81. Cardinal Mazarin as King.
The arrest produced no sensation, indeed was almost unknown, and
scarcely interrupted the course of events. To the deputation it was
formally announced that the queen would receive it.
Accordingly, it was admitted to the presence of Anne, who, silent and
lofty as ever, listened to the speeches and complaints of the deputies;
but when they had finished their harangues not one of them could say, so
calm remained her face, whether or no she had heard them.
On the other hand, Mazarin, present at that audience, heard very well
what those deputies demanded. It was purely and simply his removal, in
terms clear and precise.
The discourse being finished, the queen remained silent.
"Gentlemen," said Mazarin, "I join with you in supplicating the queen to
put an end to the miseries of her subjects. I have done all in my power
to ameliorate them and yet the belief of the public, you say, is that
they proceed from me, an unhappy foreigner, who has been unable to
please the French. Alas! I have never been understood, and no wonder. I
succeeded a man of the most sublime genius that ever upheld the sceptre
of France. The memory of Richelieu annihilates me. In vain--were I an
ambitious man--should I struggle against such remembrances as he has
left; but that I am not ambitious I am going to prove to you. I own
myself conquered. I shall obey the wishes of the people. If Paris has
injuries to complain of, who has not some wrongs to be redressed? Paris
has been sufficiently punished; enough blood has flowed, enough misery
has humbled a town deprived of its king and of justice. ’Tis not for me,
a private individual, to disunite a queen from her kingdom. Since you
demand my resignation, I retire."
"Then," said Aramis, in his neighbor’s ear, "the conferences are over.
There is nothing to do but to send Monsieur Mazarin to the most distant
frontier and to take care that he does not return even by that, nor any
other entrance into France."
"One instant, sir," said the man in a gown, whom he addressed; "a plague
on’t! how fast you go! one may soon see that you’re a soldier. There’s
the article of remunerations and indemnifications to be discussed and
set to rights."
"Chancellor," said the queen, turning to Seguier, our old acquaintance,
"you will open the conferences. They can take place at Rueil. The
cardinal has said several things which have agitated me, therefore I
will not speak more fully now. As to his going or staying, I feel too
much gratitude to the cardinal not to leave him free in all his actions;
he shall do what he wishes to do."
A transient pallor overspread the speaking countenance of the prime
minister; he looked at the queen with anxiety. Her face was so
passionless, that he, as every one else present, was incapable of
reading her thoughts.
"But," added the queen, "in awaiting the cardinal’s decision let there
be, if you please, a reference to the king only."
The deputies bowed and left the room.
"What!" exclaimed the queen, when the last of them had quitted the
apartment, "you would yield to these limbs of the law--these advocates?"
"To promote your majesty’s welfare, madame," replied Mazarin, fixing his
penetrating eyes on the queen, "there is no sacrifice that I would not
make."
Anne dropped her head and fell into one of those reveries so habitual
with her. A recollection of Athos came into her mind. His fearless
deportment, his words, so firm, yet dignified, the shades which by one
word he had evoked, recalled to her the past in all its intoxication of
poetry and romance, youth, beauty, the eclat of love at twenty years of
age, the bloody death of Buckingham, the only man whom she had ever
really loved, and the heroism of those obscure champions who had saved
her from the double hatred of Richelieu and the king.
Mazarin looked at her, and whilst she deemed herself alone and freed
from the world of enemies who sought to spy into her secret thoughts, he
read her thoughts in her countenance, as one sees in a transparent lake
clouds pass--reflections, like thoughts, of the heavens.
"Must we, then," asked Anne of Austria, "yield to the storm, buy peace,
and patiently and piously await better times?"
Mazarin smiled sarcastically at this speech, which showed that she had
taken the minister’s proposal seriously.
Anne’s head was bent down--she had not seen the Italian’s smile; but
finding that her question elicited no reply she looked up.
"Well, you do not answer, cardinal, what do you think about it?"
"I am thinking, madame, of the allusion made by that insolent gentleman,
whom you have caused to be arrested, to the Duke of Buckingham--to him
whom you allowed to be assassinated--to the Duchess de Chevreuse, whom
you suffered to be exiled--to the Duc de Beaufort, whom you imprisoned;
but if he made allusion to me it was because he is ignorant of the
relation in which I stand to you."
Anne drew up, as she always did, when anything touched her pride. She
blushed, and that she might not answer, clasped her beautiful hands till
her sharp nails almost pierced them.
"That man has sagacity, honor and wit, not to mention likewise that he
is a man of undoubted resolution. You know something about him, do you
not, madame? I shall tell him, therefore, and in doing so I shall confer
a personal favor on him, how he is mistaken in regard to me. What is
proposed to me would be, in fact, almost an abdication, and an
abdication requires reflection."
"An abdication?" repeated Anne; "I thought, sir, that it was kings alone
who abdicated!"
"Well," replied Mazarin, "and am I not almost a king--king, indeed, of
France? Thrown over the foot of the royal bed, my simar, madame, looks
not unlike the mantle worn by kings."
This was one of the humiliations which Mazarin made Anne undergo more
frequently than any other, and one that bowed her head with shame. Queen
Elizabeth and Catherine II. of Russia are the only two monarchs of their
set on record who were at once sovereigns and lovers. Anne of Austria
looked with a sort of terror at the threatening aspect of the
cardinal--his physiognomy in such moments was not destitute of a certain
grandeur.
"Sir," she replied, "did I not say, and did you not hear me say to those
people, that you should do as you pleased?"
"In that case," said Mazarin, "I think it must please me best to remain;
not only on account of my own interest, but for your safety."
"Remain, then, sir; nothing can be more agreeable to me; only do not
allow me to be insulted."
"You are referring to the demands of the rebels and to the tone in which
they stated them? Patience! They have selected a field of battle on
which I am an abler general than they--that of a conference. No, we
shall beat them by merely temporizing. They want food already. They will
be ten times worse off in a week."
"Ah, yes! Good heavens! I know it will end in that way; but it is not
they who taunt me with the most wounding reproaches, but----"
"I understand; you mean to allude to the recollections perpetually
revived by these three gentlemen. However, we have them safe in prison,
and they are just sufficiently culpable for us to keep them in prison as
long as we find it convenient. One only is still not in our power and
braves us. But, devil take him! we shall soon succeed in sending him to
join his boon companions. We have accomplished more difficult things
than that. In the first place I have as a precaution shut up at Rueil,
near me, under my own eyes, within reach of my hand, the two most
intractable ones. To-day the third will be there also."
"As long as they are in prison all will be well," said Anne, "but one of
these days they will get out."
"Yes, if your majesty releases them."
"Ah!" exclaimed Anne, following the train of her own thoughts on such
occasions, "one regrets Paris!"
"Why so?"
"On account of the Bastile, sir, which is so strong and so secure."
"Madame, these conferences will bring us peace; when we have peace we
shall regain Paris; with Paris, the Bastile, and our four bullies shall
rot therein."
Anne frowned slightly when Mazarin, in taking leave, kissed her hand.
Mazarin, after this half humble, half gallant attention, went away. Anne
followed him with her eyes, and as he withdrew, at every step he took, a
disdainful smile was seen playing, then gradually burst upon her lips.
"I once," she said, "despised the love of a cardinal who never said ’I
shall do,’ but, ’I have done so and so.’ That man knew of retreats more
secure than Rueil, darker and more silent even than the Bastile.
Degenerate world!"
82. Precautions.
After quitting Anne, Mazarin took the road to Rueil, where he usually
resided; in those times of disturbance he went about with numerous
followers and often disguised himself. In military dress he was, indeed,
as we have stated, a very handsome man.
In the court of the old Chateau of Saint Germain he entered his coach,
and reached the Seine at Chatou. The prince had supplied him with fifty
light horse, not so much by way of guard as to show the deputies how
readily the queen’s generals dispersed their troops and to prove that
they might be safely scattered at pleasure. Athos, on horseback, without
his sword and kept in sight by Comminges, followed the cardinal in
silence. Grimaud, finding that his master had been arrested, fell back
into the ranks near Aramis, without saying a word and as if nothing had
happened.
Grimaud had, indeed, during twenty-two years of service, seen his master
extricate himself from so many difficulties that nothing less than
Athos’s imminent death was likely to make him uneasy.
At the branching off of the road toward Paris, Aramis, who had followed
in the cardinal’s suite, turned back. Mazarin went to the right hand and
Aramis could see the prisoner disappear at the turning of the avenue.
Athos, at the same moment, moved by a similar impulse, looked back also.
The two friends exchanged a simple inclination of the head and Aramis
put his finger to his hat, as if to bow, Athos alone comprehending by
that signal that he had some project in his head.
Ten minutes afterward Mazarin entered the court of that chateau which
his predecessor had built for him at Rueil; as he alighted, Comminges
approached him.
"My lord," he asked, "where does your eminence wish Monsieur Comte de la
Fere to be lodged?"
"In the pavilion of the orangery, of course, in front of the pavilion
where the guard is. I wish every respect to be shown the count, although
he is the prisoner of her majesty the queen."
"My lord," answered Comminges, "he begs to be taken to the place where
Monsieur d’Artagnan is confined--that is, in the hunting lodge, opposite
the orangery."
Mazarin thought for an instant.
Comminges saw that he was undecided.
"’Tis a very strong post," he resumed, "and we have forty good men,
tried soldiers, having no connection with Frondeurs nor any interest in
the Fronde."
"If we put these three men together, Monsieur Comminges," said Mazarin,
"we must double the guard, and we are not rich enough in fighting men to
commit such acts of prodigality."
Comminges smiled; Mazarin read and construed that smile.
"You do not know these men, Monsieur Comminges, but I know them, first
personally, also by hearsay. I sent them to carry aid to King Charles
and they performed prodigies to save him; had it not been for an adverse
destiny, that beloved monarch would this day have been among us."
"But since they served your eminence so well, why are they, my lord
cardinal, in prison?"
"In prison?" said Mazarin, "and when has Rueil been a prison?"
"Ever since there were prisoners in it," answered Comminges.
"These gentlemen, Comminges, are not prisoners," returned Mazarin, with
his ironical smile, "only guests; but guests so precious that I have put
a grating before each of their windows and bolts to their doors, that
they may not refuse to continue my visitors. So much do I esteem them
that I am going to make the Comte de la Fere a visit, that I may
converse with him tete-a-tete, and that we may not be disturbed at our
interview you must conduct him, as I said before, to the pavilion of the
orangery; that, you know, is my daily promenade. Well, while taking my
walk I will call on him and we will talk. Although he professes to be my
enemy I have sympathy for him, and if he is reasonable perhaps we shall
arrange matters."
Comminges bowed, and returned to Athos, who was awaiting with apparent
calmness, but with real anxiety, the result of the interview.
"Well?" he said to the lieutenant.
"Sir," replied Comminges, "it seems that it is impossible."
"Monsieur de Comminges," said Athos, "I have been a soldier all my life
and I know the force of orders; but outside your orders there is a
service you can render me."
"I will do it with all my heart," said Comminges; "for I know who you
are and what service you once performed for her majesty; I know, too,
how dear to you is the young man who came so valiantly to my aid when
that old rogue of a Broussel was arrested. I am entirely at your
service, except only for my orders."
"Thank you, sir; what I am about to ask will not compromise you in any
degree."
"If it should even compromise me a little," said Monsieur de Comminges,
with a smile, "still make your demand. I don’t like Mazarin any better
than you do. I serve the queen and that draws me naturally into the
service of the cardinal; but I serve the one with joy and the other
against my will. Speak, then, I beg of you; I wait and listen."
"Since there is no harm," said Athos, "in my knowing that D’Artagnan is
here, I presume there will be none in his knowing that I am here."
"I have received no orders on that point."
"Well, then, do me the kindness to give him my regards and tell him that
I am his neighbor. Tell him also what you have just told me--that
Mazarin has placed me in the pavilion of the orangery in order to make
me a visit, and assure him that I shall take advantage of this honor he
proposes to accord to me to obtain from him some amelioration of our
captivity."
"Which cannot last," interrupted Comminges; "the cardinal said so; there
is no prison here."
"But there are oubliettes!" replied Athos, smiling.
"Oh! that’s a different thing; yes, I know there are traditions of that
sort," said Comminges. "It was in the time of the other cardinal, who
was a great nobleman; but our Mazarin--impossible! an Italian adventurer
would not dare to go such lengths with such men as ourselves. Oubliettes
are employed as a means of kingly vengeance, and a low-born fellow such
as he is would not have recourse to them. Your arrest is known, that of
your friends will soon be known; and all the nobility of France would
demand an explanation of your disappearance. No, no, be easy on that
score. I will, however, inform Monsieur d’Artagnan of your arrival
here."
Comminges then led the count to a room on the ground floor of a
pavilion, at the end of the orangery. They passed through a courtyard as
they went, full of soldiers and courtiers. In the centre of this court,
in the form of a horseshoe, were the buildings occupied by Mazarin, and
at each wing the pavilion (or smaller building), where D’Artagnan was
confined, and that, level with the orangery, where Athos was to be. From
the ends of these two wings extended the park.
Athos, when he reached his appointed room, observed through the gratings
of his window, walls and roofs; and was told, on inquiry, by Comminges,
that he was looking on the back of the pavilion where D’Artagnan was
confined.
"Yes, ’tis too true," said Comminges, "’tis almost a prison; but what a
singular fancy this is of yours, count--you, who are the very flower of
our nobility--to squander your valor and loyalty amongst these upstarts,
the Frondists! Really, count, if ever I thought that I had a friend in
the ranks of the royal army, it was you. A Frondeur! you, the Comte de
la Fere, on the side of Broussel, Blancmesnil and Viole! For shame! you,
a Frondeur!"
"On my word of honor," said Athos, "one must be either a Mazarinist or a
Frondeur. For a long time I had these words whispered in my ears, and I
chose the latter; at any rate, it is a French word. And now, I am a
Frondeur--not of Broussel’s party, nor of Blancmesnil’s, nor am I with
Viole; but with the Duc de Beaufort, the Ducs de Bouillon and d’Elbeuf;
with princes, not with presidents, councillors and low-born lawyers.
Besides, what a charming outlook it would have been to serve the
cardinal! Look at that wall--without a single window--which tells you
fine things about Mazarin’s gratitude!"
"Yes," replied De Comminges, "more especially if it could reveal how
Monsieur d’Artagnan for this last week has been anathematizing him."
"Poor D’Artagnan’" said Athos, with the charming melancholy that was one
of the traits of his character, "so brave, so good, so terrible to the
enemies of those he loves. You have two unruly prisoners there, sir."
"Unruly," Comminges smiled; "you wish to terrify me, I suppose. When he
came here, Monsieur D’Artagnan provoked and braved the soldiers and
inferior officers, in order, I suppose, to have his sword back. That
mood lasted some time; but now he’s as gentle as a lamb and sings Gascon
songs, which make one die of laughing."
"And Du Vallon?" asked Athos.
"Ah, he’s quite another sort of person--a formidable gentleman, indeed.
The first day he broke all the doors in with a single push of his
shoulder; and I expected to see him leave Rueil in the same way as
Samson left Gaza. But his temper cooled down, like his friend’s; he not
only gets used to his captivity, but jokes about it."
"So much the better," said Athos.
"Do you think anything else was to be expected of them?" asked
Comminges, who, putting together what Mazarin had said of his prisoners
and what the Comte de la Fere had said, began to feel a degree of
uneasiness.
Athos, on the other hand, reflected that this recent gentleness of his
friends most certainly arose from some plan formed by D’Artagnan.
Unwilling to injure them by praising them too highly, he replied: "They?
They are two hotheads--the one a Gascon, the other from Picardy; both
are easily excited, but they quiet down immediately. You have had a
proof of that in what you have just related to me."
This, too, was the opinion of Comminges, who withdrew somewhat
reassured. Athos remained alone in the vast chamber, where, according to
the cardinal’s directions, he was treated with all the courtesy due to a
nobleman. He awaited Mazarin’s promised visit to get some light on his
present situation.
83. Strength and Sagacity.
Now let us pass the orangery to the hunting lodge. At the extremity of
the courtyard, where, close to a portico formed of Ionic columns, were
the dog kennels, rose an oblong building, the pavilion of the orangery,
a half circle, inclosing the court of honor. It was in this pavilion, on
the ground floor, that D’Artagnan and Porthos were confined, suffering
interminable hours of imprisonment in a manner suitable to each
different temperament.
D’Artagnan was pacing to and fro like a caged tiger; with dilated eyes,
growling as he paced along by the bars of a window looking upon the yard
of servant’s offices.
Porthos was ruminating over an excellent dinner he had just demolished.
The one seemed to be deprived of reason, yet he was meditating. The
other seemed to meditate, yet he was more than half asleep. But his
sleep was a nightmare, which might be guessed by the incoherent manner
in which he sometimes snored and sometimes snorted.
"Look," said D’Artagnan, "day is declining. It must be nearly four
o’clock. We have been in this place nearly eighty-three hours."
"Hem!" muttered Porthos, with a kind of pretense of answering.
"Did you hear, eternal sleeper?" cried D’Artagnan, irritated that any
one could doze during the day, when he had the greatest difficulty in
sleeping during the night.
"What?" said Porthos.
"I say we have been here eighty-three hours."
"’Tis your fault," answered Porthos.
"How, my fault?"
"Yes, I offered you escape."
"By pulling out a bar and pushing down a door?"
"Certainly."
"Porthos, men like us can’t go out from here purely and simply."
"Faith!" said Porthos, "as for me, I could go out with that purity and
that simplicity which it seems to me you despise too much."
D’Artagnan shrugged his shoulders.
"And besides," he said, "going out of this chamber isn’t all."
"Dear friend," said Porthos, "you appear to be in a somewhat better
humor to-day than you were yesterday. Explain to me why going out of
this chamber isn’t everything."
"Because, having neither arms nor password, we shouldn’t take fifty
steps in the court without knocking against a sentinel."
"Very well," said Porthos, "we will kill the sentinel and we shall have
his arms."
"Yes, but before we can kill him--and he will be hard to kill, that
Swiss--he will shriek out and the whole picket will come, and we shall
be taken like foxes, we, who are lions, and thrown into some dungeon,
where we shall not even have the consolation of seeing this frightful
gray sky of Rueil, which no more resembles the sky of Tarbes than the
moon is like the sun. Lack-a-day! if we only had some one to instruct us
about the physical and moral topography of this castle. Ah! when one
thinks that for twenty years, during which time I did not know what to
do with myself, it never occurred to me to come to study Rueil."
"What difference does that make?" said Porthos. "We shall go out all the
same."
"Do you know, my dear fellow, why master pastrycooks never work with
their hands?"
"No," said Porthos, "but I should be glad to be informed."
"It is because in the presence of their pupils they fear that some of
their tarts or creams may turn out badly cooked."
"What then?"
"Why, then they would be laughed at, and a master pastrycook must never
be laughed at."
"And what have master pastrycooks to do with us?"
"We ought, in our adventures, never to be defeated or give any one a
chance to laugh at us. In England, lately, we failed, we were beaten,
and that is a blemish on our reputation."
"By whom, then, were we beaten?" asked Porthos.
"By Mordaunt."
"Yes, but we have drowned Monsieur Mordaunt."
"That is true, and that will redeem us a little in the eyes of
posterity, if posterity ever looks at us. But listen, Porthos: though
Monsieur Mordaunt was a man not to be despised, Mazarin is not less
strong than he, and we shall not easily succeed in drowning him. We
must, therefore, watch and play a close game; for," he added with a
sigh, "we two are equal, perhaps, to eight others; but we are not equal
to the four that you know of."
"That is true," said Porthos, echoing D’Artagnan’s sigh.
"Well, Porthos, follow my examples; walk back and forth till some news
of our friends reaches us or till we are visited by a good idea. But
don’t sleep as you do all the time; nothing dulls the intellect like
sleep. As to what may lie before us, it is perhaps less serious than we
at first thought. I don’t believe that Monsieur de Mazarin thinks of
cutting off our heads, for heads are not taken off without previous
trial; a trial would make a noise, and a noise would get the attention
of our friends, who would check the operations of Monsieur de Mazarin."
"How well you reason!" said Porthos, admiringly.
"Well, yes, pretty well," replied D’Artagnan; "and besides, you see, if
they put us on trial, if they cut off our heads, they must meanwhile
either keep us here or transfer us elsewhere."
"Yes, that is inevitable," said Porthos.
"Well, it is impossible but that Master Aramis, that keen-scented
bloodhound, and Athos, that wise and prudent nobleman, will discover our
retreat. Then, believe me, it will be time to act."
"Yes, we will wait. We can wait the more contentedly, that it is not
absolutely bad here, but for one thing, at least."
"What is that?"
"Did you observe, D’Artagnan, that three days running they have brought
us braised mutton?"
"No; but if it occurs a fourth time I shall complain of it, so never
mind."
"And then I feel the loss of my house, ’tis a long time since I visited
my castles."
"Forget them for a time; we shall return to them, unless Mazarin razes
them to the ground."
"Do you think that likely?"
"No, the other cardinal would have done so, but this one is too mean a
fellow to risk it."
"You reconcile me, D’Artagnan."
"Well, then, assume a cheerful manner, as I do; we must joke with the
guards, we must gain the good-will of the soldiers, since we can’t
corrupt them. Try, Porthos, to please them more than you are wont to do
when they are under our windows. Thus far you have done nothing but show
them your fist; and the more respectable your fist is, Porthos, the less
attractive it is. Ah, I would give much to have five hundred louis,
only."
"So would I," said Porthos, unwilling to be behind D’Artagnan in
generosity; "I would give as much as a hundred pistoles."
The two prisoners were at this point of their conversation when
Comminges entered, preceded by a sergeant and two men, who brought
supper in a basket with two handles, filled with basins and plates.
"What!" exclaimed Porthos, "mutton again?"
"My dear Monsieur de Comminges," said D’Artagnan, "you will find that my
friend, Monsieur du Vallon, will go to the most fatal lengths if
Cardinal Mazarin continues to provide us with this sort of meat; mutton
every day."
"I declare," said Porthos, "I shall eat nothing if they do not take it
away."
"Remove the mutton," cried Comminges; "I wish Monsieur du Vallon to sup
well, more especially as I have news to give him that will improve his
appetite."
"Is Mazarin dead?" asked Porthos.
"No; I am sorry to tell you he is perfectly well."
"So much the worse," said Porthos.
"What is that news?" asked D’Artagnan. "News in prison is a fruit so
rare that I trust, Monsieur de Comminges, you will excuse my
impatience--the more eager since you have given us to understand that
the news is good."
"Should you be glad to hear that the Comte de la Fere is well?" asked De
Comminges.
D’Artagnan’s penetrating gray eyes were opened to the utmost.
"Glad!" he cried; "I should be more than glad! Happy--beyond measure!"
"Well, I am desired by him to give you his compliments and to say that
he is in good health."
D’Artagnan almost leaped with joy. A quick glance conveyed his thought
to Porthos: "If Athos knows where we are, if he opens communication with
us, before long Athos will act."
Porthos was not very quick to understand the language of glances, but
now since the name of Athos had suggested to him the same idea, he
understood.
"Do you say," asked the Gascon, timidly, "that the Comte de la Fere has
commissioned you to give his compliments to Monsieur du Vallon and
myself?"
"Yes, sir."
"Then you have seen him?"
"Certainly I have."
"Where? if I may ask without indiscretion."
"Near here," replied De Comminges, smiling; "so near that if the windows
which look on the orangery were not stopped up you could see him from
where you are."
"He is wandering about the environs of the castle," thought D’Artagnan.
Then he said aloud:
"You met him, I dare say, in the park--hunting, perhaps?"
"No; nearer, nearer still. Look, behind this wall," said De Comminges,
knocking against the wall.
"Behind this wall? What is there, then, behind this wall? I was brought
here by night, so devil take me if I know where I am."
"Well," said Comminges, "suppose one thing."
"I will suppose anything you please."
"Suppose there were a window in this wall."
"Well?"
"From that window you would see Monsieur de la Fere at his."
"The count, then, is in the chateau?"
"Yes."
"For what reason?"
"The same as yourself."
"Athos--a prisoner?"
"You know well," replied De Comminges, "that there are no prisoners at
Rueil, because there is no prison."
"Don’t let us play upon words, sir. Athos has been arrested."
"Yesterday, at Saint Germain, as he came out from the presence of the
queen."
The arms of D’Artagnan fell powerless by his side. One might have
supposed him thunderstruck; a paleness ran like a cloud over his dark
skin, but disappeared immediately.
"A prisoner?" he reiterated.
"A prisoner," repeated Porthos, quite dejected.
Suddenly D’Artagnan looked up and in his eyes there was a gleam which
scarcely even Porthos observed; but it died away and he appeared more
sorrowful than before.
"Come, come," said Comminges, who, since D’Artagnan, on the day of
Broussel’s arrest, had saved him from the hands of the Parisians, had
entertained a real affection for him, "don’t be unhappy; I never thought
of bringing you bad news. Laugh at the chance which has brought your
friend near to you and Monsieur du Vallon, instead of being in the
depths of despair about it."
But D’Artagnan was still in a desponding mood.
"And how did he look?" asked Porthos, who, perceiving that D’Artagnan
had allowed the conversation to drop, profited by it to put in a word or
two.
"Very well, indeed, sir," replied Comminges; "at first, like you, he
seemed distressed; but when he heard that the cardinal was going to pay
him a visit this very evening----"
"Ah!" cried D’Artagnan, "the cardinal is about to visit the Comte de la
Fere?"
"Yes; and the count desired me to tell you that he should take advantage
of this visit to plead for you and for himself."
"Ah! our dear count!" said D’Artagnan.
"A fine thing, indeed!" grunted Porthos. "A great favor! Zounds!
Monsieur the Comte de la Fere, whose family is allied to the Montmorency
and the Rohan, is easily the equal of Monsieur de Mazarin."
"No matter," said D’Artagnan, in his most wheedling tone. "On
reflection, my dear Du Vallon, it is a great honor for the Comte de la
Fere, and gives good reason to hope. In fact, it seems to me so great an
honor for a prisoner that I think Monsieur de Comminges must be
mistaken."
"What? I am mistaken?"
"Monsieur de Mazarin will not come to visit the Comte de la Fere, but
the Comte de la Fere will be sent for to visit him."
"No, no, no," said Comminges, who made a point of having the facts
appear exactly as they were, "I clearly understood what the cardinal
said to me. He will come and visit the Comte de la Fere."
D’Artagnan tried to gather from the expression of his eyes whether
Porthos understood the importance of that visit, but Porthos did not
even look toward him.
"It is, then, the cardinal’s custom to walk in his orangery?" asked
D’Artagnan.
"Every evening he shuts himself in there. That, it seems, is where he
meditates on state affairs."
"In that case," said D’Artagnan, "I begin to believe that Monsieur de la
Fere will receive the visit of his eminence; he will, of course, have an
escort."
"Yes--two soldiers."
"And will he talk thus of affairs in presence of two strangers?"
"The soldiers are Swiss, who understand only German. Besides, according
to all probability they will wait at the door."
D’Artagnan made a violent effort over himself to keep his face from
being too expressive.
"Let the cardinal take care of going alone to visit the Comte de la
Fere," said D’Artagnan; "for the count must be furious."
Comminges began to laugh. "Oh, oh! why, really, one would say that you
four were anthropaphagi! The count is an affable man; besides, he is
unarmed; at the first word from his eminence the two soldiers about him
would run to his assistance."
"Two soldiers," said D’Artagnan, seeming to remember something, "two
soldiers, yes; that, then, is why I hear two men called every evening
and see them walking sometimes for half an hour, under my window."
"That is it; they are waiting for the cardinal, or rather for Bernouin,
who comes to call them when the cardinal goes out."
"Fine-looking men, upon my word!" said D’Artagnan.
"They belong to the regiment that was at Lens, which the prince assigned
to the cardinal."
"Ah, monsieur," said D’Artagnan, as if to sum up in a word all that
conversation, "if only his eminence would relent and grant to Monsieur
de la Fere our liberty."
"I wish it with all my heart," said Comminges.
"Then, if he should forget that visit, you would find no inconvenience
in reminding him of it?"
"Not at all."
"Ah, that gives me more confidence."
This skillful turn of the conversation would have seemed a sublime
manoeuvre to any one who could have read the Gascon’s soul.
"Now," said D’Artagnan, "I’ve one last favor to ask of you, Monsieur de
Comminges."
"At your service, sir."
"You will see the count again?"
"To-morrow morning."
"Will you remember us to him and ask him to solicit for me the same
favor that he will have obtained?"
"You want the cardinal to come here?"
"No; I know my place and am not so presumptuous. Let his eminence do me
the honor to give me a hearing; that is all I want."
"Oh!" muttered Porthos, shaking his head, "never should I have thought
this of him! How misfortune humbles a man!"
"I promise you it shall be done," answered De Comminges.
"Tell the count that I am well; that you found me sad, but resigned."
"I am pleased, sir, to hear that."
"And the same, also, for Monsieur du Vallon----"
"Not for me," cried Porthos; "I am not by any means resigned."
"But you will be resigned, my friend."
"Never!"
"He will become so, monsieur; I know him better than he knows himself.
Be silent, dear Du Vallon, and resign yourself."
"Adieu, gentlemen," said De Comminges; "sleep well!"
"We will try."
De Comminges went away, D’Artagnan remaining apparently in the same
attitude of humble resignation; but scarcely had he departed when he
turned and clasped Porthos in his arms with an expression not to be
doubted.
"Oh!" cried Porthos; "what’s the matter now? Have you gone mad, my dear
friend?"
"What is the matter?" returned D’Artagnan; "we are saved!"
"I don’t see that at all," answered Porthos. "I think we are all taken
prisoners, except Aramis, and that our chances of getting out are
lessened since one more of us is caught in Mazarin’s mousetrap."
"Which is far too strong for two of us, but not strong enough for three
of us," returned D’Artagnan.
"I don’t understand," said Porthos. |
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