At the branching off of the road toward Paris, Aramis, who had followed in the cardinal’s suite, turned back. Mazarin went to the right hand and Aramis could see the prisoner disappear at the turning of the avenue. Athos, at the same moment, moved by a similar impulse, looked back also. The two friends exchanged a simple inclination of the head and Aramis put his finger to his hat, as if to bow, Athos alone comprehending by that signal that he had some project in his head.
Ten minutes afterward Mazarin entered the court of that château which his predecessor had built for him at Rueil; as he alighted, Comminges approached him.
“My lord,” he asked, “where does your Eminence wish Monsieur Comte de la Fère to be lodged?”
“In the pavilion of the orangery, of course, in front of the pavilion where the guard is. I wish every respect to be shown the count, although he is the prisoner of Her Majesty the queen.”
“My lord,” answered Comminges, “he begs to be taken to the place where Monsieur d’Artagnan is confined—that is, in the hunting lodge, opposite the orangery.”
Mazarin thought for an instant.
Comminges saw that he was undecided.
“ ’Tis a very strong post,” he resumed, “and we have forty good men, tried soldiers, having no connection with Frondeurs nor any interest in the Fronde.”
“If we put these three men together, Monsieur Comminges,” said Mazarin, “we must double the guard, and we are not rich enough in fighting men to commit such acts of prodigality.”
Comminges smiled; Mazarin read and construed that smile.
“You do not know these men, Monsieur Comminges, but I know them, first personally, also by hearsay. I sent them to carry aid to King Charles and they performed prodigies to save him; had it not been for an adverse destiny, that beloved monarch would this day have been among us.”
“But since they served your Eminence so well, why are they, my lord cardinal, in prison?”
“In prison?” said Mazarin, “and when has Rueil been a prison?”
“Ever since there were prisoners in it,” answered Comminges.
“These gentlemen, Comminges, are not prisoners,” returned Mazarin, with his ironical smile, “only guests; but guests so precious that I have put a grating before each of their windows and bolts to their doors, that they may not refuse to continue my visitors. So much do I esteem them that I am going to make the Comte de la Fère a visit, that I may converse with him tête-à-tête, and that we may not be disturbed at our interview you must conduct him, as I said before, to the pavilion of the orangery; that, you know, is my daily promenade. Well, while taking my walk I will call on him and we will talk. Although he professes to be my enemy I have sympathy for him, and if he is reasonable perhaps we shall arrange matters.”
Comminges bowed, and returned to Athos, who was awaiting with apparent calmness, but with real anxiety, the result of the interview.
“Well?” he said to the lieutenant.
“Sir,” replied Comminges, “it seems that it is impossible.”
“Monsieur de Comminges,” said Athos, “I have been a soldier all my life and I know the force of orders; but outside your orders there is a service you can render me.”
“I will do it with all my heart,” said Comminges; “for I know who you are and what service you once performed for Her Majesty; I know, too, how dear to you is the young man who came so valiantly to my aid when that old rogue of a Broussel was arrested. I am entirely at your service, except only for my orders.”
“Thank you, sir; what I am about to ask will not compromise you in any degree.”
“If it should even compromise me a little,” said Monsieur de Comminges, with a smile, “still make your demand. I don’t like Mazarin any better than you do. I serve the queen and that draws me naturally into the service of the cardinal; but I serve the one with joy and the other against my will. Speak, then, I beg of you; I wait and listen.”
“Since there is no harm,” said Athos, “in my knowing that d’Artagnan is here, I presume there will be none in his knowing that I am here.”
“I have received no orders on that point.”
“Well, then, do me the kindness to give him my regards and tell him that I am his neighbor. Tell him also what you have just told me—that Mazarin has placed me in the pavilion of the orangery in order to make me a visit, and assure him that I shall take advantage of this honor he proposes to accord to me to obtain from him some amelioration of our captivity.”
“Which cannot last,” interrupted Comminges; “the cardinal said so; there is no prison here.”
“But there are oubliettes!” replied Athos, smiling.
“Oh! that’s a different thing; yes, I know there are traditions of that sort,” said Comminges. “It was in the time of the other cardinal, who was a great nobleman; but our Mazarin—impossible! an Italian adventurer would not dare to go such lengths with such men as ourselves. Oubliettes are employed as a means of kingly vengeance, and a lowborn fellow such as he is would not have recourse to them. Your arrest is known, that of your friends will soon be known; and all the nobility of France would demand an explanation of your disappearance. No, no, be easy on that score. I will, however, inform Monsieur d’Artagnan of your arrival here.”
Comminges then led the count to a room on the ground floor of a pavilion, at the end of the orangery. They passed through a courtyard as they went, full of soldiers and courtiers. In the centre of this court, in the form of a horseshoe, were the buildings occupied by Mazarin, and at each wing the pavilion (or
