spot whereon the Vaudeville now stands.
"In that hotel? it is the Hotel Rambouillet," cried Guitant.
"I really don't know what hotel it is; all I do know is that
I observed some suspicious looking people go in there ---- "
"Nonsense!" exclaimed Guitant, with a burst of laughter;
"those men must be poets."
"Come, Guitant, speak, if you please, respectfully of these
gentlemen," said Mazarin; "don't you know that I was in my
youth a poet? I wrote verses in the style of Benserade ----
"
"You, my lord?"
"Yes, I; shall I repeat to you some of my verses?"
"Just as you please, my lord. I do not understand Italian."
"Yes, but you understand French," and Mazarin laid his hand
upon Guitant's shoulder. "My good, my brave Guitant,
whatsoever command I may give you in that language -- in
French -- whatever I may order you to do, will you not
perform it?"
"Certainly. I have already answered that question in the
affirmative; but that command must come from the queen
herself."
"Yes! ah yes!" Mazarin bit his lips as he spoke; "I know
your devotion to her majesty."
"I have been a captain in the queen's guards for twenty
years," was the reply.
"En route, Monsieur d'Artagnan," said the cardinal; "all
goes well in this direction."
D'Artagnan, in the meantime, had taken the head of his
detachment without a word and with that ready and profound
obedience which marks the character of an old soldier.
He led the way toward the hill of Saint Roche. The Rue
Richelieu and the Rue Villedot were then, owing to their
vicinity to the ramparts, less frequented than any others in
that direction, for the town was thinly inhabited
thereabout.
"Who is in command here?" asked the cardinal.
"Villequier," said Guitant.
"Diavolo! Speak to him yourself, for ever since you were
deputed by me to arrest the Duc de Beaufort, this officer
and I have been on bad terms. He laid claim to that honor as
captain of the royal guards."
"I am aware of that, and I have told him a hundred times
that he was wrong. The king could not give that order, since
at that time he was hardly four years old."
"Yes, but I could give him the order -- I, Guitant -- and I
preferred to give it to you."
Guitant, without reply, rode forward and desired the
sentinel to call Monsieur de Villequier.
"Ah! so you are here!" cried the officer, in the tone of
ill-humor habitual to him; "what the devil are you doing
here?"
"I wish to know -- can you tell me, pray -- is anything
fresh occurring in this part of the town?"
"What do you mean? People cry out, `Long live the king! down
with Mazarin!' That's nothing new; no, we've been used to
those acclamations for some time."
"And you sing chorus," replied Guitant, laughing.
"Faith, I've half a mind to do it. In my opinion the people
are right; and cheerfully would I give up five years of my
pay -- which I am never paid, by the way -- to make the king
five years older."
"Really! And pray what would come to pass, supposing the
king were five years older than he is?"
"As soon as ever the king comes of age he will issue his
commands himself, and 'tis far pleasanter to obey the
grandson of Henry IV. than the son of Peter Mazarin.
'Sdeath! I would die willingly for the king, but supposing I
happened to be killed on account of Mazarin, as your nephew
came near being to-day, there could be nothing in Paradise,
however well placed I might be there, that could console me
for it."
"Well, well, Monsieur de Villequier," Mazarin interposed, "I
shall make it my care the king hears of your loyalty. Come,
gentlemen," addressing the troop, "let us return."
"Stop," exclaimed Villequier, "so Mazarin was here! so much
the better. I have been waiting for a long time to tell him
what I think of him. I am obliged to you Guitant, although
your intention was perhaps not very favorable to me, for
such an opportunity."
He turned away and went off to his post, whistling a tune
then popular among the party called the "Fronde," whilst
Mazarin returned, in a pensive mood, toward the Palais
Royal. All that he had heard from these three different men,
Comminges, Guitant and Villequier, confirmed him in his
conviction that in case of serious tumults there would be no
one on his side except the queen; and then Anne of Austria
had so often deserted her friends that her support seemed
most precarious. During the whole of this nocturnal ride,
during the whole time that he was endeavoring to understand
the various characters of Comminges, Guitant and Villequier,
Mazarin was, in truth, studying more especially one man.
This man, who had remained immovable as bronze when menaced
by the mob -- not a muscle of whose face was stirred, either
at Mazarin's witticisms or by the jests of the multitude --
seemed to the cardinal a peculiar being, who, having
participated in past events similar to those now occurring,
was calculated to cope with those now on the eve of taking
place.
The name of D'Artagnan was not altogether new to Mazarin,
who, although he did not arrive in France before the year
1634 or 1635, that is to say, about eight or nine years
after the events which we have related in a preceding
narrative,* fancied he had heard it pronounced as that of
one who was said to be a model of courage, address and
loyalty.
* "The Three Musketeers."
Possessed by this idea, the cardinal resolved to know all
about D'Artagnan immediately; of course he could not inquire
from D'Artagnan himself who he was and what had been his
career; he remarked, however, in the course of conversation
that the lieutenant of musketeers spoke with a Gascon
accent. Now the Italians and the Gascons are too much alike
and know each other too well ever to trust what any one of
them may say of himself; so in reaching the walls which
surrounded the Palais Royal, the cardinal knocked at a
little door, and after thanking D'Artagnan and requesting
him to wait in the court of the Palais Royal, he made a sign
to Guitant to follow him.
They both dismounted, consigned their horses to the lackey
who had opened the door, and disappeared in the garden.
"My dear friend," said the cardinal, leaning, as they walked
through the garden, on his friend's arm, "you told me just
now that you had been twenty years in the queen's service."
"Yes, it's true. I have," returned Guitant.
"Now, my dear Guitant, I have often remarked that in
addition to your courage, which is indisputable, and your
fidelity, which is invincible, you possess an admirable
memory."
"You have found that out, have you, my lord? Deuce take it
-- all the worse for me!"
"How?"
"There is no doubt but that one of the chief accomplishments
of a courtier is to know when to forget."
"But you, Guitant, are not a courtier. You are a brave
soldier, one of the few remaining veterans of the days of
Henry IV. Alas! how few to-day exist!"
"Plague on't, my lord, have you brought me here to get my
horoscope out of me?"
"No; I only brought you here to ask you," returned Mazarin,
smiling, "if you have taken any particular notice of our
lieutenant of musketeers?"
"Monsieur d'Artagnan? I have had no occasion to notice him
particularly; he's an old acquaintance. He's a Gascon. De
Treville knows him and esteems him very highly, and De
Treville, as you know, is one of the queen's greatest
friends. As a soldier the man ranks well; he did his whole
duty and even more, at the siege of Rochelle -- as at Suze
and Perpignan."
"But you know, Guitant, we poor ministers often want men
with other qualities besides courage; we want men of talent.
Pray, was not Monsieur d'Artagnan, in the time of the
cardinal, mixed up in some intrigue from which he came out,
according to report, quite cleverly?"
"My lord, as to the report you allude to" -- Guitant
perceived that the cardinal wished to make him speak out --
"I know nothing but what the public knows. I never meddle in
intrigues, and if I occasionally become a confidant of the
intrigues of others I am sure your eminence will approve of
my keeping them secret."
Mazarin shook his head.
"Ah!" he said; "some ministers are fortunate and find out
all that they wish to know."
"My lord," replied Guitant, "such ministers do not weigh men
in the same balance; they get their information on war from
warriors; on intrigues, from intriguers. Consult some
politician of the period of which you speak, and if you pay
well for it you will certainly get to know all you want."
"Eh, pardieu!" said Mazarin, with a grimace which he always
made when spoken to about money. "They will be paid, if
there is no way of getting out of it."
"Does my lord seriously wish me to name any one who was
mixed up in the cabals of that day?"
"By Bacchus!" rejoined Mazarin, impatiently, "it's about an
hour since I asked you for that very thing, wooden-head that
you are."
"There is one man for whom I can answer, if he will speak
out."
"That's my concern; I will make him speak."
"Ah, my lord, 'tis not easy to make people say what they
don't wish to let out."
"Pooh! with patience one must succeed. Well, this man. Who
is he?"
"The Comte de Rochefort."
"The Comte de Rochefort!"
"Unfortunately he has disappeared these four or five years
and I don't know where he is."
"I know, Guitant," said Mazarin.
"Well, then, how is it that your eminence complained just
now of want of information?"
"You think," resumed Mazarin, "that Rochefort ---- "
"He was Cardinal Richelieu's creature, my lord. I warn you,
however, his services will cost you something. The cardinal
was lavish to his underlings."
"Yes, yes, Guitant," said Mazarin; "Richelieu was a great
man, a very great man, but he had that defect. Thanks,
Guitant; I shall benefit by your advice this very evening."
Here they separated and bidding adieu to Guitant in the
court of the Palais Royal, Mazarin approached an officer who
was walking up and down within that inclosure.
It was D'Artagnan, who was waiting for him.
"Cane hither," said Mazarin in his softest voice; "I have an
order to give you."
D'Artagnan bent low and following the cardinal up the secret
staircase, soon found himself in the study whence they had
first set out.
The cardinal seated himself before his bureau and taking a
sheet of paper wrote some lines upon it, whilst D'Artagnan
stood imperturbable, without showing either impatience or
curiosity. He was like a soldierly automaton, or rather,
like a magnificent marionette.
The cardinal folded and sealed his letter.
"Monsieur d'Artagnan," he said, "you are to take this
dispatch to the Bastile and bring back here the person it
concerns. You must take a carriage and an escort, and guard
the prisoner with the greatest care."
D'Artagnan took the letter, touched his hat with his hand,
turned round upon his heel like a drill-sergeant, and a
moment afterward was heard, in his dry and monotonous tone,
commanding "Four men and an escort, a carriage and a horse."
Five minutes afterward the wheels of the carriage and the
horses' shoes were heard resounding on the pavement of the
courtyard.
3
Dead Animosities.
D'Artagnan arrived at the Bastile just as it was striking
half-past eight. His visit was announced to the governor,
who, on hearing that he came from the cardinal, went to meet
him and received him at the top of the great flight of steps
outside the door. The governor of the Bastile was Monsieur
du Tremblay, the brother of the famous Capuchin, Joseph,
that fearful favorite of Richelieu's, who went by the name
of the Gray Cardinal.
During the period that the Duc de Bassompierre passed in the
Bastile -- where he remained for twelve long years -- when
his companions, in their dreams of liberty, said to each
other: "As for me, I shall go out of the prison at such a
time," and another, at such and such a time, the duke used
to answer, "As for me, gentlemen, I shall leave only when
Monsieur du Tremblay leaves;" meaning that at the death of
the cardinal Du Tremblay would certainly lose his place at
the Bastile and De Bassompierre regain his at court.
His prediction was nearly fulfilled, but in a very different
way from that which De Bassompierre supposed; for after the
death of Richelieu everything went on, contrary to
expectation, in the same way as before; and Bassompierre had
little chance of leaving his prison.
Monsieur du Tremblay received D'Artagnan with extreme
politeness and invited him to sit down with him to supper,
of which he was himself about to partake.
"I should be delighted to do so," was the reply; "but if I
am not mistaken, the words `In haste,' are written on the
envelope of the letter which I brought."
"You are right," said Du Tremblay. "Halloo, major! tell them
to order Number 25 to come downstairs."
The unhappy wretch who entered the Bastile ceased, as he
crossed the threshold, to be a man -- he became a number.
D'Artagnan shuddered at the noise of the keys; he remained
