"Long live the queen!" cried De Gondy; but the cries which replied to
his were poor and few, and perhaps he had but uttered it to make Anne of
Austria sensible of her weakness.
"And now that you have obtained what you want, go," said she, "Monsieur
de Gondy."
"Whenever her majesty has need of me," replied the coadjutor, bowing,
"her majesty knows I am at her command."
"Ah, cursed priest!" cried Anne, when he had retired, stretching out her
arm to the scarcely closed door, "one day I will make you drink the
dregs of the atrocious gall you have poured out on me to-day."
Mazarin wished to approach her. "Leave me!" she exclaimed; "you are not
a man!" and she went out of the room.
"It is you who are not a woman," muttered Mazarin.
Then, after a moment of reverie, he remembered where he had left
D’Artagnan and Porthos and that they must have overheard everything. He
knit his brows and went direct to the tapestry, which he pushed aside.
The closet was empty.
At the queen’s last word, D’Artagnan had dragged Porthos into the
gallery. Thither Mazarin went in his turn and found the two friends
walking up and down.
"Why did you leave the closet, Monsieur d’Artagnan?" asked the cardinal.
"Because," replied D’Artagnan, "the queen desired every one to leave and
I thought that this command was intended for us as well as for the
rest."
"And you have been here since----"
"About a quarter of an hour," said D’Artagnan, motioning to Porthos not
to contradict him.
Mazarin saw the sign and remained convinced that D’Artagnan had seen and
heard everything; but he was pleased with his falsehood.
"Decidedly, Monsieur d’Artagnan, you are the man I have been seeking.
You may reckon upon me and so may your friend." Then bowing to the two
musketeers with his most gracious smile, he re-entered his closet more
calmly, for on the departure of De Gondy the uproar had ceased as though
by enchantment.
49. Misfortune refreshes the Memory.
Anne of Austria returned to her oratory, furious.
"What!" she cried, wringing her beautiful hands, "What! the people have
seen Monsieur de Conde, a prince of the blood royal, arrested by my
mother-in-law, Maria de Medicis; they saw my mother-in-law, their former
regent, expelled by the cardinal; they saw Monsieur de Vendome, that is
to say, the son of Henry IV., a prisoner at Vincennes; and whilst these
great personages were imprisoned, insulted and threatened, they said
nothing; and now for a Broussel--good God! what, then, is to become of
royalty?"
The queen unconsciously touched here upon the exciting question. The
people had made no demonstration for the princes, but they had risen for
Broussel; they were taking the part of a plebeian and in defending
Broussel they instinctively felt they were defending themselves.
During this time Mazarin walked up and down the study, glancing from
time to time at his beautiful Venetian mirror, starred in every
direction. "Ah!" he said, "it is sad, I know well, to be forced to yield
thus; but, pshaw! we shall have our revenge. What matters it about
Broussel--it is a name, not a thing."
Mazarin, clever politician as he was, was for once mistaken; Broussel
was a thing, not a name.
The next morning, therefore, when Broussel made his entrance into Paris
in a large carriage, having his son Louvieres at his side and Friquet
behind the vehicle, the people threw themselves in his way and cries of
"Long live Broussel!" "Long live our father!" resounded from all parts
and was death to Mazarin’s ears; and the cardinal’s spies brought bad
news from every direction, which greatly agitated the minister, but was
calmly received by the queen. The latter seemed to be maturing in her
mind some great stroke, a fact which increased the uneasiness of the
cardinal, who knew the proud princess and dreaded much the determination
of Anne of Austria.
The coadjutor returned to parliament more a monarch than king, queen,
and cardinal, all three together. By his advice a decree from parliament
summoned the citizens to lay down their arms and demolish the
barricades. They now knew that it required but one hour to take up arms
again and one night to reconstruct the barricades.
Rochefort had returned to the Chevalier d’Humieres his fifty horsemen,
less two, missing at roll call. But the chevalier was himself at heart a
Frondist and would hear nothing said of compensation.
The mendicant had gone to his old place on the steps of Saint Eustache
and was again distributing holy water with one hand and asking alms with
the other. No one could suspect that those two hands had been engaged
with others in drawing out from the social edifice the keystone of
royalty.
Louvieres was proud and satisfied; he had taken revenge on Mazarin and
had aided in his father’s deliverance from prison. His name had been
mentioned as a name of terror at the Palais Royal. Laughingly he said to
the councillor, restored to his family:
"Do you think, father, that if now I should ask for a company the queen
would give it to me?"
D’Artagnan profited by this interval of calm to send away Raoul, whom he
had great difficulty in keeping shut up during the riot, and who wished
positively to strike a blow for one party or the other. Raoul had
offered some opposition at first; but D’Artagnan made use of the Comte
de la Fere’s name, and after paying a visit to Madame de Chevreuse,
Raoul started to rejoin the army.
Rochefort alone was dissatisfied with the termination of affairs. He had
written to the Duc de Beaufort to come and the duke was about to arrive,
and he world find Paris tranquil. He went to the coadjutor to consult
with him whether it would not be better to send word to the duke to stop
on the road, but Gondy reflected for a moment, and then said:
"Let him continue his journey."
"All is not then over?" asked Rochefort.
"My dear count, we have only just begun."
"What induces you to think so?"
"The knowledge that I have of the queen’s heart; she will not rest
contented beaten."
"Is she, then, preparing for a stroke?"
"I hope so."
"Come, let us see what you know."
"I know that she has written to the prince to return in haste from the
army."
"Ah! ha!" said Rochefort, "you are right. We must let Monsieur de
Beaufort come."
In fact, the evening after this conversation the report was circulated
that the Prince de Conde had arrived. It was a very simple, natural
circumstance and yet it created a profound sensation. It was said that
Madame de Longueville, for whom the prince had more than a brother’s
affection and in whom he had confided, had been indiscreet. His
confidence had unveiled the sinister project of the queen.
Even on the night of the prince’s return, some citizens, bolder than the
rest, such as the sheriffs, captains and the quartermaster, went from
house to house among their friends, saying:
"Why do we not take the king and place him in the Hotel de Ville? It is
a shame to leave him to be educated by our enemies, who will give him
evil counsel; whereas, brought up by the coadjutor, for instance, he
would imbibe national principles and love his people."
That night the question was secretly agitated and on the morrow the gray
and black cloaks, the patrols of armed shop-people, and the bands of
mendicants reappeared.
The queen had passed the night in lonely conference with the prince, who
had entered the oratory at midnight and did not leave till five o’clock
in the morning.
At five o’clock Anne went to the cardinal’s room. If she had not yet
taken any repose, he at least was already up. Six days had already
passed out of the ten he had asked from Mordaunt; he was therefore
occupied in revising his reply to Cromwell, when some one knocked gently
at the door of communication with the queen’s apartments. Anne of
Austria alone was permitted to enter by that door. The cardinal
therefore rose to open it.
The queen was in a morning gown, but it became her still; for, like
Diana of Poictiers and Ninon, Anne of Austria enjoyed the privilege of
remaining ever beautiful; nevertheless, this morning she looked
handsomer than usual, for her eyes had all the sparkle inward
satisfaction adds to expression.
"What is the matter, madame?" said Mazarin, uneasily. "You seem secretly
elated."
"Yes, Giulio," she said, "proud and happy; for I have found the means of
strangling this hydra."
"You are a great politician, my queen," said Mazarin; "let us hear the
means." And he hid what he had written by sliding the letter under a
folio of blank paper.
"You know," said the queen, "that they want to take the king away from
me?"
"Alas! yes, and to hang me."
"They shall not have the king."
"Nor hang me."
"Listen. I want to carry off my son from them, with yourself. I wish
that this event, which on the day it is known will completely change the
aspect of affairs, should be accomplished without the knowledge of any
others but yourself, myself, and a third person."
"And who is this third person?"
"Monsieur le Prince."
"He has come, then, as they told me?"
"Last evening."
"And you have seen him?"
"He has just left me."
"And will he aid this project?"
"The plan is his own."
"And Paris?"
"He will starve it out and force it to surrender at discretion."
"The plan is not wanting in grandeur; I see but one impediment."
"What is it?"
"Impossibility."
"A senseless word. Nothing is impossible."
"On paper."
"In execution. We have money?"
"A little," said Mazarin, trembling, lest Anne should ask to draw upon
his purse.
"Troops?"
"Five or six thousand men."
"Courage?"
"Plenty."
"Then the thing is easy. Oh! do think of it, Giulio! Paris, this odious
Paris, waking up one morning without queen or king, surrounded,
besieged, famished--having for its sole resource its stupid parliament
and their coadjutor with crooked limbs!"
"Charming! charming!" said Mazarin. "I can imagine the effect, I do not
see the means."
"I will find the means myself."
"You are aware it will be war, civil war, furious, devouring,
implacable?"
"Oh! yes, yes, war," said Anne of Austria. "Yes, I will reduce this
rebellious city to ashes. I will extinguish the fire with blood! I will
perpetuate the crime and punishment by making a frightful example.
Paris!; I--I detest, I loathe it!"
"Very fine, Anne. You are now sanguinary; but take care. We are not in
the time of Malatesta and Castruccio Castracani. You will get yourself
decapitated, my beautiful queen, and that would be a pity."
"You laugh."
"Faintly. It is dangerous to go to war with a nation. Look at your
brother monarch, Charles I. He is badly off, very badly."
"We are in France, and I am Spanish."
"So much the worse; I had much rather you were French and myself also;
they would hate us both less."
"Nevertheless, you consent?"
"Yes, if the thing be possible."
"It is; it is I who tell you so; make preparations for departure."
"I! I am always prepared to go, only, as you know, I never do go, and
perhaps shall go this time as little as before."
"In short, if I go, will you go too?"
"I will try."
"You torment me, Giulio, with your fears; and what are you afraid of,
then?"
"Of many things."
"What are they?"
Mazarin’s face, smiling as it was, became clouded.
"Anne," said he, "you are but a woman and as a woman you may insult men
at your ease, knowing that you can do it with impunity. You accuse me of
fear; I have not so much as you have, since I do not fly as you do.
Against whom do they cry out? is it against you or against myself? Whom
would they hang, yourself or me? Well, I can weather the storm--I, whom,
notwithstanding, you tax with fear--not with bravado, that is not my
way; but I am firm. Imitate me. Make less hubbub and think more deeply.
You cry very loud, you end by doing nothing; you talk of flying----"
Mazarin shrugged his shoulders and taking the queen’s hand led her to
the window.
"Look!" he said.
"Well?" said the queen, blinded by her obstinacy.
"Well, what do you see from this window? If I am not mistaken those are
citizens, helmeted and mailed, armed with good muskets, as in the time
of the League, and whose eyes are so intently fixed on this window that
they will see you if you raise that curtain much; and now come to the
other side--what do you see? Creatures of the people, armed with
halberds, guarding your doors. You will see the same at every opening
from this palace to which I should lead you. Your doors are guarded, the
airholes of your cellars are guarded, and I could say to you, as that
good La Ramee said to me of the Duc de Beaufort, you must be either bird
or mouse to get out."
"He did get out, nevertheless."
"Do you think of escaping in the same way?"
"I am a prisoner, then?"
"Parbleu!" said Mazarin, "I have been proving it to you this last hour."
And he quietly resumed his dispatch at the place where he had been
interrupted.
Anne, trembling with anger and scarlet with humiliation, left the room,
shutting the door violently after her. Mazarin did not even turn around.
When once more in her own apartment Anne fell into a chair and wept;
then suddenly struck with an idea:
"I am saved!" she exclaimed, rising; "oh, yes! yes! I know a man who
will find the means of taking me from Paris, a man I have too long
forgotten." Then falling into a reverie, she added, however, with an
expression of joy, "Ungrateful woman that I am, for twenty years I have
forgotten this man, whom I ought to have made a marechal of France. My
mother-in-law expended gold, caresses, dignities on Concini, who ruined
her; the king made Vitry marechal of France for an assassination: while
I have left in obscurity, in poverty, the noble D’Artagnan, who saved
me!"
And running to a table, on which were paper, pens and ink, she hastily
began to write.
50. The Interview.
It had been D’Artagnan’s practice, ever since the riots, to sleep in the
same room as Porthos, and on this eventful morning he was still there,
sleeping, and dreaming that a yellow cloud had overspread the sky and
was raining gold pieces into his hat, which he held out till it was
overflowing with pistoles. As for Porthos, he dreamed that the panels of
his carriage were not capacious enough to contain the armorial bearings
he had ordered to be painted on them. They were both aroused at seven
o’clock by the entrance of an unliveried servant, who brought a letter
for D’Artagnan.
"From whom?" asked the Gascon.
"From the queen," replied the servant.
"Ho!" said Porthos, raising himself in his bed; "what does she say?"
D’Artagnan requested the servant to wait in the next room and when the
door was closed he sprang up from his bed and read rapidly, whilst
Porthos looked at him with starting eyes, not daring to ask a single
question.
"Friend Porthos," said D’Artagnan, handing the letter to him, "this
time, at least, you are sure of your title of baron, and I of my
captaincy. Read for yourself and judge."
Porthos took the letter and with a trembling voice read the following
words:
"The queen wishes to speak to Monsieur d’Artagnan, who must follow the
bearer."
"Well!" exclaimed Porthos; "I see nothing in that very extraordinary."
"But I see much that is very extraordinary in it," replied D’Artagnan.
"It is evident, by their sending for me, that matters are becoming
complicated. Just reflect a little what an agitation the queen’s mind
must be in for her to have remembered me after twenty years."
"It is true," said Porthos.
"Sharpen your sword, baron, load your pistols, and give some corn to the
horses, for I will answer for it, something lightning-like will happen
ere to-morrow."
"But, stop; do you think it can be a trap that they are laying for us?"
suggested Porthos, incessantly thinking how his greatness must be
irksome to inferior people.
"If it is a snare," replied D’Artagnan, "I shall scent it out, be
assured. If Mazarin is an Italian, I am a Gascon."
And D’Artagnan dressed himself in an instant.
Whilst Porthos, still in bed, was hooking on his cloak for him, a second
knock at the door was heard.
"Come in," exclaimed D’Artagnan; and another servant entered.
"From His Eminence, Cardinal Mazarin," presenting a letter.
D’Artagnan looked at Porthos.
"A complicated affair," said Porthos; "where will you begin?"
"It is arranged capitally; his eminence expects me in half an hour."
"Good."
"My friend," said D’Artagnan, turning to the servant, "tell his eminence
that in half an hour I shall be at his command."
"It is very fortunate," resumed the Gascon, when the valet had retired,
"that he did not meet the other one."
"Do you not think that they have sent for you, both for the same thing?"
"I do not think it, I am certain of it."
"Quick, quick, D’Artagnan. Remember that the queen awaits you, and after
the queen, the cardinal, and after the cardinal, myself."
D’Artagnan summoned Anne of Austria’s servant and signified that he was
ready to follow him into the queen’s presence.
The servant conducted him by the Rue des Petits Champs and turning to
the left entered the little garden gate leading into the Rue Richelieu;
then they gained the private staircase and D’Artagnan was ushered into
the oratory. A certain emotion, for which he could not account, made the
lieutenant’s heart beat: he had no longer the assurance of youth;
experience had taught him the importance of past events. Formerly he
would have approached the queen as a young man who bends before a woman;
but now it was a different thing; he answered her summons as an humble
soldier obeys an illustrious general.
The silence of the oratory was at last disturbed by the slight rustling
of silk, and D’Artagnan started when he perceived the tapestry raised by
a white hand, which, by its form, its color and its beauty he recognized
as that royal hand which had one day been presented to him to kiss. The
queen entered.
"It is you, Monsieur d’Artagnan," she said, fixing a gaze full of
melancholy interest on the countenance of the officer, "and I know you
well. Look at me well in your turn. I am the queen; do you recognize
me?"
"No, madame," replied D’Artagnan.
"But are you no longer aware," continued Anne, giving that sweet
expression to her voice which she could do at will, "that in former days
the queen had once need of a young, brave and devoted cavalier--that she
found this cavalier--and that, although he might have thought that she
had forgotten him, she had kept a place for him in the depths of her
heart?"
"No, madame, I was ignorant of that," said the musketeer.
"So much the worse, sir," said Anne of Austria; "so much the worse, at
least for the queen, for to-day she has need of the same courage and the
same devotion."
"What!" exclaimed D’Artagnan, "does the queen, surrounded as she is by
such devoted servants, such wise counselors, men, in short, so great by
merit or position--does she deign to cast her eyes on an obscure
soldier?"
Anne understood this covert reproach and was more moved than irritated
by it. She had many a time felt humiliated by the self-sacrifice and
disinterestedness shown by the Gascon gentleman. She had allowed herself
to be exceeded in generosity.
"All that you tell me of those by whom I am surrounded, Monsieur
d’Artagnan, is doubtless true," said the queen, "but I have confidence
in you alone. I know that you belong to the cardinal, but belong to me
as well, and I will take upon myself the making of your fortune. Come,
will you do to-day what formerly the gentleman you do not know did for
the queen?"
"I will do everything your majesty commands," replied D’Artagnan.
The queen reflected for a moment and then, seeing the cautious demeanor
of the musketeer:
"Perhaps you like repose?" she said.
"I do not know, for I have never had it, madame."
"Have you any friends?"
"I had three, two of whom have left Paris, to go I know not where. One
alone is left to me, but he is one of those known, I believe, to the
cavalier of whom your majesty did me the honor to speak."
"Very good," said the queen; "you and your friend are worth an army."
"What am I to do, madame?"
"Return at five o’clock and I will tell you; but do not breathe to a
living soul, sir, the rendezvous which I give you."
"No, madame."
"Swear it upon the cross."
"Madame, I have never been false to my word; when I say I will not do a
thing, I mean it."
The queen, although astonished at this language, to which she was not
accustomed from her courtiers, argued from it a happy omen of the zeal
with which D’Artagnan would serve her in the accomplishment of her
project. It was one of the Gascon’s artifices to hide his deep cunning
occasionally under an appearance of rough loyalty.
"Has the queen any further commands for me now?" asked D’Artagnan.
"No, sir," replied Anne of Austria, "and you may retire until the time
that I mentioned to you."
D’Artagnan bowed and went out.
"Diable!" he exclaimed when the door was shut, "they seem to have the
greatest need of me just now."
Then, as the half hour had already glided by, he crossed the gallery and
knocked at the cardinal’s door.
Bernouin introduced him.
"I come for your commands, my lord," he said.
And according to his custom D’Artagnan glanced rapidly around and
remarked that Mazarin had a sealed letter before him. But it was so
placed on the desk that he could not see to whom it was addressed.
"You come from the queen?" said Mazarin, looking fixedly at D’Artagnan.
"I! my lord--who told you that?"
"Nobody, but I know it."
"I regret infinitely to tell you, my lord, that you are mistaken,"
replied the Gascon, impudently, firm to the promise he had just made to
Anne of Austria.
"I opened the door of the ante-room myself and I saw you enter at the
end of the corridor."
"Because I was shown up the private stairs."
"How so?"
"I know not; it must have been a mistake."
Mazarin was aware that it was not easy to make D’Artagnan reveal
anything he was desirous of hiding, so he gave up, for the time, the
discovery of the mystery the Gascon was concealing.
"Let us speak of my affairs," said Mazarin, "since you will tell me
naught of yours. Are you fond of traveling?"
"My life has been passed on the high road."
"Would anything retain you particularly in Paris?"
"Nothing but an order from a superior would retain me in Paris."
"Very well. Here is a letter, which must be taken to its address."
"To its address, my lord? But it has none."
In fact, the side of the letter opposite the seal was blank.
"I must tell you," resumed Mazarin, "that it is in a double envelope."
"I understand; and I am to take off the first one when I have reached a
certain place?"
"Just so, take it and go. You have a friend, Monsieur du Vallon, whom I
like much; let him accompany you."
"The devil!" said D’Artagnan to himself. "He knows that we overheard his
conversation yesterday and he wants to get us away from Paris."
"Do you hesitate?" asked Mazarin.
"No, my lord, and I will set out at once. There is one thing only which
I must request."
"What is it? Speak."
"That your eminence will go at once to the queen."
"What for?"
"Merely to say these words: ’I am going to send Monsieur d’Artagnan away
and I wish him to set out directly.’"
"I told you," said Mazarin, "that you had seen the queen."
"I had the honor of saying to your eminence that there had been some
mistake."
"What is the meaning of that?"
"May I venture to repeat my prayer to your eminence?"
"Very well; I will go. Wait here for me." And looking attentively around
him, to see if he had left any of his keys in his closets, Mazarin went
out. Ten minutes elapsed, during which D’Artagnan made every effort to
read through the first envelope what was written on the second. But he
did not succeed.
Mazarin returned, pale, and evidently thoughtful. He seated himself at
his desk and D’Artagnan proceeded to examine his face, as he had just
examined the letter he held, but the envelope which covered his
countenance appeared as impenetrable as that which covered the letter.
"Ah!" thought the Gascon; "he looks displeased. Can it be with me? He
meditates. Is it about sending me to the Bastile? All very fine, my
lord, but at the very first hint you give of such a thing I will
strangle you and become Frondist. I should be carried home in triumph
like Monsieur Broussel and Athos would proclaim me the French Brutus. It
would be exceedingly droll."
The Gascon, with his vivid imagination, had already seen the advantage
to be derived from his situation. Mazarin gave, however, no order of the
kind, but on the contrary began to be insinuating.
"You were right," he said, "my dear Monsieur d’Artagnan, and you cannot
set out yet. I beg you to return me that dispatch."
D’Artagnan obeyed, and Mazarin ascertained that the seal was intact.
"I shall want you this evening," he said "Return in two hours."
"My lord," said D’Artagnan, "I have an appointment in two hours which I
cannot miss."
"Do not be uneasy," said Mazarin; "it is the same."
"Good!" thought D’Artagnan; "I fancied it was so."
"Return, then, at five o’clock and bring that worthy Monsieur du Vallon
with you. Only, leave him in the ante-room, as I wish to speak to you
alone."
D’Artagnan bowed, and thought: "Both at the same hour; both commands
alike; both at the Palais Royal. Monsieur de Gondy would pay a hundred
thousand francs for such a secret!"
"You are thoughtful," said Mazarin, uneasily.
"Yes, I was thinking whether we ought to come armed or not."
"Armed to the teeth!" replied Mazarin.
"Very well, my lord; it shall be so."
D’Artagnan saluted, went out and hastened to repeat to his friend
Mazarin’s flattering promises, which gave Porthos an indescribable
happiness.
51. The Flight.
When D’Artagnan returned to the Palais Royal at five o’clock, it
presented, in spite of the excitement which reigned in the town, a
spectacle of the greatest rejoicing. Nor was that surprising. The queen
had restored Broussel and Blancmesnil to the people and had therefore
nothing to fear, since the people had nothing more just then to ask for.
The return, also, of the conqueror of Lens was the pretext for giving a
grand banquet. The princes and princesses were invited and their
carriages had crowded the court since noon; then after dinner the queen
was to have a play in her apartment. Anne of Austria had never appeared
more brilliant than on that day--radiant with grace and wit. Mazarin
disappeared as they rose from table. He found D’Artagnan waiting for him
already at his post in the ante-room.
The cardinal advanced to him with a smile and taking him by the hand led
him into his study.
"My dear M. d’Artagnan," said the minister, sitting down, "I am about to
give you the greatest proof of confidence that a minister can give an
officer."
"I hope," said D’Artagnan, bowing, "that you give it, my lord, without
hesitation and with the conviction that I am worthy of it."
"More worthy than any one in Paris my dear friend; therefore I apply to
you. We are about to leave this evening," continued Mazarin. "My dear M.
d’Artagnan, the welfare of the state is deposited in your hands." He
paused.
"Explain yourself, my lord, I am listening."
"The queen has resolved to make a little excursion with the king to
Saint Germain."
"Aha!" said D’Artagnan, "that is to say, the queen wishes to leave
Paris."
"A woman’s caprice--you understand."
"Yes, I understand perfectly," said D’Artagnan.
"It was for this she summoned you this morning and that she told you to
return at five o’clock."
"Was it worth while to wish me to swear this morning that I would
mention the appointment to no one?" muttered D’Artagnan. "Oh, women!
women! whether queens or not, they are always the same."
"Do you disapprove of this journey, my dear M. d’Artagnan?" asked
Mazarin, anxiously.
"I, my lord?" said D’Artagnan; "why should I?"
"Because you shrug your shoulders."
"It is a way I have of speaking to myself. I neither approve nor
disapprove, my lord; I merely await your commands."
"Good; it is you, accordingly, that I have pitched upon to conduct the
king and the queen to Saint Germain."
"Liar!" thought D’Artagnan.
"You see, therefore," continued the cardinal, perceiving D’Artagnan’s
composure, "that, as I have told you, the welfare of the state is placed
in your hands."
"Yes, my lord, and I feel the whole responsibility of such a charge."
"You accept, however?"
"I always accept."
"Do you think the thing possible?"
"Everything is possible."
"Shall you be attacked on the road?"
"Probably."
"And what will you do in that case?"
"I shall pass through those who attack me."
"And suppose you cannot pass through them?"
"So much the worse for them; I shall pass over them."
"And you will place the king and queen in safety also, at Saint
Germain?"
"Yes."
"On your life?"
"On my life."
"You are a hero, my friend," said Mazarin, gazing at the musketeer with
admiration.
D’Artagnan smiled.
"And I?" asked Mazarin, after a moment’s silence.
"How? and you, my lord?"
"If I wish to leave?"
"That would be much more difficult."
"Why so?"
"Your eminence might be recognized."
"Even under this disguise?" asked Mazarin, raising a cloak which covered
an arm-chair, upon which lay a complete dress for an officer, of
pearl-gray and red, entirely embroidered with silver.
"If your eminence is disguised it will be almost easy."
"Ah!" said Mazarin, breathing more freely.
"But it will be necessary for your eminence to do what the other day you
declared you should have done in our place--cry, ’Down with Mazarin!’"
"I will: ’Down with Mazarin’"
"In French, in good French, my lord, take care of your accent; they
killed six thousand Angevins in Sicily because they pronounced Italian
badly. Take care that the French do not take their revenge on you for
the Sicilian vespers."
"I will do my best."
"The streets are full of armed men," continued D’Artagnan. "Are you sure
that no one is aware of the queen’s project?"
Mazarin reflected.
"This affair would give a fine opportunity for a traitor, my lord; the
chance of being attacked would be an excuse for everything."
Mazarin shuddered, but he reflected that a man who had the least
intention to betray would not warn first.
"And therefore," added he, quietly, "I have not confidence in every one;
the proof of which is, that I have fixed upon you to escort me."
"Shall you not go with the queen?"
"No," replied Mazarin. |
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