the service of your majesty was concerned," said Athos,
bowing with great dignity. He was going toward the door when
Mazarin stopped him.
"You, too, have been in England, sir?" he said, making a
sign to the queen, who was evidently going to issue a severe
order.
"I was a witness of the last hours of Charles I. Poor king!
culpable, at the most, of weakness, how cruelly punished by
his subjects! Thrones are at this time shaken and it is to
little purpose for devoted hearts to serve the interests of
princes. This is the second time that Monsieur d'Artagnan
has been in England. He went the first time to save the
honor of a great queen; the second, to avert the death of a
great king."
"Sir," said Anne to Mazarin, with an accent from which daily
habits of dissimulation could not entirely chase the real
expression, "see if we can do something for these
gentlemen."
"I wish to do, madame, all that your majesty pleases."
"Do what Monsieur de la Fere requests; that is your name, is
it not, sir?"
"I have another name, madame -- I am called Athos."
"Madame," said Mazarin, with a smile, "you may rest easy;
your wishes shall be fulfilled."
"You hear, sir?" said the queen.
"Yes, madame, I expected nothing less from the justice of
your majesty. May I not go and see my friends?"
"Yes, sir, you shall see them. But, apropos, you belong to
the Fronde, do you not?"
"Madame, I serve the king."
"Yes, in your own way."
"My way is the way of all gentlemen, and I know only one
way," answered Athos, haughtily.
"Go, sir, then," said the queen; "you have obtained what you
wish and we know all we desire to know."
Scarcely, however, had the tapestry closed behind Athos when
she said to Mazarin:
"Cardinal, desire them to arrest that insolent fellow before
he leaves the court."
"Your majesty," answered Mazarin, "desires me to do only
what I was going to ask you to let me do. These bravoes who
resuscitate in our epoch the traditions of another reign are
troublesome; since there are two of them already there, let
us add a third."
Athos was not altogether the queen's dupe, but he was not a
man to run away on suspicion -- above all, when distinctly
told that he should see his friends again. He waited, then,
in the ante-chamber with impatience, till he should be
conducted to them.
He walked to the window and looked into the court. He saw
the deputation from the Parisians enter it; they were coming
to assign the definitive place for the conference and to
make their bow to the queen. A very imposing escort awaited
them without the gates.
Athos was looking on attentively, when some one touched him
softly on the shoulder.
"Ah! Monsieur de Comminges," he said.
"Yes, count, and charged with a commission for which I beg
of you to accept my excuses."
"What is it?"
"Be so good as to give me up your sword, count."
Athos smiled and opened the window.
"Aramis!" he cried.
A gentleman turned around. Athos fancied he had seen him
among the crowd. It was Aramis. He bowed with great
friendship to the count.
"Aramis," cried Athos, "I am arrested."
"Good," replied Aramis, calmly.
"Sir," said Athos, turning to Comminges and giving him
politely his sword by the hilt, "here is my sword; have the
kindness to keep it safely for me until I quit my prison. I
prize it -- it was given to my ancestor by King Francis I.
In his time they armed gentlemen, not disarmed them. Now,
whither do you conduct me?"
"Into my room first," replied Comminges; "the queen will
ultimately decide your place of domicile."
Athos followed Comminges without saying a single word.
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
Precaution's.
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,
