completely dressed he said:
“Send hither Monsieur d’Artagnan.”
The valet went out of the room, this time by the centre
door, but still as silently as before; one might have
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Dumas, Alexandre – Twenty Years After
fancied him an apparition.
When he was left alone the cardinal looked at himself in the
glass with a feeling of self-satisfaction. Still young —
for he was scarcely forty-six years of age — he possessed
great elegance of form and was above the middle height; his
complexion was brilliant and beautiful; his glance full of
expression; his nose, though large, was well proportioned;
his forehead broad and majestic; his hair, of a chestnut
color, was curled slightly; his beard, which was darker than
his hair, was turned carefully with a curling iron, a
practice that greatly improved it. After a short time the
cardinal arranged his shoulder belt, then looked with great
complacency at his hands, which were most elegant and of
which he took the greatest care; and throwing on one side
the large kid gloves tried on at first, as belonging to the
uniform, he put on others of silk only. At this instant the
door opened.
“Monsieur d’Artagnan,” said the valet-de-chambre.
An officer, as he spoke, entered the apartment. He was a man
between thirty-nine and forty years of age, of medium height
but a very well proportioned figure; with an intellectual
and animated physiognomy; his beard black, and his hair
turning gray, as often happens when people have found life
either too gay or too sad, more especially when they happen
to be of swart complexion.
D’Artagnan advanced a few steps into the apartment.
How perfectly he remembered his former entrance into that
very room! Seeing, however, no one there except a musketeer
of his own troop, he fixed his eyes upon the supposed
soldier, in whose dress, nevertheless, he recognized at the
first glance the cardinal.
The lieutenant remained standing in a dignified but
respectful posture, such as became a man of good birth, who
had in the course of his life been frequently in the society
of the highest nobles.
The cardinal looked at him with a cunning rather than
serious glance, yet he examined his countenance with
attention and after a momentary silence said:
“You are Monsieur d’Artagnan?”
“I am that individual,” replied the officer.
Mazarin gazed once more at a countenance full of
intelligence, the play of which had been, nevertheless,
subdued by age and experience; and D’Artagnan received the
penetrating glance like one who had formerly sustained many
a searching look, very different, indeed, from those which
were inquiringly directed on him at that instant.
“Sir,” resumed the cardinal, “you are to come with me, or
rather, I am to go with you.”
“I am at your command, my lord,” returned D’Artagnan.
“I wish to visit in person the outposts which surround the
Palais Royal; do you suppose that there is any danger in so
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Dumas, Alexandre – Twenty Years After
doing?”
“Danger, my lord!” exclaimed D’Artagnan with a look of
astonishment, “what danger?”
“I am told that there is a general insurrection.”
“The uniform of the king’s musketeers carries a certain
respect with it, and even if that were not the case I would
engage with four of my men to put to flight a hundred of
these clowns.”
“Did you witness the injury sustained by Comminges?”
“Monsieur de Comminges is in the guards and not in the
musketeers —- ”
“Which means, I suppose, that the musketeers are better
soldiers than the guards.” The cardinal smiled as he spoke.
“Every one likes his own uniform best, my lord.”
“Myself excepted,” and again Mazarin smiled; “for you
perceive that I have left off mine and put on yours.”
“Lord bless us! this is modesty indeed!” cried D’Artagnan.
“Had I such a uniform as your eminence possesses, I protest
I should be mightily content, and I would take an oath never
to wear any other costume —- ”
“Yes, but for to-night’s adventure I don’t suppose my dress
would have been a very safe one. Give me my felt hat,
Bernouin.”
The valet instantly brought to his master a regimental hat