Chapter 27

Chapter XXVII:
Madame de Belliere's Plate.

The blow had been the more painful on account of its being unexpected.
It was some time before the marquise recovered herself; but once
recovered, she began to reflect upon the events so heartlessly announced
to her. She therefore returned, at the risk even of losing her life in
the way, to that train of ideas which her relentless friend had forced
her to pursue. Treason, then - deep menaces, concealed under the
semblance of public interest - such were Colbert's maneuvers. A
detestable delight at an approaching downfall, untiring efforts to attain
this object, means of seduction no less wicked than the crime itself –
such were the weapons Marguerite employed. The crooked atoms of
Descartes triumphed; to the man without compassion was united a woman
without heart. The marquise perceived, with sorrow rather than
indignation, that the king was an accomplice in the plot which betrayed
the duplicity of Louis XIII. in his advanced age, and the avarice of
Mazarin at a period of life when he had not had the opportunity of
gorging himself with French gold. The spirit of this courageous woman
soon resumed its energy, no longer overwhelmed by indulgence in
compassionate lamentations. The marquise was not one to weep when action
was necessary, nor to waste time in bewailing a misfortune as long as
means still existed of relieving it. For some minutes she buried her
face in her cold fingers, and then, raising her head, rang for her
attendants with a steady hand, and with a gesture betraying a fixed
determination of purpose. Her resolution was taken.

"Is everything prepared for my departure?" she inquired of one of her
female attendants who entered.

"Yes, madame; but it was not expected that your ladyship would leave for
Belliere for the next few days."

"All my jewels and articles of value, then, are packed up?"

"Yes, madame; but hitherto we have been in the habit of leaving them in
Paris. Your ladyship does not generally take your jewels with you into
the country."

"But they are all in order, you say?"

"Yes, in your ladyship's own room."

"The gold plate?"

"In the chest."

"And the silver plate?"

"In the great oak closet."

The marquise remained silent for a few moments, and then said calmly,
"Let my goldsmith be sent for."

Her attendants quitted the room to execute the order. The marquise,
however, had entered her own room, and was inspecting her casket of
jewels with the greatest attention. Never, until now, had she bestowed
such close attention upon riches in which women take so much pride;
never, until now, had she looked at her jewels, except for the purpose of
making a