“If occasion requires, monsieur, you will remember that man
who has just gone out, will you not?”
“Yes, my lord,” he replied. Then, turning toward Porthos,
“The devil!” said he, “this has a bad look. I dislike these
quarrels among men of the church.”
Gondy withdrew, distributing benedictions on his way, and
finding a malicious satisfaction in causing the adherents of
his foes to prostrate themselves at his feet.
“Oh!” he murmured, as he left the threshold of the palace:
“ungrateful court! faithless court! cowardly court! I will
teach you how to laugh to-morrow — but in another manner.”
But whilst they were indulging in extravagant joy at the
Palais Royal, to increase the hilarity of the queen,
Mazarin, a man of sense, and whose fear, moreover, gave him
foresight, lost no time in making idle and dangerous jokes;
he went out after the coadjutor, settled his account, locked
up his gold, and had confidential workmen to contrive hiding
places in his walls.
On his return home the coadjutor was informed that a young
man had come in after his departure and was waiting for
him; he started with delight when, on demanding the name of
this young man, he learned that it was Louvieres. He
hastened to his cabinet. Broussel’s son was there, still
furious, and still bearing bloody marks of his struggle with
the king’s officers. The only precaution he had taken in
coming to the archbishopric was to leave his arquebuse in
the hands of a friend.
The coadjutor went to him and held out his hand. The young
man gazed at him as if he would have read the secret of his
heart.
“My dear Monsieur Louvieres,” said the coadjutor, “believe
me, I am truly concerned for the misfortune which has
happened to you.”
“Is that true, and do you speak seriously?” asked Louvieres.
“From the depth of my heart,” said Gondy.
“In that case, my lord, the time for words has passed and
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the hour for action is at hand; my lord, in three days, if
you wish it, my father will be out of prison and in six
months you may be cardinal.”
The coadjutor started.
“Oh! let us speak frankly,” continued Louvieres, “and act in
a straightforward manner. Thirty thousand crowns in alms is
not given, as you have done for the last six months, out of
pure Christian charity; that would be too grand. You are
ambitious — it is natural; you are a man of genius and you
know your worth. As for me, I hate the court and have but
one desire at this moment — vengeance. Give us the clergy
and the people, of whom you can dispose, and I will bring
you the citizens and the parliament; with these four
elements Paris is ours in a week; and believe me, monsieur
coadjutor, the court will give from fear what it will not
give from good-will.”
It was now the coadjutor’s turn to fix his piercing eyes on
Louvieres.
“But, Monsieur Louvieres, are you aware that it is simply
civil war you are proposing to me?”
“You have been preparing long enough, my lord, for it to be
welcome to you now.”
“Never mind,” said the coadjutor; “you must be well aware
that this requires reflection.”
“And how many hours of reflection do you ask?”
“Twelve hours, sir; is it too long?”
“It is now noon; at midnight I will be at your house.”
“If I should not be in, wait for me.”
“Good! at midnight, my lord.”
“At midnight, my dear Monsieur Louvieres.”
When once more alone Gondy sent to summon all the curates
with whom he had any connection to his house. Two hours
later, thirty officiating ministers from the most populous,
and consequently the most disturbed parishes of Paris had
assembled there. Gondy related to them the insults he had
received at the Palais Royal and retailed the jests of
Beautin, the Count de Villeroy and Marechal de la
Meilleraie. The curates asked him what was to be done.
“Simply this,” said the coadjutor. “You are the directors of
all consciences. Well, undermine in them the miserable
prejudice of respect and fear of kings; teach your flocks