“My lord, the Queen Henrietta Maria, accompanied by an
English noble, is entering the Palais Royal at this moment.”
Mazarin made a bound from his chair, which did not escape
the attention of the young man and suppressed the confidence
he was about to make.
“Sir,” said the cardinal, “you have heard me? I fix on
Boulogne because I presume that every town in France is
indifferent to you; if you prefer another, name it; but you
can easily conceive that, surrounded as I am by influences I
can only muzzle by discretion, I desire your presence in
Paris to be unknown.”
“I go, sir,” said Mordaunt, advancing a few steps to the
door by which he had entered.
“No, not that way, I beg, sir,” quickly exclaimed the
cardinal, “be so good as to pass by yonder gallery, by which
you can regain the hall. I do not wish you to be seen
leaving; our interview must be kept secret.”
Mordaunt followed Bernouin, who led him through the adjacent
chamber and left him with a doorkeeper, showing him the way
out.
38
Henrietta Maria and Mazarin.
The cardinal rose, and advanced in haste to receive the
queen of England. He showed the more respect to this queen,
deprived of every mark of pomp and stripped of followers, as
he felt some self-reproach for his own want of heart and his
avarice. But supplicants for favor know how to accommodate
the expression of their features, and the daughter of Henry
IV. smiled as she advanced to meet a man she hated and
despised.
“Ah!” said Mazarin to himself, “what a sweet face; does she
come to borrow money of me?”
And he threw an uneasy glance at his strong box; he even
turned inside the bevel of the magnificent diamond ring, the
brilliancy of which drew every eye upon his hand, which
indeed was white and handsome.
“Your eminence,” said the august visitor, “it was my first
intention to speak of the matters that have brought me here
to the queen, my sister, but I have reflected that political
affairs are more especially the concern of men.”
“Madame,” said Mazarin, “your majesty overwhelms me with
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flattering distinction.”
“He is very gracious,” thought the queen; “can he have
guessed my errand?”
“Give,” continued the cardinal, “your commands to the most
respectful of your servants.”
“Alas, sir,” replied the queen, “I have lost the habit of
commanding and have adopted instead that of making
petitions. I am here to petition you, too happy should my
prayer be favorably heard.”
“I am listening, madame, with the greatest interest,” said
Mazarin.
“Your eminence, it concerns the war which the king, my
husband, is now sustaining against his rebellious subjects.
You are perhaps ignorant that they are fighting in England,”
added she, with a melancholy smile, “and that in a short
time they will fight in a much more decided fashion than
they have done hitherto.”
“I am completely ignorant of it, madame,” said the cardinal,
accompanying his words with a slight shrug of the shoulders;
“alas, our own wars quite absorb the time and the mind of a
poor, incapable, infirm old minister like me.”
“Well, then, your eminence,” said the queen, “I must inform
you that Charles I., my husband, is on the eve of a decisive
engagement. In case of a check” (Mazarin made a slight
movement), “one must foresee everything; in the case of a
check, he desires to retire into France and to live here as
a private individual. What do you say to this project?”
The cardinal had listened without permitting a single fibre
of his face to betray what he felt, and his smile remained
as it ever was — false and flattering; and when the queen
finished speaking, he said:
“Do you think, madame, that France, agitated and disturbed
as it is, would be a safe retreat for a dethroned king? How
will the crown, which is scarce firmly set on the head of
Louis XIV., support a double weight?”
“The weight was not so heavy when I was in peril,”
interrupted the queen, with a sad smile, “and I ask no more