The queen bit her lips and moved impatiently on her chair.
“Well, what do you propose to do?” she, said at length;
“come, speak.”
“I will go this instant and consult the queen, and we will
refer the affair at once to parliament.”
“With which you are at war — is it not so? You will charge
Broussel to report it. Enough, sir, enough. I understand you
or rather, I am wrong. Go to the parliament, for it was from
this parliament, the enemy of monarchs, that the daughter of
the great, the sublime Henry IV., whom you so much admire,
received the only relief this winter which prevented her
from dying of hunger and cold!”
And with these words Henrietta rose in majestic indignation,
whilst the cardinal, raising his hands clasped toward her,
exclaimed, “Ah, madame, madame, how little you know me, mon
Dieu!”
But Queen Henrietta, without even turning toward him who
made these hypocritical pretensions, crossed the cabinet,
opened the door for herself and passing through the midst of
the cardinal’s numerous guards, courtiers eager to pay
homage, the luxurious show of a competing royalty, she went
and took the hand of De Winter, who stood apart in
isolation. Poor queen, already fallen! Though all bowed
before her, as etiquette required, she had now but a single
arm on which she could lean.
“It signifies little,” said Mazarin, when he was alone. “It
gave me pain and it was an ungracious part to play, but I
have said nothing either to the one or to the other.
Bernouin!”
Bernouin entered.
“See if the young man with the black doublet and the short
hair, who was with me just now, is still in the palace.”
Bernouin went out and soon returned with Comminges, who was
on guard.
“Your eminence,” said Comminges, “as I was re-conducting the
young man for whom you have asked, he approached the glass
door of the gallery, and gazed intently upon some object,
doubtless the picture by Raphael, which is opposite the
door. He reflected for a second and then descended the
stairs. I believe I saw him mount a gray horse and leave the
palace court. But is not your eminence going to the queen?”
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“For what purpose?”
“Monsieur de Guitant, my uncle, has just told me that her
majesty had received news of the army.”
“It is well; I will go.”
Comminges had seen rightly, and Mordaunt had really acted as
he had related. In crossing the gallery parallel to the
large glass gallery, he perceived De Winter, who was waiting
until the queen had finished her negotiation.
At this sight the young man stopped short, not in admiration
of Raphael’s picture, but as if fascinated at the sight of
some terrible object. His eyes dilated and a shudder ran
through his body. One would have said that he longed to
break through the wall of glass which separated him from his
enemy; for if Comminges had seen with what an expression of
hatred the eyes of this young man were fixed upon De Winter,
he would not have doubted for an instant that the Englishman
was his eternal foe.
But he stopped, doubtless to reflect; for instead of
allowing his first impulse, which had been to go straight to
Lord de Winter, to carry him away, he leisurely descended
the staircase, left the palace with his head down, mounted
his horse, which he reined in at the corner of the Rue
Richelieu, and with his eyes fixed on the gate, waited until
the queen’s carriage had left the court.
He had not long to wait, for the queen scarcely remained a
quarter of an hour with Mazarin, but this quarter of an hour
of expectation appeared a century to him. At last the heavy
machine, which was called a chariot in those days, came out,
rumbling against the gates, and De Winter, still on
horseback, bent again to the door to converse with her
majesty.
The horses started on a trot and took the road to the
Louvre, which they entered. Before leaving the convent of
the Carmelites, Henrietta had desired her daughter to attend