Twenty years after
ardor, guarding Mazarin carefully. At noon they rode into the avenue of
Pierrefonds.
“Ah!” said Mousqueton, who had ridden by the side of D’Artagnan without
speaking a word on the journey, “you may think what you will, sir, but
I can breathe now for the first time since my departure from
Pierrefonds;” and he put his horse to a gallop to announce to the other
servants the arrival of Monsieur du Vallon and his friends.
“We are four of us,” said D’Artagnan; “we must relieve each other in
mounting guard over my lord and each of us must watch three hours at a
time. Athos is going to examine the castle, which it will be necessary
to render impregnable in case of siege; Porthos will see to the
provisions and Aramis to the troops of the garrison. That is to say,
Athos will be chief engineer, Porthos purveyor-in-general, and Aramis
governor of the fortress.”
Meanwhile, they gave up to Mazarin the handsomest room in the château.
“Gentlemen,” he said, when he was in his room, “you do not expect, I
presume, to keep me here a long time _incognito?_”
“No, my lord,” replied the Gascon; “on the contrary, we think of
announcing very soon that we have you here.”
“Then you will be besieged.”
“We expect it.”
“And what shall you do?”
“Defend ourselves. Were the late Cardinal Richelieu alive he would tell
you a certain story of the Bastion Saint Gervais, which we four, with
our four lackeys and twelve dead men, held out against a whole army.”
“Such feats, sir, are done once—and never repeated.”
“However, nowadays there’s no need of so much heroism. To-morrow the
army of Paris will be summoned, the day after it will be here! The
field of battle, instead, therefore, of being at Saint Denis or at
Charenton, will be near Compiègne or Villars-Cotterets.”
“The prince will vanquish you, as he has always done.”
“’Tis possible; my lord; but before an engagement ensues we shall move
your eminence to _another_ castle belonging to our friend Du Vallon,
who has _three_. We will not expose your eminence to the chances of
war.”
“Come,” answered Mazarin, “I see it will be necessary for me to
capitulate.”
“Before a siege?”
“Yes; the conditions will be better than afterward.”
“Ah, my lord! as to conditions, you would soon see how moderate and
reasonable we are!”
“Come, now, what are your conditions?”
“Rest yourself first, my lord, and we—we will reflect.”
“I do not need rest, gentlemen; I need to know whether I am among
enemies or friends.”
“Friends, my lord! friends!”
“Well, then, tell me at once what you want, that I may see if any
arrangement be possible. Speak, Comte de la Fère!”
“My lord,” replied Athos, “for myself I have nothing to demand. For
France, were I to specify my wishes, I should have too much. I beg you
to excuse me and propose to the chevalier.”
And Athos, bowing, retired and remained leaning against the
mantelpiece, a spectator of the scene.
“Speak, then, chevalier!” said the cardinal. “What do you want? Nothing
ambiguous, if you please. Be clear, short and precise.”
“As for me,” replied Aramis, “I have in my pocket the very programme of
the conditions which the deputation—of which I formed one—went
yesterday to Saint Germain to impose on you. Let us consider first the
ancient rights. The demands in that programme _must_ be granted.”
“We were almost agreed on those,” replied Mazarin; “let us pass on to
private and personal stipulations.”
“You suppose, then, that there _are_ some?” said Aramis, smiling.
“I do not suppose that you will all be quite so disinterested as
Monsieur de la Fère,” replied the cardinal, bowing to Athos.
“My lord, you are right, and I am glad to see that you do justice to
the count at last. The count has a mind above vulgar desires and
earthly passions. He is a proud soul—he is a man by himself! You are
right—he is worth us all, and we avow it to you!”
“Aramis,” said Athos, “are you jesting?”
“No, no, dear friend; I state only what we all know. You are right; it
is not you alone this matter concerns, but my lord and his unworthy
servant, myself.”
“Well, then, what do you require besides the general conditions before
recited?”
“I require, my lord, that Normandy should be given to Madame de
Longueville, with five hundred thousand francs and full absolution. I
require that his majesty should deign to be godfather to the child she
has just borne; and that my lord, after having been present at the
christening, should go to proffer his homage to our Holy Father the
Pope.”
“That is, you wish me to lay aside my ministerial functions, to quit
France and be an exile.”
“I wish his eminence to become pope on the first opportunity, allowing
me then the right of demanding full indulgences for myself and my
friends.”
Mazarin made a grimace which was quite indescribable, and then turned
to D’Artagnan.
“And you, sir?” he said.
“I, my lord,” answered the Gascon, “I differ from Monsieur d’Herblay
entirely as to the last point, though I agree with him on the first.
Far from wishing my lord to quit Paris, I hope he will stay there and
continue to be prime minister, as he is a great statesman. I shall try
also to help him to down the Fronde, but on one condition—that he
sometimes remembers the king’s faithful servants and gives the first
vacant company of musketeers to a man that I could name. And you,
Monsieur du Vallon——”
“Yes, you, sir! Speak, if you please,” said Mazarin.
“As for me,” answered Porthos, “I wish my lord cardinal, in order to do
honor to my house, which gives him an asylum, would in remembrance of
this adventure erect my estate into a barony, with a promise to confer
that order on one of my particular friends, whenever his majesty next
creates peers.”
“You know, sir, that before receiving the order one must submit
proofs.”
“My friends will submit them. Besides, should it be necessary,
monseigneur will show him how that formality may be avoided.”
Mazarin bit his lips; the blow was direct and he replied rather dryly:
“All this appears to me to be ill conceived, disjointed, gentlemen; for
if I satisfy some I shall displease others. If I stay in Paris I cannot
go to Rome; if I became pope I could not continue to be prime minister;
and it is only by continuing prime minister that I can make Monsieur
d’Artagnan a captain and Monsieur du Vallon a baron.”
“True,” said Aramis, “so, as I am in a minority, I withdraw my
proposition, so far as it relates to the voyage to Rome and
monseigneur’s resignation.”
“I am to remain minister, then?” said Mazarin.
“You remain minister; that is understood,” said D’Artagnan; “France
needs you.”
“And I desist from my pretensions,” said Aramis. “His eminence will
continue to be prime minister and her majesty’s favorite, if he will
grant to me and my friends what we demand for France and for
ourselves.”
“Occupy yourselves with your own affairs, gentlemen, and let France
settle matters as she will with me,” resumed Mazarin.
“Ho! ho!” replied Aramis. “The Frondeurs will have a treaty and your
eminence must sign it before us, promising at the same time to obtain
the queen’s consent to it.”
“I can answer only for myself,” said Mazarin. “I cannot answer for the
queen. Suppose her majesty refuses?”
“Oh!” said D’Artagnan, “monseigneur knows very well that her majesty
refuses him nothing.”
“Here, monseigneur,” said Aramis, “is the treaty proposed by the
deputation of Frondeurs. Will your eminence please read and examine?”
“I am acquainted with it.”
“Sign it, then.”
“Reflect, gentlemen, that a signature given under circumstances like
the present might be regarded as extorted by violence.”
“Monseigneur will be at hand to testify that it was freely given.”
“Suppose I refuse?”
“Then,” said D’Artagnan, “your eminence must expect the consequences of
a refusal.”
“Would you dare to touch a cardinal?”
“You have dared, my lord, to imprison her majesty’s musketeers.”
“The queen will revenge me, gentlemen.”
“I do not think so, although inclination might lead her to do so, but
we shall take your eminence to Paris, and the Parisians will defend
us.”
“How uneasy they must be at this moment at Rueil and Saint Germain,”
said Aramis. “How they must be asking, ‘Where is the cardinal?’ ‘What
has become of the minister?’ ‘Where has the favorite gone?’ How they
must be looking for monseigneur in all corners! What comments must be
made; and if the Fronde knows that monseigneur has disappeared, how the
Fronde must triumph!”
“It is frightful,” murmured Mazarin.
“Sign the treaty, then, monseigneur,” said Aramis.
“Suppose the queen should refuse to ratify it?”
“Ah! nonsense!” cried D’Artagnan, “I can manage so that her majesty
will receive me well; I know an excellent method.”
“What?”
“I shall take her majesty the letter in which you tell her that the
finances are exhausted.”
“And then?” asked Mazarin, turning pale.
“When I see her majesty embarrassed, I shall conduct her to Rueil, make
her enter the orangery and show her a certain spring which turns a
box.”
“Enough, sir,” muttered the cardinal, “you have said enough; where is
the treaty?”
“Here it is,” replied Aramis. “Sign, my lord,” and he gave him a pen.
Mazarin arose, walked some moments, thoughtful, but not dejected.
“And when I have signed,” he said, “what is to be my guarantee?”
“My word of honor, sir,” said Athos.
Mazarin started, turned toward the Comte de la Fère, and looking for an
instant at that grand and honest countenance, took the pen.
“It is sufficient, count,” he said, and signed the treaty.
“And now, Monsieur d’Artagnan,” he said, “prepare to set off for Saint
Germain and take a letter from me to the queen.”
Chapter LXXXVIII.
Shows how with Threat and Pen more is effected than by the Sword.
D’Artagnan knew his part well; he was aware that opportunity has a
forelock only for him who will take it and he was not a man to let it
go by him without seizing it. He soon arranged a prompt and certain
manner of traveling, by sending relays of horses to Chantilly, so that
he might be in Paris in five or six hours. But before setting out he
reflected that for a lad of intelligence and experience he was in a
singular predicament, since he was proceeding toward uncertainty and
leaving certainty behind him.
“In fact,” he said, as he was about to mount and start on his dangerous
mission, “Athos, for generosity, is a hero of romance; Porthos has an
excellent disposition, but is easily influenced; Aramis has a
hieroglyphic countenance, always illegible. What will come out of those
three elements when I am no longer present to combine them? The
deliverance of the cardinal, perhaps. Now, the deliverance of the
cardinal would be the ruin of our hopes; and our hopes are thus far the
only recompense we have for labors in comparison with which those of
Hercules were pygmean.”
He went to find Aramis.
“You, my dear Chevalier d’Herblay,” he said, “are the Fronde incarnate.
Mistrust Athos, therefore, who will not prosecute the affairs of any
one, even his own. Mistrust Porthos, especially, who, to please the
count whom he regards as God on earth, will assist him in contriving
Mazarin’s escape, if Mazarin has the wit to weep or play the
chivalric.”
Aramis smiled; his smile was at once cunning and resolute.
“Fear nothing,” he said; “I have my conditions to impose. My private
ambition tends only to the profit of him who has justice on his side.”
“Good!” thought D’Artagnan: “in this direction I am satisfied.” He
pressed Aramis’s hand and went in search of Porthos.
“Friend,” he said, “you have worked so hard with me toward building up
our fortune, that, at the moment when we are about to reap the fruits