At the very time M. de Baisemeaux was showing Aramis the prisoners inthe Bastile, a carriage drew up at Madame de Belliere's door, and, atthat still early hour, a young woman alighted, her head muffled ina silk hood. When the servants announced Madame Vanel to Madame deBelliere, the latter was engaged, or rather was absorbed, in reading,a letter, which she hurriedly concealed. She had hardly finishedher morning toilette, her maid being still in the next room. At thename---at the footsteps of Marguerite Vanel--Madame de Belliere ran tomeet her. She fancied she could detect in her friend's eyes a brightnesswhich was neither that of health nor of pleasure. Marguerite embracedher, pressed her hands, and hardly allowed her time to speak. "Dearest,"she said, "have you forgotten me? Have you quite given yourself up tothe pleasures of the court?"
"I have not even seen the marriage fetes."
"What are you doing with yourself, then?"
"I am getting ready to leave for Belliere."
"For Belliere?"
"Yes."
"You are becoming rustic in your tastes, then; I delight to see you sodisposed. But you are pale."
"No, I am perfectly well."
"So much the better; I was becoming uneasy about you. You do not knowwhat I have been told."
"People say so many things."
"Yes, but this is very singular."
"How well you know how to excite curiosity, Marguerite."
"Well, I was afraid of vexing you."
"Never; you have yourself always admired me for my evenness of temper."
"Well, then, it is said that--no, I shall never be able to tell you."
"Do not let us talk about it, then," said Madame de Belliere, whodetected the ill-nature that was concealed by all these prefaces, yetfelt the most anxious curiosity on the subject.
"Well, then, my dear marquise, it is said that, for some time past, youno longer continue to regret Monsieur de Belliere as you used to."
"It is an ill-natured report, Marguerite. I do regret and shall alwaysregret, my husband; but it is now two years since he died. I am onlytwenty-eight years old, and my grief at his loss ought not always tocontrol every action and thought of my life. You, Marguerite, who arethe model of a wife, would not believe me if I were to say so."
"Why not? Your heart is so soft and yielding." she said, spitefully.
"Yours is so too, Marguerite, and yet I did not perceive that youallowed yourself to be overcome by grief when your heart was wounded."These words were in direct allusion to Marguerite's rupture with thesuperintendent, and were also a veiled but direct reproach made againsther friend's heart.
As if she only awaited this signal to discharge her shaft, Margueriteexclaimed, "Well, Elise, it is said you are in love." And she lookedfixedly at Madame de Belliere, who blushed against her will.
"Women never escape slander," replied the marquise, after a moment'spause.
"No one slanders you, Elise."
"What!--people say that I am in love, and yet they do not slander me!"
"In the first place, if it be true, it is no slander, but simply ascandal-loving report. In the next place--for you did not allow meto finish what I was saying--the public does not assert that you haveabandoned yourself to this passion. It represents you, on the contrary,as a virtuous but loving woman, defending yourself with claws andteeth, shutting yourself up in your own house as in a fortress; in otherrespects, as impenetrable as that of Danae, notwithstanding Danae'stower was made of brass."
"You are witty, Marguerite," said Madame de Belliere, angrily.
"You always flatter me, Elise. In short, however you are reported to beincorruptible and unapproachable. You cannot decide whether the world iscalumniating you or not; but what is it you are musing about while I amspeaking to you?"
"I?"
"Yes; you are blushing and do not answer me."
"I was trying," said the marquise, raising her beautiful eyes brightenedwith an indication of growing temper, "I was trying to discover to whatyou could possibly have alluded, you who are so learned in mythologicalsubjects in comparing me to Danae."
"You were trying to guess that?" said Marguerite, laughing.
"Yes; do you not remember that at the convent, when we were solving ourproblems in arithmetic--ah! what I have to tell you is learned also, butit is my turn--do you not remember, that if one of the terms were given,we were to find out the other? Therefore do you guess now?"
"I cannot conjecture what you mean."
"And yet nothing is more simple. You pretend that I am in love, do younot?"
"So it is said."
"Very well, it is not said, I suppose, that I am in love with anabstraction. There must surely be a name mentioned in this report."
"Certainly, a name is mentioned."
"Very well; it is not surprising, then, that I should try to guess thisname, since you do not tell it."
"My dear marquise, when I saw you blush, I did not think you would haveto spend much time in conjectures."
"It was the word Danae which you used that surprised me. Danae means ashower of gold, does it not?"
"That is to say that the Jupiter of Danae changed himself into a showerof gold for her."
"My lover, then, he whom you assign me----"
"I beg your pardon; I am your friend, and assign you no one."
"That may be; but those who are ill disposed towards me."
"Do you wish to hear the name?"
"I have been waiting this half hour for it."
"Well, then, you shall hear it. Do not be shocked; he is a man high inpower."
"Good," said the marquise, as she clenched her hands like a patient atthe approach of the knife.
"He is a very wealthy man," continued Marguerite; "the wealthiest, itmay be. In a word, it is----"
The marquise closed her eyes for a moment.
"It is the Duke of Buckingham," said Marguerite, bursting into laughter.This perfidy had been calculated with extreme ability; the name thatwas pronounced, instead of the name which the marquise awaited, hadprecisely the same effect upon her as the badly sharpened axes that hadhacked, without destroying, Messieurs de Chalais and De Thou upon thescaffold. She recovered herself, however, and said, "I was perfectlyright in saying you were a witty woman, for you are making the time passaway most agreeably. This joke is a most amusing one, for I have neverseen the Duke of Buckingham."
"Never?" said Marguerite, restraining her laughter.
"I have never even left my own house since the duke has been at Paris."
"Oh!" resumed Madame Vanel, stretching out her foot towards a paperwhich was lying on the carpet near the window; "it is not necessary forpeople to see each other, since they can write." The marquise trembled,for this paper was the envelope of the letter she was reading as herfriend had entered, and was sealed with the superintendent's arms. Asshe leaned back on the sofa on which she was sitting, Madame de Bellierecovered the paper with the thick folds of her large silk dress, and soconcealed it.
"Come, Marguerite, tell me, is it to tell me all these foolish reportsthat you have come to see me so early in the day?"
"No, I came to see you, in the first place, and to remind you of thosehabits of our earlier days, so delightful to remember, when we used towander about together at Vincennes, and, sitting beneath an oak, or insome sylvan shade, used to talk of those we loved, and who loved us."
"Do you propose that we should go out together now?"
"My carriage is here, and I have three hours at my disposal."
"I am not dressed yet, Marguerite; but if you wish that we should talktogether, we can, without going to the woods of Vincennes, find in myown garden here, beautiful trees, shady groves, a greensward coveredwith daisies and violets, the perfume of which can be perceived fromwhere we are sitting."
"I regret your refusal, my dear marquise, for I wanted to pour out mywhole heart into yours."
"I repeat again, Marguerite, my heart is yours just as much in thisroom, or beneath the lime-trees in the garden her
e, as it would be underthe oaks in the wood yonder."
"It is not the same thing for me. In approaching Vincennes, marquise,my ardent aspirations approach nearer to that object towards which theyhave for some days past been directed." The marquise suddenly raisedher head. "Are you surprised, then, that I am still thinking ofSaint-Mande?"
"Of Saint-Mande?" exclaimed Madame de Belliere; and the looks of bothwomen met each other like two resistless swords.
"You, so proud!" said the marquise, disdainfully.
"I, so proud!" replied Madame Vanel. "Such is my nature. I do notforgive neglect--I cannot endure infidelity. When I leave any one whoweeps at my abandonment, I feel induced still to love him; but whenothers forsake me and laugh at their infidelity, I love distractedly."
Madame de Belliere could not restrain an involuntary movement.
"She is jealous," said Marguerite to herself.
"Then," continued the marquise, "you are quite enamored of the Dukeof Buckingham--I mean of M. Fouquet?" Elise felt the allusion, andher blood seemed to congeal in her heart. "And you wished to go toVincennes,--to Saint-Mande, even?"
"I hardly know what I wished: you would have advised me perhaps."
"In what respect?"
"You have often done so."
"Most certainly I should not have done so in the present instance, forI do not forgive as you do. I am less loving, perhaps; when my heart hasbeen once wounded, it remains so always."
"But M. Fouquet has not wounded you," said Marguerite Vanel, with themost perfect simplicity.
"You perfectly understand what I mean. M. Fouquet has not wounded me;I do not know of either obligation or injury received at his hands, butyou have reason to complain of him. You are my friend, and I am afraid Ishould not advise you as you would like."
"Ah! you are prejudging the case."
"The sighs you spoke of just now are more than indications."
"You overwhelm me," said the young woman suddenly, as if collecting herwhole strength, like a wrestler preparing for a last struggle; "you takeonly my evil dispositions and my weaknesses into calculation, and donot speak of my pure and generous feelings. If, at this moment, I feelinstinctively attracted towards the superintendent, if I even make anadvance to him, which, I confess, is very probable, my motive for itis, that M. Fouquet's fate deeply affects me, and because he is, in myopinion, one of the most unfortunate men living."
"Ah!" said the marquise, placing her hand upon her heart, "somethingnew, then, has occurred?"
"Do you not know it?"
"I am utterly ignorant of everything about him," said Madame deBelliere, with the poignant anguish that suspends thought and speech,and even life itself.
"In the first place, then, the king's favor is entirely withdrawn fromM. Fouquet, and conferred on M. Colbert."
"So it is stated."
"It is very clear, since the discovery of the plot of Belle-Isle."
"I was told that the discovery of the fortifications there had turnedout to M. Fouquet's honor."
Marguerite began to laugh in so cruel a manner that Madame de Bellierecould at that moment have delightedly plunged a dagger in her bosom."Dearest," continued Marguerite, "there is no longer any question of M.Fouquet's honor; his safety is concerned. Before three days are passedthe ruin of the superintendent will be complete."
"Stay," said the marquise, in her turn smiling, "that is going a littletoo fast."
"I said three days, because I wish to deceive myself with a hope; butprobably the catastrophe will be complete within twenty-four hours."
"Why so?"
"For the simplest of all reasons,--that M. Fouquet has no more money."
"In matters of finance, my dear Marguerite, some are without moneyto-day, who to-morrow can procure millions."
"That might be M. Fouquet's case when he had two wealthy and cleverfriends who amassed money for him, and wrung it from every possible orimpossible source; but those friends are dead."
"Money does not die, Marguerite; it may be concealed, but it can belooked for, sought and found."
"You see things on the bright side, and so much the better for you. Itis really very unfortunate that you are not the Egeria of M. Fouquet;you might now show him the source whence he could obtain the millionswhich the king asked him for yesterday."
"Millions!" said the marquise, in terror.
"Four--an even number."
"Infamous!" murmured Madame de Belliere, tortured by her friend'smerciless delight.
"M. Fouquet, I should think, must certainly have four millions," shereplied, courageously.
"If he has those which the king requires to-day," said Marguerite, "hewill not, perhaps, possess those which the king will demand in a monthor so."
"The king will exact money from him again, then?"
"No doubt; and that is my reason for saying that the ruin of poor M.Fouquet is inevitable. Pride will induce him to furnish the money, andwhen he has no more, he will fall."
"It is true," said the marquise, trembling; "the plan is a bold one; buttell me, does M. Colbert hate M. Fouquet so very much?"
"I think he does not like him. M. Colbert is powerful; he improveson close acquaintance, he has gigantic ideas, a strong will, anddiscretion, he will rise."
"He will be superintendent?"
"It is probable. Such is the reason, my dear marquise, why I felt myselfimpressed in favor of that poor man, who once loved, and even adored me;and why, when I see him so unfortunate, I forgive his infidelity which Ihave reason to believe he also regrets; and why, moreover, I shouldnot have been disinclined to afford him some consolation, or some goodadvice; he would have understood the step I had taken, and would havethought kindly of me for it. It is gratifying to be loved, you know.Men value love more highly when they are no longer blinded by itsinfluence."
The marquise, bewildered and overcome by these cruel attacks, which hadbeen calculated with the greatest nicety and precision, hardly knew whatanswer to return; she even seemed to have lost all power of thought. Herperfidious friend's voice had assumed the most affectionate tone; shespoke as a woman, but concealed the instincts of a wolf.
"Well," said Madame de Belliere, who had a vague hope that Margueritewould cease to overwhelm a vanquished enemy, "why do you not go and seeM. Fouquet?"
"Decidedly, marquise, you have made me reflect. No, it would beunbecoming for me to make the first advance. M. Fouquet no doubt lovesme, but he is too proud. I cannot expose myself to an affront....besides I have my husband to consider. You tell me nothing? Very well, Ishall consult M. Colbert on the subject." Marguerite rose smilingly, asthough to take leave, but the marquise had not the strength to imitateher. Marguerite advanced a few paces, in order that she might continueto enjoy the humiliating grief in which her rival was plunged, andthen said, suddenly,--"You do not accompany me to the door, then?"The marquise rose, pale and almost lifeless, without thinking ofthe envelope, which had occupied her attention so greatly at thecommencement of the conversation, and which was revealed at the firststep she took. She then opened the door of her oratory, and without eventurning her head towards Marguerite Vanel, entered it, closing the doorafter her. Marguerite said, or rather muttered a few words, which Madamede Belliere did not even hear. As soon, however, as the marquise haddisappeared, her envious enemy, not being able to resist the desireto satisfy herself that her suspicions were well founded, advancedstealthily towards it like a panther and seized the envelope. "Ah!" shesaid, gnashing her teeth, "it was indeed a letter from M. Fouquet shewas reading when I arrived," and then darted out of the room. Duringthis interval, the marquise, having arrived behind the rampart, as itwere, of her door, felt that her strength was failing her; for a momentshe remained rigid, pale and motionless as a statue, and then, like astatue shaken on its base by an earthquake, tottered and fell inanimateon the carpet. The noise of the fall resounded at the same moment as therolling of Marguerite's carriage leaving the hotel.
CHAPTER 102. Madame de Belliere's Plate
Ten Years Later Page 109