“Always refractory and grumbling—monsieur—monsieur—What do they call you? Stop—a name of a river—Potamos; no—the name of an island—Naxos; no, per Giove!—the name of a mountain—Athos! now I have it. Delighted to see you again, and to be no longer at Rueil, where you and your damned companions made me pay ransom. Fronde! still Fronde! accursed Fronde! Oh, what grudges! Why, monsieur, have your antipathies survived mine? If any one had cause to complain, I think it could not be you, who got out of the affair not only in a sound skin, but with the cordon of the Holy Ghost around your neck.” “My lord cardinal,” replied Athos, “permit me not to enter into considerations of that kind. I have a mission to fulfill. Will you facilitate the means of my fulfilling that mission, or will you not?” “I am astonished,” said Mazarin,—quite delighted at having recovered his memory, and bristling with malice—“I am astonished, Monsieur—Athos—that a Frondeur like you should have accepted a mission for the Mazarin, as used to be said in the good old times——” And Mazarin began to laugh, in spite of a painful cough, which cut short his sentences, converting them into sobs. “I have only accepted the mission near the king of France, monsieur le cardinal,” retorted the comte, though with less asperity, for he thought he had sufficiently the advantage to show himself moderate. “And yet, Monsieur le Frondeur,” said Mazarin gayly, “the affair which you have taken in charge must, from the king——” “With which I have been given in charge, monseigneur. I do not run after affairs.” “Be it so. I say that this negotiation must pass through my hands. Let us lose no precious time, then. Tell me the conditions.” “I have had the honor of assuring your eminence that only the letter of his majesty King Charles II. contains the revelation of his wishes.” “Pooh! you are ridiculous with your obstinacy, Monsieur Athos. It is plain you have kept company with the Puritans yonder. As to your secret, I know it better than you do; and you have done wrongly, perhaps, in not having shown some respect for a very old and suffering man, who has labored much during his life, and kept the field for his ideas as bravely as you have for yours. You will not communicate your letter to me? You will say nothing to me? Very well! Come with me into my chamber; you shall speak to the king—and before the king.—Now, then, one last word: who gave you the Fleece? I remember you passed for having the Garter; but as to the Fleece, I do not know——” “Recently, my lord, Spain, on the occasion of the marriage of his majesty Louis XIV., sent King Charles II. a brevet of the Fleece in blank, Charles II. immediately transmitted it to me, filling up the blank with my name.”