here the affair therefore rested, for Jeanne was determined to share the blame with some one, as she could not turn it from herself. All her calculations had been defeated by the frankness with which the queen had met, and made public, every accusation against her.
At last Jeanne wrote the following letter to the queen:
“MADAME—In spite of my painful position and rigorous treatment, I have not uttered a complaint; all that has been tried to extort avowals from me has failed to make me compromise my sovereign. However, although persuaded that my constancy and discretion will facilitate my release from my present position, the friends of the cardinal make me fear I shall become his victim. A long imprisonment, endless questions, and the shame and despair of being accused of such crimes, begin to exhaust my courage, and I tremble lest constancy should at last give way. Your majesty might end all this by a few words to M. de Breteuil, who could give the affair in the king's eyes any color your majesty likes without compromising you. It is the fear of being compelled to reveal all which makes me beg your majesty to take steps to relieve me from my painful position. I am, with profound respect,
Jeanne calculated either that this letter would frighten the queen, or, what was more probable, would never reach her hands, but, be carried by the messenger to the governor of the Bastille, where it could hardly fail to tell against the queen. She then wrote to the cardinal:
“I cannot conceive, monseigneur, why you persist in not speaking plainly. It seems to me that your best plan would be to confide fully in our judges. As for me, I am resolved to be silent if you will not second me; but why do you not speak? Explain all the circumstances of this mysterious affair, for if I were to speak first, and you not support me, I should be sacrificed to the vengeance of her who wishes to ruin us. But I have written her a letter which will perhaps induce her to spare us, who have nothing to reproach ourselves with.”
This letter she gave to the cardinal at their last confrontation. He grew pale with anger at her audacity, and left the room. Then Jeanne produced her letter to the queen, and begged the Abbe Lekel, chaplain of the Bastille, who had accompanied the cardinal, and was devoted to him, to take charge of it and convey it to the queen. He refused to take it. She declared that if he did not she would produce M. de Rohan's letters to the queen. “And take care, sir,” added she, “for they will cause his head to fall on the scaffold.”
At this moment the cardinal reappeared.
“Madame!” said he, “let my head fall, so that I have the satisfaction of seeing also the scaffold which you shall mount as a thief and a forger. Come, abbe.” He went away, leaving Jeanne devoured with rage and disappointment at her failures at every turn.
