The Comte de la Motte met her in the Palais Royale, where gay young people sauntered or sat in order to make each other’s acquaintance. He was immediately struck by her likeness to me and brought her to the house in Rue NeuveSaint-Gilles which was where the de la Mottes lived when in Paris.

Jeanne immediately saw the possibilities, and it was she who changed the girl’s name to Baroness d’Oliva—a near anagram of Valois. Soon she was telling the girl that the Queen would be grateful to her for ever if she would do one little thing for her.

The poor simple girl was so’ overwhelmed that she was easily persuaded. Jeanne must have summed her up as too stupid and innocent to do much more than make an appearance and perhaps, with careful coaching, say one sentence; but that would be enough, as long as Jeanne was present to conduct the operation and step in quickly if things should go wrong.

Jeanne de la Motte must be the most audacious woman in me world. Who else would have conceived such a plan? Others might have been as villainous, but who would have been so wildly adventurous? Perhaps it was because she was certain of her power to succeed that she did it.

She had everything ready for the girl. Her hair was carefully powdered and dressed high though not elaborately. She had copied that simple dress of mine in which Vigee Le Brim had painted me the long white gaulle which had been called a chemise, and which had caused such a stir when the picture had been exhibited in the salon a short while before. This was made in muslin. Over the dress was put a mantle of fine white wool, and on her head a very wide-brimmed hat to shade her face. With more than a slight resemblance to me, the girl might well, in the dusk, be mistaken for me.

Rosalie, Jeanne’s maid, a girl of about eighteen, black-eyed and saucy, who found living in the household of the Comtesse de la Motte an exciting adventure, helped her to dress, and during this process Jeanne taught her her words, which were: “You may hope that the past will be forgotten.” The poor girl had no idea what this meant. She had to concentrate on suppressing the accent of the Paris streets, on acquiring a faint foreign accent, on making a graceful gesture with her hands.

I can imagine the poor child, dominated by these people particularly Jeanne excited at playing the re1e of a Queen whom she had often been told she resembled, and at the same time being paid for it. Jeanne had hinted that not only would she be recompensed by herself and the Comte, but that the Queen herself would no doubt wish to show her gratitude. Why should she ask what it was all about? She would not have been given an explanation, and if she had, she would not have been able to grasp it. No! Her part was to do as she was told, and she doubtless only hoped that she could play it to satisfaction. In the pocket of her muslin gown was a letter which she must take out and give to the man whom she would meet; she must also hand him a rose and not forget her words.

It was a dark night no moon, no stars ideal for the scene. Everything was quiet in the park the only sound that would be heard would be that of the water playing in the fountains. The Comtesse and her husband led the young girl in her muslin dress across the terrace and through the pines and firs, the elms, willows and cedars to the Grove of Venus.

A man arrived dressed in something which the girl would readily accept was the livery of one of the gentle men of my household.

“So you have come,” said the Comte; the man bowed low. This part was played by Retaux de Villene.

Oliva was told where to stand and wait while the Comte and Comtesse and Retaux disappeared among the trees. Poor girl! She must have found it rather eerie standing there alone in the grove at night. I wonder what her thoughts were at that moment.

But a man had appeared tall, slim, in a long cloak and a wide-brimmed hat turned down to hide his face. It was the Cardinal de Rohan.

Oliva held out the rose. She must have been astonished by the fervour with which he accepted it. I imagine him, kneeling kissing the hem of her muslin gown.

Then he lifted his eyes and she said what she had been told: “You may hope that the past is forgotten.”

He rose, approached, and a torrent of words burst from him. He was in ecstasy. He wanted to prove his devotion and so on. Poor little Oliva.

What could she understand of this? She was unaccustomed to such fluency. How relieved she must have been to find the Comtesse at her side, taking her arm, pulling her into the shadows!

“Come quickly, Madame. Here comes Madame and the Comtesse d’Artois.”

The Cardinal bowed low and hurried away. The Comtesse, still gripping Oliva, was full of triumph. Oliva had forgotten to hand over the letter, but the plan had succeeded even beyond her hopes.

And after that they had the foolish Cardinal in their web. He really believed that the Comtesse had arranged that meeting with me. How could he have been so foolish? Did he really think that I would come out into the park at night to meet a man? But then he had heard those scurrilous lampoons which had assigned to me a hundred lovers, and like so many people in France he believed them. Perhaps that was why he had this impossible dream of becoming one of them.

A friend of Jeaime’s, a young lawyer, happened to have called at the house at Rue NeuveSaint-Gilles and was there when the carriage arrived bringing the adventurers back from the Grove of Venus; he wrote an account of what he saw, which I have since seen:

“Between midnight and one in the morning we heard the sound of a carriage from which emerged Monsieur and Madame de la Motte, Retaux de Villette and a young woman from twenty-five to thirty years of age with a remarkably good figure. The two women were dressed with elegance and simplicity…. They talked nonsense, laughed, sang, so that one scarcely knew whether they were on their head or their heels.

The lady I did not know shared in the general hilarity, but was timid and kept within bounds. The face of this woman had from the first thrown me into that sort of restlessness which one experiences in the presence of a face one feels certain of having seen before without being able to say where. What had puzzled me so much in her face was its perfect resemblance to that of the Queen. “

Maitre Target of the French Academy, who was one of the counsels for the Cardinal’s defence, wrote:

“It is not surprising to me that in the darkness the Cardinal should have mistaken the girl d’Oliva for the Queen the same figure, same complexion, same hair, a resemblance in physiognomy of the most striking kind.”

So the first little plot had succeeded, and now it was time to begin the greater one. Target put the case clearly when he stated on behalf of his client:

“After this fatal moment [the meeting in the Grove of Venus] the Cardinal is no longer merely confiding and credulous, he is blind and makes of his blindness an absolute duty. His submission to the orders received through Madame de la Motte is linked to the feeling of profound respect and gratitude which are to affect his whole life. He will await with resignation the moment when her reassuring kindness will fully manifest itself, and meanwhile will be absolutely obedient.

Such is the state of his soul. “

Madame de la Motte realised this. She must have been anxious as she felt her way for even her optimistic mind must have realised that one false step could bring the entire edifice of fraud and deceit tumbling to the ground.

Jeanne sought an interview with the Cardinal very shortly after the meeting and told him that the Queen most clearly favoured him, for she, who was the most generous of women, wished to bestow fifty thousand livres on a noble but impoverished family. She was a little short of money at the moment but if the Cardinal could lend her this amount . and give it to Madame de la Motte to bring to her . she would know he was truly her friend.

How could the man be such a fool! —the old question which I and countless others have asked ourselves since this wretched business came to light.

He believed what they said because he wanted to believe; but all the time he was in close touch with Cagliostro, who assured him that he could see into the future and there he saw the Cardinal reaping benefits from his association with a person of very high rank.

That satisfied the superstitious and gullible Cardinal.

Being short of money he borrowed from a Jewish money lender, assuring him he would be honoured if he knew to what purpose the money was to be put.

In this manner Jeanne began to extract more money from the Cardinal, enough for her to be able to buy a mansion in Bar-sur-Aube, where she had once lived in such wretchedness and where she could continue with the fiction that she was now respectfully received at Court on account of her relationship with the Royal Family.

Had she been content with what she had managed to purloin she might have lived for the rest of her life in comfort. But she was an insatiably ambitious woman, and she conceived the plan for the necklace.

It was at one of her parties that she had heard of the jewellers’ trouble. Boehmer and Bassenge talked of nothing but the diamond necklace which they could not sell. They had built their hopes on the Queen, and the Queen did not want their necklace. Madame de la Motte had been boasting about her influence with the Queen; she and her husband had already extracted money from various people on the pretext that they could help them to rich posts at Court. So it was natural that the anxious jewellers should speak to her about the necklace and ask her if she could use her influence to interest me in it.