Twenty years after
those years in the Bastile——”
“Ah! _mon Dieu!_ my dear Monsieur de Rochefort! do you absolutely think
that the Palais Royal is the abode of gayety? No. We have had great
annoyances there. As for me, I play my game squarely, fairly, and above
board, as I always do. Let us come to some conclusion. Are you one of
us, Monsieur de Rochefort?”
“I am very desirous of being so, my lord, but I am totally in the dark
about everything. In the Bastile one talks politics only with soldiers
and jailers, and you have not an idea, my lord, how little is known of
what is going on by people of that sort; I am of Monsieur de
Bassompierre’s party. Is he still one of the seventeen peers of
France?”
“He is dead, sir; a great loss. His devotion to the queen was
boundless; men of loyalty are scarce.”
“I think so, forsooth,” said Rochefort, “and when you find any of them,
you march them off to the Bastile. However, there are plenty in the
world, but you don’t look in the right direction for them, my lord.”
“Indeed! explain to me. Ah! my dear Monsieur de Rochefort, how much you
must have learned during your intimacy with the late cardinal! Ah! he
was a great man.”
“Will your eminence be angry if I read you a lesson?”
“I! never! you know you may say _anything_ to me. I try to be beloved,
not feared.”
“Well, there is on the wall of my cell, scratched with a nail, a
proverb, which says, ‘Like master, like servant.’”
“Pray, what does that mean?”
“It means that Monsieur de Richelieu was able to find trusty servants,
dozens and dozens of them.”
“He! the point aimed at by every poniard! Richelieu, who passed his
life in warding off blows which were forever aimed at him!”
“But he _did_ ward them off,” said De Rochefort, “and the reason was,
that though he had bitter enemies he possessed also true friends. I
have known persons,” he continued—for he thought he might avail himself
of the opportunity of speaking of D’Artagnan—“who by their sagacity and
address have deceived the penetration of Cardinal Richelieu; who by
their valor have got the better of his guards and spies; persons
without money, without support, without credit, yet who have preserved
to the crowned head its crown and made the cardinal crave pardon.”
“But those men you speak of,” said Mazarin, smiling inwardly on seeing
Rochefort approach the point to which he was leading him, “those men
were not devoted to the cardinal, for they contended against him.”
“No; in that case they would have met with more fitting reward. They
had the misfortune to be devoted to that very queen for whom just now
you were seeking servants.”
“But how is it that you know so much of these matters?”
“I know them because the men of whom I speak were at that time my
enemies; because they fought against me; because I did them all the
harm I could and they returned it to the best of their ability; because
one of them, with whom I had most to do, gave me a pretty sword-thrust,
now about seven years ago, the third that I received from the same
hand; it closed an old account.”
“Ah!” said Mazarin, with admirable suavity, “could I but find such
men!”
“My lord, there has stood for six years at your very door a man such as
I describe, and during those six years he has been unappreciated and
unemployed by you.”
“Who is it?”
“It is Monsieur d’Artagnan.”
“That Gascon!” cried Mazarin, with well acted surprise.
“‘That Gascon’ has saved a queen and made Monsieur de Richelieu confess
that in point of talent, address and political skill, to him he was
only a tyro.”
“Really?”
“It is as I have the honor of telling it to your excellency.”
“Tell me a little about it, my dear Monsieur de Rochefort.”
“That is somewhat difficult, my lord,” said Rochefort, with a smile.
“Then he will tell it me himself.”
“I doubt it, my lord.”
“Why do you doubt it?”
“Because the secret does not belong to him; because, as I have told
you, it has to do with a great queen.”
“And he was alone in achieving an enterprise like that?”
“No, my lord, he had three colleagues, three brave men, men such as you
were wishing for just now.”
“And were these four men attached to each other, true in heart, really
united?”
“As if they had been one man—as if their four hearts had pulsated in
one breast.”
“You pique my curiosity, dear Rochefort; pray tell me the whole story.”
“That is impossible; but I will tell you a true story, my lord.”
“Pray do so, I delight in stories,” cried the cardinal.
“Listen, then,” returned Rochefort, as he spoke endeavoring to read in
that subtle countenance the cardinal’s motive. “Once upon a time there
lived a queen—a powerful monarch—who reigned over one of the greatest
kingdoms of the universe; and a minister; and this minister wished much
to injure the queen, whom once he had loved too well. (Do not try, my
lord, you cannot guess who it is; all this happened long before you
came into the country where this queen reigned.) There came to the
court an ambassador so brave, so magnificent, so elegant, that every
woman lost her heart to him; and the queen had even the indiscretion to
give him certain ornaments so rare that they could never be replaced by
any like them.
“As these ornaments were given by the king the minister persuaded his
majesty to insist upon the queen’s appearing in them as part of her
jewels at a ball which was soon to take place. There is no occasion to
tell you, my lord, that the minister knew for a fact that these
ornaments had sailed away with the ambassador, who was far away, beyond
seas. This illustrious queen had fallen low as the least of her
subjects—fallen from her high estate.”
“Indeed!”
“Well, my lord, four men resolved to save her. These four men were not
princes, neither were they dukes, neither were they men in power; they
were not even rich. They were four honest soldiers, each with a good
heart, a good arm and a sword at the service of those who wanted it.
They set out. The minister knew of their departure and had planted
people on the road to prevent them ever reaching their destination.
Three of them were overwhelmed and disabled by numerous assailants; one
of them alone arrived at the port, having either killed or wounded
those who wished to stop him. He crossed the sea and brought back the
set of ornaments to the great queen, who was able to wear them on her
shoulder on the appointed day; and this very nearly ruined the
minister. What do you think of that exploit, my lord?”
“It is magnificent!” said Mazarin, thoughtfully.
“Well, I know of ten such men.”
Mazarin made no reply; he reflected.
Five or six minutes elapsed.
“You have nothing more to ask of me, my lord?” said Rochefort.
“Yes. And you say that Monsieur d’Artagnan was one of those four men?”
“He led the enterprise.”
“And who were the others?”
“I leave it to Monsieur d’Artagnan to name them, my lord. They were his
friends and not mine. He alone would have any influence with them; I do
not even know them under their true names.”
“You suspect me, Monsieur de Rochefort; I want him and you and all to
aid me.”
“Begin with me, my lord; for after five or six years of imprisonment it
is natural to feel some curiosity as to one’s destination.”
“You, my dear Monsieur de Rochefort, shall have the post of confidence;
you shall go to Vincennes, where Monsieur de Beaufort is confined; you
will guard him well for me. Well, what is the matter?”
“The matter is that you have proposed to me what is impossible,” said
Rochefort, shaking his head with an air of disappointment.
“What! impossible? And why is it impossible?”
“Because Monsieur de Beaufort is one of my friends, or rather, I am one
of his. Have you forgotten, my lord, that it is he who answered for me
to the queen?”
“Since then Monsieur de Beaufort has become an enemy of the State.”
“That may be, my lord; but since I am neither king nor queen nor
minister, he is not my enemy and I cannot accept your offer.”
“This, then, is what you call devotion! I congratulate you. Your
devotion does not commit you too far, Monsieur de Rochefort.”
“And then, my lord,” continued Rochefort, “you understand that to
emerge from the Bastile in order to enter Vincennes is only to change
one’s prison.”
“Say at once that you are on the side of Monsieur de Beaufort; that
will be the most sincere line of conduct,” said Mazarin.
“My lord, I have been so long shut up, that I am only of one party—I am
for fresh air. Employ me in any other way; employ me even actively, but
let it be on the high roads.”
“My dear Monsieur de Rochefort,” Mazarin replied in a tone of raillery,
“you think yourself still a young man; your spirit is that of the
phoenix, but your strength fails you. Believe me, you ought now to take
a rest. Here!”
“You decide, then, nothing about me, my lord?”
“On the contrary, I have come to a decision.”
Bernouin came into the room.
“Call an officer of justice,” he said; “and stay close to me,” he
added, in a low tone.
The officer entered. Mazarin wrote a few words, which he gave to this
man; then he bowed.
“Adieu, Monsieur de Rochefort,” he said.
Rochefort bent low.
“I see, my lord, I am to be taken back to the Bastile.”
“You are sagacious.”
“I shall return thither, my lord, but it is a mistake on your part not
to employ me.”
“You? the friend of my greatest foes? Don’t suppose that you are the
only person who can serve me, Monsieur de Rochefort. I shall find many
men as able as you are.”
“I wish you may, my lord,” replied De Rochefort.
He was then reconducted by the little staircase, instead of passing
through the ante-chamber where D’Artagnan was waiting. In the courtyard
the carriage and the four musketeers were ready, but he looked around
in vain for his friend.
“Ah!” he muttered to himself, “this changes the situation, and if there
is still a crowd of people in the streets we will try to show Mazarin
that we are still, thank God, good for something else than keeping
guard over a prisoner;” and he jumped into the carriage with the
alacrity of a man of five-and-twenty.
Chapter IV.
Anne of Austria at the Age of Forty-six.
When left alone with Bernouin, Mazarin was for some minutes lost in
thought. He had gained much information, but not enough. Mazarin was a
cheat at the card-table. This is a detail preserved to us by Brienne.
He called it using his advantages. He now determined not to begin the
game with D’Artagnan till he knew completely all his adversary’s cards.
“My lord, have you any commands?” asked Bernouin.
“Yes, yes,” replied Mazarin. “Light me; I am going to the queen.”
Bernouin took up a candlestick and led the way.
There was a secret communication between the cardinal’s apartments and
those of the queen; and through this corridor* Mazarin passed whenever
he wished to visit Anne of Austria.
* This secret passage is still to be seen in the Palais Royal.
In the bedroom in which this passage ended, Bernouin encountered Madame
de Beauvais, like himself intrusted with the secret of these
subterranean love affairs; and Madame de Beauvais undertook to prepare
Anne of Austria, who was in her oratory with the young king, Louis
XIV., to receive the cardinal.
Anne, reclining in a large easy-chair, her head supported by her hand,
her elbow resting on a table, was looking at her son, who was turning
over the leaves of a large book filled with pictures. This celebrated
woman fully understood the art of being dull with dignity. It was her
practice to pass hours either in her oratory or in her room, without
either reading or praying.
When Madame de Beauvais appeared at the door and announced the
cardinal, the child, who had been absorbed in the pages of Quintus