yourself to him at once and kiss him on both cheeks."
"Well, sir, I will obey you, although I do not understand
you.
"It is unnecessary for you to understand. Hold," continued
D'Artagnan, turning toward the door, which had just opened,
"here is Monsieur du Vallon, who comes with his coat torn."
"Yes, but in exchange," said Porthos, covered with
perspiration and soiled by dust, "in exchange, I have torn
many skins. Those wretches wanted to take away my sword!
Deuce take 'em, what a popular commotion!" continued the
giant, in his quiet manner; "but I knocked down more than
twenty with the hilt of Balizarde. A draught of wine,
D'Artagnan."
"Oh" I'll aswer for you," said the Gascon, filling Porthos's
glass to the brim; "but when you have drunk, give me your
opinion."
"Upon what?" asked Porthos.
"Look here," resumed D'Artagnan; "here is Monsieur de
Bragelonne, who determined at all risks to aid the arrest of
Broussel and whom I had great difficulty to prevent
defending Monsieur de Comminges."
"The devil!" said Porthos; "and his guardian, what would he
have said to that?"
"Do you hear?" interrupted D'Artagnan; "become a Frondist,
my friend, belong to the Fronde, and remember that I fill
the count's place in everything;" and he jingled his money.
"Will you come?" said he to Porthos.
"Where?" asked Porthos, filling a second glass of wine.
"To present our respects to the cardinal."
Porthos swallowed the second glass with the same grace with
which he had imbibed the first, took his beaver and followed
D'Artagnan. As for Raoul, he remained bewildered with what
he had seen, having been forbidden by D'Artagnan to leave
the room until the tumult was over.
45
The Beggar of St. Eustache.
D'Artagnan had calculated that in not going at once to the
Palais Royal he would give Comminges time to arrive before
him, and consequently to make the cardinal acquainted with
the eminent services which he, D'Artagnan, and his friend
had rendered to the queen's party in the morning.
They were indeed admirably received by Mazarin, who paid
them numerous compliments, and announced that they were more
than half on their way to obtain what they desired, namely,
D'Artagnan his captaincy, Porthos his barony.
D'Artagnan would have preferred money in hand to all that
fine talk, for he knew well that to Mazarin it was easy to
promise and hard to perform. But, though he held the
cardinal's promises as of little worth, he affected to be
completely satisfied, for he was unwilling to discourage
Porthos.
Whilst the two friends were with the cardinal, the queen
sent for him. Mazarin, thinking that it would be the means
of increasing the zeal of his two defenders if he procured
them personal thanks from the queen, motioned them to follow
him. D'Artagnan and Porthos pointed to their dusty and torn
dresses, but the cardinal shook his head.
"Those costumes," he said, "are of more worth than most of
those which you will see on the backs of the queen's
courtiers; they are costumes of battle."
D'Artagnan and Porthos obeyed. The court of Anne of Austria
was full of gayety and animation; for, after having gained a
victory over the Spaniard, it had just gained another over
the people. Broussel had been conducted out of Paris without
further resistance, and was at this time in the prison of
Saint Germain; while Blancmesnil, who was arrested at the
same time, but whose arrest had been made without difficulty
or noise, was safe in the Castle of Vincennes.
Comminges was near the queen, who was questioning him upon
the details of his expedition, and every one was listening
to his account, when D'Artagnan and Porthos were perceived
at the door, behind the cardinal.
"Ah, madame," said Comminges, hastening to D'Artagnan, "here
is one who can tell you better than myself, for he was my
protector. Without him I should probably at this moment be a
dead fish in the nets at Saint Cloud, for it was a question
of nothing less than throwing me into the river. Speak,
D'Artagnan, speak."
D'Artagnan had been a hundred times in the same room with
the queen since he had become lieutenant of the musketeers,
but her majesty had never once spoken to him.
"Well, sir," at last said Anne of Austria, "you are silent,
after rendering such a service?"
"Madame," replied D'Artagnan, "I have nought to say, save
that my life is ever at your majesty's service, and that I
shall only be happy the day I lose it for you.
"I know that, sir; I have known that," said the queen, "a
long time; therefore I am delighted to be able thus publicly
to mark my gratitude and my esteem."
"Permit me, madame," said D'Artagnan, "to reserve a portion
for my friend; like myself" (he laid an emphasis on these
words) "an ancient musketeer of the company of Treville; he
has done wonders."
"His name?" asked the queen.
"In the regiment," said D'Artagnan, "he is called Porthos"
(the queen started), "but his true name is the Chevalier du
Vallon."
"De Bracieux de Pierrefonds," added Porthos.
"These names are too numerous for me to remember them all,
and I will content myself with the first," said the queen,
graciously. Porthos bowed. At this moment the coadjutor was
announced; a cry of surprise ran through the royal
assemblage. Although the coadjutor had preached that same
morning it was well known that he leaned much to the side of
the Fronde; and Mazarin, in requesting the archbishop of
Paris to make his nephew preach, had evidently had the
intention of administering to Monsieur de Retz one of those
Italian kicks he so much enjoyed giving.
The fact was, in leaving Notre Dame the coadjutor had
learned the event of the day. Although almost engaged to the
leaders of the Fronde he had not gone so far but that
retreat was possible should the court offer him the
advantages for which he was ambitious and to which the
coadjutorship was but a stepping-stone. Monsieur de Retz
wished to become archbishop in his uncle's place, and
cardinal, like Mazarin; and the popular party could with
difficulty accord him favors so entirely royal. He therefore
hastened to the palace to congratulate the queen on the
battle of Lens, determined beforehand to act with or against
the court, as his congratulations were well or ill received.
The coadjutor possessed, perhaps, as much wit as all those
put together who were assembled at the court to laugh at
him. His speech, therefore, was so well turned, that in
spite of the great wish felt by the courtiers to laugh, they
could find no point on which to vent their ridicule. He
concluded by saying that he placed his feeble influence at
her majesty's command.
During the whole time he was speaking, the queen appeared to
be well pleased with the coadjutor's harangue; but
terminating as it did with such a phrase, the only one which
could be caught at by the jokers, Anne turned around and
directed a glance toward her favorites, which announced that
she delivered up the coadjutor to their tender mercies.
Immediately the wits of the court plunged into satire.
Nogent-Beautin, the fool of the court, exclaimed that "the
queen was very happy to have the succor of religion at such
a moment." This caused a universal burst of laughter. The
Count de Villeroy said that "he did not know how any fear
could be entertained for a moment, when the court had, to
defend itself against the parliament and the citizens of
Paris, his holiness the coadjutor, who by a signal could
raise an army of curates, church porters and vergers."
The Marechal de la Meilleraie added that in case the
coadjutor should appear on the field of battle it would be a
pity that he should not be distinguished in the melee by
wearing a red hat, as Henry IV. had been distinguished by
his white plume at the battle of Ivry.
During this storm, Gondy, who had it in his power to make it
most unpleasant for the jesters, remained calm and stern.
The queen at last asked him if he had anything to add to the
fine discourse he had just made to her.
"Yes, madame," replied the coadjutor; "I have to beg you to
reflect twice ere you cause a civil war in the kingdom."
The queen turned her back and the laughing recommenced.
The coadjutor bowed and left the palace, casting upon the
cardinal such a glance as is best understood by mortal foes.
That glance was so sharp that it penetrated the heart of
Mazarin, who, reading in it a declaration of war, seized
D'Artagnan by the arm and said:
"If occasion requires, monsieur, you will remember that man
who has just gone out, will you not?"
"Yes, my lord," he replied. Then, turning toward Porthos,
"The devil!" said he, "this has a bad look. I dislike these
quarrels among men of the church."
Gondy withdrew, distributing benedictions on his way, and
finding a malicious satisfaction in causing the adherents of
his foes to prostrate themselves at his feet.
"Oh!" he murmured, as he left the threshold of the palace:
"ungrateful court! faithless court! cowardly court! I will
teach you how to laugh to-morrow -- but in another manner."
But whilst they were indulging in extravagant joy at the
Palais Royal, to increase the hilarity of the queen,
Mazarin, a man of sense, and whose fear, moreover, gave him
foresight, lost no time in making idle and dangerous jokes;
he went out after the coadjutor, settled his account, locked
up his gold, and had confidential workmen to contrive hiding
places in his walls.
On his return home the coadjutor was informed that a young
man hail come in after his departure and was waiting for
him; he started with delight when, on demanding the name of
this young man, he learned that it was Louvieres. He
hastened to his cabinet. Broussel's son was there, still
furious, and still bearing bloody marks of his struggle with
the king's officers. The only precaution he had taken in
coming to the archbishopric was to leave his arquebuse in
the hands of a friend.
The coadjutor went to him and held out his hand. The young
man gazed at him as if he would have read the secret of his
heart.
"My dear Monsieur Louvieres," said the coadjutor, "believe
me, I am truly concerned for the misfortune which has
happened to you."
"Is that true, and do you speak seriously?" asked Louvieres.
"From the depth of my heart," said Gondy.
"In that case, my lord, the time for words has passed and
the hour for action is at hand; my lord, in three days, if
you wish it, my father will be out of prison and in six
months you may be cardinal."
The coadjutor started.
"Oh! let us speak frankly," continued Louvieres, "and act in
a straightforward manner. Thirty thousand crowns in alms is
not given, as you have done for the last six months, out of
pure Christian charity; that would be too grand. You are
ambitious -- it is natural; you are a man of genius and you
know your worth. As for me, I hate the court and have but
one desire at this moment -- vengeance. Give us the clergy
and the people, of whom you can dispose, and I will bring
you the citizens and the parliament; with these four
elements Paris is ours in a week; and believe me, monsieur
coadjutor, the court will give from fear what it will not
give from good-will."
It was now the coadjutor's turn to fix his piercing eyes on
Louvieres.
"But, Monsieur Louvieres, are you aware that it is simply
civil war you are proposing to me?"
"You have been preparing long enough, my lord, for it to be
welcome to you now."
"Never mind," said the coadjutor; "you must be well aware
that this requires reflection."
"And how many hours of reflection do you ask?"
"Twelve hours, sir; is it too long?"
"It is now noon; at midnight I will be at your house."
"If I should not be in, wait for me."
"Good! at midnight, my lord."
"At midnight, my dear Monsieur Louvieres."
When once more alone Gondy sent to summon all the curates
with whom he had any connection to his house. Two hours
later, thirty officiating ministers from the most populous,
and consequently the most disturbed parishes of Paris had
assembled there. Gondy related to them the insults he had
received at the Palais Royal and retailed the jests of
Beautin, the Count de Villeroy and Marechal de la
Meilleraie. The curates asked him what was to be done.
"Simply this," said the coadjutor. "You are the directors of
all consciences. Well, undermine in them the miserable
prejudice of respect and fear of kings; teach your flocks
that the queen is a tyrant; and repeat often and loudly, so
that all may know it, that the misfortunes of France are
caused by Mazarin, her lover and her destroyer; begin this
work to-day, this instant even, and in three days I shall
expect the result. For the rest, if any one of you have
further or better counsel to expound, I will listen to him
with the greatest pleasure."
Three curates remained -- those of St. Merri, St. Sulpice
and St. Eustache. The others withdrew.
"You think, then, that you can help me more efficaciously
than your brothers?" said Gondy.
"We hope so," answered the curates.
"Let us hear. Monsieur de St. Merri, you begin."
"My lord, I have in my parish a man who might be of the
greatest use to you."
