so prompt a departure; but Raoul was so happy that this
reflection effaced everything else from the consideration of
his guardian.
Everything was ready at ten o'clock for the departure, and
as Athos was watching Raoul mount, a groom rode up from the
Duchess de Chevreuse. He was charged to tell the Comte de la
Fere, that she had learned of the return of her youthful
protege, and also the manner he had conducted himself on the
field, and she added that she should be very glad to offer
him her congratulations.
"Tell her grace," replied Athos, "that the viscount has just
mounted his horse to proceed to the Hotel de Luynes."
Then, with renewed instructions to Grimaud, Athos signified
to Raoul that he could set out, and ended by reflecting that
it was perhaps better that Raoul should be away from Paris
at that moment.
42
Another Queen in Want of Help.
Athos had not failed to send early to Aramis and had given
his letter to Blaisois, the only serving-man whom he had
left. Blaisois found Bazin donning his beadle's gown, his
services being required that day at Notre Dame.
Athos had desired Blaisois to try to speak to Aramis
himself. Blaisois, a tall, simple youth, who understood
nothing but what he was expressly told, asked, therefore for
the Abbe d'Herblay, and in spite of Bazin's assurances that
his master was not at home, he persisted in such a manner as
to put Bazin into a passion. Blaisois seeing Bazin in
clerical guise, was a little discomposed at his denials and
wanted to pass at all risks, believing too, that the man
with whom he had to do was endowed with the virtues of his
cloth, namely, patience and Christian charity.
But Bazin, still the servant of a musketeer, when once the
blood mounted to his fat cheeks, seized a broomstick and
began belaboring Blaisois, saying:
"You have insulted the church, my friend, you have insulted
the church!"
At this moment Aramis, aroused by this unusual disturbance,
cautiously opened the door of his room; and Blaisois,
looking reproachfully at the Cerberus, drew the letter from
his pocket and presented it to Aramis.
"From the Comte de la Fere," said Aramis. "All right." And
he retired into his room without even asking the cause of so
much noise.
Blaisois returned disconsolate to the Hotel of the Grand Roi
Charlemagne and when Athos inquired if his commission was
executed, he related his adventure.
"You foolish fellow!" said Athos, laughing. "And you did not
tell him that you came from me?"
"No, sir."
At ten o'clock Athos, with his habitual exactitude, was
waiting on the Pont du Louvre and was almost immediately
joined by Lord de Winter.
They waited ten minutes and then his lordship began to fear
Aramis was not coming to join them.
"Patience," said Athos, whose eyes were fixed in the
direction of the Rue du Bac, "patience; I see an abbe
cuffing a man, then bowing to a woman; it must be Aramis."
It was indeed Aramis. Having run against a young shopkeeper
who was gaping at the crows and who had splashed him, Aramis
with one blow of his fist had distanced him ten paces.
At this moment one of his penitents passed, and as she was
young and pretty Aramis took off his cap to her with his
most gracious smile.
A most affectionate greeting, as one can well believe took
place between him and Lord de Winter.
"Where are we going?" inquired Aramis; "are we going to
fight, perchance? I carry no sword this morning and cannot
return home to procure one."
"No," said Lord de Winter, "we are going to pay a visit to
Her Majesty the Queen of England."
"Oh, very well," replied Aramis; then bending his face down
to Athos's ear, "what is the object of this visit?"
continued he.
"Nay, I know not; some evidence required from us, perhaps."
"May it not be about that cursed affair?" asked Aramis, "in
which case I do not greatly care to go, for it will be to
pocket a lecture; and since it is my function to give them
to others I am rather averse to receiving them myself."
"If it were so," answered Athos, "we should not be taken
there by Lord de Winter, for he would come in for his share;
he was one of us."
"You're right; yes, let us go."
On arriving at the Louvre Lord de Winter entered first;
indeed, there was but one porter there to receive them at
the gate.
It was impossible in daylight for the impoverished state of
the habitation grudging charity had conceded to an
unfortunate queen to pass unnoticed by Athos, Aramis, and
even the Englishman. Large rooms, completely stripped of
furniture, bare walls upon which, here and there, shone the
old gold moldings which had resisted time and neglect,
windows with broken panes (impossible to close), no carpets,
neither guards nor servants: this is what first met the eyes
of Athos, to which he, touching his companion's elbow,
directed his attention by his glances.
"Mazarin is better lodged," said Aramis.
"Mazarin is almost king," answered Athos; "Madame Henrietta
is almost no longer queen."
"If you would condescend to be clever, Athos," observed
Aramis, "I really do think you would be wittier than poor
Monsieur de Voiture."
Athos smiled.
The queen appeared to be impatiently expecting them, for at
the first slight noise she heard in the hall leading to her
room she came herself to the door to receive these courtiers
in the corridors of Misfortune.
"Enter. You are welcome, gentlemen," she said.
The gentlemen entered and remained standing, but at a motion
from the queen they seated themselves. Athos was calm and
grave, but Aramis was furious; the sight of such royal
misery exasperated him and his eyes examined every new trace
of poverty that presented itself.
"You are examining the luxury I enjoy," said the queen,
glancing sadly around her.
"Madame," replied Aramis, "I must ask your pardon, but I
know not how to hide my indignation at seeing how a daughter
of Henry IV. is treated at the court of France."
"Monsieur Aramis is not an officer?" asked the queen of Lord
de Winter.
"That gentleman is the Abbe d'Herblay," replied he.
Aramis blushed. "Madame," he said, "I am an abbe, it is
true, but I am so against my will. I never had a vocation
for the bands; my cassock is fastened by one button only,
and I am always ready to become a musketeer once more. This
morning, being ignorant that I should have the honor of
seeing your majesty, I encumbered myself with this dress,
but you will find me none the less a man devoted to your
majesty's service, in whatever way you may see fit to use
me."
"The Abbe d'Herblay," resumed De Winter, "is one of those
gallant musketeers formerly belonging to His Majesty King
Louis XIII., of whom I have spoken to you, madame." Then
turning to Athos, he continued, "And this gentleman is that
noble Comte de la Fere, whose high reputation is so well
known to your majesty."
"Gentlemen," said the queen, "a few years ago I had around
me ushers, treasures, armies; and by the lifting of a finger
all these were busied in my service. To-day, look around
you, and it may astonish you, that in order to accomplish a
plan which is dearer to me than life I have only Lord de
Winter, the friend of twenty years, and you, gentlemen, whom
I see for the first time and whom I know but as my
countrymen."
"It is enough," said Athos, bowing low, "if the lives of
three men can purchase yours, madame."
"I thank you, gentlemen. But hear me," continued she. "I am
not only the most miserable of queens, but the most unhappy
of mothers, the most wretched of wives. My children, two of
them, at least, the Duke of York and the Princess Elizabeth,
are far away from me, exposed to the blows of the ambitious
and our foes; my husband, the king, is leading in England so
wretched an existence that it is no exaggeration to aver
that he seeks death as a thing to be desired. Hold!
gentlemen, here is the letter conveyed to me by Lord de
Winter. Read it."
Obeying the queen, Athos read aloud the letter which we have
already seen, in which King Charles demanded to know whether
the hospitality of France would be accorded him.
"Well?" asked Athos, when he had closed the letter.
"Well," said the queen, "it has been refused."
The two friends exchanged a smile of contempt.
"And now," said Athos, "what is to be done? I have the honor
to inquire from your majesty what you desire Monsieur
d'Herblay and myself to do in your service. We are ready."
"Ah, sir, you have a noble heart!" exclaimed the queen, with
a burst of gratitude; whilst Lord de Winter turned to her
with a glance which said, "Did I not answer for them?"
"But you, sir?" said the queen to Aramis.
"I, madame," replied he, "follow Monsieur de la Fere
wherever he leads, even were it on to death, without
demanding wherefore; but when it concerns your majesty's
service, then," added he, looking at the queen with all the
grace of former days, "I precede the count."
"Well, then, gentlemen," said the queen, "since it is thus,
and since you are willing to devote yourselves to the
service of a poor princess whom the whole world has
abandoned, this is what is required to be done for me. The
king is alone with a few gentlemen, whom he fears to lose
every day; surrounded by the Scotch, whom he distrusts,
although he be himself a Scotchman. Since Lord de Winter
left him I am distracted, sirs. I ask much, too much,
perhaps, for I have no title to request it. Go to England,
join the king, be his friends, protectors, march to battle
at his side, and be near him in his house, where
conspiracies, more dangerous than the perils of war, are
hatching every day. And in exchange for the sacrifice that
you make, gentlemen, I promise -- not to reward you, I
believe that word would offend you -- but to love you as a
sister, to prefer you, next to my husband and my children,
to every one. I swear it before Heaven."
And the queen raised her eyes solemnly upward.
"Madame," said Athos, "when must we set out?"
"You consent then?" exclaimed the queen, joyfully.
"Yes, madame; only it seems to me that your majesty goes too
far in engaging to load us with a friendship so far above
our merit. We render service to God, madame in serving a
prince so unfortunate, a queen so virtuous. Madame, we are
yours, body and soul."
"Oh, sirs," said the queen, moved even to tears, "this is
the first time for five years I have felt the least approach
to joy or hope. God, who can read my heart, all the
gratitude I feel, will reward you! Save my husband! Save the
king, and although you care not for the price that is placed
upon a good action in this world, leave me the hope that we
shall meet again, when I may be able to thank you myself. In
the meantime, I remain here. Have you anything to ask of me?
From this moment I become your friend, and since you are
engaged in my affairs I ought to occupy myself in yours."
"Madame," replied Athos, "I have only to ask your majesty's
prayers."
"And I," said Aramis, "I am alone in the world and have only
your majesty to serve."
The queen held out her hand, which they kissed, and she said
in a low tone to De Winter:
"If you need money, my lord, separate the jewels I have
given you; detach the diamonds and sell them to some Jew.
You will receive for them fifty or sixty thousand francs;
spend them if necessary, but let these gentlemen be treated
as they deserve, that is to say, like kings."
The queen had two letters ready, one written by herself, the
other by her daughter, the Princess Henrietta. Both were
addressed to King Charles. She gave the first to Athos and
the other to Aramis, so that should they be separated by
chance they might make themselves known to the king; after
which they withdrew.
At the foot of the staircase De Winter stopped.
"Not to arouse suspicions, gentlemen," said he, "go your way
and I will go mine, and this evening at nine o'clock we will
assemble again at the Gate Saint Denis. We will travel on
horseback as far as our horses can go and afterward we can
take the post. Once more, let me thank you, my good friends,
both in my own name and the queen's."
The three gentlemen then shook hands, Lord de Winter taking
the Rue Saint Honore, and Athos and Aramis remaining
together.
"Well," said Aramis, when they were alone, "what do you
think of this business, my dear count?"
"Bad," replied Athos, "very bad."
"But you received it with enthusiasm."
"As I shall ever receive the defense of a great principle,
my dear D'Herblay. Monarchs are only strong by the
assistance of the aristocracy, but aristocracy cannot
survive without the countenance of monarchs. Let us, then,
support monarchy, in order to support ourselves.
"We shall be murdered there," said Aramis. "I hate the
English -- they are coarse, like every nation that swills
beer."
"Would it be better to remain here," said Athos, "and take a
turn in the Bastile or the dungeon of Vincennes for having
favored the escape of Monsieur de Beaufort? I'faith, Aramis,
believe me, there is little left to regret. We avoid
imprisonment and we play the part of heroes; the choice is
easy."
"It is true; but in everything, friend, one must always
