she would purchase his necklace was
that her jewel-case was sufficiently full, and that she had almost given
up wearing diamonds; and that if such a sum as he asked, which was nearly
seventy thousand pounds, were available, she should greatly prefer its
being spent on a ship for the nation, to replace the _Ville de Paris_,
whose loss still rankled in her breast.

The king, who thought that she must secretly wish for a jewel of such
unequalled splendor, offered to make her a present of the necklace, but
she adhered to her refusal. Boehmer was greatly disappointed; he had
exhausted his resources and his credit in collecting the stones in the
hope of making a grand profit, and declared loudly to his patrons that he
should be ruined if the queen could not be induced to change her mind. His
complaints were so unrestrained that they reached the ears of those who
saw in his despair a possibility of enriching themselves at his expense.
There was in Paris at the time a Countess de la Mothe, who, as claiming
descent from a natural son of Henri II., had added Valois to her name, and
had her claim to royal birth so far allowed that, as she was in very
destitute circumstances, she had obtained a small pension from the crown.
Her pension and her pretensions had perhaps united to procure her the hand
of the Count de la Mothe, who had for some time been discreditably known
as one of the most worthless and dangerous adventurers who infested the
capital. But her marriage had been no restraint on a life of unconcealed
profligacy, and among her lovers she reckoned the Cardinal de Rohan, who,
as we have already seen, was as little scrupulous or decent as herself.

As, however, the cardinal's extravagance had left him with little means of
supplying her necessities, Madame La Mothe conceived the idea of swindling
Boehmer out of his necklace, and of making de Rohan an accomplice in the
fraud. The one thing which in the transaction is difficult to determine is
whether the cardinal was her willing and conscious assistant, or her dupe.
That his capacity was of the very lowest order was notorious, but he was a
man who had been bred in courts; he knew the manner in which princes
transacted their business, and in which queens signed their names. He had
long been acquainted with Marie Antoinette's figure and gestures and
voice; while, unhappily, there was nothing in his character which was
incompatible with his becoming an accomplice in any act of bas