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第34章 Bonacieux’s Household(2)

Ten minutes afterwards she was at home. As she had not seen her husband since his liberation, she was ignorant of the change that had taken place in him with respect to the cardinal—a change which had since been strengthened by two or three visits from the Comte de Rochefort, who had become Bonacieux’s best friend, and who had persuaded him without great difficulty that nothing culpable had been intended by the carrying off of his wife, but that it was only a piece of political precaution.

She found Bonacieux alone.

Madame Bonacieux offered him her forehead to kiss.

“Let us talk a little,” said she.

“What!” said Bonacieux, astonished.

“Yes; I have something of great importance to tell you.”

“What! What brings you to me? Is it not the desire of seeing a husband again from whom you have been separated for a week?” asked the mercer, very much piqued.

“Yes, that first, and other things afterwards.”

“Speak, then.”

“You must set out immediately. I will give you a paper which you must not part with on any account, and which you will deliver into the proper hands.”

“And where am I to go?”

“London.”

“I go to London! You are joking. I have nothing to do in London.”

“But others require that you should go there.”

“But who are those others? I warn you that I will never again work in the dark, and that I will know not only to what I expose myself, but for whom I expose myself.”

“An illustrious person sends you, an illustrious person awaits you. The recompense will exceed your expectations; that is all I promise you.”

“More intrigues! nothing but intrigues! Thank you, madame; I am aware of them now. The cardinal has enlightened me on that head.”

“The cardinal?” cried Madame Bonacieux. “Have you seen the cardinal?”

“He sent for me,” answered the mercer proudly.

“He ill-treated you, then? He threatened you?”

“He gave me his hand, and he called me his friend—his friend! Do you hear that, madame? I am a friend of the great cardinal!”

“Of the great cardinal!”

“I am sorry for it, madame, but I acknowledge no other power than that of the great man whom I have the honour to serve.”

“Ah, you are a cardinalist, then, sir, are you?” cried she; “and you serve the party of those who ill-treat your wife and insult your queen?”

“Private interests are as nothing before the interests of all. I am for those who are saving the state,” said Bonacieux emphatically.

“And do you know what that state is you talk about?” demanded Madame Bonacieux, shrugging her shoulders. “Be satisfied with being a plain, straightforward bourgeois, and turn your attention toward that side which holds out the greatest advantages.”

“Eh, eh!” said Bonacieux, slapping a plump, round bag, which gave back a silvery sound; “what do you think of this, my lady preacher?”

“Where does that money come from?”

“Can’t you guess?”

“From the cardinal?”

“From him, and from my friend the Comte de Rochefort. But what do you require of me then? Come, let us see.”

“I have told you. You must set out instantly, sir; you must accomplish loyally the commission with which I deign to charge you; and on that condition I pardon everything, I forget everything; and still further“—and she held out her hand to him—“I give you my love again.”

“But, my dear love, reflect a little upon what you require of me. London is far from Paris, very far, and perhaps the commission with which you charge me is not without dangers?”

“Of what consequence is that, if you avoid them?”

“Well, then, Madame Bonacieux,” said the mercer—“well, then, I positively refuse. Intrigues terrify me.”

Bonacieux fell into a profound reflection. He turned the two angers in his brain—the cardinal’s and the queen’s. The cardinal’s predominated enormously.

“Well, I will give it up, then,” said the young woman, sighing. “It is well as it is; say no more about it.”

“Supposing, at least, you should tell me what I should have to do in London,” replied Bonacieux.

“It is of no use for you to know anything about it,” said the young woman, who drew back now by an instinctive mistrust. “It was about one of those follies of interest to women, a purchase by which much might have been gained.”

But the more the young woman fought shy of committing herself, the more important Bonacieux conceived to be the secret which she declined to communicate to him. He resolved, then, that instant to hasten to the Comte de Rochefort, and tell him that the queen was looking for a messenger to send to London.

“Pardon me for leaving you, my dear Madame Bonacieux,” said he; “but not knowing you would come to see me, I had made an engagement with a friend. I shall soon return; and if you will wait only a few minutes for me, as soon as I have concluded my business with that friend, I will come to get you; and as it is growing late, I will conduct you back to the Louvre.”

“No, thank you, sir; you are not brave enough to be of any use to me whatever,” replied Madame Bonacieux. “I shall return very safely to the Louvre by myself.”

“As you please, Madame Bonacieux,” said the mercer. “Shall I have the pleasure of seeing you soon again?”

“Yes; next week I hope my duties will afford me a little liberty, and I will take advantage of it to come and set things to rights here, as they must be somewhat upset.”

“Very well; I shall expect you. You are not angry with me?”

“Who?—I? Oh, not the least in the world.”

“Farewell till then.”

“Till then.”

Bonacieux kissed his wife’s hand and set off at a quick pace.

“Well,” said Madame Bonacieux, when her husband had shut the street door and she found herself alone, “the only thing still lacking that fool was to become a cardinalist! And I, who have answered for him to the queen—I, who have promised my poor mistress—ah, my God! my God! she will take me for one of those wretches who swarm the palace, and are placed about her as spies! Ah, Monsieur Bonacieux, I never did love you much, but now it is worse than ever. I hate you! and by my word you shall pay for this!”

At the moment she spoke these words a rap on the ceiling made her raise her head, and a voice which reached her through the ceiling cried,

“Dear Madame Bonacieux, open the little side door for me, and I will come down to you.”

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