The Queen's Necklace, Alexandre Dumas père [best love story novels in english TXT] 📗

one by one, and he waited nervously for the stroke of midnight, the hour of the rendezvous of the preceding night. It struck, and no one had appeared. He then wondered how he could have expected it; she surely would not repeat the same imprudence two nights following. But as these thoughts passed through his mind, he heard the key turn again and saw the door open. Charny grew deadly pale when he recognized the same two figures enter the park. "Oh, it is too much," he said to himself, and then repeated his movements of the night before, swearing that, whatever happened, he would restrain himself, and remember that she was his queen. All passed exactly as the night before: the confidante left and returned with the same man; only this time, instead of advancing with his former timid respect, he almost ran up to the queen, and kneeled down before her. Charny could not hear what he said, but he seemed to speak with passionate energy. She did not reply, but stood in a pensive attitude; then he spoke again, and at last she said a few words, in a low voice, when the unknown cried out, in a loud voice, so that Charny could hear, "Oh! thanks, your majesty, till to-morrow, then." The queen drew her hood still more over her face, and held out both her hands to the unknown, who imprinted on them a kiss so long and tender that Charny gnashed his teeth with rage. The queen then took the arm of her companion and walked quickly away; the unknown passed also. Charny remained in a state of fury not to be described; he ran about the park like a madman: at last he began to wonder where this man came from; he traced his steps to the door behind the baths of Apollo. He comes not from Versailles, but from Paris, thought Charny, and to-morrow he will return, for he said, "to-morrow." Till then let me devour my tears in silence, but to-morrow shall be the last day of my life, for we will be four at the rendezvous.


CHAPTER LXVI.

WOMAN AND QUEEN.

The next night the door opened at the same time, and the two ladies appeared. Charny had taken his resolution--he would find out who this lover was; but when he entered the avenue he could see no one--they had entered the baths of Apollo. He walked towards the door, and saw the confidante, who waited outside. The queen, then, was in there alone with her lover; it was too much. Charny was about to seize this woman, and force her to tell him everything; but the rage and emotion he had endured were too much for him--a mist passed over his eyes, internal bleeding commenced, and he fainted. When he came to himself again, the clock was striking two, the place was deserted, and there was no trace of what had passed there. He went home, and passed a night almost of delirium. The next morning he arose, pale as death, and went towards the Castle of Trianon just as the queen was leaving the chapel. All heads were respectfully lowered as she passed. She was looking beautiful, and when she saw Charny she colored, and uttered an exclamation of surprise.

"I thought you were in the country, M. de Charny," she said.

"I have returned, madame," said he, in a brusque and almost rude tone.

She looked at him in surprise; then, turning to the ladies, "Good morning, countess," she said to Madame de la Motte, who stood near.

Charny started as he caught sight of her, and looked at her almost wildly. "He has not quite recovered his reason," thought the queen, observing his strange manner. Then, turning to him again, "How are you now, M. de Charny?" said she, in a kind voice.

"Very well, madame."

She looked surprised again; then said:

"Where are you living?"

"At Versailles, madame."

"Since when?"

"For three nights," replied he, in a marked manner.

The queen manifested no emotion, but Jeanne trembled.

"Have you not something to say to me?" asked the queen again, with kindness.

"Oh, madame, I should have too much to say to your majesty."

"Come," said she, and she walked towards her apartments; but to avoid the appearance of a tete-a-tete, she invited several ladies to follow her. Jeanne, unquiet, placed herself among them; but when they arrived, she dismissed Madame de Misery, and the other ladies, understanding that she wished to be alone, left her. Charny stood before her.

"Speak," said the queen; "you appear troubled, sir."

"How can I begin?" said Charny, thinking aloud; "how can I dare to accuse honor and majesty?"

"Sir!" cried Marie Antoinette, with a flaming look.

"And yet I should only say what I have seen."

The queen rose. "Sir," said she, "it is very early in the morning for me to think you intoxicated, but I can find no other solution for this conduct."

Charny, unmoved, continued, "After all, what is a queen?--a woman. And am I not a man as well as a subject?"

"Monsieur!"

"Madame, anger is out of place now. I believe I have formerly proved that I had respect for your royal dignity. I fear I proved that I had an insane love for yourself. Choose, therefore, to whom I shall speak. Is it to the queen, or the woman, that I shall address my accusation of dishonor and shame?"

"Monsieur de Charny," cried the queen, growing pale, "if you do not leave this room, I must have you turned out by my guards!"

"But I will tell you first," cried he, passionately, "why I call you an unworthy queen and woman! I have been in the park these three nights!"

Instead of seeing her tremble, as he believed she would on hearing these words, the queen rose, and, approaching him, said, "M. de Charny, your state excites my pity. Your hands tremble, you grow pale; you are suffering. Shall I call for help?"

"I saw you!" cried he again; "saw you with that man to whom you gave the rose! saw you when he kissed your hands! saw you when you entered the baths of Apollo with him!"

The queen passed her hands over her eyes, as if to make sure that she was not dreaming.

"Sit down," said she, "or you will fall."

Charny, indeed, unable to keep up, fell upon the sofa.

She sat down by him. "Be calm," said she, "and repeat what you have just said."

"Do you want to kill me?" he murmured.

"Then let me question," she said. "How long have you returned from the country?"

"A fortnight."

"Where do you live?"

"In the huntsman's house, which I have hired."

"At the end of the park?"

"Yes."

"You speak of some one whom you saw with me."

"Yes."

"Where?"

"In the park."

"When?"

"At midnight. Tuesday, for the first time, I saw you and your companion."

"Oh, I had a companion! Do you know her also?"

"I thought just now I recognized her, but I could not be positive, because it was only the figure--she always hid her face, like all who commit crimes."

"And this person to whom you say I gave a rose?"

"I have never been able to meet him."

"You do not know him, then?"

"Only that he is called monseigneur."

The queen stamped her foot.

"Go on!" said she. "Tuesday I gave him a rose----"

"Wednesday you gave him your hands to kiss, and yesterday you went alone with him into the baths of Apollo, while your companion waited outside."

"And you saw me?" said she, rising.

He lifted his hands to heaven, and cried, "I swear it!"

"Oh, he swears!"

"Yes. On Tuesday you wore your green dress, moiree, with gold; Wednesday, the dress with great blue and brown leaves; and yesterday, the same dress that you wore when I last kissed your hand. Oh, madame, I am ready to die with grief and shame while I repeat that, on my life, my honor, it was really you!"

"What can I say?" cried the queen dreadfully agitated. "If I swore, he would not believe me."

Charny shook his head.

"Madman!" cried she, "thus to accuse your queen--to dishonor thus an innocent woman! Do you believe me when I swear, by all I hold sacred, that I was not in the park on either of those days after four o'clock? Do you wish it to be proved by my women--by the king? No; he does not believe me."

"I saw you," replied he.

"Oh, I know!" she cried. "Did they not see me at the ball at the Opera, at Mesmer's, scandalizing the crowd? You know it--you, who fought for me!"

"Madame, then I fought because I did not believe it; now I might fight, but I believe."

The queen raised her arms to heaven, while burning tears rolled down her cheeks.

"My God," she cried, "send me some thought which will save me! I do not wish this man to despise me."

Charny, moved to the heart, hid his face in his hands.

Then, after a moment's silence, the queen continued:

"Sir, you owe me reparation. I exact this from you. You say you have seen me three nights with a man; I have been already injured through the resemblance to me of some woman, I know not whom, but who is like her unhappy queen; but you are pleased to think it was me. Well, I will go with you into the park; and if she appears again, you will be satisfied? Perhaps we shall see her together; then, sir, you will regret the suffering you have caused me."

Charny pressed his hands to his heart.

"Oh, madame, you overwhelm me with your kindness!"

"I wish to overwhelm you with proofs. Not a word, to any one, but this evening, at ten o'clock, wait alone at the door of the park. Now go, sir."

Charny kneeled, and went away without a word.

Jeanne, who was waiting in the ante-chamber, examined him attentively as he came out. She was soon after summoned to the queen.


CHAPTER LXVII.

WOMAN AND DEMON.

Jeanne had remarked the trouble of Charny, the solicitude of the queen, and the eagerness of both for a conversation.

After what we have already told of the meetings between Jeanne and Oliva, our readers will have been at no loss to understand the scenes in the park. Jeanne, when she came in to the queen, watched her closely, hoping to gather something from her; but Marie Antoinette was beginning to learn caution, and she guarded herself carefully. Jeanne was, therefore, reduced to conjectures. She had already ordered one of her footmen to follow M. de Charny; the man reported that he had gone into a house at the end of the park.

"There is, then, no more doubt," thought Jeanne; "it is a lover who has seen everything, it is clear. I should be a fool not to understand. I must undo what I have done."

On leaving Versailles, she drove to the Rue St. Claude; there she found a superb present of plate, sent to her by the cardinal. She then drove to his house, and found him radiant with joy and pride. On her entrance he ran to meet her, calling her "Dear countess," and full of protestations and gratitude.

"Thank you also, for