profound sensation. It was said that Madame de Longueville,
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for whom the prince had more than a brother’s affection and
in whom he had confided, had been indiscreet. His confidence
had unveiled the sinister project of the queen.
Even on the night of the prince’s return, some citizens,
bolder than the rest, such as the sheriffs, captains and the
quartermaster, went from house to house among their friends,
saying:
“Why do we not take the king and place him in the Hotel de
Ville? It is a shame to leave him to be educated by our
enemies, who will give him evil counsel; whereas, brought up
by the coadjutor, for instance, he would imbibe national
principles and love his people.”
That night the question was secretly agitated and on the
morrow the gray and black cloaks, the patrols of armed
shop-people, and the bands of mendicants reappeared.
The queen had passed the night in lonely conference with the
prince, who had entered the oratory at midnight and did not
leave till five o’clock in the morning.
At five o’clock Anne went to the cardinal’s room. If she had
not yet taken any repose, he at least was already up. Six
days had already passed out of the ten he had asked from
Mordaunt; he was therefore occupied in revising his reply to
Cromwell, when some one knocked gently at the door of
communication with the queen’s apartments. Anne of Austria
alone was permitted to enter by that door. The cardinal
therefore rose to open it.
The queen was in a morning gown, but it became her still;
for, like Diana of Poictiers and Ninon, Anne of Austria
enjoyed the privilege of remaining ever beautiful;
nevertheless, this morning she looked handsomer than usual,
for her eyes had all the sparkle inward satisfaction adds to
expression.
“What is the matter, madame?” said Mazarin, uneasily. “You
seem secretly elated.”
“Yes, Giulio,” she said, “proud and happy; for I have found
the means of strangling this hydra.”
“You are a great politician, my queen,” said Mazarin; “let
us hear the means.” And he hid what he had written by
sliding the letter under a folio of blank paper.
“You know,” said the queen, “that they want to take the king
away from me?”
“Alas! yes, and to hang me.”
“They shall not have the king.”
“Nor hang me.”
“Listen. I want to carry off my son from them, with
yourself. I wish that this event, which on the day it is
known will completely change the aspect of affairs, should
be accomplished without the knowledge of any others but
yourself, myself, and a third person.”
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“And who is this third person?”
“Monsieur le Prince.”
“He has come, then, as they told me?”
“Last evening.”
“And you have seen him?”
“He has just left me.”
“And will he aid this project?”
“The plan is his own.”
“And Paris?”
“He will starve it out and force it to surrender at
discretion.”
“The plan is not wanting in grandeur; I see but one
impediment.”
“What is it?”
“Impossibility.”
“A senseless word. Nothing is impossible.”
“On paper.”
“In execution. We have money?”
“A little,” said Mazarin, trembling, lest Anne should ask to
draw upon his purse.
“Troops?”
“Five or six thousand men.”
“Courage?”
“Plenty.”
“Then the thing is easy. Oh! do think of it, Giulio! Paris,
this odious Paris, waking up one morning without queen or
king, surrounded, besieged, famished — having for its sole
resource its stupid parliament and their coadjutor with
crooked limbs!”
“Charming! charming!” said Mazarin. “I can imagine the
effect, I do not see the means.”
“I will find the means myself.”
“You are aware it will be war, civil war, furious,
devouring, implacable?”
“Oh! yes, yes, war,” said Anne of Austria. “Yes, I will
reduce this rebellious city to ashes. I will extinguish the
fire with blood! I will perpetuate the crime and punishment
by making a frightful example. Paris!; I — I detest, I
loathe it!”
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“Very fine, Anne. You are now sanguinary; but take care. We
are not in the time of Malatesta and Castruccio Castracani.