Adventure and adventurers -- Fiction; France -- History -- Louis XIII, 1610-1643 -- Fiction; Historical fiction; Swordsmen -- Fiction
“Yes, sire. Today is the twentieth of September. The aldermen of the
city give a fête on the third of October. That will fall in wonderfully
well; you will not appear to have gone out of your way to please the
queen.”
Then the cardinal added, “_A propos_, sire, do not forget to tell her
Majesty the evening before the fête that you should like to see how her
diamond studs become her.”
Chapter XVII.
BONACIEUX AT HOME
It was the second time the cardinal had mentioned these diamond studs
to the king. Louis XIII. was struck with this insistence, and began to
fancy that this recommendation concealed some mystery.
More than once the king had been humiliated by the cardinal, whose
police, without having yet attained the perfection of the modern
police, were excellent, being better informed than himself, even upon
what was going on in his own household. He hoped, then, in a
conversation with Anne of Austria, to obtain some information from that
conversation, and afterward to come upon his Eminence with some secret
which the cardinal either knew or did not know, but which, in either
case, would raise him infinitely in the eyes of his minister.
He went then to the queen, and according to custom accosted her with
fresh menaces against those who surrounded her. Anne of Austria lowered
her head, allowed the torrent to flow on without replying, hoping that
it would cease of itself; but this was not what Louis XIII. meant. Louis
XIII. wanted a discussion from which some light or other might break,
convinced as he was that the cardinal had some afterthought and was
preparing for him one of those terrible surprises which his Eminence
was so skillful in getting up. He arrived at this end by his
persistence in accusation.
“But,” cried Anne of Austria, tired of these vague attacks, “but, sire,
you do not tell me all that you have in your heart. What have I done,
then? Let me know what crime I have committed. It is impossible that
your Majesty can make all this ado about a letter written to my
brother.”
The king, attacked in a manner so direct, did not know what to answer;
and he thought that this was the moment for expressing the desire which
he was not going to have made until the evening before the fête.
“Madame,” said he, with dignity, “there will shortly be a ball at the
Hôtel de Ville. I wish, in order to honor our worthy aldermen, you
should appear in ceremonial costume, and above all, ornamented with the
diamond studs which I gave you on your birthday. That is my answer.”
The answer was terrible. Anne of Austria believed that Louis XIII. knew
all, and that the cardinal had persuaded him to employ this long
dissimulation of seven or eight days, which, likewise, was
characteristic. She became excessively pale, leaned her beautiful hand
upon a _console_, which hand appeared then like one of wax, and looking
at the king with terror in her eyes, she was unable to reply by a
single syllable.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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