The three musketeers
the threshold, he turned round, and seeing the hesitation of the young
man, “Come in!” cried he, “and if you have the good fortune to be
admitted to her Majesty’s presence, tell her what you have seen.”
Encouraged by this invitation, D’Artagnan followed the duke, who closed
the door after them. The two found themselves in a small chapel covered
with a tapestry of Persian silk worked with gold, and brilliantly
lighted with a vast number of candles. Over a species of altar, and
beneath a canopy of blue velvet, surmounted by white and red plumes,
was a full-length portrait of Anne of Austria, so perfect in its
resemblance that D’Artagnan uttered a cry of surprise on beholding it.
One might believe the queen was about to speak. On the altar, and
beneath the portrait, was the casket containing the diamond studs.
The duke approached the altar, knelt as a priest might have done before
a crucifix, and opened the casket. “There,” said he, drawing from the
casket a large bow of blue ribbon all sparkling with diamonds, “there
are the precious studs which I have taken an oath should be buried with
me. The queen gave them to me, the queen requires them again. Her will
be done, like that of God, in all things.”
Then, he began to kiss, one after the other, those dear studs with
which he was about to part. All at once he uttered a terrible cry.
“What is the matter?” exclaimed D’Artagnan, anxiously; “what has
happened to you, my Lord?”
“All is lost!” cried Buckingham, becoming as pale as a corpse; “two of
the studs are wanting, there are only ten.”
“Can you have lost them, my Lord, or do you think they have been
stolen?”
“They have been stolen,” replied the duke, “and it is the cardinal who
has dealt this blow. Hold; see! The ribbons which held them have been
cut with scissors.”
“If my Lord suspects they have been stolen, perhaps the person who
stole them still has them in his hands.”
“Wait, wait!” said the duke. “The only time I have worn these studs was
at a ball given by the king eight days ago at Windsor. The Comtesse de
Winter, with whom I had quarreled, became reconciled to me at that
ball. That reconciliation was nothing but the vengeance of a jealous
woman. I have never seen her from that day. The woman is an agent of
the cardinal.”
“He has agents, then, throughout the world?” cried D’Artagnan.
“Oh, yes,” said Buckingham, grating his teeth with rage. “Yes, he is a
terrible antagonist. But when is this ball to take place?”
“Monday next.”
“Monday next! Still five days before us. That’s more time than we want.
Patrick!” cried the duke, opening the door of the chapel, “Patrick!”
His confidential valet appeared.
“My jeweler and my secretary.”
The valet went out with a mute promptitude which showed him accustomed
to obey blindly and without reply.
But although the jeweler had been mentioned first, it was the secretary
who first made his appearance. This was simply because he lived in the
hôtel. He found Buckingham seated at a table in his bedchamber, writing
orders with his own hand.
“Mr. Jackson,” said he, “go instantly to the Lord Chancellor, and tell
him that I charge him with the execution of these orders. I wish them
to be promulgated immediately.”
“But, my Lord, if the Lord Chancellor interrogates me upon the motives
which may have led your Grace to adopt such an extraordinary measure,
what shall I reply?”
“That such is my pleasure, and that I answer for my will to no man.”
“Will that be the answer,” replied the secretary, smiling, “which he
must transmit to his Majesty if, by chance, his Majesty should have the
curiosity to know why no vessel is to leave any of the ports of Great
Britain?”
“You are right, Mr. Jackson,” replied Buckingham. “He will say, in that
case, to the king that I am determined on war, and that this measure is
my first act of hostility against France.”
The secretary bowed and retired.
“We are safe on that side,” said Buckingham, turning toward D’Artagnan.
“If the studs are not yet gone to Paris, they will not arrive till
after you.”
“How so?”
“I have just placed an embargo on all vessels at present in his
Majesty’s ports, and without particular permission, not one dare lift
an anchor.”
D’Artagnan looked with stupefaction at a man who thus employed the
unlimited power with which he was clothed by the confidence of a king
in the prosecution of his intrigues. Buckingham saw by the expression
of the young man’s face what was passing in his mind, and he smiled.
“Yes,” said he, “yes, Anne of Austria is my true queen. Upon a word
from her, I would betray my country, I would betray my king, I would
betray my God. She asked me not to send the Protestants of La Rochelle
the assistance I promised them; I have not done so. I broke my word, it
is true; but what signifies that? I obeyed my love; and have I not been
richly paid for that obedience? It was to that obedience I owe her
portrait.”
D’Artagnan was amazed to note by what fragile and unknown threads the
destinies of nations and the lives of men are suspended. He was lost in
these reflections when the goldsmith entered. He was an Irishman—one of
the most skillful of his craft, and who himself confessed that he
gained a hundred thousand livres a year by the Duke of Buckingham.
“Mr. O’Reilly,” said the duke, leading him into the chapel, “look at
these diamond studs, and tell me what they are worth apiece.”
The goldsmith cast a glance at the elegant manner in which they were
set, calculated, one with another, what the diamonds were worth, and
without hesitation said, “Fifteen hundred pistoles each, my Lord.”
“How many days would it require to make two studs exactly like them?
You see there are two wanting.”
“Eight days, my Lord.”
“I will give you three thousand pistoles apiece if I can have them by
the day after tomorrow.”
“My Lord, they shall be yours.”
“You are a jewel of a man, Mr. O’Reilly; but that is not all. These
studs cannot be trusted to anybody; it must be done in the palace.”
“Impossible, my Lord! There is no one but myself can so execute them
that one cannot tell the new from the old.”
“Therefore, my dear Mr. O’Reilly, you are my prisoner. And if you wish
ever to leave my palace, you cannot; so make the best of it. Name to me
such of your workmen as you need, and point out the tools they must
bring.”
The goldsmith knew the duke. He knew all objection would be useless,
and instantly determined how to act.
“May I be permitted to inform my wife?” said he.
“Oh, you may even see her if you like, my dear Mr. O’Reilly. Your
captivity shall be mild, be assured; and as every inconvenience
deserves its indemnification, here is, in addition to the price of the
studs, an order for a thousand pistoles, to make you forget the
annoyance I cause you.”
D’Artagnan could not get over the surprise created in him by this
minister, who thus open-handed, sported with men and millions.
As to the goldsmith, he wrote to his wife, sending her the order for
the thousand pistoles, and charging her to send him, in exchange, his
most skillful apprentice, an assortment of diamonds, of which he gave
the names and the weight, and the necessary tools.
Buckingham conducted the goldsmith to the chamber destined for him, and
which, at the end of half an hour, was transformed into a workshop.
Then he placed a sentinel at each door, with an order to admit nobody
upon any pretense but his _valet de chambre_, Patrick. We need not add
that the goldsmith, O’Reilly, and his assistant, were prohibited from
going out under any pretext. This point, settled, the duke turned to
D’Artagnan. “Now, my young friend,” said he, “England is all our own.
What do you wish for? What do you desire?”
“A bed, my Lord,” replied D’Artagnan. “At present, I confess, that is
the thing I stand most in need of.”
Buckingham gave D’Artagnan a chamber adjoining his own. He wished to
have the young man at hand—not that he at all mistrusted him, but for
the sake of having someone to whom he could constantly talk of the
queen.
In one hour after, the ordinance was published in London that no vessel
bound for France should leave port, not even the packet boat with
letters. In the eyes of everybody this was a declaration of war between
the two kingdoms.
On the day after the morrow, by eleven o’clock, the two diamond studs
were finished, and they were so completely imitated, so perfectly
alike, that Buckingham could not tell the new ones from the old ones,
and experts in such matters would have been deceived as he was. He
immediately called D’Artagnan. “Here,” said he to him, “are the diamond
studs that you came to bring; and be my witness that I have done all
that human power could do.”
“Be satisfied, my Lord, I will tell all that I have seen. But does your
Grace mean to give me the studs without the casket?”
“The casket would encumber you. Besides, the casket is the more
precious from being all that is left to me. You will say that I keep
it.”
“I will perform your commission, word for word, my Lord.”
“And now,” resumed Buckingham, looking earnestly at the young man, “how
shall I ever acquit myself of the debt I owe you?”
D’Artagnan blushed up to the whites of his eyes. He saw that the duke
was searching for a means of making him accept something and the idea
that the blood of his friends and himself was about to be paid for with
English gold was strangely repugnant to him.
“Let us understand each other, my Lord,” replied D’Artagnan, “and let
us make things clear beforehand in order that there may be no mistake.
I am in the service of the King and Queen of France, and form part of
the company of Monsieur Dessessart, who, as well as his brother-in-law,
Monsieur de Tréville, is particularly attached to their Majesties. What
I have done, then, has been for the queen, and not at all for your
Grace. And still further, it is very probable I should not have done
anything of this, if it had not been to make myself agreeable to
someone who is my lady, as the queen is yours.”
“Yes,” said the duke, smiling, “and I even believe that I know that
other person; it is—”
“My Lord, I have not named her!” interrupted the young man, warmly.
“That is true,” said the duke; “and it is to this person I am bound to
discharge my debt of gratitude.”
“You have said, my Lord; for truly, at this moment when there is
question of war, I confess to you that I see nothing in your Grace but
an Englishman, and consequently an enemy whom I should have much
greater pleasure in meeting on the field of battle than in the park at
Windsor or the corridors of the Louvre—all which, however, will not
prevent me from executing to the very point my commission or from
laying down my life, if there be need of it, to accomplish it; but I
repeat it to your Grace, without your having personally on that account
more to thank me for in this second interview than for what I did for
you in the first.”
“We say, ‘Proud as a Scotsman,’” murmured the Duke of Buckingham.
“And we say, ‘Proud as a Gascon,’” replied D’Artagnan. “The Gascons are
the Scots of France.”
D’Artagnan bowed to the duke, and was retiring.
“Well, are you going away in that manner? Where, and how?”
“That’s true!”
“Fore Gad, these Frenchmen have no consideration!”
“I had forgotten that England was an island, and that you were the king
of it.”
“Go to the riverside, ask for the brig _Sund_, and give this letter to
the captain; he will convey you to a little port, where certainly you
are not expected, and which is ordinarily only frequented by
fishermen.”
“The name of that port?”
“St. Valery; but listen. When you have arrived there you will go to a
mean tavern, without a name and without a sign—a mere fisherman’s hut.