was conducted to a closet, the windows of which were barred
and which looked very much like a prison.
“And now, my good friend,” said D’Artagnan to him, “I must
invite you to deprive yourself, for my sake, of your hat and
cloak.”
The coachman, as we can well understand, made no resistance;
in fact, he was so astonished at what had happened to him
that he stammered and reeled like a drunken man; D’Artagnan
deposited his clothes under the arm of one of the valets.
“And now, Monsieur du Verger,” he said, “shut yourself up
with this man until Monsieur Bernouin returns to open the
door. The duty will be tolerably long and not very amusing,
I know; but,” added he, seriously, “you understand, it is on
the king’s service.”
“At your command, lieutenant,” replied the musketeer, who
saw the business was a serious one.
“By-the-bye,” continued D’Artagnan, “should this man attempt
to fly or to call out, pass your sword through his body.”
The musketeer signified by a nod that these commands should
be obeyed to the letter, and D’Artagnan went out, followed
by Bernouin. Midnight struck.
“Lead me into the queen’s oratory,” said D’Artagnan,
“announce to her I am here, and put this parcel, with a
well-loaded musket, under the seat of the carriage which is
waiting at the foot of the private stair.”
Bernouin conducted D’Artagnan to the oratory, where he sat
down pensively. Everything had gone on as usual at the
Palais Royal. As we said before, by ten o’clock almost all
the guests had dispersed; those who were to fly with the
court had the word of command and they were each severally
desired to be from twelve o’clock to one at Cours la Reine.
At ten o’clock Anne of Austria had entered the king’s room.
Monsieur had just retired, and the youthful Louis, remaining
the last, was amusing himself by placing some lead soldiers
in a line of battle, a game which delighted him much. Two
royal pages were playing with him.
“Laporte,” said the queen, “it is time for his majesty to go
to bed.”
The king asked to remain up, having, he said, no wish to
sleep; but the queen was firm.
“Are you not going to-morrow morning at six o’clock, Louis,
to bathe at Conflans? I think you wished to do so of your
own accord?”
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“You are right, madame,” said the king, “and I am ready to
retire to my room when you have kissed me. Laporte, give the
light to Monsieur the Chevalier de Coislin.”
The queen touched with her lips the white, smooth brow the
royal child presented to her with a gravity which already
partook of etiquette.
“Go to sleep soon, Louis,” said the queen, “for you must be
awakened very early.”
“I will do my best to obey you, madame,” said the youthful
king, “but I have no inclination to sleep.”
“Laporte,” said Anne of Austria, in an undertone, “find some
very dull book to read to his majesty, but do not undress
yourself.”
The king went out, accompanied by the Chevalier de Coislin,
bearing the candlestick, and then the queen returned to her
own apartment. Her ladies — that is to say Madame de Bregy,
Mademoiselle de Beaumont, Madame de Motteville, and
Socratine, her sister, so called on account of her sense —
had just brought into her dressing-room the remains of the
dinner, on which, according to her usual custom, she supped.
The queen then gave her orders, spoke of a banquet which the
Marquis de Villequier was to give to her on the day after
the morrow, indicated the persons she would admit to the
honor of partaking of it, announced another visit on the
following day to Val-de-Grace, where she intended to pay her
devotions, and gave her commands to her senior valet to
accompany her. When the ladies had finished their supper the
queen feigned extreme fatigue and passed into her bedroom.
Madame de Motteville, who was on especial duty that evening,
followed to aid and undress her. The queen then began to
read, and after conversing with her affectionately for a few