“I come on the part of his majesty the king of Great Britain to announce to the king of France”—Mazarin frowned—“to announce to the king of France,” continued Athos, imperturbably, “the happy restoration of his majesty Charles II. to the throne of his ancestors.” This shade did not escape his cunning eminence. Mazarin was too much accustomed to mankind, not to see in the cold and almost haughty politeness of Athos, an index of hostility, which was not of the temperature of that hot-house called a court. “You have powers. I suppose?” asked Mazarin, in a short, querulous tone. “Yes, monseigneur.” And the word “monseigneur” came so painfully from the lips of Athos that it might be said it skinned them. Athos took from an embroidered velvet bag which he carried under his doublet a dispatch. The cardinal held out his hand for it. “Your pardon, monseigneur,” said Athos. “My dispatch is for the king.” “Since you are a Frenchman, monsieur, you ought to know the position of a prime minister at the court of France.” “There was a time,” replied Athos, “when I occupied myself with the importance of prime ministers, but I have formed, long ago, a resolution to treat no longer with any but the king.” “Then, monsieur,” said Mazarin, who began to be irritated, “you will neither see the minister nor the king.” Mazarin rose. Athos replaced his dispatch in its bag, bowed gravely, and made several steps towards the door. This coolness exasperated Mazarin. “What strange diplomatic proceedings are these!” cried he. “Have we returned to the times when Cromwell sent us bullies in the guise of charges d’affaires? You want nothing monsieur, but the steel cap on your head, and a Bible at your girdle.” “Monsieur,” said Athos, dryly, “I have never had, as you have, the advantage of treating with Cromwell; and I have only seen his charges d’affaires sword in hand, I am therefore ignorant of how he treated with prime ministers. As for the king of England, Charles II., I know that when he writes to his majesty King Louis XIV., he does not write to his eminence the Cardinal Mazarin. I see no diplomacy in that distinction.” “Ah!” cried Mazarin, raising his attenuated hand and striking his head, “I remember now!” Athos looked at him in astonishment. “Yes, that is it!” said the cardinal, continuing to look at his interlocutor; “yes, that is certainly it. I know you now, monsieur. Ah! diavolo! I am no longer astonished.” “In fact, I was astonished that, with your eminence’s excellent memory,” replied Athos, smiling, “you had not recognized me before.”