ugust 9th. The 15th was the Feast of the
Assumption, and also the name-day of the Queen, therefore a gala day at
Court, bringing a concourse of nobility to Versailles. Mass was to be
celebrated in the royal chapel at ten o'clock, and the celebrant, as by
custom established for the occasion, was the Grand Almoner of France,
the Cardinal de Rohan.

But at ten o'clock a meeting was being held in the King's cabinet,
composed of the King and Queen, the Baron de Breteuil, and the Keeper of
the Seals, Miromesnil. They were met, as they believed, to decide upon a
course of action in the matter of a diamond necklace. In reality, these
puppets in the hands of destiny were helping to decide the fate of the
French monarchy.

The King, fat, heavy, and phlegmatic, sat in a gilded chair by an
ormolu-encrusted writing-table. His bovine eyes were troubled. Two
wrinkles of vexation puckered the flesh above his great nose. Beside,
and slightly behind him, stood the Queen, white and imperious, whilst
facing them stood Monsieur de Breteuil, reading aloud the statement
which Bohmer had drawn up.

When he had done, there was a moment's utter silence. Then the King
spoke, his voice almost plaintive.

"What is to be done, then? But what is to be done?"

It was the Queen who answered him, harshly and angrily.

"When the Roman purple and a princely title are but masks to cover a
swindler, there is only one thing to be done. This swindler must be
exposed and punished."

"But," the King faltered, "we have not heard the Cardinal."

"Can you think that Bohmer, that any man, would dare to lie upon such a
matter?"

"But consider, madame, the Cardinal's rank and family," calmly
interposed the prudent Miromesnil; "consider the stir, the scandal that
must ensue if this matter is made public."

But the obedient daughter of Marie Therese, hating Rohan at her mother's
bidding and for her mother's sake, was impatient of any such wise
considerations.

"What shall the scandal signify to us?" she demanded. The King looked at
Breteuil.

"And you, Baron? What is your view?"

Breteuil, Rohan's mortal enemy, raised his shoulders and flipped the
document.

"In the face of this, Sire, it seems to me that the only course is to
arrest the Cardinal."

"You believe, then--" began the King, and checked, leaving the sentence
unfinished.

But Breteuil had understood.

"I know that the Cardinal must be pressed for money," he said. "Ever
prodigal in hi