stairs. I believe I saw him mount a gray horse and leave the
palace court. But is not your eminence going to the queen?"
"For what purpose?"
"Monsieur de Guitant, my uncle, has just told me that her
majesty had received news of the army."
"It is well; I will go."
Comminges had seen rightly, and Mordaunt had really acted as
he had related. In crossing the gallery parallel to the
large glass gallery, he perceived De Winter, who was waiting
until the queen had finished her negotiation.
At this sight the young man stopped short, not in admiration
of Raphael's picture, but as if fascinated at the sight of
some terrible object. His eyes dilated and a shudder ran
through his body. One would have said that he longed to
break through the wall of glass which separated him from his
enemy; for if Comminges had seen with what an expression of
hatred the eyes of this young man were fixed upon De Winter,
he would not have doubted for an instant that the Englishman
was his eternal foe.
But he stopped, doubtless to reflect; for instead of
allowing his first impulse, which had been to go straight to
Lord de Winter, to carry him away, he leisurely descended
the staircase, left the palace with his head down, mounted
his horse, which he reined in at the corner of the Rue
Richelieu, and with his eyes fixed on the gate, waited until
the queen's carriage had left the court.
He had not long to wait, for the queen scarcely remained a
quarter of an hour with Mazarin, but this quarter of an hour
of expectation appeared a century to him. At last the heavy
machine, which was called a chariot in those days, came out,
rumbling against the gates, and De Winter, still on
horseback, bent again to the door to converse with her
majesty.
The horses started on a trot and took the road to the
Louvre, which they entered. Before leaving the convent of
the Carmelites, Henrietta had desired her daughter to attend
her at the palace, which she had inhabited for a long time
and which she had only left because their poverty seemed to
them more difficult to bear in gilded chambers.
Mordaunt followed the carriage, and when he had watched it
drive beneath the sombre arches he went and stationed
himself under a wall over which the shadow was extended, and
remained motionless, amidst the moldings of Jean Goujon,
like a bas-relievo, representing an equestrian statue.
39
How, sometimes, the Unhappy mistake Chance for Providence.
"Well, madame," said De Winter, when the queen had dismissed
her attendants.
"Well, my lord, what I foresaw has come to pass."
"What? does the cardinal refuse to receive the king? France
refuse hospitality to an unfortunate prince? Ay, but it is
for the first time, madame!"
"I did not say France, my lord; I said the cardinal, and the
cardinal is not even a Frenchman."
"But did you see the queen?"
"It is useless," replied Henrietta, "the queen will not say
yes when the cardinal says no. Are you not aware that this
Italian directs everything, both indoors and out? And
moreover, I should not be surprised had we been forestalled
by Cromwell. He was embarrassed whilst speaking to me and
yet quite firm in his determination to refuse. Then did you
not observe the agitation in the Palais Royal, the passing
to and fro of busy people? Can they have received any news,
my lord?"
"Not from England, madame. I made such haste that I am
certain of not having been forestalled. I set out three days
ago, passing miraculously through the Puritan army, and I
took post horses with my servant Tony; the horses upon which
we were mounted were bought in Paris. Besides, the king, I
am certain, awaits your majesty's reply before risking
anything."
"You will tell him, my lord," resumed the queen,
despairingly, "that I can do nothing; that I have suffered
as much as himself -- more than he has -- obliged as I am to
eat the bread of exile and to ask hospitality from false
friends who smile at my tears; and as regards his royal
person, he must sacrifice it generously and die like a king.
I shall go and die by his side."
"Madame, madame," exclaimed De Winter, "your majesty
abandons yourself to despair; and yet, perhaps, there still
remains some hope."
"No friends left, my lord; no other friends left in the wide
world but yourself! Oh, God!" exclaimed the poor queen,
raising her eyes to Heaven, "have You indeed taken back all
the generous hearts that once existed in the world?"
"I hope not, madame," replied De Winter, thoughtfully; "I
once spoke to you of four men."
"What can be done with four?"
"Four devoted, resolute men can do much? assure yourself,
madame; and those of whom I speak performed great things at
one time."
"And where are these four men?"
"Ah, that is what I do not know. It is twenty years since I
saw them, and yet whenever I have seen the king in danger I
have thought of them."
"And these men were your friends?"
"One of them held my life in his hands and gave it to me. I
know not whether he is still my friend, but since that time
I have remained his."
"And these men are in France, my lord?"
"I believe so."
"Tell me their names; perhaps I may have heard them
mentioned and might be able to aid you in finding them."
"One of them was called the Chevalier d'Artagnan."
"Ah, my lord, if I mistake not, the Chevalier d'Artagnan is
lieutenant of royal guards; but take care, for I fear that
this man is entirely devoted to the cardinal."
"That would be a misfortune," said De Winter, "and I shall
begin to think that we are really doomed."
"But the others," said the queen, who clung to this last
hope as a shipwrecked man clings to the hull of his vessel.
"The others, my lord!"
"The second -- I heard his name by chance; for before
fighting us, these four gentlemen told us their names; the
second was called the Comte de la Fere. As for the two
others, I had so much the habit of calling them by nicknames
that I have forgotten their real ones."
"Oh, mon Dieu, it is a matter of the greatest urgency to
find them out," said the queen, "since you think these
worthy gentlemen might be so useful to the king."
"Oh, yes," said De Winter, "for they are the same men.
Listen, madame, and recall your remembrances. Have you never
heard that Queen Anne of Austria was once saved from the
greatest danger ever incurred by a queen?"
"Yes, at the time of her relations with Monsieur de
Buckingham; it had to do in some way with certain studs and
diamonds."
"Well, it was that affair, madame; these men are the ones
who saved her; and I smile with pity when I reflect that if
the names of those gentlemen are unknown to you it is
because the queen has forgotten them, who ought to have made
them the first noblemen of the realm."
"Well, then, my lord, they must be found; but what can four
men, or rather three men do -- for I tell you, you must not
count on Monsieur d'Artagnan."
"It will be one valiant sword the less, but there will
remain still three, without reckoning my own; now four
devoted men around the king to protect him from his enemies,
to be at his side in battle, to aid him with counsel, to
escort him in flight, are sufficient, not to make the king a
conqueror, but to save him if conquered; and whatever
Mazarin may say, once on the shores of France your royal
husband may find as many retreats and asylums as the seabird
finds in a storm."
"Seek, then, my lord, seek these gentlemen; and if they will
consent to go with you to England, I will give to each a
duchy the day that we reascend the throne, besides as much
gold as would pave Whitehall. Seek them, my lord, and find
them, I conjure you."
"I will search for them, madame," said De Winter "and
doubtless I shall find them; but time fails me. Has your
majesty forgotten that the king expects your reply and
awaits it in agony?"
"Then indeed we are lost!" cried the queen, in the fullness
of a broken heart.
At this moment the door opened and the young Henrietta
appeared; then the queen, with that wonderful strength which
is the privilege of parents, repressed her tears and
motioned to De Winter to change the subject.
But that act of self-control, effective as it was, did not
escape the eyes of the young princess. She stopped on the
threshold, breathed a sigh, and addressing the queen:
"Why, then, do you always weep, mother, when I am away from
you?" she said.
The queen smiled, but instead of answering:
"See, De Winter," she said, "I have at least gained one
thing in being only half a queen; and that is that my
children call me `mother' instead of `madame.'"
Then turning toward her daughter:
"What do you want, Henrietta?" she demanded.
"My mother," replied the young princess, "a cavalier has
just entered the Louvre and wishes to present his respects
to your majesty; he arrives from the army and has, he says,
a letter to remit to you, on the part of the Marechal de
Grammont, I think."
"Ah!" said the queen to De Winter, "he is one of my faithful
adherents; but do you not observe, my dear lord, that we are
so poorly served that it is left to my daughter to fill the
office of doorkeeper?"
"Madame, have pity on me," exclaimed De Winter; "you wring
my heart!"
"And who is this cavalier, Henrietta?" asked the queen.
"I saw him from the window, madame; he is a young man that
appears scarce sixteen years of age, and is called the
Viscount de Bragelonne."
The queen, smiling, made a sign with her head; the young
princess opened the door and Raoul appeared on the
threshold.
Advancing a few steps toward the queen, he knelt down.
"Madame," said he, "I bear to your majesty a letter from my
friend the Count de Guiche, who told me he had the honor of
being your servant; this letter contains important news and
the expression of his respect."
At the name of the Count de Guiche a blush spread over the
cheeks of the young princess and the queen glanced at her
with some degree of severity.
"You told me that the letter was from the Marechal de
Grammont, Henrietta!" said the queen.
"I thought so, madame," stammered the young girl.
"It is my fault, madame," said Raoul. "I did announce
myself, in truth, as coming on the part of the Marechal de
Grammont; but being wounded in the right arm he was unable
to write and therefore the Count de Guiche acted as his
secretary."
"There has been fighting, then?" asked the queen, motioning
to Raoul to rise.
"Yes, madame," said the young man.
At this announcement of a battle having taken place, the
princess opened her mouth as though to ask a question of
interest; but her lips closed again without articulating a
word, while the color gradually faded from her cheeks.
The queen saw this, and doubtless her maternal heart
translated the emotion, for addressing Raoul again:
"And no evil has happened to the young Count de Guiche?" she
asked; "for not only is he our servant, as you say, sir, but
more -- he is one of our friends."
"No, madame," replied Raoul; "on the contrary, he gained
great glory and had the honor of being embraced by his
highness, the prince, on the field of battle."
The young princess clapped her hands; and then, ashamed of
having been betrayed into such a demonstration of joy, she
half turned away and bent over a vase of roses, as if to
inhale their odor.
"Let us see," said the queen, "what the count says." And she
opened the letter and read:
"Madame, -- Being unable to have the honor of writing to you
myself, by reason of a wound I have received in my right
hand, I have commanded my son, the Count de Guiche, who,
with his father, is equally your humble servant, to write to
tell you that we have just gained the battle of Lens, and
that this victory cannot fail to give great power to
Cardinal Mazarin and to the queen over the affairs of
Europe. If her majesty will have faith in my counsels she
ought to profit by this event to address at this moment, in
favor of her august husband, the court of France. The
Vicomte de Bragelonne, who will have the honor of remitting
this letter to your majesty, is the friend of my son, who
owes to him his life; he is a gentleman in whom your majesty
may confide entirely, in case your majesty may have some
verbal or written order to remit to me.
"I have the honor to be, with respect, etc.,
"Marechal de Grammont."
At the moment mention occurred of his having rendered a
service to the count, Raoul could not help turning his
glance toward the young princess, and then he saw in her
eyes an expression of infinite gratitude to the young man;
he no longer doubted that the daughter of King Charles I.
loved his friend.
"The battle of Lens gained!" said the queen; "they are lucky
here indeed; they can gain battles! Yes, the Marechal de
Grammont is right; this will change the aspect of French
affairs, but I much fear it will do nothing for English,
even if it does not harm them. This is recent news, sir,"
continued she, "and I thank you for having made such haste
to bring it to me; without this letter I should not have
heard till to-morrow, perhaps after to-morrow -- the last of
all Paris."
"Madame," said Raoul, "the Louvre is but the second palace
