The Vicomte De Bragelonne by Alexandre Dumas (mini ebook reader txt) 📖
- Author: Alexandre Dumas
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"It is nothing, monsieur le cardinal, or at least nothing which can alarm you. It is an important communication which I wish to make to your eminence to-night,--that is all."
Mazarin immediately thought of that marked attention which the king had given to his words concerning Mademoiselle de Mancini, and the communication appeared to him probably to refer to this source. He recovered his serenity then instantly, and assumed his most agreeable air, a change of countenance which inspired the king with the greatest joy; and when Louis was seated,--
"Sire," said the cardinal, "I ought certainly to listen to your majesty standing, but the violence of my complaint--"
"No ceremony between us, my dear monsieur le cardinal," said Louis kindly: "I am your pupil, and not the king, you know very well, and this evening in particular, as I come to you as a petitioner, as a solicitor, and one very humble, and desirous to be kindly received, too."
Mazarin, seeing the heightened color of the king, was confirmed in his first idea; that is to say, that love thoughts were hidden under all these fine words. This time, political cunning, as keen as it was, made a mistake; this color was not caused by the bashfulness of a juvenile passion, but only by the painful contraction of the royal pride.
Like a good uncle, Mazarin felt disposed to facilitate the confidence.
"Speak, sire," said he, "and since your majesty is willing for an instant to forget that I am your subject, and call me your master and instructor, I promise your majesty my most devoted and tender consideration."
"Thanks, monsieur le cardinal," answered the king; "that which I have to ask of your eminence has but little to do with myself."
"So much the worse!" replied the cardinal; "so much the worse! Sire, I should wish your majesty to ask of me something of importance, even a sacrifice; but whatever it may be that you ask me, I am ready to set your heart at rest by granting it, my dear sire."
"Well, this is what brings me here," said the king, with a beating of the heart that had no equal except the beating of the heart of the minister; "I have just received a visit from my brother, the king of England."
Mazarin bounded in his bed as if he had been put in relation with a Leyden jar or a voltaic pile, at the same time that a surprise, or rather a manifest disappointment, inflamed his features with such a blaze of anger, that Louis XIV., little diplomatist as he was, saw that the minister had hoped to hear something else.
"Charles II.?" exclaimed Mazarin, with a hoarse voice and a disdainful movement of his lips. "You have received a visit from Charles II.?"
"From King Charles II.," replied Louis, according in a marked manner to the grandson of Henry IV. the title which Mazarin had forgotten to give him. "Yes, monsieur le cardinal, that unhappy prince has touched my heart with the relation of his misfortunes. His distress is great, monsieur le cardinal, and it has appeared painful to me, who have seen my own throne disputed, who have been forced in times of commotion to quit my capital,--to me, in short, who am acquainted with misfortune,--to leave a deposed and fugitive brother without assistance."
"Eh!" said the cardinal, sharply; "why had he not, as you have, a Jules Mazarin by his side? His crown would then have remained intact."
"I know all that my house owes to your eminence," replied the king, haughtily, "and you may well believe that I, on my part, shall never forget it. It is precisely because my brother, the king of England has not about him the powerful genius who has saved me, it is for that, I say, that I wish to conciliate the aid of that same genius, and beg you to extend your arm over his head, well assured, monsieur le cardinal, that your hand, by touching him only, would know how to replace upon his brow the crown which fell at the foot of his father's scaffold."
"Sire," replied Mazarin, "I thank you for your good opinion with regard to myself, but we have nothing to do yonder: they are a set of madmen who deny God, and cut off the heads of their kings. They are dangerous, observe, sire, and filthy to the touch after having wallowed in royal blood and covenantal murder. That policy has never suited me,--I scorn it and reject it."
"Therefore you ought to assist in establishing a better."
"What is that?"
"The restoration of Charles II., for example."
"Good heavens!" cried Mazarin, "does the poor prince flatter himself with that chimera?"
"Yes, he does," replied the young king, terrified at the difficulties opposed to this project, which he fancied he could perceive in the infallible eye of his minister; "he only asks for a million to carry out his purpose."
"Is that all--a little million, if you please!" said the cardinal, ironically, with an effort to conquer his Italian accent. "A little million, if you please, brother! Bah! a family of mendicants!"
"Cardinal," said Louis, raising his head, "that family of mendicants is a branch of my family."
"Are you rich enough to give millions to other people, sire? Have you millions to throw away?"
"Oh!" replied Louis XIV., with great pain, which he, however, by a strong effort, prevented from appearing on his countenance;--"oh! yes, monsieur le cardinal, I am well aware I am poor, and yet the crown of France is worth a million, and to perform a good action I would pledge my crown if it were necessary. I could find Jews who would be willing to lend me a million."
"So, sire, you say you want a million?" said Mazarin.
"Yes, monsieur, I say so."
"You are mistaken, greatly mistaken, sire; you want much more than that,--Bernouin!--you shall see, sire, how much you really want."
"What, cardinal!" said the king, "are you going to consult a lackey about my affairs?"
"Bernouin!" cried the cardinal again, without appearing to remark the humiliation of the young prince. "Come here, Bernouin, and tell me the figures I gave you just now."
"Cardinal, cardinal! did you not hear me?" said Louis, turning pale with anger.
"Do not be angry, sire; I deal openly with the affairs of your majesty. Every one in France knows that; my books are as open as day. What did I tell you to do just now, Bernouin?"
"Your eminence commanded me to cast up an account."
"You did it, did you not?"
"Yes, my lord."
"To verify the amount of which his majesty, at this moment, stands in need. Did I not tell you so? Be frank, my friend."
"Your eminence said so."
"Well, what sum did I say I wanted?"
"Forty-five millions, I think."
"And what sum could we find, after collecting all our resources?"
"Thirty-nine millions two hundred and sixty thousand."
"That is correct, Bernouin; that is all I wanted to know. Leave us now," said the cardinal, fixing his brilliant eye upon the young king, who sat mute with stupefaction.
"However--" stammered the king.
"What, do you still doubt, sire?" said the cardinal. "Well, here is a proof of what I said."
And Mazarin drew from under his bolster the paper covered with figures, which he presented to the king, who turned away his eyes, his vexation was so deep.
"Therefore, as it is a million you want, sire, and that million is not set down here, it is forty-six millions your majesty stands in need of. Well, I don't think that any Jews in the world would lend such a sum, even upon the crown of France."
The king, clenching his hands beneath his ruffles, pushed away his chair.
"So it must be then!" said he; "my brother the king of England will die of hunger."
"Sire," replied Mazarin, in the same tone, "remember this proverb, which I give you as the expression of the soundest policy: 'Rejoice at being poor when your neighbor is poor likewise.'"
Louis meditated this for a few moments, with an inquisitive glance directed to the paper, one end of which remained under the bolster.
"Then," said he, "it is impossible to comply with my demand for money, my lord cardinal, is it?"
"Absolutely, sire."
"Remember, this will secure me a future enemy, if he succeed in recovering his crown without my assistance."
"If your majesty only fears that, you may be quite at ease," replied Mazarin, eagerly.
"Very well, I say no more about it," exclaimed Louis XIV.
"Have I at least convinced you, sire?" placing his hand upon that of the young king.
"Perfectly."
"If there be anything else, ask it, sire; I shall most happy to grant it to you, having refused this."
"Anything else, my lord?"
"Why yes; am I not devoted body and soul to your majesty? Hola! Bernouin!--lights and guards for his majesty! His majesty is returning to his own chamber."
"Not yet, monsieur: since you place your good-will at my disposal, I will take advantage of it."
"For yourself, sire?" asked the cardinal, hoping that his niece was at length about to be named.
"No, monsieur, not for myself," replied Louis, "but still for my brother Charles."
The brow of Mazarin again became clouded, and he grumbled a few words that the king could not catch.
Instead of the hesitation with which he had accosted the cardinal a quarter of an hour before, there might be read in the eyes of the young king that will against which a struggle might be maintained, and which might be crushed by its own impotence, but which, at least, would preserve, like a wound in the depth of the heart, the remembrance of its defeat.
"This time, my lord cardinal, we have to deal with something more easily found than a million."
"Do you think so, sire?" said Mazarin, looking at the king with that penetrating eye which was accustomed to read to the bottom of hearts.
"Yes, I think so; and when you know the object of my request--"
"And do you think I do not know it, sire?"
"You know what remains for me to say to you?"
"Listen, sire; these are King Charles's own words--"
"Oh, impossible!"
"Listen. 'And if that miserly, beggarly Italian,' said he--"
"My lord cardinal!"
"That is the sense, if not the words. Eh! Good heavens! I wish him no ill on that account; one is biased by his passions. He said to you: 'If that vile Italian refuses the million we ask of him, sire,--if we are forced, for want of money, to renounce diplomacy, well, then, we will ask him to grant us five hundred gentlemen.'"
The king started, for the cardinal was only mistaken in the number.
"Is not that it, sire?" cried the minister, with a triumphant accent. "And then he added some fine words: he said, 'I have friends on the other side of the channel, and these friends only want a leader and a banner. When they see me, when they behold the banner of France, they will rally around me, for they will comprehend that I have your support. The colors of the French uniform will be worth as much to me as the million M. de Mazarin refuses us,'--for he was pretty well assured I should refuse him that million.--'I shall conquer with these five hundred gentlemen, sire, and all the honor will be yours.' Now, that is what he said, or to that purpose, was it not?--turning those plain words into brilliant metaphors and pompous images, for they are fine talkers in that family! The father talked even on the scaffold."
The perspiration of shame stood on the brow
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