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

his letters. Surely they would purchase the honor of a queen and a prince at the price of a million and a half! The jewelers once paid, that question was at an end; Jeanne felt sure of her fortune. She knew that the cardinal had a conviction so firm that nothing could shake it, that he had met the queen. There was but one living witness against her, and that one she would soon cause to disappear. Arrived at this point, she went to the window and saw Oliva, who was watching in her balcony. She made the accustomed sign for her to come down, and Oliva replied joyfully. The great thing now was to get rid of her. To destroy the instrument that has served them in the constant endeavor of those who intrigue; but here it is that they generally fail; they do not succeed in doing so before there has been time to disclose the secret. Jeanne knew that Oliva would not be easy to get rid of, unless she could think of something that would induce her to fly willingly. Oliva, on her part, much as she enjoyed her nocturnal promenades at first, after so much confinement, was already beginning to weary of them, and to sigh once more for liberty and Beausire.

The night came, and they went out together; Oliva disguised under a large cloak and hood, and Jeanne dressed as a grisette; besides which the carriage bore the respectable arms of Valois, which prevented the police, who alone might have recognized Oliva, from searching it.

"Oh! I have been so ennuyee," cried Oliva, "I have been expecting you so long."

"It was impossible to come and see you, I should have run, and made you run, a great danger."

"How so?" said Oliva, astonished.

"A terrible danger at which I still tremble. You know how ennuyee you were, and how much you wished to go out."

"Yes; and you assisted me like a friend."

"Certainly; I proposed that we should have some amusement with that officer who is rather mad, and in love with the queen, whom you resemble a little; and endeavor to persuade him that it was the queen he was walking with."

"Yes," said Oliva.

"The first two nights you walked in the park, and you played your part to perfection; he was quite taken in."

"Yes," said Oliva, "but it was almost a pity to deceive him, poor fellow, he was so delightful."

"Yes, but the evil is not there. To give a man a rose, to let him kiss your hands, and call you 'your majesty,' was all good fun; but, my little Oliva, it seems you did not stop here."

Oliva colored.

"How?" stammered she.

"There was a third interview."

"Yes," replied Oliva, hastily, "you know, for you were there."

"Excuse me, dear friend; I was there, but at a distance. I neither saw nor heard what passed within, I only know what you told me, that he talked and kissed your hands."

"Oh, mon Dieu!" murmured Oliva.

"You surely could not have exposed us both to such a terrible danger without telling me of it."

Oliva trembled from head to foot.

Jeanne continued. "How could I imagine that you, who said you loved M. Beausire, and were courted by a man like Count Cagliostro, whom you refused; oh! it cannot be true."

"But where is the danger?" asked Oliva.

"The danger! Have we not to manage a madman, one who fears nothing, and will not be controlled. It was no great thing for the queen to give him her hand to kiss or to give him a rose; oh, my dear child, I have not smiled since I heard this."

"What do you fear?" asked Oliva, her teeth chattering with terror.

"Why, as you are not the queen, and have taken her name, and in her name have committed a folly of this kind, that is unfortunately treason. He has no proof of this--they may be satisfied with a prison or banishment."

"A prison! banishment!" shrieked Oliva.

"I, at least, intend to take precautions and hide myself."

"You fear also?"

"Oh! will not this madman divulge my share also? My poor Oliva, this trick of yours will cost us dear."

Oliva burst into tears.

"Oh!" she cried, "I think I am possessed of a demon, that I can never rest: just saved from one danger, I must rush into another. Suppose I confess all to my protector?"

"A fine story to confess to him, whose advances you refused, that you have committed this imprudence with a stranger."

"Mon Dieu! you are right."

"Soon this report will spread, and will reach his ears; then do you not think he will give you up to the police? Even if he only send you away, what will become of you?"

"Oh! I am lost."

"And M. Beausire, when he shall hear this----?"

Oliva started, and wringing her hands violently, cried out, "Oh, he would kill me; but no, I will kill myself. You cannot save me, since you are compromised also."

"I have," replied Jeanne, "in the furthest part of Picardy, a little farm. If you can gain this refuge, you might be safe."

"But you?"

"Oh, once you were gone, I should not fear him."

"I will go whenever you like."

"I think you are wise."

"Must I go at once?"

"Wait till I have prepared everything to insure safety; meanwhile, hide yourself, and do not come near the window."

"Oh yes, dear friend."

"And to begin, let us go home, as there is no more to say."

"How long will your preparations take?"

"I do not know, but remember henceforth, until the day of your departure I shall not come to the window. When you see me there, you will know that the day has arrived, and be prepared."

They returned in silence. On arriving, Oliva begged pardon humbly of her friend for bringing her into so much danger through her folly.

"I am a woman," replied Jeanne, "and can pardon a woman's weakness."


CHAPTER LXXI.

THE FLIGHT.

Oliva kept her promise, and Jeanne also. Oliva hid herself from every one, and Jeanne made her preparations, and in a few days made her appearance at the window as a sign to Oliva to be ready that evening for flight.

Oliva, divided between joy and terror, began immediately to prepare. Jeanne went to arrange about the carriage that was to convey her away. Eleven o'clock at night had just struck when Jeanne arrived with a post-chaise to which three strong horses were harnessed. A man wrapped in a cloak sat on the box, directing the postilions. Jeanne made them stop at the corner of the street, saying, "Remain here--half an hour will suffice--and then I will bring the person whom you are to conduct with all possible speed to Amiens. There you will give her into the care of the farmer who is my tenant; he has his instructions."

"Yes, madame."

"I forgot--are you armed? This lady is menaced by a madman; he might, perhaps, try to stop her on the road."

"What should I do?"

"Fire on any one who tries to impede your journey."

"Yes, madame."

"You asked me seventy louis; I will give you a hundred, and will pay the expenses of the voyage which you had better make to London. Do not return here; it is more prudent for you to go to St. Valery, and embark at once for England."

"Rely on me, madame."

"Well, I will go and bring the lady."

All seemed asleep in that quiet house. Jeanne lighted the lamp which was to be the signal to Oliva, but received no answering sign. "She will come down in the dark," thought Jeanne; and she went to the door, but it did not open. Oliva was perhaps bringing down her packages. "The fool!" murmured the countess, "how much time she is wasting over her rubbish!" She waited a quarter of an hour--no one came; then half-past eleven struck. "Perhaps she did not see my signal," thought Jeanne; and she went up and lighted it again, but it was not acknowledged. "She must be ill," cried Jeanne, in a rage, "and cannot move." Then she took the key which Oliva had given her; but just as she was about to open the door, she thought, "Suppose some one should be there? But I should hear voices on the staircase, and could return. I must risk something." She went up, and on arriving outside Oliva's door she saw a light inside and heard footsteps, but no voices. "It is all right," she thought; "she was only a long time getting ready." "Oliva," said she softly, "open the door." The door opened, and Jeanne found herself face to face with a man holding a torch in his hand.

"Oliva," said he, "is this you?" Then, with a tone of admirably-feigned surprise, cried, "Madame de la Motte!"

"M. de Cagliostro!" said she in terror, feeling half inclined to run away; but he took her hand politely, and begged her to sit down.

"To what do I owe the honor of this visit, madame?"

"Monsieur," said she, stammering, "I came--I sought----"

"Allow me, madame, to inquire which of my servants was guilty of the rudeness of letting you come up unattended?"

Jeanne trembled.

"You must have fallen to the lot of my stupid German porter, who is always tipsy."

"Do not scold him, I beg you, sir," replied Jeanne, who could hardly speak.

"But was it he?"

"I believe so. But you promise me not to scold him?"

"I will not; only, madame, will you now explain to me----"

Jeanne began to gather courage.

"I came to consult you, sir, about certain reports."

"What reports?"

"Do not hurry me, sir; it is a delicate subject."

"Ah! you want time to invent," thought he.

"You are a friend of M. le Cardinal de Rohan?"

"I am acquainted with him, madame."

"Well, I came to ask you----"

"What?"

"Oh, sir, you must know that he has shown me much kindness, and I wish to know if I may rely upon it. You understand me, sir? You read all hearts."

"You must be a little more explicit before I can assist you, madame."

"Monsieur, they say that his eminence loves elsewhere in a high quarter."

"Madame, allow me first to ask you one question. How did you come to seek me here, since I do not live here?" Jeanne trembled. "How did you get in?--for there are neither porter nor servants in this part of my hotel. It could not be me you sought here--who was it? You do not reply; I must aid you a little. You came in by the help of a key which you have now in your pocket. You came to seek a young woman whom from pure kindness I had concealed here."

Jeanne trembled visibly, but replied, "If it were so, it is no crime; one woman is permitted to visit another. Call her; she will tell you if my friendship is a hurtful one."

"Madame, you say that because you know she is not here."

"Not here! Oliva not here?"

"Oh you do not know that--you, who helped her to escape!"

"I!" cried Jeanne; "you accuse me of that?"

"I convict you," replied Cagliostro; and he took a paper