Laying her finger on her lips, Ninon placed on the table, beside the bed, a paper, and pointing down on it, with a terrible frown on her brows, she glided backwards till she reached the panel, where she was lost in the gloom of the night, as Madame Arnoul extinguished the torch.
It was a hazardous game, and Ninon was half-dead with terror at its conclusion. Louis was, if possible, still more terrified; and as the two women stood listening in the Chamber of the Phantoms, they heard through the not quite closed panel the voice of their accomplice, Louis’s valet-de-chambre, inquiring in agitated tones what ailed him.
The king could only articulate a command for a light, and by it he read the terrible warning against his courses of life, written by Madame Arnoul, who had feared that Louis would detect the fraud if Ninon had spoken her message. The forgery was perfect in its imitation of the queen’s handwriting, a piece of which Madame Arnoul had contrived to procure, and it ran as follows:—
“Sire,—Heaven is wrath at your disorderly life. Two mistresses, publicly acknowledged, shed on your kingdom a scandal which must be put an end to; above all, that one which violates the vows of marriage, and renders you guilty of twofold adultery. Heaven has permitted me to communicate this to you myself. This paper, which I leave in your hands, I beg you to read, my son; weigh well each word; it will prove to you, when I have disappeared, that you have not been the victim of an illusion. Repent, Sire, and do not force the dead to leave their tombs any more.
Anne of Austria.”
Ninon did not close an eye all night. What if returning sense brought any suspicion of the deception into Louis’s mind? He would order the adjoining rooms to be searched, and those lodged in them; and if the deceased queen’s attire should be found in the valises of Madame Arnoul—Ah! it was terrible to think of! And no sooner day broke, than the two packed up their baggage, and cleared away from the Château of Ribeauvillé, not very easy in their minds till they were safe again in Paris, where they had not been especially missed during the few days’ absence, and they preserved a golden silence upon their romantic adventure in the far-off Vosges.
CHAPTER XX
The crime of Madame Tiquet—A charming little Hand—Aqua Toffana—The Casket—A devout Criminal—The Sinner and the Saint—Monsieur de Lauzun’s Boots—“Sister Louise”—La Fontanges—“Madame de Maintenant.”—The Blanks in the Circle—The Vatican Fishes and their Good Example—Piety at Versailles—The Periwigs and the Paniers—Père la Chaise—A dull Court—Monsieur de St Evrémond’s Decision.
The eighteenth century in France is stained with the record of three criminal cases which glare forth in the annals of human wickedness. The last occurred in the latest years, and culminated in the trial and execution of the chief criminal, Madame Tiquet. Though she had accomplices—one of whom also suffered the extreme penalty—and although the murderous aim fell short, and the intended victim escaped, the attempt on the life of Monsieur Tiquet—an esteemed magistrate—charged against his wife, made on two separate occasions, was held to be sufficient warranty for the capital sentence upon her. Still, since Monsieur Tiquet was living and well, the decision was much criticised. The Parliament was accused of exacting too great a penalty for the crime committed against itself, in the person of one of its members, and Monsieur Tiquet himself is said to have pleaded with the king personally for his wife’s reprieve, but to no effect. Madame Tiquet was a beautiful woman, moving in the best society, and extenuation was accordingly made by many, some even going the length of declaring belief in her entire innocence. But Madame Tiquet was decapitated on the Place de Grêve, while her chief accomplice, Jacques Moura, was hanged.