Chapter XLVII. Madame de Belliere's Plate and Diamonds.
Fouquet had no sooner dismissed Vanel than he began to reflect for a fewmoments--"A man never can do too much for the woman he has once loved.Marguerite wishes to be the wife of a procureur-general--and why notconfer this pleasure upon her? And, now that the most scrupulous andsensitive conscience will be unable to reproach me with anything, letmy thoughts be bestowed on her who has shown so much devotion for me.Madame de Belliere ought to be there by this time," he said, as heturned towards the secret door.
After he had locked himself in, he opened the subterranean passage, andrapidly hastened towards the means of communicating between the house atVincennes and his own residence. He had neglected to apprise his friendof his approach, by ringing the bell, perfectly assured that she wouldnever fail to be exact at the rendezvous; as, indeed, was the case, forshe was already waiting. The noise the superintendent made aroused her;she ran to take from under the door the letter he had thrust there, andwhich simply said, "Come, marquise; we are waiting supper for you." Withher heart filled with happiness Madame de Belliere ran to her carriagein the Avenue de Vincennes, and in a few minutes she was holding out herhand to Gourville, who was standing at the entrance, where, in orderthe better to please his master, he had stationed himself to watch herarrival. She had not observed that Fouquet's black horse arrived at thesame time, all steaming and foam-flaked, having returned to Saint-Mandewith Pelisson and the very jeweler to whom Madame de Belliere had soldher plate and her jewels. Pelisson introduced the goldsmith into thecabinet, which Fouquet had not yet left. The superintendent thanked himfor having been good enough to regard as a simple deposit in his hands,the valuable property which he had every right to sell; and he cast hiseyes on the total of the account, which amounted to thirteen hundredthousand francs. Then, going for a few moments to his desk, he wrotean order for fourteen hundred thousand francs, payable at sight, at histreasury, before twelve o'clock the next day.
"A hundred thousand francs profit!" cried the goldsmith. "Oh,monseigneur, what generosity!"
"Nay, nay, not so, monsieur," said Fouquet, touching him on theshoulder; "there are certain kindnesses which can never be repaid. Thisprofit is only what you have earned; but the interest of your moneystill remains to be arranged." And, saying this, he unfastened from hissleeve a diamond button, which the goldsmith himself had often valuedat three thousand pistoles. "Take this," he said to the goldsmith, "inremembrance of me. Farewell; you are an honest man."
"And you, monseigneur," cried the goldsmith, completely overcome, "arethe noblest man that ever lived."
Fouquet let the worthy goldsmith pass out of the room by a secret door,and then went to receive Madame de Belliere, who was already surroundedby all the guests. The marquise was always beautiful, but now herloveliness was more dazzling than ever. "Do you not think, gentlemen,"said Fouquet, "that madame is more than usually beautiful this evening?And do you happen to know why?"
"Because madame is really the most beautiful of all women," said someone present.
"No; but because she is the best. And yet--"
"Yet?" said the marquise, smiling.
"And yet, all the jewels which madame is wearing this evening arenothing but false stones." At this remark the marquise blushed mostpainfully.
"Oh, oh!" exclaimed all the guests, "that can very well be said of onewho has the finest diamonds in Paris."
"Well?" said Fouquet to Pelisson, in a low tone.
"Well, at last I have understood you," returned the latter; "and youhave done exceedingly well."
"Supper is ready, monseigneur," said Vatel, with majestic air and tone.
The crowd of guests hurried, more quickly than is usually the casewith ministerial entertainments, towards the banqueting-room, wherea magnificent spectacle presented itself. Upon the buffets, upon theside-tables, upon the supper-table itself, in the midst of flowers andlight, glittered most dazzlingly the richest and most costly goldand silver plate that could possibly be seen--relics of those ancientmagnificent productions the Florentine artists, whom the Medici familypatronized, sculptured, chased, and moulded for the purpose of holdingflowers, at a time when gold existed still in France. These hiddenmarvels, which had been buried during the civil wars, timidly reappearedduring the intervals of that war of good taste called La Fronde; at atime when noblemen fighting against nobleman killed, but did not pillageeach other. All the plate present had Madame de Belliere's arms engravedupon it. "Look," cried La Fontaine, "here is a P and a B."
But the most remarkable object present was the cover which Fouquet hadassigned to the marquise. Near her was a pyramid of diamonds, sapphires,emeralds, antique cameos, sardonyx stones, carved by the old Greeks ofAsia Minor, with mountings of Mysian gold; curious mosaics of ancientAlexandria, set in silver; massive Egyptian bracelets lay heaped ona large plate of Palissy ware, supported by a tripod of gilt bronze,sculptured by Benvenuto Cellini. The marquise turned pale, as sherecognized what she had never expected to see again. A profound silencefell on every one of the restless and excited guests. Fouquet didnot even make a sign in dismissal of the richly liveried servants whocrowded like bees round the huge buffets and other tables in the room."Gentlemen," he said, "all this plate which you behold once belongedto Madame de Belliere, who, having observed one of her friends in greatdistress, sent all this gold and silver, together with the heap ofjewels now before her, to her goldsmith. This noble conduct of a devotedfriend can well be understood by such friends as you. Happy indeed isthat man who sees himself loved in such a manner. Let us drink to thehealth of Madame de Belliere."
A tremendous burst of applause followed his words, and made poor Madamede Belliere sink back dumb and breathless in her seat. "And then,"added Pelisson, who was always affected by a noble action, as he wasinvariably impressed by beauty, "let us also drink to the health of himwho inspired madame's noble conduct; for such a man is worthy of beingworthily loved."
It was now the marquise's turn. She rose, pale and smiling; and as sheheld out her glass with a faltering hand, and her trembling fingerstouched those of Fouquet, her look, full of love, found its mirror inthat of her ardent and generous-hearted lover. Begun in this manner, thesupper soon became a _fete_; no one tried to be witty, but no one failedin being so. La Fontaine forgot his Gorgny wine, and allowed Vatel toreconcile him to the wines of the Rhone, and those from the shores ofSpain. The Abbe Fouquet became so kind and good-natured, that Gourvillesaid to him, "Take care, monsieur l'abbe; if you are so tender, you willbe carved and eaten."
The hours passed away so joyously, that, contrary to his usual custom,the superintendent did not leave the table before the end of thedessert. He smiled upon his friends, delighted as a man is whose heartbecomes intoxicated before his head--and, for the first time, looked atthe clock. Suddenly a carriage rolled into the courtyard, and, strangeto say, it was heard high above the noise of the mirth which prevailed.Fouquet listened attentively, and then turned his eyes towards theante-chamber. It seemed as if he could hear a step passing across it,a step that, instead of pressing the ground, weighed heavily uponhis heart. "M. d'Herblay, bishop of Vannes," the usher announced. AndAramis's grave and thoughtful face appeared upon the threshold of thedoor, between the remains of two garlands, of which the flame of a lamphad just burnt the thread that once united them.