should ever stand in need of the life you restore me, demand
it.”
“Silence, my brother, — silence!” said Louis, in a
suppressed voice. “Take care that no one hears you! We have
not obtained our end yet. To ask money of Mazarin — that is
worse than traversing the enchanted forest, each tree of
which inclosed a demon. It is more than setting out to
conquer a world.”
“But yet, sire, when you ask it —- ”
“I have already told you that I never asked,” replied Louis
with a haughtiness that made the king of England turn pale.
And as the latter, like a wounded man, made a retreating
movement — “Pardon me, my brother,” replied he. “I have
neither a mother nor a sister who are suffering. My throne
is hard and naked, but I am firmly seated on my throne.
Pardon me that expression, my brother; it was that of an
egotist. I will retract it, therefore, by a sacrifice, — I
will go to monsieur le cardinal. Wait for me, if you please
— I will return.”
CHAPTER 10
The Arithmetic of M. de Mazarin
Whilst the king was directing his course rapidly towards the
wing of the castle occupied by the cardinal, taking nobody
with him but his valet de chambre, the officer of musketeers
came out, breathing like a man who has for a long time been
forced to hold his breath, from the little cabinet of which
we have already spoken, and which the king believed to be
quite solitary. This little cabinet had formerly been part
of the chamber, from which it was only separated by a thin
partition. It resulted that this partition, which was only
for the eye, permitted the ear the least indiscreet to hear
every word spoken in the chamber.
There was no doubt, then, that this lieutenant of musketeers
had heard all that passed in his majesty’s apartment.
Warned by the last words of the young king, he came out just
in time to salute him on his passage, and to follow him with
his eyes till he had disappeared in the corridor.
Then as soon as he had disappeared, he shook his head after
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a fashion peculiarly his own, and in a voice which forty
years’ absence from Gascony had not deprived of its Gascon
accent, “A melancholy service,” said he, “and a melancholy
master!”
These words pronounced, the lieutenant resumed his place in
his fauteuil, stretched his legs and closed his eyes, like a
man who either sleeps or meditates.
During this short monologue and the mise en scene that had
accompanied it, whilst the king, through the long corridors
of the old castle, proceeded to the apartment of M. de
Mazarin, a scene of another sort was being enacted in those
apartments.
Mazarin was in bed, suffering a little from the gout. But as
he was a man of order, who utilized even pain, he forced his
wakefulness to be the humble servant of his labor. He had
consequently ordered Bernouin, his valet de chambre, to
bring him a little traveling-desk, so that he might write in
bed. But the gout is not an adversary that allows itself to
be conquered so easily; therefore, at each movement he made,
the pain from dull became sharp.
“Is Brienne there?” asked he of Bernouin.
“No, monseigneur,” replied the valet de chambre; “M. de
Brienne, with your permission, is gone to bed. But, if it is
the wish of your eminence, he can speedily be called.”
“No, it is not worth while. Let us see, however. Cursed
ciphers!”
And the cardinal began to think, counting on his fingers the
while.
“Oh, ciphers is it?” said Bernouin. “Very well! if your
eminence attempts calculations, I will promise you a pretty
headache to-morrow! And with that please to remember M.
Guenaud is not here.”
“You are right, Bernouin. You must take Brienne’s place, my
friend. Indeed, I ought to have brought M. Colbert with me.
That young man goes on very well, Bernouin, very well; a
very orderly youth.”
“I do not know,” said the valet de chambre, “but I don’t