Ten Years Later by Dumas, Alexandre. Part two

years. The jeweler, though a millionaire, was a modest man.

He had purchased a substantial carriage, built in 1648, ten

years after the king’s birth. This carriage, or rather house

upon wheels, excited the admiration of the whole quarter in

which he resided — it was covered with allegorical

paintings, and clouds scattered over with stars. The

marquise entered this somewhat extraordinary vehicle,

sitting opposite the clerk, who endeavored to put his knees

out of the way, afraid even of touching the marquise’s

dress. It was the clerk, too, who told the coachman, who was

very proud of having a marquise to drive, to take the road

to Saint-Mande.

CHAPTER 103

The Dowry

Monsieur Faucheux’s horses were serviceable animals, with

thickset knees, and legs that had some difficulty in moving.

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Dumas, Alexandre – Ten Years Later

Like the carriage, they belonged to the earlier part of the

century. They were not as fleet as the English horses of M.

Fouquet, and consequently took two hours to get to

Saint-Mande. Their progress, it might be said, was majestic.

Majesty, however, precludes hurry. The marquise stopped the

carriage at the door so well known to her, although she had

seen it only once, under circumstances, it will be

remembered, no less painful than those which brought her now

to it again. She drew a key from her pocket, and inserted it

in the lock, pushed open the door, which noiselessly yielded

to her touch, and directed the clerk to carry the chest

upstairs to the first floor. The weight of the chest was so

great that the clerk was obliged to get the coachman to

assist him with it. They placed it in a small cabinet,

anteroom, or boudoir rather, adjoining the saloon where we

once saw M. Fouquet at the marquise’s feet. Madame de

Belliere gave the coachman a louis, smiled gracefully at the

clerk, and dismissed them both. She closed the door after

them, and waited in the room, alone and barricaded. There

was no servant to be seen about the rooms, but everything

was prepared as though some invisible genius had divined the

wishes and desires of an expected guest. The fire was laid,

candles in the candelabra, refreshments upon the table,

books scattered about, fresh-cut flowers in the vases. One

might almost have imagined it an enchanted house. The

marquise lighted the candles, inhaled the perfume of the

flowers, sat down, and was soon plunged in profound thought.

Her deep musings, melancholy though they were, were not

untinged with a certain vague joy. Spread out before her was

a treasure, a million wrung from her fortune as a gleaner

plucks the blue corn-flower from her crown of flowers. She

conjured up the sweetest dreams. Her principal thought, and

one that took precedence of all others, was to devise means

of leaving this money for M. Fouquet without his possibly

learning from whom the gift had come. This idea, naturally

enough, was the first to present itself to her mind. But

although, on reflection, it appeared difficult to carry out,

she did not despair of success. She would then ring to

summon M. Fouquet and make her escape, happier than if,

instead of having given a million, she had herself found

one. But, being there, and having seen the boudoir so

coquettishly decorated that it might almost be said the

least particle of dust had but the moment before been

removed by the servants; having observed the drawing-room,

so perfectly arranged that it might almost be said her

presence there had driven away the fairies who were its

occupants, she asked herself if the glance or gaze of those

whom she had displaced — whether spirits, fairies, elves,

or human creatures — had not already recognized her. To

secure success, it was necessary that some steps should be

seriously taken, and it was necessary also that the

superintendent should comprehend the serious position in

which he was placed, in order to yield compliance with the

generous fancies of a woman; all the fascinations of an

eloquent friendship would be required to persuade him, and,

should this be insufficient, the maddening influence of a

devoted passion, which, in its resolute determination to