“Monsieur, you speak to me now in such a manner that I can almost fancy I am listening to your father.”
“My father did not like Madame de Chevreuse, and with good reason,” said the Prince. “For my part, I like her no better than he did; and if she thinks proper to come here as she formerly did, to sow divisions and hatreds under the pretext of begging money, why-”
“Well, what?” said Anne of Austria, proudly, herself provoking the storm.
“Well,” replied the young man, firmly, “I will drive Madame de Chevreuse out of my kingdom,- and with her all who meddle with secrets and mysteries.”
He had not calculated the effect of this terrible speech, or perhaps he wished to judge of the effect of it,- like those who suffering from a chronic pain, and seeking to break the monotony of that suffering, touch their wound to procure a sharper pang. Anne of Austria was near fainting. Her eyes, open but meaningless, ceased to see for several seconds; she stretched out her arms towards her other son, who supported and embraced her without fear of irritating the King. “Sire,” murmured she, “you treat your mother cruelly.”
“In what, Madame?” replied he. “I am only speaking of Madame de Chevreuse; does my mother prefer Madame de Chevreuse to the security of the State and to the security of my person? Well, then, Madame, I tell you Madame de Chevreuse is returned to France to borrow money, and that she addressed herself to M. Fouquet to sell him a certain secret.”
“‘A certain secret!'” cried Anne of Austria.
“Concerning pretended robberies that Monsieur the Superintendent had committed; which is false,” added Philippe. “M. Fouquet rejected her offers with indignation, preferring the esteem of the King to all complicity with intriguers. Then Madame de Chevreuse sold the secret to M. Colbert; and as she is insatiable, and was not satisfied with having extorted a hundred thousand crowns from that clerk, she has sought still higher, and has endeavored to find still deeper springs. Is that true, Madame?”
“You know all, Sire,” said the Queen, more uneasy than irritated.
“Now,” continued Philippe, “I have good reason to dislike this fury, who comes to my court to plan the dishonor of some and the ruin of others. If God has suffered certain crimes to be committed, and has concealed them in the shade of his clemency, I will not permit Madame de Chevreuse to have the power to counteract the designs of God.”
The latter part of this speech had so agitated the Queen-Mother that her son had pity on her. He took her hand and kissed it tenderly; she did not perceive that in that kiss, given in spite of repulsions and bitternesses of the heart, there was a pardon for eight years of horrible suffering. Philippe allowed the silence of a moment to swallow the emotions that had just developed themselves. Then, with a cheerful smile, “We will not go to-day,” said he; “I have a plan.” And turning towards the door, he hoped to see Aramis, whose absence began to alarm him. The Queen-Mother wished to leave the room.
“Remain, Mother,” said he; “I wish you to make your peace with M. Fouquet.”
“I bear no ill-will towards M. Fouquet; I only dreaded his prodigalities.”
“We will put that to rights, and will take nothing of the superintendent but his good qualities.”
“What is your Majesty looking for?” said Henrietta, seeing the Prince’s eyes constantly turned towards the door, and wishing to let fly a little poisoned arrow at his heart,- for she supposed he was expecting La Valliere or a letter from her.
“My sister,” said the young man, who had divined her thought, thanks to that marvellous perspicuity of which fortune was from that time about to allow him the exercise,- “my sister, I am expecting a most distinguished man, a most able counsellor, whom I wish to present to you all, recommending him to your good graces- Ah! come in, then, d’Artagnan.”
“What does your Majesty wish?” said d’Artagnan, appearing.
“Where is M. l’Eveque de Vannes, your friend?”
“Why, Sire-”
“I am waiting for him, and he does not come. Let him be sought for.”