“But what step would you propose to me?”
“I could propose one to Your Majesty, but I dare not.”
“You may, you may, sir,” said the queen with a bitter smile; “you were not so timid once.”
The chancellor reddened and stammered some words.
“It is not a question of the past, but of the present,” said the queen; “you said you could give me advice—what is it?”
“Madame,” said the chancellor, hesitating, “it would be to release Broussel.”
The queen, although already pale, became visibly paler and her face was contracted.
“Release Broussel!” she cried, “never!”
At this moment steps were heard in the anteroom and without any announcement the Maréchal de la Meilleraie appeared at the door.
“Ah, there you are, maréchal,” cried Anne of Austria joyfully. “I trust you have brought this rabble to reason.”
“Madame,” replied the maréchal, “I have left three men on the Pont Neuf, four at the Halle, six at the corner of the Rue de l’Arbre-Sec and two at the door of your palace—fifteen in all. I have brought away ten or twelve wounded. I know not where I have left my hat, and in all probability I should have been left with my hat, had the coadjutor not arrived in time to rescue me.”
“Ah, indeed,” said the queen, “it would have much astonished me if that low cur, with his distorted legs, had not been mixed up with all this.”
“Madame,” said La Meilleraie, “do not say too much against him before me, for the service he rendered me is still fresh.”
“Very good,” said the queen, “be as grateful as you like, it does not implicate me; you are here safe and sound, that is all I wished for; you are not only welcome, but welcome back.”
“Yes, Madame; but I only came back on one condition—that I would transmit to Your Majesty the will of the people.”
“The will!” exclaimed the queen, frowning. “Oh! oh! Monsieur Maréchal, you must indeed have found yourself in wondrous peril to have undertaken so strange a commission!”
The irony with which these words were uttered did not escape the maréchal.
“Pardon, Madame,” he said, “I am not a lawyer, I am a mere soldier, and probably, therefore, I do not quite comprehend the value of certain words; I ought to have said the wishes, and not the will, of the people. As for what you do me the honor to say, I presume you mean I was afraid?”
The queen smiled.
“Well, then, Madame, yes, I did feel fear; and though I have been through twelve pitched battles and I cannot count how many charges and skirmishes, I own for the third time in my life I was afraid. Yes, and I would rather face Your Majesty, however threatening your smile, than face those demons who accompanied me hither and who sprung from I know not whence, unless from deepest hell.”
(“Bravo,” said d’Artagnan in a whisper to Porthos; “well answered.”)
“Well,” said the queen, biting her lips, whilst her courtiers looked at each other with surprise, “what is the desire of my people?”
“That Broussel shall be given up to them, Madame.”
“Never!” said the queen, “never!”
“Your Majesty is mistress,” said La Meilleraie, retreating a few steps.
“Where are you going, maréchal?” asked the queen.
“To give Your Majesty’s reply to those who await it.”
“Stay, maréchal; I will not appear to parley with rebels.”
“Madame, I have pledged my word, and unless you order me to be arrested I shall be forced to return.”
Anne of Austria’s eyes shot glances of fire.
“Oh! that is no impediment, sir,” said she; “I have had greater men than you arrested—Guitant!”
Mazarin sprang forward.
“Madame,” said he, “if I dared in my turn advise—”
“Would it be to give up Broussel, sir? If so, you can spare yourself the trouble.”
“No,” said Mazarin; “although, perhaps, that counsel is as good as any other.”
“Then what may it be?”
“To call for Monsieur le Coadjuteur.”
“The coadjutor!” cried the queen, “that dreadful mischief maker! It is he who has raised all this revolt.”
“The more reason,” said Mazarin; “if he has raised it he can put it down.”
“And hold, Madame,” suggested Comminges, who was near a window, out of which he could see; “hold, the moment is a happy one, for there he is now, giving his blessing in the square of the Palais Royal.”
The queen sprang to the window.
“It is true,” she said, “the arch hypocrite—see!”
“I see,” said Mazarin, “that everybody kneels before him, although he be but coadjutor, whilst I, were I in his place, though I am cardinal, should be torn to pieces. I persist, then, Madame, in my wish” (he laid an emphasis on the word), “that Your Majesty should receive the coadjutor.”
“And wherefore do you not say, like the rest, your will?” replied the queen, in a low voice.
Mazarin bowed.
“Monsieur le Maréchal,” said the queen, after a moment’s reflection, “go and find the coadjutor and bring him to me.”
“And what shall I say to the people?”
“That they must have patience,” said Anne, “as I have.”
The fiery Spanish woman spoke in a tone so imperative that the maréchal made no reply; he bowed and went out.
(D’Artagnan turned to Porthos. “How will this end?” he said.
“We shall soon see,” said Porthos, in his tranquil way.)
In the meantime Anne of Austria approached Comminges and conversed with him in a subdued tone, whilst Mazarin glanced uneasily at the corner occupied by d’Artagnan and Porthos. Ere long the door opened and the maréchal entered, followed by the coadjutor.
“There, Madame,” he said, “is Monsieur Gondy, who hastens to obey Your Majesty’s summons.”
The queen advanced a few steps to meet him, and then stopped, cold, severe, unmoved, with her lower lip scornfully protruded.
Gondy bowed respectfully.
“Well, sir,” said the queen, “what is your opinion of this riot?”
“That it is no longer a riot, Madame,” he replied, “but a revolt.”
“The revolt is at the door of those who think my people can rebel,” cried Anne, unable to dissimulate before the coadjutor, whom she looked upon—and probably with reason—as the promoter of the tumult. “Revolt! thus it is called by those who have wished for
