“Thank you, madame,” said Mazarin. “I will profit by the advice.”
“And now,” added the queen, her voice broken by her emotion, “have you any other question to ask me?”
“Nothing,” — the cardinal spoke in his most conciliatory manner — “except to beg of you to forgive my unworthy suspicions. I love you so tenderly that I cannot help being jealous, even of the past.”
A smile, which was indefinable, passed over the lips of the queen.
“Since you have no further interrogations to make, leave me, I beseech you,” she said. “I wish, after such a scene, to be alone.”
Mazarin bent low before her.
“I will retire, madame. Do you permit me to return?”
“Yes, to-morrow.”
The cardinal took the queen’s hand and pressed it with an air of gallantry to his lips.
Scarcely had he left her when the queen went into her son’s room, and inquired from Laporte if the king was in bed. Laporte pointed to the child, who was asleep.
Anne ascended the steps side of the bed and softly kissed the placid forehead of her son; then she retired as silently as she had come, merely saying to Laporte:
“Try, my dear Laporte, to make the king more courteous to Monsieur le Cardinal, to whom both he and I are under such important obligations.”
5
The Gascon and the Italian.
Meanwhile the cardinal returned to his own room; and after asking Bernouin, who stood at the door, whether anything had occurred during his absence, and being answered in the negative, he desired that he might be left alone.
When he was alone he opened the door of the corridor and then that of the ante-chamber. There D’Artagnan was asleep upon a bench.
The cardinal went up to him and touched his shoulder. D’Artagnan started, awakened himself, and as he awoke, stood up exactly like a soldier under arms.
“Here I am,” said he. “Who calls me?”
“I,” said Mazarin, with his most smiling expression.
“I ask pardon of your eminence,” said D’Artagnan, “but I was so fatigued —— "
“Don’t ask my pardon, monsieur,” said Mazarin, “for you fatigued yourself in my service.”
D’Artagnan admired Mazarin’s gracious manner. “Ah,” said he, between his teeth, “is there truth in the proverb that fortune comes while one sleeps?”
“Follow me, monsieur,” said Mazarin.
“Come, come,” murmured D’Artagnan, “Rochefort has kept his promise, but where in the devil is he?” And he searched the cabinet even to the smallest recesses, but there was no sign of Rochefort.
“Monsieur d’Artagnan,” said the cardinal, sitting down on a fauteuil, “you have always seemed to me to be a brave and honorable man.”
“Possibly,” thought D’Artagnan, “but he has taken a long time to let me know his thoughts;” nevertheless, he bowed to the very ground in gratitude for Mazarin’s compliment.