CHAPTER 42
In which Mazarin becomes Prodigal
Whilst Mazarin was endeavoring to recover from the serious
alarm he had just experienced, Athos and Raoul were
exchanging a few words in a corner of the apartment. "Well,
here you are at Paris, then, Raoul?" said the comte.
"Yes, monsieur, since the return of M. le Prince."
"I cannot converse freely with you here, because we are
observed; but I shall return home presently, and shall
expect you as soon as your duty permits."
Raoul bowed, and, at that moment, M. le Prince came up to
them. The prince had that clear and keen look which
distinguishes birds of prey of the noble species; his
physiognomy itself presented several distinct traits of this
resemblance. It is known that in the Prince de Conde, the
aquiline nose rose out sharply and incisively from a brow
slightly retreating, rather low than high, and according to
the railers of the court, -- a pitiless race even for
genius, -- constituted rather an eagle's beak than a human
nose, in the heir of the illustrious princes of the house of
Conde. This penetrating look, this imperious expression of
the whole countenance generally disturbed those to whom the
prince spoke, more than either majesty or regular beauty
could have done in the conqueror of Rocroy. Besides this,
the fire mounted so suddenly to his projecting eyes, that
with the prince every sort of animation resembled passion.
Now, on account of his rank, everybody at the court
respected M. le Prince, and many even, seeing only the man,
carried their respect as far as terror.
Louis de Conde then advanced towards the Comte de la Fere
and Raoul, with the marked intention of being saluted by the
one, and of speaking to the other. No man bowed with more
reserved grace than the Comte de la Fere. He disdained to
put into a salutation all the shades which a courtier
ordinarily borrows from the same color -- the desire to
please. Athos knew his own personal value, and bowed to the
prince like a man, correcting by something sympathetic and
undefinable that which might have appeared offensive to the
pride of the highest rank in the inflexibility of his
attitude. The prince was about to speak to Raoul. Athos
forestalled him. "If M. le Vicomte de Bragelonne," said he,
"were not one of the humble servants of your royal highness,
I would beg him to pronounce my name before you -- mon
prince."
"I have the honor to address Monsieur le Comte de la Fere,"
said Conde instantly.
"My protector," added Raoul, blushing.
"One of the most honorable men in the kingdom," continued
the prince; "one of the first gentlemen of France, and of
whom I have heard so much that I have frequently desired to
number him among my friends."
"An honour of which I should be unworthy," replied Athos,
"but for the respect and admiration I entertain for your
royal highness."
"Monsieur de Bragelonne," said the prince, "is a good
officer, and it is plainly seen that he has been to a good
school. Ah, monsieur le comte, in your time, generals had
soldiers!"
"That is true, my lord, but nowadays soldiers have
generals."
This compliment, which savored so little of flattery, gave a
thrill of joy to the man whom already Europe considered a
hero; and who might be thought to be satiated with praise.
"I regret very much," continued the prince, "that you should
have retired from the service, monsieur le comte, for it is
more than probable that the king will soon have a war with
Holland or England, and opportunities for distinguishing
himself would not be wanting for a man who, like you, knows
Great Britain as well as you do France."
"I believe I may say, monseigneur, that I have acted wisely
in retiring from the service," said Athos, smiling. "France
and Great Britain will henceforward live like two sisters,
if I can trust my presentiments."
"Your presentiments?"
"Stop, monseigneur, listen to what is being said yonder, at
the table of my lord the cardinal."
"Where they are playing?"
"Yes, my lord."
The cardinal had just raised himself on one elbow, and made
a sign to the king's brother, who went to him.
"My lord," said the cardinal, "pick up, if you please, all
those gold crowns." And he pointed to the enormous pile of
yellow and glittering pieces which the Comte de Guiche had
raised by degrees before him by a surprising run of luck at
play.
"For me?" cried the Duc d'Anjou.
"Those fifty thousand crowns; yes, monseigneur, they are
yours."
"Do you give them to me?"
"I have been playing on your account, monseigneur," replied
the cardinal, getting weaker and weaker, as if this effort
of giving money had exhausted all his physical and moral
faculties.
"Oh, good heavens!" exclaimed Philip, wild with joy, "what a
fortunate day!" And he himself, making a rake of his
fingers, drew a part of the sum into his pockets, which he
filled, and still full a third remained on the table.
"Chevalier," said Philip to his favorite, the Chevalier de
Lorraine, "come hither, chevalier." The favorite quickly
obeyed. "Pocket the rest," said the young prince.
This singular scene was considered by the persons present
only as a touching kind of family fete. The cardinal assumed
the airs of a father with the sons of France, and the two
young princes had grown up under his wing. No one then
imputed to pride, or even impertinence, as would be done
nowadays, this liberality on the part of the first minister.
The courtiers were satisfied with envying the prince. -- The
king turned away his head.
"I never had so much money before," said the young prince,
joyously, as he crossed the chamber with his favorite to go
to his carriage. "No, never! What a weight these crowns
are!"
"But why has monsieur le cardinal given all this money at
once?" asked M. le Prince of the Comte de la Fere. "He must
be very ill, the dear cardinal!"
"Yes, my lord, very ill; without doubt; he looks very ill,
as your royal highness may perceive."
"But surely he will die of it. A hundred and fifty thousand
crowns! Oh, it is incredible! But, comte tell me a reason
for it?"
"Patience, monseigneur, I beg of you. Here comes M. le Duc
d'Anjou, talking with the Chevalier de Lorraine; I should
not be surprised if they spared us the trouble of being
indiscreet. Listen to them."
In fact the chevalier said to the prince in a low voice, "My
lord, it is not natural for M. Mazarin to give you so much
money. Take care! you will let some of the pieces fall, my
lord. What design has the cardinal upon you to make him so
generous?"
"As I said," whispered Athos in the prince's ear; "that,
perhaps, is the best reply to your question."
"Tell me, my lord," repeated the chevalier impatiently, as
he was calculating, by weighing them in his pocket, the
quota of the sum which had fallen to his share by rebound.
"My dear chevalier, a wedding present."
"How a wedding present?"
"Eh! yes, I am going to be married," replied the Duc
d'Anjou, without perceiving, at the moment, he was passing
the prince and Athos, who both bowed respectfully.
The chevalier darted at the young duke a glance so strange,
and so malicious, that the Comte de la Fere quite started on
beholding it.
"You! you to be married!" repeated he; "oh! that's
impossible. You would not commit such a folly!"
"Bah! I don't do it myself; I am made to do it," replied the
Duc d'Anjou. "But come, quick! let us get rid of our money."
Thereupon he disappeared with his companion, laughing and
talking, whilst all heads were bowed on his passage.
"Then," whispered the prince to Athos, "that is the secret."
"It was not I that told you so, my lord."
"He is to marry the sister of Charles II.?"
"I believe so."
The prince reflected for a moment, and his eye shot forth
one of its not unfrequent flashes. "Humph!" said he slowly,
as if speaking to himself; "our swords are once more to be
hung on the wall -- for a long time!" and he sighed.
All that sigh contained of ambition silently stifled, of
extinguished illusions and disappointed hopes, Athos alone
divined, for he alone had heard that sigh. Immediately
after, the prince took leave and the king left the
apartment. Athos, by a sign made to Bragelonne, renewed the
desire he had expressed at the beginning of the scene. By
degrees the chamber was deserted, and Mazarin was left
alone, a prey to suffering which he could no longer
dissemble. "Bernouin! Bernouin!" cried he, in a broken
voice.
"What does monseigneur want?"
"Guenaud -- let Guenaud be sent for," said his eminence. "I
think I'm dying."
Bernouin, in great terror, rushed into the cabinet to give
the order, and the piqueur, who hastened to fetch the
physician, passed the king's carriage in the Rue Saint
Honore.
