“A forged one,” interrupted the queen.
“The jewelers,” continued the king, “say that in case the queen does not pay, you are bound to do so by your engagements.”
“I do not refuse to pay, sire. It must be the truth, as the queen permits it to be said.” And a second look, still more contemptuous than the first, accompanied this speech.
The queen trembled, for she began to think his behavior like the indignation of an honest man.
“Well, M. le Cardinal, some one has imitated the signature of the Queen of France,” said the king.
“The queen, sire, is free to attribute to me whatever crimes she pleases.”
“Sir,” said the king, “instead of justifying yourself, you assume the air of an accuser.”
The cardinal paused a moment, and then cried, “Justify myself?—impossible!”
“Monsieur, these people say that this necklace has been stolen under a promise to pay for it; do you confess the crime?”
“Who would believe it, if I did?” asked the cardinal, with a haughty disdain.