Twenty years after
“So much the worse for them; I shall pass over them.”
“And you will place the king and queen in safety also, at Saint
Germain?”
“Yes.”
“On your life?”
“On my life.”
“You are a hero, my friend,” said Mazarin, gazing at the musketeer with
admiration.
D’Artagnan smiled.
“And I?” asked Mazarin, after a moment’s silence.
“How? and you, my lord?”
“If I wish to leave?”
“That would be much more difficult.”
“Why so?”
“Your eminence might be recognized.”
“Even under this disguise?” asked Mazarin, raising a cloak which
covered an arm-chair, upon which lay a complete dress for an officer,
of pearl-gray and red, entirely embroidered with silver.
“If your eminence is disguised it will be almost easy.”
“Ah!” said Mazarin, breathing more freely.
“But it will be necessary for your eminence to do what the other day
you declared you should have done in our place—cry, ‘Down with
Mazarin!’”
“I will: ‘Down with Mazarin’”
“In French, in good French, my lord, take care of your accent; they
killed six thousand Angevins in Sicily because they pronounced Italian
badly. Take care that the French do not take their revenge on you for
the Sicilian vespers.”
“I will do my best.”
“The streets are full of armed men,” continued D’Artagnan. “Are you
sure that no one is aware of the queen’s project?”
Mazarin reflected.
“This affair would give a fine opportunity for a traitor, my lord; the
chance of being attacked would be an excuse for everything.”
Mazarin shuddered, but he reflected that a man who had the least
intention to betray would not warn first.
“And therefore,” added he, quietly, “I have not confidence in every
one; the proof of which is, that I have fixed upon you to escort me.”
“Shall you not go with the queen?”
“No,” replied Mazarin.
“Then you will start after the queen?”
“No,” said Mazarin again.
“Ah!” said D’Artagnan, who began to understand.
“Yes,” continued the cardinal. “I have my plan. With the queen I double
her risk; after the queen her departure would double mine; then, the
court once safe, I might be forgotten. The great are often ungrateful.”
“Very true,” said D’Artagnan, fixing his eyes, in spite of himself, on
the queen’s diamond, which Mazarin wore on his finger. Mazarin followed
the direction of his eyes and gently turned the hoop of the ring
inside.
“I wish,” he said, with his cunning smile, “to prevent them from being
ungrateful to me.”
“It is but Christian charity,” replied D’Artagnan, “not to lead one’s
neighbors into temptation.”
“It is exactly for that reason,” said Mazarin, “that I wish to start
_before_ them.”
D’Artagnan smiled—he was just the man to understand the astute Italian.
Mazarin saw the smile and profited by the moment.
“You will begin, therefore, by taking me first out of Paris, will you
not, my dear M. d’Artagnan?”
“A difficult commission, my lord,” replied D’Artagnan, resuming his
serious manner.
“But,” said Mazarin, “you did not make so many difficulties with regard
to the king and queen.”
“The king and the queen are my king and queen,” replied the musketeer,
“my life is theirs and I must give it for them. If they ask it what
have I to say?”
“That is true,” murmured Mazarin, in a low tone, “but as thy life is
not mine I suppose I must buy it, must I not?” and sighing deeply he
began to turn the hoop of his ring outside again. D’Artagnan smiled.
These two men met at one point and that was, cunning; had they been
actuated equally by courage, the one would have done great things for
the other.
“But, also,” said Mazarin, “you must understand that if I ask this
service from you it is with the intention of being grateful.”
“Is it still only an intention, your eminence?” asked D’Artagnan.
“Stay,” said Mazarin, drawing the ring from his finger, “my dear
D’Artagnan, there is a diamond which belonged to you formerly, it is
but just it should return to you; take it, I pray.”
D’Artagnan spared Mazarin the trouble of insisting, and after looking
to see if the stone was the same and assuring himself of the purity of
its water, he took it and passed it on his finger with indescribable
pleasure.
“I valued it much,” said Mazarin, giving a last look at it;
“nevertheless, I give it to you with great pleasure.”
“And I, my lord,” said D’Artagnan, “accept it as it is given. Come, let
us speak of your little affairs. You wish to leave before everybody and
at what hour?”
“At ten o’clock.”
“And the queen, at what time is it her wish to start?”
“At midnight.”
“Then it is possible. I can get you out of Paris and leave you beyond
the _barrière_, and can return for her.”
“Capital; but how will you get me out of Paris?”
“Oh! as to that, you must leave it to me.”
“I give you absolute power, therefore; take as large an escort as you
like.”
D’Artagnan shook his head.
“It seems to me, however,” said Mazarin, “the safest method.”
“Yes, for you, my lord, but not for the queen; you must leave it to me
and give me the entire direction of the undertaking.”
“Nevertheless——”
“Or find some one else,” continued D’Artagnan, turning his back.
“Oh!” muttered Mazarin, “I do believe he is going off with the diamond!
M. d’Artagnan, my dear M. d’Artagnan,” he called out in a coaxing
voice, “will you answer for everything?”
“I will answer for _nothing_. I will do my best.”
“Well, then, let us go—I must trust to you.”
“It is very fortunate,” said D’Artagnan to himself.
“You will be here at half-past nine.”
“And I shall find your eminence ready?”
“Certainly, quite ready.”
“Well, then, it is a settled thing; and now, my lord, will you obtain
for me an audience with the queen?”
“For what purpose?”
“I wish to receive her majesty’s commands from her own lips.”
“She desired me to give them to you.”
“She may have forgotten something.”
“You really wish to see her?”
“It is indispensable, my lord.”
Mazarin hesitated for one instant, but D’Artagnan was firm.
“Come, then,” said the minister; “I will conduct you to her, but
remember, not one word of our conversation.”
“What has passed between us concerns ourselves alone, my lord,” replied
D’Artagnan.
“Swear to be mute.”
“I never swear, my lord, I say yes or no; and, as I am a gentleman, I
keep my word.”
“Come, then, I see that I must trust unreservedly to you.”
“Believe me, my lord, it will be your best plan.”
“Come,” said Mazarin, conducting D’Artagnan into the queen’s oratory
and desiring him to wait there. He did not wait long, for in five
minutes the queen entered in full gala costume. Thus dressed she
scarcely appeared thirty-five years of age. She was still exceedingly
handsome.
“It is you, Monsieur D’Artagnan,” she said, smiling graciously; “I
thank you for having insisted on seeing me.”
“I ought to ask your majesty’s pardon, but I wished to receive your
commands from your own mouth.”
“Do you accept the commission which I have intrusted to you?”
“With gratitude.”
“Very well, be here at midnight.”
“I will not fail.”
“Monsieur d’Artagnan,” continued the queen, “I know your
disinterestedness too well to speak of my own gratitude at such a
moment, but I swear to you that I shall not forget this second service
as I forgot the first.”
“Your majesty is free to forget or to remember, as it pleases you; and
I know not what you mean,” said D’Artagnan, bowing.
“Go, sir,” said the queen, with her most bewitching smile, “go and
return at midnight.”
And D’Artagnan retired, but as he passed out he glanced at the curtain
through which the queen had entered and at the bottom of the tapestry
he remarked the tip of a velvet slipper.
“Good,” thought he; “Mazarin has been listening to discover whether I
betrayed him. In truth, that Italian puppet does not deserve the
services of an honest man.”
D’Artagnan was not less exact to his appointment and at half-past nine
o’clock he entered the ante-room.
He found the cardinal dressed as an officer, and he looked very well in
that costume, which, as we have already said, he wore elegantly; only
he was very pale and trembled slightly.
“Quite alone?” he asked.
“Yes, my lord.”
“And that worthy Monsieur du Vallon, are we not to enjoy his society?”
“Certainly, my lord; he is waiting in his carriage at the gate of the
garden of the Palais Royal.”
“And we start in his carriage, then?”
“Yes, my lord.”
“And with us no other escort but you two?”
“Is it not enough? One of us would suffice.”
“Really, my dear Monsieur d’Artagnan,” said the cardinal, “your
coolness startles me.”
“I should have thought, on the contrary, that it ought to have inspired
you with confidence.”
“And Bernouin—do I not take him with me?”
“There is no room for him, he will rejoin your eminence.”
“Let us go,” said Mazarin, “since everything must be done as you wish.”
“My lord, there is time to draw back,” said D’Artagnan, “and your
eminence is perfectly free.”
“Not at all, not at all,” said Mazarin; “let us be off.”
And so they descended the private stair, Mazarin leaning on the arm of
D’Artagnan a hand the musketeer felt trembling. At last, after crossing
the courts of the Palais Royal, where there still remained some of the
conveyances of late guests, they entered the garden and reached the
little gate. Mazarin attempted to open it by a key which he took from
his pocket, but with such shaking fingers that he could not find the
keyhole.
“Give it to me,” said D’Artagnan, who when the gate was open deposited
the key in his pocket, reckoning upon returning by that gate.
The steps were already down and the door open. Mousqueton stood at the
door and Porthos was inside the carriage.
“Mount, my lord,” said D’Artagnan to Mazarin, who sprang into the
carriage without waiting for a second bidding. D’Artagnan followed him,
and Mousqueton, having closed the door, mounted behind the carriage
with many groans. He had made some difficulties about going, under
pretext that he still suffered from his wound, but D’Artagnan had said
to him:
“Remain if you like, my dear Monsieur Mouston, but I warn you that
Paris will be burnt down to-night;” upon which Mousqueton had declared,
without asking anything further, that he was ready to follow his master
and Monsieur d’Artagnan to the end of the world.
The carriage started at a measured pace, without betraying by the
slightest sign that it contained people in a hurry. The cardinal wiped
his forehead with his handkerchief and looked around him. On his left
was Porthos, whilst D’Artagnan was on his right; each guarded a door
and served as a rampart to him on either side. Before him, on the front
seat, lay two pairs of pistols—one in front of Porthos and the other of
D’Artagnan. About a hundred paces from the Palais Royal a patrol
stopped the carriage.
“Who goes?” asked the captain.
“Mazarin!” replied D’Artagnan, bursting into a laugh. The cardinal’s
hair stood on end. But the joke appeared an excellent one to the
citizens, who, seeing the conveyance without escort and unarmed, would
never have believed in the possibility of so great an imprudence.
“A good journey to ye,” they cried, allowing it to pass.
“Hem!” said D’Artagnan, “what does my lord think of that reply?”
“Man of talent!” cried Mazarin.
“In truth,” said Porthos, “I understand; but now——”
About the middle of the Rue des Petits Champs they were stopped by a
second patrol.
“Who goes there?” inquired the captain of the patrol.
“Keep back, my lord,” said D’Artagnan. And Mazarin buried himself so
far behind the two friends that he disappeared, completely hidden
between them.
“Who goes there?” cried the same voice, impatiently whilst D’Artagnan
perceived that they had rushed to the horses’ heads. But putting his
head out of the carriage: