But these two words would bring about my condemnation, divorce,
exile!”
“Yes, if they fell into infamous hands. But I will answer for these two
words being delivered to their address.”
“Oh, my God! I must then place my life, my honor, my reputation, in
your hands?”
“Yes, yes, madame, you must; and I will save them all.”
“But how? Tell me at least the means.”
“My husband had been at liberty these two or three days. I have not yet
had time to see him again. He is a worthy, honest man who entertains
neither love nor hatred for anybody. He will do anything I wish. He
will set out upon receiving an order from me, without knowing what he
carries, and he will carry your Majesty’s letter, without even knowing
it is from your Majesty, to the address which is on it.”
The queen took the two hands of the young woman with a burst of
emotion, gazed at her as if to read her very heart, and, seeing nothing