France -- History -- Louis XIV, 1643-1715 -- Fiction
“It is indispensable, my lord.”
Mazarin hesitated for one instant, but D’Artagnan was firm.
“Come, then,” said the minister; “I will conduct you to her, but
remember, not one word of our conversation.”
“What has passed between us concerns ourselves alone, my lord,” replied
D’Artagnan.
“Swear to be mute.”
“I never swear, my lord, I say yes or no; and, as I am a gentleman, I
keep my word.”
“Come, then, I see that I must trust unreservedly to you.”
“Believe me, my lord, it will be your best plan.”
“Come,” said Mazarin, conducting D’Artagnan into the queen’s oratory
and desiring him to wait there. He did not wait long, for in five
minutes the queen entered in full gala costume. Thus dressed she
scarcely appeared thirty-five years of age. She was still exceedingly
handsome.
“It is you, Monsieur D’Artagnan,” she said, smiling graciously; “I
thank you for having insisted on seeing me.”
“I ought to ask your majesty’s pardon, but I wished to receive your
commands from your own mouth.”
“Do you accept the commission which I have intrusted to you?”
“With gratitude.”
“Very well, be here at midnight.”
“I will not fail.”
“Monsieur d’Artagnan,” continued the queen, “I know your
disinterestedness too well to speak of my own gratitude at such a
moment, but I swear to you that I shall not forget this second service
as I forgot the first.”
“Your majesty is free to forget or to remember, as it pleases you; and
I know not what you mean,” said D’Artagnan, bowing.
“Go, sir,” said the queen, with her most bewitching smile, “go and
return at midnight.”
And D’Artagnan retired, but as he passed out he glanced at the curtain
through which the queen had entered and at the bottom of the tapestry
he remarked the tip of a velvet slipper.
“Good,” thought he; “Mazarin has been listening to discover whether I
betrayed him. In truth, that Italian puppet does not deserve the
services of an honest man.”
D’Artagnan was not less exact to his appointment and at half-past nine
o’clock he entered the ante-room.
He found the cardinal dressed as an officer, and he looked very well in
that costume, which, as we have already said, he wore elegantly; only
he was very pale and trembled slightly.
“Quite alone?” he asked.
“Yes, my lord.”
“And that worthy Monsieur du Vallon, are we not to enjoy his society?”
“Certainly, my lord; he is waiting in his carriage at the gate of the
garden of the Palais Royal.”
“And we start in his carriage, then?”
“Yes, my lord.”
“And with us no other escort but you two?”
“Is it not enough? One of us would suffice.”
“Really, my dear Monsieur d’Artagnan,” said the cardinal, “your
coolness startles me.”
“I should have thought, on the contrary, that it ought to have inspired
you with confidence.”
“And Bernouin—do I not take him with me?”
“There is no room for him, he will rejoin your eminence.”
“Let us go,” said Mazarin, “since everything must be done as you wish.”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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