his elbows on his desk and his chin on his hands.
“I,” replied the Gascon, “I believe in devotion as a word at
one’s baptism, for instance, which naturally comes before
one’s proper name; every one is naturally more or less
devout, certainly; but there should be at the end of one’s
devotion something to gain.”
“And your friend, for instance; what does he expect to have
at the end of his devotion?”
“Well, my lord, my friend has three magnificent estates:
that of Vallon, at Corbeil; that of Bracieux, in the
Soissonais; and that of Pierrefonds, in the Valois. Now, my
lord, he would like to have one of his three estates erected
into a barony.”
“Only that?” said Mazarin, his eyes twinkling with joy on
seeing that he could pay for Porthos’s devotion without
opening his purse; “only that? That can be managed.”
“I shall be baron!” explained Porthos, stepping forward.
“I told you so,” said D’Artagnan, checking him with his
hand; “and now his eminence confirms it.”
“And you, Monsieur D’Artagnan, what do you want?”
“My lord,” said D’Artagnan, “it is twenty years since
Cardinal de Richelieu made me lieutenant.”
“Yes, and you would be gratified if Cardinal Mazarin should
make you captain.”
D’Artagnan bowed.
“Well, that is not impossible. We will see, gentlemen, we
will see. Now, Monsieur de Vallon,” said Mazarin, “what
service do you prefer, in the town or in the country?”
Porthos opened his mouth to reply.
“My lord,” said D’Artagnan, “Monsieur de Vallon is like me,
he prefers service extraordinary — that is to say,
enterprises that are considered mad and impossible.”
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That boastfulness was not displeasing to Mazarin; he fell
into meditation.
“And yet,” he said, “I must admit that I sent for you to
appoint you to quiet service; I have certain apprehensions
— well, what is the meaning of that?”
In fact, a great noise was heard in the ante-chamber; at the
same time the door of the study was burst open and a man,
covered with dust, rushed into it, exclaiming:
“My lord the cardinal! my lord the cardinal!”
Mazarin thought that some one was going to assassinate him
and he drew back, pushing his chair on the castors.
D’Artagnan and Porthos moved so as to plant themselves
between the person entering and the cardinal.
“Well, sir,” exclaimed Mazarin, “what’s the matter? and why
do you rush in here, as if you were about to penetrate a
crowded market-place?”
“My lord,” replied the messenger, “I wish to speak to your
eminence in secret. I am Monsieur du Poins, an officer in
the guards, on duty at the donjon of Vincennes.”
Mazarin, perceiving by the paleness and agitation of the
messenger that he had something of importance to say, made a
sign that D’Artagnan and Porthos should give place.
D’Artagnan and Porthos withdrew to a corner of the cabinet.
“Speak, monsieur, speak at once!” said Mazarin “What is the
matter?”
“The matter is, my lord, that the Duc de Beaufort has
contrived to escape from the Chateau of Vincennes.”
Mazarin uttered a cry and became paler than the man who had
brought the news. He fell back, almost fainting, in his
chair.
“Escaped? Monsieur de Beaufort escaped?”
“My lord, I saw him run off from the top of the terrace.”
“And you did not fire on him?”
“He was out of range.”
“Monsieur de Chavigny — where was he?”
“Absent.”
“And La Ramee?”
“Was found locked up in the prisoner’s room, a gag in his
mouth and a poniard near him.”
“But the man who was under him?”
“Was an accomplice of the duke’s and escaped along with
him.”
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Dumas, Alexandre – Twenty Years After
Mazarin groaned.
“My lord,” said D’Artagnan, advancing toward the cardinal,
“it seems to me that your eminence is losing precious time.
It may still be possible to overtake the prisoner. France is
large; the nearest frontier is sixty leagues distant.”
“And who is to pursue him?” cried Mazarin.
“I, pardieu!”
“And you would arrest him?”
“Why not?”
“You would arrest the Duc de Beaufort, armed, in the field?”
“If your eminence should order me to arrest the devil, I