This account confirmed that of the mayor. The authorities were not in a condition to cope with serious revolt. Mazarin endeavored to circulate among the people a report that troops had only been stationed on the quays and on the Pont Neuf, on account of the ceremonial of the day, and that they would soon withdraw. In fact, about four o’clock they were all concentrated about the Palais Royal, the courts and ground floors of which were filled with musketeers and Swiss guards, and there awaited the outcome of all this disturbance. Such was the state of affairs at the very moment we introduced our readers to the study of Cardinal Mazarin—once that of Cardinal Richelieu. We have seen in what state of mind he listened to the murmurs from below, which even reached him in his seclusion, and to the guns, the firing of which resounded through that room. All at once he raised his head; his brow slightly contracted like that of a man who has formed a resolution; he fixed his eyes upon an enormous clock that was about to strike ten, and taking up a whistle of silver gilt that stood upon the table near him, he shrilled it twice. A door hidden in the tapestry opened noiselessly and a man in black silently advanced and stood behind the chair on which Mazarin sat. “Bernouin,” said the cardinal, not turning round, for having whistled, he knew that it was his _valet-de-chambre_ who was behind him; “what musketeers are now within the palace?” “The Black Musketeers, my lord.” “What company?” “Tréville’s company.” “Is there any officer belonging to this company in the ante-chamber?” “Lieutenant d’Artagnan.” “A man on whom we can depend, I hope.” “Yes, my lord.” “Give me a uniform of one of these musketeers and help me to put it on.” The valet went out as silently as he had entered and appeared in a few minutes bringing the dress demanded. The cardinal, in deep thought and in silence, began to take off the robes of state he had assumed in order to be present at the sitting of parliament, and to attire himself in the military coat, which he wore with a certain degree of easy grace, owing to his former campaigns in Italy. When he was completely dressed he said: “Send hither Monsieur d’Artagnan.” The valet went out of the room, this time by the centre door, but still as silently as before; one might have fancied him an apparition.