Twenty Years After by Alexandre Dumas (epub read online books .txt) 📖

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 marechal.

“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, marechal?” asked the queen.

“To give your majesty’s reply to those who await it.”

“Stay, marechal; 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 marechal,” 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 marechal 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 marechal 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 this demonstration and who are, perhaps, the cause of it; but, wait, wait! the king’s authority will put all this to rights.”

“Was it to tell me that, madame,” coldly replied Gondy, “that your majesty admitted me to the honor of entering your presence?”

“No, my dear coadjutor,” said Mazarin; “it was to ask your advice in the unhappy dilemma in which we find ourselves.”

“Is it true,” asked Gondy, feigning astonishment, “that her majesty summoned me to ask for my opinion?”

“Yes,” said the queen, “it is requested.”

The coadjutor bowed.

“Your majesty wishes, then----”

“You to say what you would do in her place,” Mazarin hastened to reply.

The coadjutor looked at the queen, who replied by a sign in the affirmative.

“Were I in her majesty’s place,” said Gondy, coldly, “I should not hesitate; I should release Broussel.”

“And if I do not give him up, what think you will be the result?” exclaimed the queen.

“I believe that not a stone in Paris will remain unturned,” put in the marechal.

“It was not your opinion that I asked,” said the queen, sharply, without even turning around.

“If it is I whom your majesty interrogates,” replied the coadjutor in the same calm manner, “I reply that I hold monsieur le marechal’s opinion in every respect.”

The color mounted to the queen’s face; her fine blue eyes seemed to start out of her head and her carmine lips, compared by all the poets of the day to a pomegranate in flower, were trembling with anger. Mazarin himself, who was well accustomed to the domestic outbreaks of this disturbed household, was alarmed.

“Give up Broussel!” she cried; “fine counsel, indeed. Upon my word! one can easily see it comes from a priest.”

Gondy remained firm, and the abuse of the day seemed to glide over his head as the sarcasms of the evening before had done; but hatred and revenge were accumulating in his heart silently and drop by drop. He looked coldly at the queen, who nudged Mazarin to make him say something in his turn.

Mazarin, according to his custom, was thinking much and saying little.

“Ho! ho!” said he, “good advice, advice of a friend. I, too, would give up that good Monsieur Broussel, dead or alive, and all would be at an end.”

“If you yield him dead, all will indeed be at an end, my lord, but quite otherwise than you mean.”

“Did I say ‘dead or alive?’” replied Mazarin. “It was only a way of speaking. You know I am not familiar with the French language, which you, monsieur le coadjuteur, both speak and write so well.”

(“This is a council of state,” D’Artagnan remarked to Porthos; “but we held better ones at La Rochelle, with Athos and Aramis.”

“At the Saint Gervais bastion,” said Porthos.

“There and elsewhere.”)

The coadjutor let the storm pass over his head and resumed, still with the same tranquillity:

“Madame, if the opinion I have submitted to you does not please you it is doubtless because you have better counsels to follow. I know too well the wisdom of the queen and that of her advisers to suppose that they will leave the capital long in trouble that may lead to a revolution.”

“Thus, then, it is your opinion,” said Anne of Austria, with a sneer and biting her lips with rage, “that yesterday’s riot, which to-day is already a rebellion, to-morrow may become a revolution?”

“Yes, madame,” replied the coadjutor, gravely.

“But if I am to believe you, sir, the people seem to have thrown off all restraint.”

“It is a bad year for kings,” said Gondy, shaking his head; “look at England, madame.”

“Yes; but fortunately we have no Oliver Cromwell in France,” replied the queen.

“Who knows?” said Gondy; “such men are like thunderbolts--one recognizes them only when they have struck.”

Every one shuddered and there was a moment of silence, during which the queen pressed her hand to her side, evidently to still the beatings of her heart.

(“Porthos,” murmured D’Artagnan, “look well at that priest.”

“Yes,” said Porthos, “I see him. What then?”

“Well, he is a man.”

Porthos looked at D’Artagnan in astonishment. Evidently he did not understand his meaning.)

“Your majesty,” continued the coadjutor, pitilessly, “is about to take such measures as seem good to you, but I foresee that they will be violent and such as will still further exasperate the rioters.”

“In that case, you, monsieur le coadjuteur, who have such power over them and are at the same time friendly to us,” said the queen, ironically, “will quiet them by bestowing your blessing upon them.”

“Perhaps it will be too late,” said Gondy, still unmoved; “perhaps I shall have lost all influence; while by giving up Broussel your majesty will strike at the root of the sedition and will gain the right to punish severely any revival of the revolt.”

“Have I not, then, that right?” cried the queen.

“If you have it, use it,” replied Gondy.

(“Peste!” said D’Artagnan to Porthos. “There is a man after my own heart. Oh! if he were minister and I were his D’Artagnan, instead of belonging to that beast of a Mazarin, mordieu! what fine things we would do together!”

“Yes,” said Porthos.)

The queen made a sign for every one, except Mazarin, to quit the room; and Gondy bowed, as if to leave with the rest.

“Stay, sir,” said Anne to him.

“Good,” thought Gondy, “she is going to yield.”

(“She is going to have him killed,” said D’Artagnan to Porthos, “but at all events it shall not be by me. I swear to Heaven, on the contrary, that if they fall upon him I will fall upon them.”

“And I, too,” said Porthos.)

“Good,” muttered Mazarin, sitting down, “we shall soon see something startling.”

The queen’s eyes followed the retreating figures and when the last had closed the door she turned away. It was evident that she was making unnatural efforts to subdue her anger; she fanned herself, smelled at her vinaigrette and walked up and down. Gondy, who began to feel uneasy, examined the tapestry with his eyes, touched the coat of mail which he wore under his long gown and felt from time to time to see if the handle of a good Spanish dagger, which was hidden under his cloak, was well within reach.

“And now,” at last said the queen, “now that we are alone, repeat your counsel, monsieur le coadjuteur.”

“It is this, madame: that you should appear to have reflected, and publicly acknowledge an error, which constitutes the extra strength of a strong government; release Broussel from prison and give him back to the people.”

“Oh!” cried Anne, “to humble myself thus! Am I, or am I not, the queen? This screaming mob, are they, or are they not, my subjects? Have I friends? Have I guards? Ah! by Notre Dame! as Queen Catherine used to say,” continued she, excited by her own words, “rather than give up this infamous Broussel to them I will strangle him with my own hands!”

And she sprang toward Gondy, whom assuredly at that moment she hated more than Broussel, with outstretched arms. The coadjutor remained immovable and not a muscle of his face was discomposed; only his glance flashed like a sword in returning the furious looks of the queen.

(“He were a dead man” said the Gascon, “if there were still a Vitry at the court and if Vitry entered at this moment; but for my part, before he could reach the good prelate I