The Mesmerist's Victim

by Alexandre Dumas

  CHAPTER XX.

  THE DIAMOND COLLAR.

  Rousseau had been cheated into going to take breakfast with the royalfavorite: he was formally invited by the Dauphiness to come to Trianonto conduct in person one of his operas in which she and her ladies andtitled amateurs generally were to take the parts even to thesupernumeraries.

  He had not attired himself specially and he had stuffed his head with alot of disagreeable plain truths to speak to the King, if he had achance.

  To the courtiers, however, it was the same to see him as any otherauthor or composer, curiosities all, whom the grandees hire to performin their parlors or on their lawns.

  The King received him coldly on account of his costume, dusty with thejourney in the omnibus, but he addressed him with the limpid clearnessof the monarch which drove from Rousseau's head all the platitudes hehad rehearsed.

  But as soon as the rehearsal was begun, the attention was drawn to thepiece and the composer was forgotten.

  But he was remarking everything; the noblemen in the dress of peasantssang as far out of tune as the King himself; the ladies in the attire ofcourt shepherdesses flirted. The Dauphiness sang correctly, but she wasa poor actress; besides, she had so little voice that she could hardlybe heard. The Dauphin spoke his lines. In short, the opera scarcely goton in the least.

  Only one consolation came to Rousseau. He caught sight of onedelightful face among the chorus-ladies and it was her voice whichsounded the best of all.

  "Eh," said the Dauphiness, following his look, "has Mdlle. de Taverneymade a fault?"

  Andrea blushed as she saw all eyes turn upon her.

  "No, no!" the author hastened to say, "that young lady sings like anangel."

  Lady Dubarry darted a glance on him sharper than a javelin.

  On the other hand Baron Taverney felt his heart melt with joy and hesmiled his warmest on the composer.

  "Do you think that child sings well?" questioned Lady Dubarry of theKing, whom Rousseau's words had visibly struck.

  "I could not tell," he said: "while they are all singing together. Onewould have to be a regular musician to discover that."

  Rousseau still kept his eyes on Andrea who looked handsomer than everwith a high color.

  The rehearsal went on and Lady Dubarry became atrociously out of temper:twice she caught Louis XV. absent-minded when she was saying cuttingthings about the play.

  Though the incident had also made the Dauphiness jealous, shecomplimented everybody and showed charming gaiety. The Duke of Richelieuhovered round her with the agility of a youth, and gathered a band ofmerrymakers at the back of the stage with the Dauphiness as the centre:this furiously disquieted the Dubarry clique.

  "It appears that Mdlle. de Taverney is blessed with a pretty voice," hesaid in a loud voice.

  "Delightful," said the princess; "if I were not so selfish, I would haveher play Colette. But I took the part to have some amusement and I amnot going to let another play it."

  "Nay, Mdlle. de Taverney would not sing it better than your RoyalHighness," protested Richelieu, "and---- "

  "She is an excellent musician," said Rousseau, who was penetrated withAndrea's value in his line.

  "Excellent," said the Dauphiness; "I am going to tell the truth, thatshe taught me my part; and then she dances ravishingly, and I do notdance a bit."

  You may judge of the effect of all this on the King, his favorite, andall this gathering of the envious, curious, intriguers, andnews-mongers. Each received a gain or a sting, with pain or shame. Therewere none indifferent except Andrea herself.

  Spurred on by Richelieu, the Dauphiness induced Andrea to sing theballad:

  "I have lost my only joy-- Colin leaves me all alone."

  The King was seen to mark time with a nodding of the head, in such keenpleasure that the rouge scaled off Lady Dubarry's face in flakes like apainting in the damp.

  More spiteful than any woman, Richelieu enjoyed the revenge he washaving on Dubarry. Sidling round to old Taverney, the pair resembled agroup of Hypocrisy and Corruption signing a treaty of union.

  Their joy brightened all the more as the cloud darkened on Dubarry'sbrow. She finished by springing up in a pet, which was contrary to alletiquet, for the King was still in his seat.

  Foreseeing the storm like ants, the courtiers looked for shelter. So theDauphiness and La Dubarry were both clustered round by their friends.

  The interest in the rehearsal gradually deviated from its natural lineand entered into a fresh order of things. Colin and Colette, the loversin the piece, were no longer thought of, but whether Madame Dubarrymight not have to sing:

  "I have lost my only joy-- Colin leaves me all alone."

  "Do you see the stunning success of that girl of yours?" asked Richelieuof Taverney.

  He dashed open a glazed door to lead him into the lobby, when the actmade a knave who was standing on the knob to peer into the hall, drop tothe ground.

  "Plague on the rogue," said the duke; brushing his sleeve, for the shockof the drop had dusted him. He saw that the spy was clad like one ofthe working people about the Palace.

  It was a gardener's help, in fact, for he had a basket of flowers on hisarm. He had saved himself from falling but spilt the flowers.

  "Why, I know the rogue," said Taverney, "he was born on my estate. Whatare you doing here, rascal?"

  "You see, I am looking on," replied Gilbert proudly.

  "Better finish your work."

  "My work is done," replied the young man humbly to the duke, withoutdeigning to reply to the baron.

  "I run up against this idle vagabond everywhere," grumbled the latter.

  "Here, here, my lord," gently interrupted a voice; "my little Gilbert isa good workman and a most earnest botanist."

  Taverney turned and saw Dr. Jussieu stroking the cheek of hisex-dependent. He turned red with rage and went off.

  "The lackeys poking their noses in here!" he growled.

  "And the maids, too--look at your Nicole, at the corner of the doorthere. The sly puss, she does not let a wink escape her."

  Among twenty other servants, Nicole was holding her pretty head overtheirs from behind and her eyes, dilated by surprise and admiration,seemed to see double. Perceiving her, Gilbert turned aloof.

  "Come," said the duke to Taverney, "it is my belief that the King wantsto speak to you. He is looking round for somebody."

  The two friends made their way to the royal box.

  Lady Dubarry and Aiguillon, both on their feet, were chatting.

  Rousseau was alone in the admiration of Andrea; he was busy falling intolove with her.

  The illustrious actors were changing their dresses in their retiringrooms, where Gilbert had renewed the floral decorations.

  Taverney, left by himself in the corridor while Richelieu went to theKing, felt his heart alternately frozen and seared by the expectation.

  Finally his envoy returned and laid a finger on his lips. His friendturned pale with joy, and was drawn under the royal box, where theyheard what had few auditors.

  Lady Dubarry was saying: "Am I to expect your Majesty to supper thisevening?" and the reply was "I am afraid I am too tired and should liketo be excused."

  At this juncture the Dauphin dropped into the box and said, almoststepping on the countess's toes without appearing to see her:

  "Sire, is your Majesty going to do us the honor of taking supper at theTrianon?"

  "No, my son; I was just saying to the countess that I am too tired foranything. All your youthful liveliness bewilders me; I shall take supperalone."

  The prince bowed and retired. Lady Dubarry courtseyed very low and wenther way, quivering with ire. The King then beckoned to Richelieu.

  "Duke, I have some business to talk to you upon; I have not been pleasedwith the way matters go on. I want an explanation, and you may as wellmake it while we have supper. I think I know this gentleman, duke?" hecontinued, eyeing Taverney.

  "Certainly--it is Taverney.
"

  "Oh, the father of this delightful songstress?"

  "Yes, Sire."

  The King whispered in the duke's ear while the baron dug his nails intohis flesh to hide his emotion.

  A moment after, Richelieu said to his friend: "Follow me, withoutseeming to do so."

  "Where?"

  "Never mind--come, all the same."

  The duke set off and Taverney followed within twenty paces to a roomwhere the following gentleman stopped in the anteroom.

  He had not long to wait there. Richelieu, having asked the royal valetfor what his master had left on the toilet table, came forth immediatelywith an article which the baron could not distinguish in its silkenwrapper. But the marshal soon drew him out of his disquiet when he ledhim to the side of the gallery.

  "Baron, you have sometimes doubted my friendship for you," observed theduke when they were alone, "and then you doubted the good fortune ofyourself and children. You were wrong, for it has come about for you allwith dazzling rapidity."

  "You don't say that?" said the old cynic, catching a glimpse of part ofthe truth; he was not yet sundered from good and hence not entirelyenlisted by the devil. "How is this?"

  "Well, we have Master Philip made a captain with a company of soldiersfurnished by the King. And Mdlle. de Taverney is nigh to being amarchioness."

  "Go to! my daughter a---- "

  "List to me, Taverney: the King is full of good taste. When talentaccompanies grace, beauty and virtue, it enchants him. Now, your girlunites all these gifts in an eminent degree so that he is delighted byher."

  "I wish you would make the word 'delighted' clearer, duke," said theother, putting on an air of dignity more grotesque than the speaker's,which the latter thought grotesque as he did not like pretences.

  "Baron," he drily replied, "I am not strong on language and not evengood at spelling. For me, delighted signifies pleased beyond measure. Ifyou would not be delighted beyond measure to see your sovereign contentwith the grace, beauty and virtue of your offspring, say so. I will goback to his Majesty," and he spun round on his red heels with quiteyouthful sprightliness.

  "Duke, you don't understand me--hang it! how sudden you are," grumbledTaverney, stopping him.

  "Why do you say you are not pleased?"

  "I never said so."

  "You ask comments on the King's good pleasure--plague on the dunce whoquestions it!"

  "Again, I tell you, I never opened my mouth on that subject. It iscertain that I am pleased."

  "Yes, you--for any man of sense would be: but your girl?"

  "Humph!"

  "My dear fellow, you have brought up the child like the savage that youare."

  "My dear fellow, she has brought herself up all alone; you might guessthat I did not bother myself about her. It was hard enough to keep alivein that hole at Taverney. Virtue sprang up in her of its own impulsion."

  "Yet I thought that the rural swains rooted out ill weeds. In short,your girl is a nun."

  "You are wrong--she is a dove."

  Richelieu made a sour face.

  "The dove had better get another turtle to mate, for the chances to makea fortune with that blessing are pretty scarce nowadays."

  Taverney looked at him uneasily.

  "Luckily," went on the other, "the King is so infatuated with Dubarrythat he will never seriously lean towards others."

  Taverney's disquiet became anxiety.

  "You and your daughter need not worry," continued Richelieu. "I willraise the proper objections to the King and he will think no more aboutit."

  "About what?" gasped the old noble, pale, as he shook his friend's arm.

  "About making a little present to Mdlle. Andrea."

  "A little present--what is it?" cried the baron full of hope andgreediness.

  "A mere trifle," said Richelieu, negligently, as he opened the parceland showed a diamond collar. "A miserable little trinket costing only afew thousand livres, which his Majesty, flattered by having heard hisfavorite song sung well, wanted the singer to be sued to accept. It isthe custom. But let us say no more since your daughter is so easilyfrightened."

  "But you do not seem to see that a refusal would offend the King."

  "Of course; but does not virtue always tread on the corn of somebody orother?"

  "To tell the truth, duke, the girl is not so very lost to reason. I knowwhat she will say or do."

  "The Chinese are a very happy people," observed Richelieu.

  "How so?" asked Taverney, stupefied.

  "Because they are allowed to drown girls who are a trouble to theirparents and nobody says a word."

  "Come, duke, you ought to be fair," said Taverney; "suppose you had adaughter."

  "'Sdeath! have I not a daughter, and it would be mighty unkind ofanybody to slander her by saying she was ice. But I never interfere withmy children after they get out of the nursery."

  "But if you had a daughter and the King were to offer her a collar?"

  "My friend, pray, no comparisons. I have always lived in the court andyou have lived latterly like a Red Indian; there is no likeness. Whatyou call virtue I rate as stupidity. Learn for your guidance thatnothing is more impolite than to put it to people what they would do insuch a case. Besides, your comparison will not suit. I am not the bearerof a diamond collar to Mdlle. de Taverney, as Lebel the valet of theKing is a carrier; when I have such a mission, which is honorable as thepresent is rich, I am moral as the next man. I do not go near the younglady, who is admirable for her virtue--I go to her father--I speak toyou, Taverney, and I hand you the collar, saying: Take it or leave it."

  "If the present is only a matter of custom," observed the baron: "iflegitimate and paternal---- "

  "Why, you are never daring to suspect his Majesty of evil intentions,"said Richelieu, gravely.

  "God forbid, but what will the world say--I mean, my daughter---- "

  "Yes or no, do you take it," demanded the intermediary, shrugging hisshoulders.

  Out darted Taverney's fingers, as he said with a smile twin-like to theenvoy's:

  "Thus you are moral."

  "Is it not pure morality," returned the marshal, "to place the father,who purifies all, between the enchanted state of the monarch and thecharm of your daughter? Let Jean Jacques Rousseau, who was in theseprecincts a while ago, be the judge: he will declare that the famousJoseph of Biblical name was impure alongside of me."

  He uttered these words with a phlegm, dry nobility, and perkinessimposing silence on Taverney's observations, and helping him to believethat he ought to dwell convinced. So he grasped his illustrious friend'shand and as he squeezed it, he said:

  "Thanks to your delicacy, my daughter may accept this present."

  "The source and origin of the fortune of which I was speaking to you atthe commencement of our annoying discussion on virtue."

  "I thank you with all my heart, duke."

  "One word: most carefully keep the news of this boon from the Dubarry'sfriends. She is capable of quitting the King and running away."

  "Would the King be sorry for that?"

  "I do not know, but the countess would bear you ill-will. I would belost, in that case; so be wary."

  "Fear nothing: but bear my most humble thanks to his Majesty."

  "And your daughter's--I shall not fail. But you are not at the end ofthe favor. You can thank him personally, dear friend, for you areinvited to sup with him. We are a family party. We--his Majesty, you,and I, will talk about your daughter's virtue. Good bye, Taverney! I seeDubarry with Aiguillon and they must not spy us in conversation."

  Light as a page, he skipped out of the gallery, leaving the old baronwith the jewels, like a child waking up and finding what Santa Clausleft in his sock while he slept.