Oh, in sad truth, Colbert, you are laughing at me. I am
dying, and you call out to me to wait!”
“My lord,” said Colbert, with his habitual coolness, “it is
impossible that things should not come out as I have said.
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His majesty is coming to see you, and no doubt he brings
back the deed himself.”
“Do you think so? Well, I, on the contrary, am sure that his
majesty is coming to thank me.”
At this moment Anne of Austria returned. On her way to the
apartments of her son she had met with a new empiric. This
was a powder which was said to have power to save the
cardinal; and she brought a portion of this powder with her.
But this was not what Mazarin expected; therefore he would
not even look at it, declaring that life was not worth the
pains that were taken to preserve it. But, whilst professing
this philosophical axiom, his long-confined secret escaped
him at last.
“That, madame,” said he, “that is not the interesting part
of my situation. I made, two days ago, a little donation to
the king; up to this time, from delicacy, no doubt, his
majesty has not condescended to say anything about it; but
the time for explanation is come, and I implore your majesty
to tell me if the king has made up his mind on that matter.”
Anne of Austria was about to reply, when Mazarin stopped
her.
“The truth, madame,” said he — “in the name of Heaven, the
truth! Do not flatter a dying man with a hope that may prove
vain.” There he stopped, a look from Colbert telling him
that he was on a wrong tack.
“I know,” said Anne of Austria, taking the cardinal’s hand,
“I know that you have generously made, not a little
donation, as you modestly call it, but a magnificent gift. I
know how painful it would be to you if the king —- ”
Mazarin listened, dying as he was, as ten living men could
not have listened.
“If the king —- ” replied he.
“If the king,” continued Anne of Austria, “should not freely
accept what you offer so nobly.”
Mazarin allowed himself to sink back upon his pillow like
Pantaloon; that is to say, with all the despair of a man who
bows before the tempest; but he still preserved sufficient
strength and presence of mind to cast upon Colbert one of
those looks which are well worth ten sonnets, which is to
say, ten long poems.
“Should you not,” added the queen, “have considered the
refusal of the king as a sort of insult?” Mazarin rolled his
head about upon his pillow, without articulating a syllable.
The queen was deceived, or feigned to be deceived, by this
demonstration.
“Therefore,” resumed she, “I have circumvented him with good
counsels; and as certain minds, jealous, no doubt, of the
glory you are about to acquire by this generosity, have
endeavored to prove to the king that he ought not to accept
this donation, I have struggled in your favor, and so well
have I struggled, that you will not have, I hope, that
distress to undergo.”
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Dumas, Alexandre – Ten Years Later
“Ah!” murmured Mazarin, with languishing eyes, “ah! that is
a service I shall never forget for a single minute of the
few hours I still have to live.”
“I must admit,” continued the queen, “that it was not
without trouble I rendered it to your eminence.”
“Ah, peste! I believe that. Oh! oh!”
“Good God! what is the matter?”
“I am burning!”
“Do you suffer much?”
“As much as one of the damned.”
Colbert would have liked to sink through the floor.
“So, then,” resumed Mazarin, “your majesty thinks that the
king —- “he stopped several seconds — “that the king is
coming here to offer me some small thanks?”
“I think so,” said the queen. Mazarin annihilated Colbert
with his last look.
At that moment the ushers announced that the king was in the
ante-chambers, which were filled with people. This
announcement produced a stir of which Colbert took advantage