Jeanne calculated either that this letter would frighten the queen, or, what was more probable, would never reach her hands, but be carried by the messenger to the governor of the Bastile, where it could hardly fail to tell against the queen. She then wrote to the cardinal:
“I cannot conceive, monseigneur, why you persist in not speaking plainly. It seems to me that your best plan would be to confide fully in our judges. As for me, I am resolved to be silent if you will not second me; but why do you not speak? Explain all the circumstances of this mysterious affair, for if I were to speak first, and you not support me, I should be sacrificed to the vengeance of her who wishes to ruin us. But I have written her a letter which will perhaps induce her to spare us, who have nothing to reproach ourselves with.”
This letter she gave to the cardinal at their last confrontation. He grew pale with anger at her audacity, and left the room. Then Jeanne produced her letter to the queen, and begged the Abbé Lekel, chaplain of the Bastile, who had accompanied the cardinal, and was devoted to him, to take charge of it and convey it to the queen. He refused to take it. She declared that if he did not she would produce M. de Rohan’s letters to the queen. “And take care, sir,” added she, “for they will cause his head to fall on the scaffold.”
At this moment the cardinal reappeared.
“Madame,” said he, “let my head fall, so that I have the satisfaction of seeing also the scaffold which you shall mount as a thief and a forger. Come, Abbé.” He went away, leaving Jeanne devoured with rage and disappointment at her failures at every turn.
CHAPTER LXXXIX.
THE BAPTISM OF THE LITTLE BEAUSIRE.
Madame de la Motte had deceived herself on all points, Cagliostro upon none. Once in the Bastile, he saw a good opportunity for working at the ruin of the monarchy, which he had been trying to undermine for so many years. He prepared the famous letter, dated from London, which appeared a month after. In this letter, after attacking king, queen, cardinal, and even M. de Breteuil, he said, “Yes, I repeat, now free after my imprisonment, there is no crime that would not be expiated by six months in the Bastile. They ask me if I shall ever return to France? Yes, I reply, when the Bastile becomes a public promenade. You have all that is necessary to happiness, you Frenchmen; a fertile soil and genial climate, good hearts, gay tempers, genius, and grace. You only want, my friends, one little thing—to feel sure of sleeping quietly in your beds when you are innocent.”
Oliva kept her word faithfully to Cagliostro, and uttered no word that could compromise him. She threw all the blame on Madame de la Motte, and asserted vehemently her own innocent participation in what she believed to be a joke, played on a gentleman unknown to her. All this time she did not see Beausire, but she had a souvenir of him; for in the month of May she gave birth to a son. Beausire was allowed to attend the baptism, which took place in the prison, which he did with much pleasure, swearing that if Oliva ever recovered her liberty he would make her his wife.
CHAPTER XC.
THE TRIAL.
The day at last arrived, after long investigations, when the judgment of the court was to be pronounced. All the accused had been removed to the Conciergerie, to be in readiness to appear when called on. Oliva continued to be frank and timid; Cagliostro, tranquil and indifferent; Reteau, despairing, cowardly, and weeping; and Jeanne, violent, menacing, and venomous. She had managed to interest the keeper and his wife, and thus obtain more freedom and indulgences.