The Queen's Necklace
Bélus, however, guided by the steady hand which held the reins, kept on his rapid course, and not the smallest accident had yet occurred.
But in spite of this skilful progress, the people seemed discontented at the rapid course of the cabriolet, which certainly required some care on their part to avoid, and the lady, perhaps half frightened at the murmurs, and knowing the present excited state of the people, only urged on her horse the faster to escape from them.
Thus they proceeded until they reached the Rue du Coq St. Honoré, and here had been raised one of the most beautiful of those monuments in snow of which we have spoken.
Round this a great crowd had collected, and they were obliged to stop until the people would make an opening for them to pass, which they did at last, but with great grumbling and discontent.
The next obstacle was at the gates of the Palais Royal, where, in a courtyard, which had been thrown open, were a host of beggars crowding round fires which had been lighted there, and receiving soup, which the servants of M. le Duc d'Orleans were distributing to them in earthen basins; and as in Paris a crowd collects to see everything, the number of the spectators of this scene far exceeded that of the actors.
Here, then, they were again obliged to stop, and to their dismay, began to hear distinctly from behind loud cries of "Down with the cabriolet! down with those that crush the poor!"
"Can it be that those cries are addressed to us?" said the elder lady to her companion.
"Indeed, madame, I fear so," she replied.
"Have we, do you think, run over any one?"
"I am sure you have not."
But still the cries seemed to increase. A crowd soon gathered round them, and some even seized Bélus by the reins, who thereupon began to stamp and foam most furiously.
"To the magistrate! to the magistrate!" cried several voices.
The two ladies looked at each other in terror. Curious heads began to peep under the apron of the cabriolet.
"Oh, they are women," cried some; "Opera girls, doubtless," said others, "who think they have a right to crush the poor because they receive ten thousand francs a month."
A general shout hailed these words, and they began again to cry, "To the magistrate!"
The younger lady shrank back trembling with fear; the other looked around her with wonderful resolution, though with frowning brows and compressed lips.
"Oh, madame," cried her companione, "for heaven's sake, take care!"
"Courage, Andrée, courage!" she replied.
"But they will recognize you, madame."
"Look through the windows, if Weber is still behind the cabriolet."
"He is trying to get down, but the mob surrounds him. Ah! here he comes."
"Weber," said the lady in German, "we will get out."
The man vigorously pushed aside those nearest the carriage, and opened the door. The ladies jumped out, and the crowd instantly seized on the horse and cabriolet, which would evidently soon be in pieces.
"What in heaven's name does it all mean? Do you understand it, Weber?" said the lady, still in German.
"Ma foi, no, madame," he replied, struggling to free a passage for them to pass.
"But they are not men, they are wild beasts," continued the lady; "with what do they possibly reproach me?"
She was answered by a voice, whose polite and gentlemanly tone contrasted strangely with the savage murmurs of the people, and which said in excellent German, "They reproach you, madame, with having braved the police order, which appeared this morning, and which prohibited all cabriolets, which are always dangerous, and fifty times more so in this frost, when people can hardly escape fast enough, from driving through the streets until the spring."
The lady turned, and saw she was addressed by a young officer, whose distinguished and pleasing air, and fine figure, could not but make a favorable impression.
"Oh, mon Dieu, monsieur," she said, "I was perfectly ignorant of this order."
"You are a foreigner, madame?" inquired the young officer.
"Yes, sir; but tell me what I must do? they are destroying my cabriolet."
"You must let them destroy it, and take advantage of that time to escape. The people are furious just now against all the rich, and on the pretext of your breaking this regulation would conduct you before the magistrate."
"Oh, never!" cried Andrée.
"Then," said the officer, laughing, "profit by the space which I shall make in the crowd, and vanish."
The ladies gathered from his manner that he shared the opinion of the people as to their station, but it was no time for explanations.
"Give us your arm to a cab-stand," said the elder lady, in a voice full of authority.
"I was going to make your horse rear, and thereby clear you a passage," said the young man, who did not much wish to take the charge of escorting them through the crowd; "the people will become yet more enraged, if they hear us speaking in a language unknown to them."
"Weber," cried the lady, in a firm voice, "make Bélus rear to disperse the crowd."
"And then, madame?"
"Remain till we are gone."
"But they will destroy the carriage."
"Let them; what does that matter? save Bélus if you can, but yourself above all."
"Yes, madame;" and a slight touch to the horse soon produced the desired effect of dispersing the nearest part of the crowd, and throwing down those who held by his reins.
"Your arm, sir!" again said the lady to the officer; "come on, petite," turning to Andrée.
"Let us go then, courageous woman," said the young man, giving his arm, with real admiration, to her who asked for it.
In a few minutes he had conducted them to a cab-stand, but the men were all asleep on their seats.
CHAPTER V.
THE ROAD TO VERSAILLES
The ladies were free from the crowd for the present, but there was some danger that they might be followed and recognized, when the same tumult would doubtless be renewed and escape a second time be more difficult. The young officer knew this, and therefore hastened to awaken one of the half-frozen and sleepy men. So stupefied, however, did they seem, that he had great difficulty in rousing one of them. At last he took him by the collar and shook him roughly.
"Gently, gently!" cried the man, sitting up.
"Where do you wish to go, ladies?" asked the officer.
"To Versailles," said the elder lady, still speaking German.
"Oh, to Versailles!" repeated the coachman; "four miles and a half over this ice. No, I would rather not."
"We will pay well," said the lady.
This was repeated to the coachman in French by the young officer.
"But how much?" said the coachman; "you see it is not only going, I must come back again."
"A louis; is that enough?" asked the lady of the officer, who, turning to the coachman, said, —
"These ladies offer you a louis."
"Well, that will do, though I risk breaking my horses' legs."
"Why, you rascal, you know that if you were paid all the way there and back, it would be but twelve francs, and we offer you twenty-four."
"Oh, do not stay to bargain," cried the lady; "he shall have twenty louis if he will only set off at once."
"One is enough, madame."
"Come down, sir, and open the door."
"I will be paid first," said the man.
"You will!" said the officer fiercely.
"Oh! let us pay," said the lady, putting her hand in her pocket. She turned pale. "Oh! mon Dieu, I have lost my purse! Feel for yours, Andrée."
"Oh! madame, it is gone too."
They looked at each other in dismay, while the young officer watched their proceedings, and the coachman sat grinning, and priding himself on his caution.
The lady was about to offer her gold chain as a pledge, when the young officer drew out a louis, and offered it to the man, who thereupon got down and opened the door.
The ladies thanked him warmly and got in.
"And now, sir, drive these ladies carefully and honestly."
The ladies looked at each other in terror; they could not bear to see their protector leave them.
"Oh! madame," said Andrée, "do not let him go away."
"But why not? we will ask for his address, and return him his louis to-morrow, with a little note of thanks, which you shall write."
"But, madame, suppose the coachman should not keep faith with us, and should turn us out half way, what would become of us?"
"Oh! we will take his number."
"Yes, madame, I do not deny that you could have him punished afterwards; but meanwhile, you would not reach Versailles, and what would they think?"
"True," replied her companion.
The officer advanced to take leave.
"Monsieur," said Andrée, "one word more, if you please."
"At your orders, madame," he said politely, but somewhat stiffly.
"Monsieur, you cannot refuse us one more favor, after serving us so much?"
"What is it, madame?"
"We are afraid of the coachman, who seems so unwilling to go."
"You need not fear," replied he; "I have his number, and if he does not behave well, apply to me."
"To you, sir?" said Andrée in French, forgetting herself; "we do not even know your name."
"You speak French," exclaimed the young man, "and you have been condemning me all this time to blunder on in German!"
"Excuse us, sir," said the elder lady, coming to Andrée's rescue, "but you must see, that though not perhaps foreigners, we are strangers in Paris, and above all, out of our places in a hackney coach. You are sufficiently a man of the world to see that we are placed in an awkward position. I feel assured you are generous enough to believe the best of us, and to complete the service you have rendered, and above all, to ask us no questions."
"Madame," replied the officer, charmed with her noble, yet pleasing manner, "dispose of me as you will."
"Then, sir, have the kindness to get in, and accompany us to Versailles."
The officer instantly placed himself opposite to them, and directed the man to drive on.
After proceeding in silence for some little time, he began to feel himself surrounded with delicate and delicious perfumes, and gradually began to think better of the ladies' position. "They are," thought he, "ladies who have been detained late at some rendezvous, and are now anxious to regain Versailles, much frightened, and a little ashamed; still, two ladies, driving themselves in a cabriolet! However," recollected he, "there was a servant behind; but then again, no money on either of them, but probably the footman carried the purse; and the carriage was certainly a very elegant one, and the horse could not have been worth less than one hundred and fifty louis; therefore they must be rich, so that the accidental want of money proves nothing. But why speak a foreign language when they must be French? However, that at least shows a good education, and they speak both languages with perfect purity; besides, there is an air of distinction about them. The supplication of the younger one was touching, and the request of the other was noble and imposing; indeed, I begin to feel it dangerous to pass two or three hours in a carriage with two such pretty women, pretty and discreet also; for they do not speak, but wait for me to begin."
On their parts, the ladies were doubtless thinking of him, for just as he had arrived at these conclusions, the elder lady said to her companion, but this time in English:
"Really, this coachman crawls along; we shall never reach Versailles; I fear our poor companion must be terribly ennuyé."
"Particularly," answered Andrée, smiling, "as our conversation has not been very amusing."
"Do you not think he has a most distinguished air?"
"Yes, certainly."
"Besides, he wears the uniform of a naval officer, and all naval officers are of good family. He looks well in it, too, for he is very handsome."
Here the young man interrupted them. "Your pardon, ladies," said he, in excellent English, "but I must tell you that I understand English perfectly; I do not, however, know Spanish; therefore, if you can and like to speak in that language, you are safe from my understanding you."
"Oh, monsieur," replied the lady, laughing, "we had no harm to say of you, as you must have heard; therefore we will content ourselves with French for the remainder of the time."
"Thanks, madame, but if my presence be irksome to you – "
"You cannot suppose that, sir, as it was we who begged you to accompany us."
"Exacted it, even," said Andrée.
"Oh, madame, you overwhelm me; pray pardon me my momentary hesitation; but Paris is so full of snares and deceptions."
"You then took us for – "
"Monsieur took us for snares, that is all."
"Oh! ladies," said the young man, quite humiliated, "I assure you, I did not."
"But what is the matter? The coach stops."
"I will see, madame."
"Oh! I think we are overturning; pray take care, sir."
And Andrée, in her terror, laid her hand on the young man's shoulder.
He, yielding to an impulse, attempted to seize her little hand; but she had in a moment thrown herself back again in the carriage. He therefore got out, and found the coachman engaged in raising one of his horses, which had fallen on the ice.
The horse, with his aid, was soon on its legs again, and they pursued their way.
It seemed, however, that this little interruption had destroyed the intimacy which had begun to spring up, for after the ladies had asked and been told the cause of their detention, all relapsed into silence.
The young man, however, who had derived some pleasure from the touch of that little hand, thought he would at least have a foot in exchange; he therefore stretched out his, and endeavored to touch hers, which, was, however, quickly withdrawn; and when he did just touch that of the elder lady, she said, with great sang-froid, —
"I fear, sir, I am dreadfully in your way."
He colored up to the ears, and felt thankful to the darkness, which prevented it from being seen. After this, he desisted, and remained perfectly still, fearing even to renew the conversation, lest he should seem impertinent to these ladies, to whom, at first, he had thought himself rather condescending in his politeness.
Still, in spite of himself, he felt more and more strongly attracted towards them, and an increasing interest in them. From time to time he heard them speak softly to each other, and he caught these words:
"So late an hour! what excuse for being out?"
At last the coach stopped again, but this time it was no accident, but simply that they had arrived at Versailles.
The young man thought the time had passed with marvelous quickness.
"We are at Versailles," said the coachman.
"Where must he stop, ladies?" asked the officer.
"At the Place d'Armes."
"At the Place d'Armes, coachman," said the officer; "go on. – I must say something to them," thought he, "or they will now think me a stupid, as they must before have thought me impertinent."
"Mesdames," said he, "you are at length arrived."
"Thanks to your generous assistance."
"What trouble we have given you," added Andrée.
"Oh, madame, do not speak of it!"
"Well, sir, we shall not forget; will you tell us your name?"
"My name?"
"Certainly, sir; you do not wish to make us a present of a louis, I hope."
"Oh, madame, if that is it," said the young man, rather piqued, "I yield; I am the Comte de Charney, and as madame has already remarked, a naval officer."
"Charney," repeated the elder lady, "I shall not forget."
"Yes, madame, Georges de Charney."
"And you live – ?"
"Hôtel des Princes, Rue de Richelieu."
The coach stopped. The elder lady opened the door and jumped out quickly, holding out a hand to her companion.
"But pray, ladies," said he, preparing to follow them, "take my arm; you are not yet at your own home."
"Oh, sir, do not move."
"Not move?"
"No; pray remain in the coach."
"You cannot walk alone at this time of night; it is impossible."
"Now, you see," said the elder lady, gaily, "after almost refusing to oblige us, you wish to be too obliging."
"But, madame – "
"Sir, remain to the end a loyal and gallant cavalier; we thank you, M. de Charney, with all our hearts, and will not even ask your word – "
"To do what, madame?"
"To shut the door, and order the man to drive back to Paris, without even looking where we go, which you will do, will you not?"
"I will obey you, madame; coachman, back again." And he put a second louis into the man's hand, who joyfully set off on his return.
The young man sighed, as he took his place on the cushions which the unknown ladies had just occupied.
They remained motionless till the coach was out of sight, and then took their way towards the castle.
CHAPTER VI.
LAURENT
At this moment our heroines heard the clock strike from the church of St. Louis.
"Oh, mon Dieu! a quarter to twelve," they cried, in terror.
"See, all the doors are shut," said Andrée.
"Oh, that is nothing; for, if they were open, we would not go in here. Let us go round by the reservoirs." And they turned to the right, where there was a private entrance.
When they arrived there, "The door is shut, Andrée," said the elder lady, rather uneasily.
"Let us knock, madame."
"No, we will call; Laurent must be waiting for me, for I told him perhaps I should return late."
"I will call," said Andrée, approaching the door.
"Who is there?" said a voice from inside.
"Oh, it is not Laurent!" said she, terrified.
"Is it not?" and the other lady advanced, and called softly, "Laurent."
No answer.
"Laurent?" again she called, louder.
"There is no Laurent here," replied the voice, rudely.
"But," said Andrée, "whether he be here or not, open the door."
"I cannot open it."
"But Laurent would have opened it immediately."
"I have my orders," was all the reply.
"Who are you, then?"
"Rather, who are you?"
Rude as the question was, it was no time to find fault, so they answered, "We are ladies of her majesty's suite, we lodge in the castle, and we wish to get home."
"Well, I, mesdames, am a Suisse of the Salischamade company, and I shall do just the contrary of Laurent, for I shall leave you at the door."
"Oh!" murmured the ladies, in terror and anger.
Then, making an effort over herself, the elder lady said, "My friend, I understand that you are obeying orders, and I do not quarrel with you for that – it is a soldier's duty; only do me the favor to call Laurent – he cannot be far distant."
"I cannot quit my post."
"Then send some one."
"I have no one to send."
"For pity's sake!"
"Oh, mon Dieu, sleep in the town, that is no great thing; if I were shut out of the barracks, I would soon find a bed."
"Listen," said the lady again; "you shall have twenty louis, if you open this door."
"And twelve years at the galleys: no, thank you. Forty-eight francs a year is not sufficient pay for that."
"I will get you made a sergeant."
"Yes, and he who gave me the order will have me shot."
"And who did give you the order?"
"The king."
"The king!" cried they; "oh, we are lost!"
"Is there no other door?"
"Oh! madame, if this one is closed, be sure all the others will be so also," said Andrée.
"You are right, Andrée. 'Tis a horrible trick of the king," she said, with a contempt almost menacing.
There was a sort of bank outside the door, which they sank down upon in despair. They could see the light under the door, and could hear the steps of the sentinel as he paced to and fro.
Within this little door was salvation; without, shame and scandal.
"Oh! to-morrow, to-morrow, when they will find out," murmured the elder lady.
"You will tell the truth, madame."
"But shall I be believed?"
"Oh! we can prove it; besides, the soldier will not stay all night; he will be relieved, and perhaps his successor will be more complacent."
"Yes, but the patrol will pass directly, and will find me here, waiting outside. It is infamous; I am suffocated with rage."
"Oh, take courage, madame! you, who are always so brave."
"It is a plot, Andrée, in order to ruin me. This door is never closed. Oh, I shall die!"
At this moment they heard a step approaching, and then the voice of a young man, singing gaily as he went along.
"That voice," cried the lady, "I know it, I am sure."
"Oh, yes, madame, he will save us."
A young man, wrapped up in a fur riding-coat, came quickly up, and without noticing them, knocked at the door, and called, "Laurent."
"Brother," said the elder lady, touching him on the shoulder.
"The queen," cried he, taking off his hat.
"Hush," said she.
"You are not alone?"
"No, I am with Mademoiselle Andrée de Taverney."
"Oh, good evening, mademoiselle."
"Good evening, monseigneur."
"Are you going out, madame?" asked he.
"No."
"Then you are going in."
"We wished to do so."
"Have you not called Laurent?"
"Yes, we have, but – "
"But what?"
"You call Laurent, and you will see."
The young man, whom the reader has, perhaps, already recognized as the Comte d'Artois, approached and again called "Laurent."
"I warn you," answered from within the voice of the Suisse, "that if you torment me any more I will go and fetch my commanding officer."
"Who is this?" asked the count, turning round in astonishment to the queen.
"A Swiss who has been substituted for Laurent."
"By whom?"
"By the king."
"The king?"
"Yes, he told us so himself."
"And with orders?"
"Most strict, apparently."
"Diable! we must capitulate."
"What do you mean?" she asked.
"Offer him money."
"I have already done so, and he has refused it."
"Offer him promotion."
"I have offered that also, but he would not listen."
"Then there is but one way."
"What?"
"To make a noise."
"My dear Charles, you will compromise us."
"Not the least in the world; you keep in the background, I will knock like thunder, and shout like a madman; they will open at last, and you can slide in with me."
"Try, then."
The young prince began calling Laurent, knocking at the door and striking with his sword, till at last the Swiss said, "Ah, well! I will call my officer."
"Go and call him, that is just what I want."
They soon heard other steps approaching. The queen and Andrée kept close, ready to slip in if the door should open; then they heard the Swiss say, "It is a gentleman, lieutenant, who insists on coming in."
"Well, I suppose that is not astonishing, as we belong to the castle," said the count.
"It is no doubt a natural wish, but a forbidden one," replied the officer.
"Forbidden – by whom? morbleu!"
"By the king."
"But the king would not wish an officer of the castle to sleep outside."
"Sir, I am not the judge of that; I have only to obey orders."
"Come, lieutenant, open the door; we cannot talk through this oak."
"Sir, I repeat to you that my orders are to keep it shut; and if you are an officer, as you say, you know that I must obey."
"Lieutenant, you speak to the colonel of a regiment."
"Excuse me, then, colonel, but my orders are positive."
"But they cannot concern a prince. Come, sir, a prince cannot be kept out."
"My prince, I am in despair, but the king has ordered – "
"The king has ordered you to turn away his brother like a beggar or a robber? I am the Comte d'Artois, sir. Mordieu! you keep me here freezing at the door."
"Monseigneur, God is my witness that I would shed my blood for your royal highness. But the king gave me his orders in person, and confiding to me the charge of this door, ordered me not to open to any one, should it be even himself, after eleven o'clock. Therefore, monseigneur, I ask your pardon humbly for disobeying you, but I am a soldier, and were it her majesty the queen who asked admittance, I should be forced most unwillingly to refuse."
Having said this, the officer turned away and left the place.
"We are lost," said the queen.
"Do they know that you are out?" asked the count.
"Alas, I know not!"