moment, and if this priest wished it, in an hour you would
be without a crown? Come, then, on another occasion you can
be firm and strong; but to-day is not the proper time;
to-day, flatter and caress, or you are only a common woman.”
(At the first words of this address D’Artagnan had seized
Porthos’s arm, which he pressed with gradually increasing
force. When Mazarin ceased speaking he said to Porthos in a
low tone:
“Never tell Mazarin that I understand Spanish, or I am a
lost man and you are also.”
“All right,” said Porthos.)
This rough appeal, marked by the eloquence which
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characterized Mazarin when he spoke in Italian or Spanish
and which he lost entirely in speaking French, was uttered
with such impenetrable expression that Gondy, clever
physiognomist as he was, had no suspicion of its being more
than a simple warning to be more subdued.
The queen, on her part, thus chided, softened immediately
and sat down, and in an almost weeping voice, letting her
arms fall by her side, said:
“Pardon me, sir, and attribute this violence to what I
suffer. A woman, and consequently subject to the weaknesses
of my sex, I am alarmed at the idea of civil war; a queen,
accustomed to be obeyed, I am excited at the first
opposition.”
“Madame,” replied Gondy, bowing, “your majesty is mistaken
in qualifying my sincere advice as opposition. Your majesty
has none but submissive and respectful subjects. It is not
the queen with whom the people are displeased; they ask for
Broussel and are only too happy, if you release him to them,
to live under your government.”
Mazarin, who at the words, “It is not the queen with whom
the people are displeased,” had pricked up his ears,
thinking that the coadjutor was about to speak of the cries,
“Down with Mazarin,” and pleased with Gondy’s suppression of
this fact, he said with his sweetest voice and his most
gracious expression:
“Madame, credit the coadjutor, who is one of the most able
politicians we have; the first available cardinal’s hat
seems to belong already to his noble brow.”
“Ah! how much you have need of me, cunning rogue!” thought
Gondy.
(“And what will he promise us?” said D’Artagnan. “Peste, if
he is giving away hats like that, Porthos, let us look out
and both demand a regiment to-morrow. Corbleu! let the civil
war last but one year and I will have a constable’s sword
gilt for me.”
“And for me?” put in Porthos.
“For you? I will give you the baton of the Marechal de la
Meilleraie, who does not seem to be much in favor just
now.”)
“And so, sir,” said the queen, “you are seriously afraid of
a public tumult.”
“Seriously,” said Gondy, astonished at not having further
advanced; “I fear that when the torrent has broken its
embankment it will cause fearful destruction.”
“And I,” said the queen, “think that in such a case other
embankments should be raised to oppose it. Go; I will
reflect.”
Gondy looked at Mazarin, astonished, and Mazarin approached
the queen to speak to her, but at this moment a frightful
tumult arose from the square of the Palais Royal.
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Gondy smiled, the queen’s color rose and Mazarin grew even
paler.
“What is that again?” he asked.
At this moment Comminges rushed into the room.
“Pardon, your majesty,” he cried, “but the people have
dashed the sentinels against the gates and they are now
forcing the doors; what are your commands?”
“Listen, madame,” said Gondy.
The moaning of waves, the noise of thunder, the roaring of a
volcano, cannot be compared with the tempest of cries heard
at that moment.
“What are my commands?” said the queen.
“Yes, for time presses.”
“How many men have you about the Palais Royal?”
“Six hundred.”
“Place a hundred around the king and with the remainder
sweep away this mob for me.”
“Madame,” cried Mazarin, “what are you about?”
“Go!” said the queen.
Comminges went out with a soldier’s passive obedience.
At this moment a monstrous battering was heard. One of the
gates began to yield.