second was called the Comte de la Fere. As for the two
others, I had so much the habit of calling them by nicknames
that I have forgotten their real ones.”
“Oh, mon Dieu, it is a matter of the greatest urgency to
find them out,” said the queen, “since you think these
worthy gentlemen might be so useful to the king.”
“Oh, yes,” said De Winter, “for they are the same men.
Listen, madame, and recall your remembrances. Have you never
heard that Queen Anne of Austria was once saved from the
greatest danger ever incurred by a queen?”
“Yes, at the time of her relations with Monsieur de
Buckingham; it had to do in some way with certain studs and
diamonds.”
“Well, it was that affair, madame; these men are the ones
who saved her; and I smile with pity when I reflect that if
the names of those gentlemen are unknown to you it is
because the queen has forgotten them, who ought to have made
them the first noblemen of the realm.”
“Well, then, my lord, they must be found; but what can four
men, or rather three men do — for I tell you, you must not
count on Monsieur d’Artagnan.”
“It will be one valiant sword the less, but there will
remain still three, without reckoning my own; now four
devoted men around the king to protect him from his enemies,
to be at his side in battle, to aid him with counsel, to
escort him in flight, are sufficient, not to make the king a
conqueror, but to save him if conquered; and whatever
Mazarin may say, once on the shores of France your royal
husband may find as many retreats and asylums as the seabird
finds in a storm.”
“Seek, then, my lord, seek these gentlemen; and if they will
consent to go with you to England, I will give to each a
duchy the day that we reascend the throne, besides as much
gold as would pave Whitehall. Seek them, my lord, and find
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them, I conjure you.”
“I will search for them, madame,” said De Winter “and
doubtless I shall find them; but time fails me. Has your
majesty forgotten that the king expects your reply and
awaits it in agony?”
“Then indeed we are lost!” cried the queen, in the fullness
of a broken heart.
At this moment the door opened and the young Henrietta
appeared; then the queen, with that wonderful strength which
is the privilege of parents, repressed her tears and
motioned to De Winter to change the subject.
But that act of self-control, effective as it was, did not
escape the eyes of the young princess. She stopped on the
threshold, breathed a sigh, and addressing the queen:
“Why, then, do you always weep, mother, when I am away from
you?” she said.
The queen smiled, but instead of answering:
“See, De Winter,” she said, “I have at least gained one
thing in being only half a queen; and that is that my
children call me `mother’ instead of `madame.'”
Then turning toward her daughter:
“What do you want, Henrietta?” she demanded.
“My mother,” replied the young princess, “a cavalier has
just entered the Louvre and wishes to present his respects
to your majesty; he arrives from the army and has, he says,
a letter to remit to you, on the part of the Marechal de
Grammont, I think.”
“Ah!” said the queen to De Winter, “he is one of my faithful
adherents; but do you not observe, my dear lord, that we are
so poorly served that it is left to my daughter to fill the
office of doorkeeper?”
“Madame, have pity on me,” exclaimed De Winter; “you wring
my heart!”
“And who is this cavalier, Henrietta?” asked the queen.
“I saw him from the window, madame; he is a young man that
appears scarce sixteen years of age, and is called the
Viscount de Bragelonne.”
The queen, smiling, made a sign with her head; the young
princess opened the door and Raoul appeared on the
threshold.
Advancing a few steps toward the queen, he knelt down.
“Madame,” said he, “I bear to your majesty a letter from my