“Some fifty thousand crowns; yes, Monseigneur,” replied the Comte de Guiche, rising. “Must I give up my place to Your Eminence, or shall I continue?”
“Give up! give up! you are mad. You would lose all you have won. Peste!”
“My lord!” said the Prince de Condé, bowing.
“Good evening, Monsieur le Prince,” said the minister, in a careless tone; “it is very kind of you to visit an old sick friend.”
“A friend!” murmured the Comte de la Fère, at witnessing with stupor this monstrous alliance of words;—“friends! when the parties are Condé and Mazarin!”
Mazarin seemed to divine the thoughts of the Frondeur, for he smiled upon him with triumph, and immediately—“Sire,” said he to the king, “I have the honor of presenting to Your Majesty, Monsieur le Comte de la Fère, ambassador from his Britannic majesty. An affair of state, gentlemen,” added he, waving his hand to all who filled the chamber, and who, the Prince de Condé at their head, all disappeared at the simple gesture. Raoul, after a last look cast at the comte, followed M. de Condé. Philip of Anjou and the queen appeared to be consulting about departing.
“A family affair,” said Mazarin, suddenly, detaining them in their seats. “This gentleman is the bearer of a letter in which King Charles II, completely restored to his throne, demands an alliance between Monsieur, the brother of the king, and Mademoiselle Henrietta, granddaughter of Henry IV. Will you remit your letter of credit to the king, Monsieur le Comte?”
Athos remained for a minute stupefied. How could the minister possibly know the contents of the letter, which had never been out of his keeping for a single instant? Nevertheless, always master of himself, he held out the dispatch to the young king, Louis XIV, who took it with a blush. A solemn silence reigned in the cardinal’s chamber. It was only troubled by the dull sound of the gold, which Mazarin, with his yellow, dry hand, piled up in a casket, whilst the king was reading.
41
The Recital
The maliciousness of the cardinal did not leave much for the ambassador to say; nevertheless, the word “restoration” had struck the king, who, addressing the comte, upon whom his eyes had been fixed since his entrance—“Monsieur,” said he, “will you have the kindness to give us some details concerning the affairs of England. You come from that country, you are a Frenchman, and the orders which I see glittering upon your person announce you to be a man of merit as well as a man of quality.”
“Monsieur,” said the cardinal, turning towards the queen-mother, “is an ancient servant of Your Majesty’s, Monsieur le Comte de la Fère.”
Anne of Austria was as oblivious as a queen whose life had been mingled with fine and stormy days. She looked at Mazarin, whose evil smile promised her something disagreeable; then she solicited from Athos, by another look, an explanation.
“Monsieur,” continued the cardinal, “was a Tréville musketeer, in the service of the late king. Monsieur is well acquainted with England, whither he has made several voyages at various periods; he is a subject of the highest merit.”
These words made allusion to all the memories which Anne of Austria trembled to evoke. England, that was her hatred of Richelieu and her love for Buckingham; a Tréville musketeer, that was the whole Odyssey of the triumphs which had made the heart of the young woman throb, and of the dangers which had been so near overturning the throne of the young queen. These words had much power, for they rendered mute and attentive all the royal personages, who, with very various sentiments, set about recomposing at the same time the mysteries which the young had not seen, and which the old had believed to be forever effaced.
“Speak, Monsieur,” said Louis XIV, the first to escape from troubles, suspicions, and remembrances.
“Yes, speak,” added Mazarin, to whom the little malicious thrust directed against Anne of Austria had restored energy and gayety.
“Sire,” said the comte, “a sort of miracle has changed the whole destiny of Charles II. That which men, till that time, had been unable to do, God resolved to accomplish.”
Mazarin coughed while tossing about in his bed.
“King Charles II,” continued Athos, “left the Hague neither as a fugitive nor a conqueror, but as an absolute king, who, after a distant voyage from his kingdom, returns amidst universal benedictions.”
“A great miracle, indeed,” said Mazarin; “for, if the news was true, King Charles II, who has just returned amidst benedictions, went away amidst musket-shots.”
The king remained impassible. Philip, younger and more frivolous, could not repress a smile, which flattered Mazarin as an applause of his pleasantry.
“It is plain,” said the king, “there is a miracle; but God, who does so much for kings, Monsieur le Comte, nevertheless employs the hand of man to bring about the triumph of His designs. To what men does Charles II principally owe his reestablishment?”
“Why,” interrupted Mazarin, without any regard for the king’s pride—“does not Your Majesty know that it is to M. Monck?”
“I ought to know it,” replied Louis XIV, resolutely; “and yet I ask my lord ambassador, the causes of the change in this General Monck?”
“And Your Majesty touches precisely the question,” replied Athos; “for without the miracle of which I have had the honor to speak, General Monck would probably have remained an implacable enemy of Charles II. God willed that a strange, bold, and ingenious idea should enter into the mind of a certain man, whilst a devoted and courageous idea took possession of the mind of another man. The combinations of these two ideas brought about such a change in the position of M. Monck, that, from an inveterate enemy, he became a friend to the deposed king.”
“These
