Chapter XXVIII. The Ambassadors.
D'Artagnan had, with very few exceptions, learned almost all of theparticulars of what we have just been relating; for among his friendshe reckoned all the useful, serviceable people in the royalhousehold,--officious attendants who were proud of being recognizedby the captain of the musketeers, for the captain's influence wasvery great; and then, in addition to any ambitious views they may haveimagined he could promote, they were proud of being regarded asworth being spoken to by a man as brave as D'Artagnan. In this mannerD'Artagnan learned every morning what he had not been able either to seeor to ascertain the night before, from the simple fact of his not beingubiquitous; so that, with the information he had been able by his ownmeans to pick up during the day, and with what he had gathered fromothers, he succeeded in making up a bundle of weapons, which he was inthe prudent habit of using only when occasion required. In this way,D'Artagnan's two eyes rendered him the same service as the hundred eyesof Argus. Political secrets, bedside revelations, hints or scraps ofconversation dropped by the courtiers on the threshold of the royalante-chamber, in this way D'Artagnan managed to ascertain, and to storeaway everything in the vast and impenetrable mausoleum of his memory,by the side of those royal secrets so dearly bought and faithfullypreserved. He therefore knew of the king's interview with Colbert,and of the appointment made for the ambassadors in the morning, and,consequently, that the question of the medals would be brought up fordebate; and, while he was arranging and constructing the conversationupon a few chance words which had reached his ears, he returned to hispost in the royal apartments, so as to be there at the very moment theking awoke. It happened that the king rose very early,--proving therebythat he, too, on his side, had slept but indifferently. Towards seveno'clock, he half-opened his door very gently. D'Artagnan was at hispost. His majesty was pale, and seemed wearied; he had not, moreover,quite finished dressing.
"Send for M. de Saint-Aignan," he said.
Saint-Aignan was probably awaiting a summons, for the messenger, when hereached his apartment, found him already dressed. Saint-Aignan hastenedto the king in obedience to the summons. A moment afterwards the kingand Saint-Aignan passed by together--the king walking first. D'Artagnanwent to the window which looked out upon the courtyard; he had no needto put himself to the trouble of watching in what direction the kingwent, for he had no difficulty in guessing beforehand where his majestywas going. The king, in fact, bent his steps towards the apartmentsof the maids of honor,--a circumstance which in no way astonishedD'Artagnan, for he more than suspected, although La Valliere had notbreathed a syllable on the subject, that the king had some kind ofreparation to make. Saint-Aignan followed him as he had done theprevious evening, rather less uneasy in his mind, though still slightlyagitated, for he fervently trusted that at seven o'clock in the morningthere might be only himself and the king awake amongst the august guestsat the palace. D'Artagnan stood at the window, careless and perfectlycalm in his manner. One could almost have sworn that he noticed nothing,and was utterly ignorant who were these two hunters after adventures,passing like shadows across the courtyard, wrapped up in their cloaks.And yet, all the while that D'Artagnan appeared not to be looking atthem at all, he did not for one moment lose sight of them, and whilehe whistled that old march of the musketeers, which he rarely recalledexcept under great emergencies, he conjectured and prophesied howterrible would be the storm which would be raised on the king's return.In fact, when the king entered La Valliere's apartment and found theroom empty and the bed untouched, he began to be alarmed, and called outto Montalais, who immediately answered the summons; but her astonishmentwas equal to the king's. All that she could tell his majesty was, thatshe had fancied she had heard La Valliere's weeping during a portion ofthe night, but, knowing that his majesty had paid her a visit, she hadnot dared to inquire what was the matter.
"But," inquired the king, "where do you suppose she is gone?"
"Sire," replied Montalais, "Louise is of a very sentimental disposition,and as I have often seen her rise at daybreak in order to go out intothe garden, she may, perhaps, be there now."
This appeared probable, and the king immediately ran down the staircasein search of the fugitive. D'Artagnan saw him grow very pale, andtalking in an excited manner with his companion, as he went towards thegardens; Saint-Aignan following him, out of breath. D'Artagnan didnot stir from the window, but went on whistling, looking as if he sawnothing, yet seeing everything. "Come, come," he murmured, when the kingdisappeared, "his majesty's passion is stronger than I thought; he isnow doing, I think, what he never did for Mademoiselle de Mancini." [6]
In a quarter of an hour the king again appeared: he had lookedeverywhere, was completely out of breath, and, as a matter of course,had not discovered anything. Saint-Aignan, who still followed him,was fanning himself with his hat, and in a gasping voice, asking forinformation about La Valliere from such of the servants as were about,in fact from every one he met. Among others he came across Manicamp,who had arrived from Fontainebleau by easy stages; for whilst others hadperformed the journey in six hours, he had taken four and twenty.
"Have you seen Mademoiselle de la Valliere?" Saint-Aignan asked him.
Whereupon Manicamp, dreamy and absent as usual, answered, thinking thatsome one was asking him about De Guiche, "Thank you, the comte is alittle better."
And he continued on his way until he reached the ante-chamber whereD'Artagnan was, whom he asked to explain how it was that the kinglooked, as he thought, so bewildered; to which D'Artagnan replied thathe was quite mistaken, that the king, on the contrary, was as lively andmerry as he could possibly be.
In the midst of all this, eight o'clock struck. It was usual for theking to take his breakfast at this hour, for the code of etiquetteprescribed that the king should always be hungry at eight o'clock. Hisbreakfast was laid upon a small table in his bedroom, and he ate veryfast. Saint-Aignan, of whom he would not lose sight, waited on theking. He then disposed of several military audiences, during whichhe dispatched Saint-Aignan to see what he could find out. Then, stilloccupied, full of anxiety, still watching Saint-Aignan's return, who hadsent out the servants in every direction, to make inquires, and whohad also gone himself, the hour of nine struck, and the king forthwithpassed into his large cabinet.
As the clock was striking nine the ambassadors entered, and as itfinished, the two queens and Madame made their appearance. There werethree ambassadors from Holland, and two from Spain. The king glanced atthem, and then bowed; and, at the same moment, Saint-Aignan entered,--anentrance which the king regarded as far more important, in a differentsense, however, than that of ambassadors, however numerous they mightbe, and from whatever country they came; and so, setting everythingaside, the king made a sign of interrogation to Saint-Aignan, which thelatter answered by a most decisive negative. The king almost entirelylost his courage; but as the queens, the members of the nobility whowere present, and the ambassadors, had their eyes fixed upon him, heovercame his emotion by a violent effort, and invited the latter tospeak. Whereupon one of the Spanish deputies made a long oration, inwhich he boasted the advantages which the Spanish alliance would offer.
The king interrupted him, saying, "Monsieur, I trust that whatever isbest for France must be exceedingly advantageous for Spain."
This remark, and particularly the peremptory tone in which it waspronounced, made the ambassadors pale, and brought the color into thecheeks of the two queens, who, being Spanish, felt wounded in theirpride of relationship and nationality by this reply.
The Dutch ambassador then began to address himself to the king, andcomplained of the injurious suspicions which the king exhibited againstthe government of his country.
The king interrupted him, saying, "It is very singular, monsieur, thatyou should come with any complaint, when it is I rather who have reasonto be dissatisfied; and yet, you see, I do not complain."
"Complain, sire, and in what respect?"
The king smiled bitterly. "W
ill you blame me, monsieur," he said, "ifI should happen to entertain suspicions against a government whichauthorizes and protects international impertinence?"
"Sire!"
"I tell you," resumed the king, exciting himself by a recollection ofhis own personal annoyance, rather than from political grounds, "thatHolland is a land of refuge for all who hate me, and especially for allwho malign me."
"Oh, sire!"
"You wish for proofs, perhaps? Very good; they can be had easily enough.Whence proceed all those vile and insolent pamphlets which represent meas a monarch without glory and without authority? your printing-pressesgroan under their number. If my secretaries were here, I would mentionthe titles of the works as well as the names of the printers."
"Sire," replied the ambassador, "a pamphlet can hardly be regarded asthe work of a whole nation. Is it just, is it reasonable, that a greatand powerful monarch like your majesty should render a whole nationresponsible for the crime of a few madmen, who are, perhaps, onlyscribbling in a garret for a few sous to buy bread for their family?"
"That may be the case, I admit. But when the mint itself, at Amsterdam,strikes off medals which reflect disgrace upon me, is that also thecrime of a few madmen?"
"Medals!" stammered out the ambassador.
"Medals," repeated the king, looking at Colbert.
"Your majesty," the ambassador ventured, "should be quite sure--"
The king still looked at Colbert; but Colbert appeared not to understandhim, and maintained an unbroken silence, notwithstanding the king'srepeated hints. D'Artagnan then approached the king, and taking a pieceof money out of his pocket, he placed it in the king's hands, saying,"_This_ is the medal your majesty alludes to."
The king looked at it, and with a look which, ever since he had becomehis own master, was ever piercing as the eagle's, observed an insultingdevice representing Holland arresting the progress of the sun, with thisinscription: "_In conspectu meo stetit sol_."
"In my presence the sun stands still," exclaimed the king, furiously."Ah! you will hardly deny it now, I suppose."
"And the sun," said D'Artagnan, "is this," as he pointed to the panelsof the cabinet, where the sun was brilliantly represented in everydirection, with this motto, "_Nec pluribus impar_." [7]
Louis's anger, increased by the bitterness of his own personalsufferings, hardly required this additional circumstance to foment it.Every one saw, from the kindling passion in the king's eyes, that anexplosion was imminent. A look from Colbert kept postponed the burstingof the storm. The ambassador ventured to frame excuses by saying thatthe vanity of nations was a matter of little consequence; that Hollandwas proud that, with such limited resources, she had maintained her rankas a great nation, even against powerful monarchs, and that if a littlesmoke had intoxicated his countrymen, the king would be kindly disposed,and would even excuse this intoxication. The king seemed as if hewould be glad of some suggestion; he looked at Colbert, who remainedimpassible; then at D'Artagnan, who simply shrugged his shoulders, amovement which was like the opening of the flood-gates, whereby theking's anger, which he had restrained for so long a period, now burstforth. As no one knew what direction his anger might take, all preserveda dead silence. The second ambassador took advantage of it to begin hisexcuses also. While he was speaking, and while the king, who had againgradually returned to his own personal reflections, was automaticallylistening to the voice, full of nervous anxiety, with the air of anabsent man listening to the murmuring of a cascade, D'Artagnan, on whoseleft hand Saint-Aignan was standing, approached the latter, and, in avoice which was loud enough to reach the king's ears, said: "Have youheard the news?"
"What news?" said Saint-Aignan.
"About La Valliere."
The king started, and advanced his head.
"What has happened to La Valliere?" inquired Saint-Aignan, in a tonewhich can easily be imagined.
"Ah! poor girl! she is going to take the veil."
"The veil!" exclaimed Saint-Aignan.
"The veil!" cried the king, in the midst of the ambassador's discourse;but then, mindful of the rules of etiquette, he mastered himself, stilllistening, however, with rapt attention.
"What order?" inquired Saint-Aignan.
"The Carmelites of Chaillot."
"Who the deuce told you that?"
"She did herself."
"You have seen her, then?"
"Nay, I even went with her to the Carmelites."
The king did not lose a syllable of this conversation; and again hecould hardly control his feelings.
"But what was the cause of her flight?" inquired Saint-Aignan.
"Because the poor girl was driven away from the court yesterday,"replied D'Artagnan.
He had no sooner said this, than the king, with an authoritativegesture, said to the ambassador, "Enough, monsieur, enough." Then,advancing towards the captain, he exclaimed:
"Who says Mademoiselle de la Valliere is going to take the religiousvows?"
"M. d'Artagnan," answered the favorite.
"Is it true what you say?" said the king, turning towards the musketeer.
"As true as truth itself."
The king clenched his hands, and turned pale.
"You have something further to add, M. d'Artagnan?" he said.
"I know nothing more, sire."
"You added that Mademoiselle de la Valliere had been driven away fromthe court."
"Yes, sire."
"Is that true, also?"
"Ascertain for yourself, sire."
"And from whom?"
"Ah!" sighed D'Artagnan, like a man who is declining to say anythingfurther.
The king almost bounded from his seat, regardless of ambassadors,ministers, courtiers, queens, and politics. The queen-mother rose;she had heard everything, or, if she had not heard everything, she hadguessed it. Madame, almost fainting from anger and fear, endeavoredto rise as the queen-mother had done; but she sank down again upon herchair, which by an instinctive movement she made roll back a few paces.
"Gentlemen," said the king, "the audience is over; I will communicate myanswer, or rather my will, to Spain and to Holland;" and with a proud,imperious gesture, he dismissed the ambassadors.
"Take care, my son," said the queen-mother, indignantly, "you are hardlymaster of yourself, I think."
"Ah! madame," returned the young lion, with a terrible gesture, "if Iam not master of myself, I will be, I promise you, of those who do me adeadly injury; come with me, M. d'Artagnan, come." And he quitted theroom in the midst of general stupefaction and dismay. The king hastilydescended the staircase, and was about to cross the courtyard.
"Sire," said D'Artagnan, "your majesty mistakes the way."
"No; I am going to the stables."
"That is useless, sire, for I have horses ready for your majesty."
The king's only answer was a look, but this look promised more than theambition of three D'Artagnans could have dared to hope.