The Recital
The maliciousness of the cardinal did not leave much for the ambassador
to say; nevertheless, the word “restoration” had struck the king, who,
addressing the comte, upon whom his eyes had been fixed since his
entrance,—“Monsieur,” said he, “will you have the kindness to give us
some details concerning the affairs of England. You come from that
country, you are a Frenchman, and the orders which I see glittering
upon your person announce you to be a man of merit as well as a man of
quality.”
“Monsieur,” said the cardinal, turning towards the queen-mother, “is an
ancient servant of your majesty’s, Monsieur le Comte de la Fere.”
Anne of Austria was as oblivious as a queen whose life had been mingled
with fine and stormy days. She looked at Mazarin, whose evil smile
promised her something disagreeable; then she solicited from Athos, by
another look, an explanation.
“Monsieur,” continued the cardinal, “was a Tréville musketeer, in the
service of the late king. Monsieur is well acquainted with England,
whither he has made several voyages at various periods; he is a subject
of the highest merit.”
These words made allusion to all the memories which Anne of Austria
trembled to evoke. England, that was her hatred of Richelieu and her
love for Buckingham; a Tréville musketeer, that was the whole Odyssey
of the triumphs which had made the heart of the young woman throb, and
of the dangers which had been so near overturning the throne of the
young queen. These words had much power, for they rendered mute and
attentive all the royal personages, who, with very various sentiments,
set about recomposing at the same time the mysteries which the young
had not seen, and which the old had believed to be forever effaced.
“Speak, monsieur,” said Louis XIV., the first to escape from troubles,
suspicions, and remembrances.
“Yes, speak,” added Mazarin, to whom the little malicious thrust
directed against Anne of Austria had restored energy and gayety.
“Sire,” said the comte, “a sort of miracle has changed the whole
destiny of Charles II. That which men, till that time, had been unable
to do, God resolved to accomplish.”
Mazarin coughed while tossing about in his bed.
“King Charles II.,” continued Athos, “left the Hague neither as a
fugitive nor a conqueror, but as an absolute king, who, after a distant
voyage from his kingdom, returns amidst universal benedictions.”
“A great miracle, indeed,” said Mazarin; “for, if the news was true,
King Charles II., who has just returned amidst benedictions, went away
amidst musket-shots.”
The king remained impassible. Philip, younger and more frivolous, could
not repress a smile, which flattered Mazarin as an applause of his
pleasantry.
“It is plain,” said the king, “there is a miracle; but God, who does so
much for kings, monsieur le comte, nevertheless employs the hand of man
to bring about the triumph of His designs. To what men does Charles II.
principally owe his re-establishment?”
“Why,” interrupted Mazarin, without any regard for the king’s
pride—“does not your majesty know that it is to M. Monk?”
“I ought to know it,” replied Louis XIV., resolutely; “and yet I ask my
lord ambassador the causes of the change in this General Monk?”
“And your majesty touches precisely the question,” replied Athos, “for
without the miracle of which I have had the honor to speak, General
Monk would probably have remained an implacable enemy of Charles II.
God willed that a strange, bold, and ingenious idea should enter into
the mind of a certain man, whilst a devoted and courageous idea took
possession of the mind of another man. The combinations of these two
ideas brought about such a change in the position of M. Monk, that,
from an inveterate enemy, he became a friend to the deposed king.”
“These are exactly the details I asked for,” said the king. “Who and
what are the two men of whom you speak?”
“Two Frenchmen, sire.”
“Indeed! I am glad of that.”
“And the two ideas,” said Mazarin;—“I am more curious about ideas than
about men, for my part.”
“Yes,” murmured the king.
“The second idea, the devoted, reasonable idea—the least important,
sir—was to go and dig up a million in gold, buried by King Charles I.
at Newcastle, and to purchase with that gold the adherence of Monk.”
“Oh, oh!” said Mazarin, reanimated by the word million. “But Newcastle
was at the time occupied by Monk.”
“Yes, monsieur le cardinal, and that is why I venture to call the idea
courageous as well as devoted. It was necessary, if Monk refused the
offers of the negotiator, to reinstate King Charles II. in possession
of this million, which was to be torn, as it were, from the loyalty and
not the royalism of General Monk. This was effected in spite of many
difficulties: the general proved to be loyal, and allowed the money to
be taken away.”
“It seems to me,” said the timid, thoughtful king, “that Charles II.
could not have known of this million whilst he was in Paris.”
“It seems to me,” rejoined the cardinal, maliciously, “that his majesty
the king of Great Britain knew perfectly well of this million, but that
he preferred having two millions to having one.”
“Sire,” said Athos, firmly, “the king of England, whilst in France, was
so poor that he had not even money to take the post; so destitute of
hope that he frequently thought of dying. He was so entirely ignorant
of the existence of the million at Newcastle, that but for a
gentleman—one of your majesty’s subjects—the moral depositary of the
million, who revealed the secret to King Charles II., that prince would
still be vegetating in the most cruel forgetfulness.”
“Let us pass on to the strange, bold and ingenious idea,” interrupted
Mazarin, whose sagacity foresaw a check. “What was that idea?”
“This—M. Monk formed the only obstacle to the re-establishment of the
fallen king. A Frenchman imagined the idea of suppressing this
obstacle.”
“Oh! oh! but he is a scoundrel, that Frenchman,” said Mazarin, “and the
idea is not so ingenious as to prevent its author being tied up by the
neck at the Place de Greve, by decree of the parliament.”
“Your eminence is mistaken,” replied Athos, dryly; “I did not say that
the Frenchman in question had resolved to assassinate M. Monk, but only
to suppress him. The words of the French language have a value which
the gentlemen of France know perfectly. Besides, this is an affair of
war; and when men serve kings against their enemies they are not to be
condemned by a parliament—God is their judge. This French gentleman,
then, formed the idea of gaining possession of the person of Monk, and
he executed his plan.”
The king became animated at the recital of great actions. The king’s
younger brother struck the table with his hand, exclaiming, “Ah! that
is fine!”
“He carried off Monk?” said the king. “Why, Monk was in his camp.”
“And the gentleman was alone, sire.”
“That is marvelous!” said Philip.
“Marvelous, indeed!” cried the king.
“Good! There are the two little lions unchained,” murmured the
cardinal. And with an air of spite, which he did not dissemble: “I am
unacquainted with these details, will you guarantee their authenticity,
monsieur?”
“All the more easily, my lord cardinal, from having seen the events.”
“You have?”
“Yes, monseigneur.”
The king had involuntarily drawn close to the count, the Duc d’Anjou
had turned sharply round, and pressed Athos on the other side.
“What next? monsieur, what next?” cried they both at the same time.
“Sire, M. Monk, being taken by the Frenchman, was brought to King
Charles II., at the Hague. The king gave back his freedom to Monk, and
the grateful general, in return, gave Charles II. the throne of Great
Britain, for which so many valiant men had fought in vain.”
Philip clapped his hands with enthusiasm; Louis XIV., more reflective,
turned towards the Comte de la Fere.
“Is this true,” said he, “in all its details?”
“Absolutely true, sire.”
“That one of my gentlemen knew the secret of the million, and kept it?”
“Yes, sire.”
“The name of that gentleman?”
“It was your humble servant,” said Athos, simply, and bowing.
A murmur of admiration made the heart of Athos swell with pleasure. He
had reason to be proud, at least. Mazarin, himself, had raised his arms
towards heaven.
“Monsieur,” said the king, “I shall seek, and find means to reward
you.” Athos made a movement. “Oh, not for your honesty, to be paid for
that would humiliate you, but I owe you a reward for having
participated in the restoration of my brother, King Charles II.”
“Certainly,” said Mazarin.
“It is the triumph of a good cause which fills the whole house of
France with joy,” said Anne of Austria.
“I continue,” said Louis XIV. “Is it also true that a single man
penetrated to Monk, in his camp, and carried him off?”
“That man had ten auxiliaries, taken from a very inferior rank.”
“And nothing but them?”
“Nothing more.”
“And he is named?”
“Monsieur d’Artagnan, formerly lieutenant of the musketeers of your
majesty.”
Anne of Austria colored; Mazarin became yellow with shame; Louis XIV.
was deeply thoughtful, and a drop of moisture fell from his pale brow.
“What men!” murmured he. And, involuntarily, he darted a glance at the
minister which would have terrified him, if Mazarin, at the moment, had
not concealed his head under his pillow.
“Monsieur,” said the young Duc d’Anjou, placing his hand, delicate and
white as that of a woman, upon the arm of Athos, “tell that brave man,
I beg you, that Monsieur, brother of the king, will to-morrow drink his
health before five hundred of the best gentlemen of France.” And, on
finishing these words, the young man, perceiving that his enthusiasm
had deranged one of his ruffles, set to work to put it to rights with
the greatest care imaginable.
“Let us resume business, sire,” interrupted Mazarin who never was
enthusiastic, and who wore no ruffles.
“Yes, monsieur,” replied Louis XIV. “Pursue your communication,
monsieur le comte,” added he, turning towards Athos.
Athos immediately began and offered in due form the hand of the
Princess Henrietta Stuart to the young prince, the king’s brother. The
conference lasted an hour; after which the doors of the chamber were
thrown open to the courtiers, who resumed their places as if nothing
had been kept from them in the occupations of that evening. Athos then
found himself again with Raoul, and the father and son were able to
clasp each other’s hands.