the next day the cardinal will be brought to Paris and
delivered to the parliament.”
“It is evident, sir, that your position has kept you out of
relation to men and affairs; otherwise you would know that
since we left Paris monsieur le cardinal has returned
thither five or six times; that he has there met De
Beaufort, De Bouillon, the coadjutor and D’Elbeuf and that
not one of them had any desire to arrest him.”
“Your pardon, madame, I know all that. And therefore my
friends will conduct monsieur le cardinal neither to De
Beaufort, nor to De Bouillon, nor to the coadjutor, nor to
D’Elbeuf. These gentlemen wage war on private account, and
in buying them up, by granting them what they wished,
monsieur le cardinal has made a good bargain. He will be
delivered to the parliament, members of which can, of
course, be bought, but even Monsieur de Mazarin is not rich
enough to buy the whole body.”
“I think,” returned Anne of Austria, fixing upon him a
glance, which in any woman’s face would have expressed
disdain, but in a queen’s, spread terror to those she looked
upon, “nay, I perceive you dare to threaten the mother of
your sovereign.”
“Madame,” replied D’Artagnan, “I threaten simply and solely
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because I am obliged to do so. Believe me, madame, as true a
thing as it is that a heart beats in this bosom — a heart
devoted to you — believe that you have been the idol of our
lives; that we have, as you well know — good Heaven! —
risked our lives twenty times for your majesty. Have you,
then, madame, no compassion for your servants who for twenty
years have vegetated in obscurity, without betraying in a
single sigh the solemn and sacred secrets they have had the
honor to share with you? Look at me, madame — at me, whom
you accuse of speaking loud and threateningly. What am I? A
poor officer, without fortune, without protection, without a
future, unless the eye of my queen, which I have sought so
long, rests on me for a moment. Look at the Comte de la
Fere, a type of nobility, a flower of chivalry. He has taken
part against his queen, or rather, against her minister. He
has not been unreasonably exacting, it seems to me. Look at
Monsieur du Vallon, that faithful soul, that arm of steel,
who for twenty years has awaited the word from your lips
which will make him in rank what he is in sentiment and in
courage. Consider, in short, your people who love you and
who yet are famished, who have no other wish than to bless
you, and who, nevertheless — no, I am wrong, your subjects,
madame, will never curse you; say one word to them and all
will be ended — peace succeed war, joy tears, and happiness
to misfortune!”
Anne of Austria looked with wonderment on the warlike
countenance of D’Artagnan, which betrayed a singular
expression of deep feeling.
“Why did you not say all this before you took action, sir?”
she said.
“Because, madame, it was necessary to prove to your majesty
one thing of which you doubted —that is, that we still
possess amongst us some valor and are worthy of some
consideration at your hands.”
“And that valor would shrink from no undertaking, according
to what I see.”
“It has hesitated at nothing in the past; why, then, should
it be less daring in the future?”
“Then, in case of my refusal, this valor, should a struggle
occur, will even go the length of carrying me off in the
midst of my court, to deliver me into the hands of the
Fronde, as you propose to deliver my minister?”
“We have not thought about it yet, madame,” answered
D’Artagnan, with that Gascon effrontery which had in him the
appearance of naivete; but if we four had resolved upon it
we should do it most certainly.”
“I ought,” muttered Anne to herself, “by this time to
remember that these men are giants.”
“Alas, madame!” exclaimed D’Artagnan, “this proves to me
that not till to-day has your majesty had a just idea of