Twenty years after
swords, who saved more than my life—my honor——”
“Ah! you confess it!” exclaimed Mazarin.
“Is it only the guilty whose honor is at the sport of others, sir? and
cannot women be dishonored by appearances? Yes, appearances were
against me and I was about to suffer dishonor. However, I swear I was
not guilty, I swear it by——”
The queen looked around her for some sacred object by which she could
swear, and taking out of a cupboard hidden in the tapestry, a small
coffer of rosewood set in silver, and laying it on the altar:
“I swear,” she said, “by these sacred relics that Buckingham was not my
lover.”
“What relics are those by which you swear?” asked Mazarin, smiling. “I
am incredulous.”
The queen untied from around her throat a small golden key which hung
there, and presented it to the cardinal.
“Open, sir,” she said, “and look for yourself.”
Mazarin opened the coffer; a knife, covered with rust, and two letters,
one of which was stained with blood, alone met his gaze.
“What are these things?” he asked.
“What are these things?” replied Anne, with queen-like dignity,
extending toward the open coffer an arm, despite the lapse of years,
still beautiful. “These two letters are the only ones I ever wrote to
him. This knife is the knife with which Felton stabbed him. Read the
letters and see if I have lied or spoken the truth.”
But Mazarin, notwithstanding this permission, instead of reading the
letters, took the knife which the dying Buckingham had snatched out of
the wound and sent by Laporte to the queen. The blade was red, for the
blood had become rust; after a momentary examination during which the
queen became as white as the cloth which covered the altar on which she
was leaning, he put it back into the coffer with an involuntary
shudder.
“It is well, madame, I believe your oath.”
“No, no, read,” exclaimed the queen, indignantly; “read, I command you,
for I am resolved that everything shall be finished to-night and never
will I recur to this subject again. Do you think,” she said, with a
ghastly smile, “that I shall be inclined to reopen this coffer to
answer any future accusations?”
Mazarin, overcome by this determination, read the two letters. In one
the queen asked for the ornaments back again. This letter had been
conveyed by D’Artagnan and had arrived in time. The other was that
which Laporte had placed in the hands of the Duke of Buckingham,
warning him that he was about to be assassinated; that communication
had arrived too late.
“It is well, madame,” said Mazarin; “nothing can gainsay such
testimony.”
“Sir,” replied the queen, closing the coffer and leaning her hand upon
it, “if there is anything to be said, it is that I have always been
ungrateful to the brave men who saved me—that I have given nothing to
that gallant officer, D’Artagnan, you were speaking of just now, but my
hand to kiss and this diamond.”
As she spoke she extended her beautiful hand to the cardinal and showed
him a superb diamond which sparkled on her finger.
“It appears,” she resumed, “that he sold it—-he sold it in order to
save me another time—to be able to send a messenger to the duke to warn
him of his danger—he sold it to Monsieur des Essarts, on whose finger I
remarked it. I bought it from him, but it belongs to D’Artagnan. Give
it back to him, sir, and since you have such a man in your service,
make him useful.”
“Thank you, madame,” said Mazarin. “I will profit by the advice.”
“And now,” added the queen, her voice broken by her emotion, “have you
any other question to ask me?”
“Nothing,”—the cardinal spoke in his most conciliatory manner—“except
to beg of you to forgive my unworthy suspicions. I love you so tenderly
that I cannot help being jealous, even of the past.”
A smile, which was indefinable, passed over the lips of the queen.
“Since you have no further interrogations to make, leave me, I beseech
you,” she said. “I wish, after such a scene, to be alone.”
Mazarin bent low before her.
“I will retire, madame. Do you permit me to return?”
“Yes, to-morrow.”
The cardinal took the queen’s hand and pressed it with an air of
gallantry to his lips.
Scarcely had he left her when the queen went into her son’s room, and
inquired from Laporte if the king was in bed. Laporte pointed to the
child, who was asleep.
Anne ascended the steps side of the bed and softly kissed the placid
forehead of her son; then she retired as silently as she had come,
merely saying to Laporte:
“Try, my dear Laporte, to make the king more courteous to Monsieur le
Cardinal, to whom both he and I are under such important obligations.”
Chapter V.
The Gascon and the Italian.
Meanwhile the cardinal returned to his own room; and after asking
Bernouin, who stood at the door, whether anything had occurred during
his absence, and being answered in the negative, he desired that he
might be left alone.
When he was alone he opened the door of the corridor and then that of
the ante-chamber. There D’Artagnan was asleep upon a bench.
The cardinal went up to him and touched his shoulder. D’Artagnan
started, awakened himself, and as he awoke, stood up exactly like a
soldier under arms.
“Here I am,” said he. “Who calls me?”
“I,” said Mazarin, with his most smiling expression.
“I ask pardon of your eminence,” said D’Artagnan, “but I was so
fatigued——”
“Don’t ask my pardon, monsieur,” said Mazarin, “for you fatigued
yourself in my service.”
D’Artagnan admired Mazarin’s gracious manner. “Ah,” said he, between
his teeth, “is there truth in the proverb that fortune comes while one
sleeps?”
“Follow me, monsieur,” said Mazarin.
“Come, come,” murmured D’Artagnan, “Rochefort has kept his promise, but
where in the devil is he?” And he searched the cabinet even to the
smallest recesses, but there was no sign of Rochefort.
“Monsieur d’Artagnan,” said the cardinal, sitting down on a _fauteuil_,
“you have always seemed to me to be a brave and honorable man.”
“Possibly,” thought D’Artagnan, “but he has taken a long time to let me
know his thoughts;” nevertheless, he bowed to the very ground in
gratitude for Mazarin’s compliment.
“Well,” continued Mazarin, “the time has come to put to use your
talents and your valor.”
There was a sudden gleam of joy in the officer’s eyes, which vanished
immediately, for he knew nothing of Mazarin’s purpose.
“Order, my lord,” he said; “I am ready to obey your eminence.”
“Monsieur d’Artagnan,” continued the cardinal, “you performed sundry
superb exploits in the last reign.”
“Your eminence is too good to remember such trifles in my favor. It is
true I fought with tolerable success.”
“I don’t speak of your warlike exploits, monsieur,” said Mazarin;
“although they gained you much reputation, they were surpassed by
others.”
D’Artagnan pretended astonishment.
“Well, you do not reply?” resumed Mazarin.
“I am waiting, my lord, till you tell me of what exploits you speak.”
“I speak of the adventure—Eh, you know well what I mean.”
“Alas, no, my lord!” replied D’Artagnan, surprised.
“You are discreet—so much the better. I speak of that adventure in
behalf of the queen, of the ornaments, of the journey you made with
three of your friends.”
“Aha!” thought the Gascon; “is this a snare or not? Let me be on my
guard.”
And he assumed a look of stupidity which Mendori or Bellerose, two of
the first actors of the day, might have envied.
“Bravo!” cried Mazarin; “they told me that you were the man I wanted.
Come, let us see what you will do for me.”
“Everything that your eminence may please to command me,” was the
reply.
“You will do for me what you have done for the queen?”
“Certainly,” D’Artagnan said to himself, “he wishes to make me speak
out. He’s not more cunning than De Richelieu was! Devil take him!” Then
he said aloud:
“The queen, my lord? I don’t comprehend.”
“You don’t comprehend that I want you and your three friends to be of
use to me?”
“Which of my friends, my lord?”
“Your _three_ friends—the friends of former days.”
“Of former days, my lord! In former days I had not only three friends,
I had thirty; at two-and-twenty one calls every man one’s friend.”
“Well, sir,” returned Mazarin, “prudence is a fine thing, but to-day
you might regret having been too prudent.”
“My lord, Pythagoras made his disciples keep silence for five years
that they might learn to hold their tongues.”
“But you have been silent for twenty years, sir. Speak, now the queen
herself releases you from your promise.”
“The queen!” said D’Artagnan, with an astonishment which this time was
not pretended.
“Yes, the queen! And as a proof of what I say she commanded me to show
you this diamond, which she thinks you know.”
And so saying, Mazarin extended his hand to the officer, who sighed as
he recognized the ring so gracefully given to him by the queen on the
night of the ball at the Hotel de Ville and which she had repurchased
from Monsieur des Essarts.
“’Tis true. I remember well that diamond, which belonged to the queen.”
“You see, then, that I speak to you in the queen’s name. Answer me
without acting as if you were on the stage; your interests are
concerned in your so doing.”
“Faith, my lord, it is very necessary for me to make my fortune, your
eminence has so long forgotten me.”
“We need only a week to amend all that. Come, you are accounted for,
you are here, but where are your friends?”
“I do not know, my lord. We have parted company this long time; all
three have left the service.”
“Where can you find them, then?”
“Wherever they are, that’s my business.”
“Well, now, what are your conditions, if I employ you?”
“Money, my lord, as much money as what you wish me to undertake will
require. I remember too well how sometimes we were stopped for want of
money, and but for that diamond, which I was obliged to sell, we should
have remained on the road.”
“The devil he does! Money! and a large sum!” said Mazarin. “Pray, are
you aware that the king has no money in his treasury?”
“Do then as I did, my lord. Sell the crown diamonds. Trust me, don’t
let us try to do things cheaply. Great undertakings come poorly off
with paltry means.”
“Well,” returned Mazarin, “we will satisfy you.”
“Richelieu,” thought D’Artagnan, “would have given me five hundred
pistoles in advance.”
“You will then be at my service?” asked Mazarin.
“Yes, if my friends agree.”
“But if they refuse can I count on you?”
“I have never accomplished anything alone,” said D’Artagnan, shaking
his head.
“Go, then, and find them.”
“What shall I say to them by way of inducement to serve your eminence?”
“You know them better than I. Adapt your promises to their respective
characters.”
“What shall I promise?”
“That if they serve me as well as they served the queen my gratitude
shall be magnificent.”
“But what are we to do?”
“Make your mind easy; when the time for action comes you shall be put
in full possession of what I require from you; wait till that time
arrives and find out your friends.”
“My lord, perhaps they are not in Paris. It is even probable that I
shall have to make a journey. I am only a lieutenant of musketeers,
very poor, and journeys cost money.
“My intention,” said Mazarin, “is not that you go with a great
following; my plans require secrecy, and would be jeopardized by a too
extravagant equipment.”
“Still, my lord, I can’t travel on my pay, for it is now three months
behind; and I can’t travel on my savings, for in my twenty-two years of
service I have accumulated nothing but debts.”
Mazarin remained some moments in deep thought, as if he were fighting
with himself; then, going to a large cupboard closed with a triple