“No, I have decided. I will not have the necklace; but I want something else.”
“Diable! then my 1,600,000 francs are gone, after all.”
“Reassure yourself; what I ask is much cheaper.”
“To the Place Vendôme, to see M. Mesmer.”
“Diable!” again said the king; but added: “Well, as you have denied yourself the necklace, I suppose I must let you go; but, on one condition.”
“You must be accompanied by a princess of the blood.”
“And, now,” said the king, “I shall order my ship of the line, and call it the ‘Queen’s Necklace.’ You shall stand godmother, and then I will send it out to La Pérouse;” and, kissing his wife’s hand, he went away quite joyful.
No sooner was the king gone than the queen rose, and went to the window. The morning was lovely, and had the charming feeling of the commencement of spring, while the sun seemed almost warm. The wind had gone round to the west, and if it remained in that quarter this terrible winter was probably at an end.
The snow was beginning to drip from the trees, under the influence of this genial morning.
“If we wish to profit by the ice,” cried the queen, “I believe we must make haste; for look, Madame de Misery, the spring seems to have begun. I much wish to make up a party on the Swiss lake, and will go to-day, for to-morrow it may be too late.”
“Then at what hour will your majesty wish to dress?”
“Immediately; I will breakfast and then go.”
“See if Madlle. de Taverney has risen, and tell her I wish to speak to her.”
“She is already waiting for you in the boudoir, madame.”
“Already?” said the queen, who knew at what time she had gone to bed.
“She has been there for twenty minutes, madame.”
Andrée soon entered, dressed with her usual care, and smiling, though rather unquiet.
The queen’s answering smile quite reassured her.
“Go, my good Misery, and send me Leonard.”
When she was gone, “The king has been charming,” said the queen to Andrée; “he has laughed, and is quite disarmed.”
“You understand, Andrée, that a woman does not tell falsehoods when she has done no wrong and is the Queen of France.”
“Still, my dear Andrée, it seems we have been wrong——”
“Why, in pitying Madame de la Motte; the king dislikes her, but I confess she pleased me.”
“Here is Leonard,” said Madame de Misery, returning.