"What a detestable plot! There is not one word of truth in it; and you have been miserably deceived."
Bœhmer's perplexity.
"I confess," Bœhmer rejoined, now trembling in every joint, "that I have felt very anxious about it for some time; for the cardinal assured me that the queen would wear the necklace on Whitsunday. I was, however, alarmed in seeing that she did not wear it, and that induced me to write the letter to her majesty. But what shall I do?"
"Go immediately to Versailles, and lay the whole matter before the king. But you have been extremely culpable, as crown jeweler, in acting in a matter of such great importance without direct orders from the king or queen, or their accredited minister."
"I have not acted," the unhappy man replied, "without direct orders. I have now in my possession all the promissory notes, signed by the queen herself; and I have been obliged to show those notes to several bankers, my creditors, to induce them to extend the time of my payments."
The cardinal's embarrassment.
Instead, however, of following Madame Campan's judicious advice, Bœhmer, half delirious with solicitude, went directly to the cardinal, and informed him of all that had transpired. The cardinal appeared very much embarrassed, asked a few questions, and said but little. He, however, wrote in his diary the following memorandum:
"On this day, August 3, Bœhmer went to Madame Campan's country-house, and she told him that the queen had never had his necklace, and that he had been cheated."
Bœhmer's terror.
The queen's amazement.