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. Today 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 Bastille, 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 Bastille, 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 Bastille. Degenerate world!”
LXXXII
Precautions
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 Château 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,
