peril to have undertaken so strange a commission!”
The irony with which these words were uttered did not escape
the marechal.
“Pardon, madame,” he said, “I am not a lawyer, I am a mere
soldier, and probably, therefore, I do not quite comprehend
the value of certain words; I ought to have said the wishes,
and not the will, of the people. As for what you do me the
honor to say, I presume you mean I was afraid?”
The queen smiled.
“Well, then, madame, yes, I did feel fear; and though I have
been through twelve pitched battles and I cannot count how
many charges and skirmishes, I own for the third time in my
life I was afraid. Yes, and I would rather face your
majesty, however threatening your smile, than face those
demons who accompanied me hither and who sprung from I know
not whence, unless from deepest hell.”
(” Bravo,” said D’Artagnan in a whisper to Porthos; “well
answered.”)
“Well,” said the queen, biting her lips, whilst her
courtiers looked at each other with surprise, “what is the
desire of my people?”
“That Broussel shall be given up to them, madame.”
“Never!” said the queen, “never!”
“Your majesty is mistress,” said La Meilleraie, retreating a
few steps.
“Where are you going, marechal?” asked the queen.
“To give your majesty’s reply to those who await it.”
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“Stay, marechal; I will not appear to parley with rebels.”
“Madame, I have pledged my word, and unless you order me to
be arrested I shall be forced to return.”
Anne of Austria’s eyes shot glances of fire.
“Oh! that is no impediment, sir,” said she; “I have had
greater men than you arrested — Guitant!”
Mazarin sprang forward.
“Madame, “said he, “if I dared in my turn advise —- ”
“Would it be to give up Broussel, sir? If so, you can spare
yourself the trouble.”
“No,” said Mazarin; “although, perhaps, that counsel is as
good as any other.”
“Then what may it be?”
“To call for monsieur le coadjuteur.”
“The coadjutor!” cried the queen, “that dreadful mischief
maker! It is he who has raised all this revolt.”
“The more reason,” said Mazarin; “if he has raised it he can
put it down.”
“And hold, madame,” suggested Comminges, who was near a
window, out of which he could see; “hold, the moment is a
happy one, for there he is now, giving his blessing in the
square of the Palais Royal.”
The queen sprang to the window.
“It is true,” she said, “the arch hypocrite — see!”
“I see,” said Mazarin, “that everybody kneels before him,
although he be but coadjutor, whilst I, were I in his place,
though I am cardinal, should be torn to pieces. I persist,
then, madame, in my wish” (he laid an emphasis on the word),
“that your majesty should receive the coadjutor.”
“And wherefore do you not say, like the rest, your will?”
replied the queen, in a low voice.
Mazarin bowed.
“Monsieur le marechal,” said the queen, after a moment’s
reflection, “go and find the coadjutor and bring him to me.”
“And what shall I say to the people?”
“That they must have patience,” said Anne, “as I have.”
The fiery Spanish woman spoke in a tone so imperative that
the marechal made no reply; he bowed and went out.
(D’Artagnan turned to Porthos. “How will this end?” he said.
“We shall soon see,” said Porthos, in his tranquil way.)
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Dumas, Alexandre – Twenty Years After
In the meantime Anne of Austria approached Comminges and
conversed with him in a subdued tone, whilst Mazarin glanced
uneasily at the corner occupied by D’Artagnan and Porthos.
Ere long the door opened and the marechal entered, followed
by the coadjutor.
“There, madame,” he said, “is Monsieur Gondy, who hastens to
obey your majesty’s summons.”
The queen advanced a few steps to meet him, and then
stopped, cold, severe, unmoved, with her lower lip
scornfully protruded.
Gondy bowed respectfully.
“Well, sir,” said the queen, “what is your opinion of this
riot?”
“That it is no longer a riot, madame,” he replied, “but a
revolt.”
“The revolt is at the door of those who think my people can