Alexandre Dumas - The Queen's Necklace

The king colored, and moved uneasily on his chair.

"Oh yes!" continued the queen, with a bitter laugh, "I know that you are a moral king, but your morality produces strange effects. You say that no one knew that I was out. Will you tell me that M. de Provence, your instigator, did not know it; or M. le Comte d'Artois – or my women? who, by my orders, told you falsehoods this morning; or Laurent – bought by M. d'Artois and by me? Let us continue this habit, sire; you, to set spies and Swiss guards; and I, to buy them over and cheat you; and in a month we will calculate together how much the dignity of the throne and our marriage has gained by it."

It was evident that her words had made a great impression on him to whom they were addressed.

"You know," said he, in an altered voice, "that I am always sincere, and willing to acknowledge if I have been wrong. Will you prove to me that you were right to go into Paris in sledges, accompanied by a gay party, which, in the present unhappy state of things, is likely to give offense? Will you prove to me, that you were right to disappear in Paris, like maskers at a ball, and only to reappear scandalously late at night, when every one else was asleep? You have spoken of the dignity of the throne, and of marriage; think you that it befits a queen, a wife, and a mother, to act thus?"

"I will reply in a few words, sire; for it seems to me, that such accusations merit nothing but contempt. I left Versailles in a sledge, because it is the quickest way of getting to Paris at present. I went with Madlle. de Taverney, whose reputation is certainly one of the purest in our court. I went to Paris, I repeat, to verify the fact that the King of France, the great upholder of morality – he who takes care of poor strangers, warms the beggars, and earns the gratitude of the people by his charities, leaves dying of hunger, exposed to every attack of vice and misery, one of his own family – one who is as much as himself a descendant of the kings who have reigned in France."

"What!" cried the king in surprise.

"I mounted," continued the queen, "into a garret, and there saw, without fire, almost without light, and without money, the granddaughter of a great prince, and I gave one hundred louis to this victim of royal forgetfulness and neglect. Then, as I was detained late there, and as the frost was severe, and horses go slowly over ice, particularly hackney-coach horses – "

"Hackney-coach horses!" cried the king. "You returned in a hackney-coach?"

"Yes, sire – No. 107."

"Oh, oh!" said the king, with every sign of vexation.

"Yes, and only too happy to get it," said the queen.

"Madame!" interrupted he, "you are full of noble feelings; but this impetuous generosity becomes a fault. Remember," continued he, "that I never suspected you of anything that was not perfectly pure and honest: it is only your mode of acting and adventurous spirit that displease me. You have, as usual, been doing good, but the way you set about it makes it injurious to yourself. This is what I reproach you with. You say that I have faults to repair – that I have failed in my duty to a member of my own family. Tell me who the unfortunate is, and he shall no longer have reason to complain."

"The name of Valois, sire, is sufficiently illustrious not to have escaped your memory."

"Ah!" cried Louis, with a shout of laughter, "I know now whom you mean. La petite Valois, is it not? – a countess of something or other."

"De la Motte, sire."

"Precisely, De la Motte; her husband is a gendarme."

"Yes, sire."

"And his wife is an intrigante. Oh! you need not trouble yourself about her: she is moving heaven and earth; she worries my ministers, she teases my aunts, and overwhelms me with supplications, memorials, and genealogies."

"And all this uselessly, sire."

"I must confess it."

"Is she, or is she not, a Valois?"

"I believe she is."

"Well, then, I ask an honorable pension for her and a regiment for her husband. In fact, a decent position for this branch of the royal family."

"An honorable pension? Mon Dieu! how you run on, madame. Do you know what a terrible hole this winter has made in my funds? A regiment for this little gendarme, who speculated in marrying a Valois? Why, I have no regiments to give, even to those who deserve them, or who can pay for them. An income befitting a Valois for these people? when we, monarch as we are, have not one befitting a rich gentleman. Why, M. d'Orleans has sent his horses and mules to England for sale, and has cut off a third of his establishment. I have put down my wolf-hounds, and given up many other things. We are all on the privation list, great and small."

"But these Valois must not die of hunger."

"Have you not just given them one hundred louis?"

"And what is that?"

"A royal gift."

"Then give such another."

"Yours will do for us both."

"No, I want a pension for them."

"No, I will not bind myself to anything fixed; they will not let me forget them, and I will give when I have money to spare. I do not think much of this little Valois."

Saying these words, Louis held out his hand to the queen, who, however, turned from him and said, "No, you are not good to me, and I am angry."

"You bear malice," said the king "and I – "

"Oh, you shut the gates against me; you come at half-past six to my room, and force open the door in a passion."

"I was not in a passion," said the king.

"You are not now, you mean."

"What will you give me if I prove that I was not, even when I came in?"

"Let me see the proof."

"Oh, it is very easy; I have it in my pocket."

"Bah!" said the queen; but adding, with curiosity, "You have brought something to give me, but I warn you I shall not believe you, unless you show it me at once."

Then, with a smile full of kindness, the king began searching in his pockets, with that slowness which makes the child doubly impatient for his toy, the animal for his food, and the woman for her present: at last he drew out a box of red morocco leather, artistically ornamented in gold.

"A jewel box!" cried the queen.

The king laid it on the bed.

She opened it impatiently, and then called out, "Oh, mon Dieu! how beautiful!"

The king smiled with delight. "Do you think so?" said he.

The queen could not answer – she was breathless with admiration. Then she drew out of the box a necklace of diamonds, so large, so pure, so glittering, and so even, that, with sparkling eyes, she cried again, "Oh! it is magnificent."

"Then you are content?" said the king.

"Enchanted, sire; you make me too happy."

"Really?"

"See this first row; the diamonds are as large as filberts, and so even, you could not tell one from the other; then how beautifully the gradation of the rows is managed; the jeweler who made this necklace is an artist."

"They are two."

"Then I wager it is Bœhmer and Bossange."

"You have guessed right."

"Indeed, no one but they would risk making such a thing."

"Madame, take care," said the king; "you will have to pay too dear for this necklace."

"Oh, sire!" cried the queen, all the delight fading from her countenance.

"You must pay the price of letting me be the first to put it on: " and he approached her, holding in his hands the two ends of the magnificent necklace, of which the clasp was one great diamond.

She stopped him, saying, "But, sire, is it very dear?"

"Have I not told you the price?"

"Ah, Louis, we must not jest. Put the necklace back again."

"You refuse to allow me to put it on?"

"Oh no, sire, if I were going to wear it."

"What?" said the king, surprised.

"No," she said; "no one shall see a necklace of this price round my neck."