credit with the Queen; they, too, asked no questions, and held that
she could find them a purchaser. Jeanne imposed on them thus, while
the Cardinal was still in Alsace. He arrived at Paris in January 1785.
He learned, from Jeanne, that the Queen wished him to deal for her
with the jewellers! She would pay the price, 60,000_l._, by quarterly
instalments.

The Cardinal could believe that the Queen, who, as he supposed, had
given him a darkling interview, would entrust him with such a
commission, for an article which she had notoriously refused. But
there is a sane spot in every man's mind, and on examining the
necklace (January 24, 1785), he said that it was in very poor taste.
However, as the Queen wanted to wear it at a ceremony on February 2,
he arranged the terms, and became responsible for the money. His
guarantee was a document produced by Jeanne, and signed 'Marie
Antoinette de France.' As Cagliostro pointed out to Rohan later, too
late, the Queen could not possibly use this signature. Neither the
prelate nor the tradesmen saw the manifest absurdity. Rohan carried
the necklace to Jeanne, who gave it to the alleged messenger of the
Queen. Rohan only saw the _silhouette_ of this man, in a dusky room,
through a glass door, but he later declared that in him he recognised
the fleeting shade who whispered the warning to fly, in the dark Grove
of Venus. It was Villette, the forger.

Naturally people asked, 'If you could not tell the Queen from Mlle.
d'Oliva when you kissed her robe in the grove, how could you
recognise, through a dim glass door, the man of whom you had only
caught a glimpse as a fleeting shadow? If you are so clever, why, it
_was_ the Queen whom you met in the wood. You cannot have been
mistaken in her.'