M. LE CARDINAL DE ROHAN RECEIVED, two days after his visit to M. Boehmer, the following note:
“His Eminence the Cardinal de Rohan knows, doubtless, where he will sup this evening.”
“From the little countess,” said he; “I will go.” Among the footmen given to her by the cardinal, Jeanne had distinguished one, black-haired and dark-eyed, and, as she thought, active and intelligent. She set this man to watch the cardinal, and learned from him that he had been twice to M. Boehmer's. Therefore she concluded the necklace was bought, and yet he had not communicated it to her. She frowned at the thought, and wrote the note which we have seen.
M. de Rohan sent before him a basket of Tokay and other rarities, just as if he was going to sup with La Guimard or Mademoiselle Dangeville. Jeanne determined not to use any of it at supper.
When they were alone, she said to him:
“Really, monseigneur, one thing afflicts me.”
“To see, not only that you no longer love me, but that you never have loved me.”
“Oh, countess! how can you say so?”
“Do not make excuses, monseigneur; it would be lost time.”
“Do not be uneasy; I am quite indifferent about it now.”
“Yes, because I do not love you.”
“Indeed, we are not exchanging compliments, but facts. We have never loved each other.”
“Oh! as for myself, I cannot allow that; I have a great affection for you, countess.”
“Come, monseigneur, let us esteem each other enough to speak the truth, and that is, that there is between us a much stronger bond than love—that is, interest.”
“Monseigneur, if you are ashamed, I am not.”
“Well, countess, supposing ourselves interested, how can we serve each other?”
“First, monseigneur, I wish to ask you a question. Why have you failed in confidence toward me?”
“Will you deny that, after skillfully drawing from me the details—which, I confess, I was not unwilling to give you —concerning the desire of a certain great lady for a certain thing, you have taken means to gratify that desire without telling me?”
“Countess, you are a real enigma, a sphinx.”
“Oh, no enigma, cardinal; I speak of the queen, and of the diamonds which you bought yesterday of MM. Boehmer and Bossange.”
“Countess!” cried he, growing pale.
“Oh, do not look so frightened,” continued she. “Did you not conclude your bargain yesterday?”
He did not speak, but looked uncomfortable, and half angry. She took his hand.
“Pardon, prince,” she said, “but I wished to show you your mistake about me: you believe me foolish and spiteful.”
“Oh, countess, now I understand you perfectly. I expected to find you a, pretty woman and a clever one, but you are better than this. Listen to me: you have, you say, been willing to become my friend without loving me?”
“Assuredly. Do you wish me to tell it to you?”
“No; I understand it. You wished to make my fortune; that once done, you are sure that my first care would be for yours. Am I right?”
“Yes, monseigneur; but I have not pursued my plans with any repugnance— the road has been a pleasant one.”
“You are an amiable woman, countess, and it is a pleasure to discuss business with you. You have guessed rightly that I have a respectful attachment toward a certain person.”
“I saw it at the Opera ball,” she said.
“I know well that this affection will never be returned.”
“Oh, a queen is only a woman, and you are surely equal to Cardinal Mazarin.”
“He was a very handsome man,” said M. de Rohan, laughing.
“And an excellent minister,” said Jeanne.
“Countess, it is superfluous trouble to talk to you; you guess and know everything. Yes, I do wish to become prime minister. Everything entitles me to it— my birth, my knowledge of business, my standing with foreign courts, and the affection which is felt for me by the French people.”
“There is but one obstacle,” said Jeanne.
“Yes, of the queen's; and the king always ends by liking what she likes, and hating what she hates.”
“And she hates me? Be frank, countess.”
“Well, monseigneur, she does not love you.”
“Then I am lost. Of what use is the necklace?”
“You deceive yourself, prince.”
“At least, it will show the queen that you love her. You know, monseigneur, we have agreed to call things by their right names.”
“Then you say you do not despair of seeing me one day prime minister?”
“And what are your own ambitions?”
“I will tell you, prince, when you are in a position to satisfy them.”
“How! is that what you call our alliance? Do you send me away?”
“Well, countess, I will not deceive myself again about you.” Before leaving, however, he turned, and said, “What must I do now, countess?”
“Nothing; wait for me to act. I will go to Versailles.”
“And when shall I hear from you?”
“Then I abandon myself to your protection; au revoir, countess.”
