“Either by chance, or by mistrust, the queen made Madame de Surgis sleep in her room, and kept it throughout the day.”
“Very well; we have been beaten; let us try to have our revenge.”
“Be assured that I will assist your eminence with all my soul.”
“How did this happen?”
“At half-past twelve the queen was with her women.”
“Where?”
“In her bed-chamber, where a pocket-handkerchief was brought her from her seamstress.”
“Well?”
“The queen immediately showed great emotion; and grew pale, under her rouge.”
“Well! what then?”
“Nevertheless, she arose; and, in an agitated voice said, ‘ladies, wait ten minutes for me; I will return.’ Then, opening the door of her alcove, she went out.”
“Why did not Madame de Lannoy come and tell you directly?”
“There was no certainty about the matter; besides, the queen had said, ‘ladies, wait for me.’ And Madame de Lannoy dared not disobey her majesty.”
“And how long did the queen remain absent from her room?”
“Three-quarters of an hour.”
“Did none of her women accompany her?”
“Only Donna Estefana.”
“And she returned?”
“Yes, but only to take a small rosewood casket, bearing her initials, with which she went out again directly.”
“And when she came back, finally, did she bring the casket with her?”
“No!”
“Does Madame de Lannoy know what the casket contained?”
“Yes! the diamond studs which his majesty presented to the queen.”
“And she came back without the casket?”
“Yes.”
“Then the opinion of Madame de Lannoy is, that she gave this casket to Buckingham?”
“She is sure of it.”
“How so?”
“During the day, Madame de Lannoy, in her office of tirewoman to the queen, looked for this casket, appeared uneasy at not finding it, and ended by inquiring for it of the queen.”
“And then the queen—”
“The queen blushed deeply, and answered that, having the evening before broken one of the studs, she had sent it to her jeweller’s to be repaired.”
“You must go there, and ascertain whether that is true, or not.”
“I have been.”
“Well, and the goldsmith—?”
“The goldsmith has heard nothing about it.”
“Good! good! Rochefort, all is not lost, and perhaps—perhaps all is for the best!”
“The fact is, that I have no doubt but what the genius of your eminence—”
“May repair the errors of my agent! Is that what you mean?”
“It was just what I was about to say, if your eminence had permitted me to finish the sentence.”
“Now, do you know where the Duchesse de Chevreuse and the Duke of Buckingham concealed themselves?”
“No, my lord; my agents have no positive information upon that point.”
“I know it myself, though.”
“You! my lord?”
“Yes, or at least I have no doubt of it. They lived, the one in the Rue Vaugirard, at No. 25, and the other in the Rue de la Harpe, No. 75.”
“Would your eminence wish me to arrest them both?”
“It is too late; they will be gone.”
“Never mind; there is no harm in trying!”
“Take ten of my guards, and ransack the two houses.”
“It shall be done, my lord!”
So saying, Rochefort rushed from the room.
When the cardinal was left alone, he remained a moment in thought, and then rang a third time.
The officer who had come before appeared again.
“Bring in the prisoner,” said the cardinal.
Master Bonancieux was again brought in, and, at a sign from the cardinal, the officer withdrew.
“You have deceived me,” said the cardinal, with great severity.
“I!” cried Bonancieux; “I deceive your eminence!”
“When your wife went to the Rue Vaugirard, and the Rue de la Harpe, she did not go to linen-drapers.”
“Good God! To whom did she go, then?”
“She went to see the Duchesse de Chevreuse, and the Duke of Buckingham.”
“Yes!” said Bonancieux, with a flash of recollection; “yes, exactly so; your eminence is right. I often told my wife that it was astonishing that linen-drapers should live in such houses; in houses which had no signs; and every time I said so, my wife began to laugh. Ah! my lord!” he continued, throwing himself at the feet of his eminence, “it is plain that you are the cardinal, the great cardinal—the man of genius, whom all the world reveres!”
The cardinal, small as was the triumph to be achieved over a being so vulgar as was Bonancieux, did not the less enjoy it for a moment. Then, as if a new idea struck him, he smiled, and, stretching out his hand to the mercer—
“Rise, my friend,” said he, “you are a worthy fellow.”
“The cardinal has taken my hand! I have touched the hand of the great man!” exclaimed Bonancieux; “the great man has called me his friend!”
“Yes, my friend, yes,” said the cardinal, in that paternal tone which he was sometimes able to assume, but which only deceived those who did not know him; “and as you have been unjustly suspected, we must make you some amends. Here, take this bag of a hundred pistoles, and forgive me.”
“I forgive you, my lord!” said Bonancieux, hesitating to take the bag, from a fear that this supposed gift was only a jest. “But you were quite at liberty to have me arrested; you are quite at liberty to send me to the torture; you are quite at liberty to hang me; you are the master, and I should not have the smallest word to say against it. Forgive you, my lord! But you cannot mean that!”
“Ah! my dear M. Bonancieux, you are very generous; I see it, and I thank you. But you must take this bag, and then you will go away not very discontented—will you?”
“I go away perfectly enchanted, my lord!”
“Adieu, then; or, rather, au revoir hair; for I hope that we shall see each other again.”
“As often as my lord may please; I am at your eminence’s command.”
“It shall be often, depend upon it; for I have found your conversation quite charming.”
“Oh! my lord!”
“Farewell, till our next meeting, M. Bonancieux—till our next meeting.”
Bonancieux, at a sign from the cardinal’s hand, bowed to the very ground, and then backed himself out of the room. When he was in the anteroom, the cardinal heard him, in his enthusiasm, crying out, at the top of his voice: