"Eh, pardieu!" said Mazarin, with a grimace which he always made when spoken to about money. "They will be paid, if there is no way of getting out of it."
"Does my lord seriously wish me to name any one who was mixed up in the cabals of that day?"
"By Bacchus!" rejoined Mazarin, impatiently, "it's about an hour since I asked you for that very thing, wooden–head that you are."
"There is one man for whom I can answer, if he will speak out."
"That's my concern; I will make him speak."
"Ah, my lord, 'tis not easy to make people say what they don't wish to let out."
"Pooh! with patience one must succeed. Well, this man. Who is he?"
"The Comte de Rochefort."
"The Comte de Rochefort!"
"Unfortunately he has disappeared these four or five years and I don't know where he is."
"I know, Guitant," said Mazarin.
"Well, then, how is it that your eminence complained just now of want of information?"
"You think," resumed Mazarin, "that Rochefort——"
"He was Cardinal Richelieu's creature, my lord. I warn you, however, his services will cost you something. The cardinal was lavish to his underlings."
"Yes, yes, Guitant," said Mazarin; "Richelieu was a great man, a very great man, but he had that defect. Thanks, Guitant; I shall benefit by your advice this very evening."
Here they separated and bidding adieu to Guitant in the court of the Palais Royal, Mazarin approached an officer who was walking up and down within that inclosure.
It was D'Artagnan, who was waiting for him.
"Come hither," said Mazarin in his softest voice; "I have an order to give you."
D'Artagnan bent low and following the cardinal up the secret staircase, soon found himself in the study whence they had first set out.
The cardinal seated himself before his bureau and taking a sheet of paper wrote some lines upon it, whilst D'Artagnan stood imperturbable, without showing either impatience or curiosity. He was like a soldierly automaton, or rather, like a magnificent marionette.
The cardinal folded and sealed his letter.
"Monsieur d'Artagnan," he said, "you are to take this dispatch to the Bastile and bring back here the person it concerns. You must take a carriage and an escort, and guard the prisoner with the greatest care."
D'Artagnan took the letter, touched his hat with his hand, turned round upon his heel like a drill–sergeant, and a moment afterward was heard, in his dry and monotonous tone, commanding "Four men and an escort, a carriage and a horse." Five minutes afterward the wheels of the carriage and the horses' shoes were heard resounding on the pavement of the courtyard.
D'Artagnan arrived at the Bastile just as it was striking half–past eight. His visit was announced to the governor, who, on hearing that he came from the cardinal, went to meet him and received him at the top of the great flight of steps outside the door. The governor of the Bastile was Monsieur du Tremblay, the brother of the famous Capuchin, Joseph, that fearful favorite of Richelieu's, who went by the name of the Gray Cardinal.
During the period that the Duc de Bassompierre passed in the Bastile—where he remained for twelve long years—when his companions, in their dreams of liberty, said to each other: "As for me, I shall go out of the prison at such a time," and another, at such and such a time, the duke used to answer, "As for me, gentlemen, I shall leave only when Monsieur du Tremblay leaves;" meaning that at the death of the cardinal Du Tremblay would certainly lose his place at the Bastile and De Bassompierre regain his at court.
His prediction was nearly fulfilled, but in a very different way from that which De Bassompierre supposed; for after the death of Richelieu everything went on, contrary to expectation, in the same way as before; and Bassompierre had little chance of leaving his prison.
Monsieur du Tremblay received D'Artagnan with extreme politeness and invited him to sit down with him to supper, of which he was himself about to partake.
"I should be delighted to do so," was the reply; "but if I am not mistaken, the words "In haste," are written on the envelope of the letter which I brought."
"You are right," said Du Tremblay. "Halloo, major! tell them to order Number 25 to come downstairs."
The unhappy wretch who entered the Bastile ceased, as he crossed the threshold, to be a man—he became a number.
D'Artagnan shuddered at the noise of the keys; he remained on horseback, feeling no inclination to dismount, and sat looking at the bars, at the buttressed windows and the immense walls he had hitherto only seen from the other side of the moat, but by which he had for twenty years been awe–struck.
A bell resounded.
"I must leave you," said Du Tremblay; "I am sent for to sign the release of a prisoner. I shall be happy to meet you again, sir."
"May the devil annihilate me if I return thy wish!" murmured D'Artagnan, smiling as he pronounced the imprecation; "I declare I feel quite ill after only being five minutes in the courtyard. Go to! go to! I would rather die on straw than hoard up a thousand a year by being governor of the Bastile."
He had scarcely finished this soliloquy before the prisoner arrived. On seeing him D'Artagnan could hardly suppress an exclamation of surprise. The prisoner got into the carriage without seeming to recognize the musketeer.
"Gentlemen," thus D'Artagnan addressed the four musketeers, "I am ordered to exercise the greatest possible care in guarding the prisoner, and since there are no locks to the carriage, I shall sit beside him. Monsieur de Lillebonne, lead my horse by the bridle, if you please." As he spoke he dismounted, gave the bridle of his horse to the musketeer and placing himself by the side of the prisoner said, in a voice perfectly composed, "To the Palais Royal, at full trot."
The carriage drove on and D'Artagnan, availing himself of the darkness in the archway under which they were passing, threw himself into the arms of the prisoner.
"Rochefort!" he exclaimed; "you! is it you, indeed? I am not mistaken?"
"D'Artagnan!" cried Rochefort.
"Ah! my poor friend!" resumed D'Artagnan, "not having seen you for four or five years I concluded you were dead."
"I'faith," said Rochefort, "there's no great difference, I think, between a dead man and one who has been buried alive; now I have been buried alive, or very nearly so."
"And for what crime are you imprisoned in the Bastile."
"Do you wish me to speak the truth?"
"Yes."
"Well, then, I don't know."
"Have you any suspicion of me, Rochefort?"
"No! on the honor of a gentleman; but I cannot be imprisoned for the reason alleged; it is impossible."
"What reason?" asked D'Artagnan.
"For stealing."
"For stealing! you, Rochefort! you are laughing at me."
"I understand. You mean that this demands explanation, do you not?"
"I admit it."
"Well, this is what actually took place: One evening after an orgy in Reinard's apartment at the Tuileries with the Duc d'Harcourt, Fontrailles, De Rieux and others, the Duc d'Harcourt proposed that we should go and pull cloaks on the Pont Neuf; that is, you know, a diversion which the Duc d'Orleans made quite the fashion."
"Were you crazy, Rochefort? at your age!"
"No, I was drunk. And yet, since the amusement seemed to me rather tame, I proposed to Chevalier de Rieux that we should be spectators instead of actors, and, in order to see to advantage, that we should mount the bronze horse. No sooner said than done. Thanks to the spurs, which served as stirrups, in a moment we were perched upon the croupe; we were well placed and saw everything. Four or five cloaks had already been lifted, with a dexterity without parallel, and not one of the victims had dared to say a word, when some fool of a fellow, less patient than the others, took it into his head to cry out, "Guard!" and drew upon us a patrol of archers. Duc d'Harcourt, Fontrailles, and the others escaped; De Rieux was inclined to do likewise, but I told him they wouldn't look for us where we were. He wouldn't listen, put his foot on the spur to get down, the spur broke, he fell with a broken leg, and, instead of keeping quiet, took to crying out like a gallows–bird. I then was ready to dismount, but it was too late; I descended into the arms of the archers. They conducted me to the Chatelet, where I slept soundly, being very sure that on the next day I should go forth free. The next day came and passed, the day after, a week; I then wrote to the cardinal. The same day they came for me and took me to the Bastile. That was five years ago. Do you believe it was because I committed the sacrilege of mounting en croupe behind Henry IV.?"
"No; you are right, my dear Rochefort, it couldn't be for that; but you will probably learn the reason soon."
"Ah, indeed! I forgot to ask you—where are you taking me?"
"To the cardinal."
"What does he want with me?"
"I do not know. I did not even know that you were the person I was sent to fetch."
"Impossible—you—a favorite of the minister!"
"A favorite! no, indeed!" cried D'Artagnan. "Ah, my poor friend! I am just as poor a Gascon as when I saw you at Meung, twenty–two years ago, you know; alas!" and he concluded his speech with a deep sigh.
"Nevertheless, you come as one in authority."
"Because I happened to be in the ante–chamber when the cardinal called me, by the merest chance. I am still a lieutenant in the musketeers and have been so these twenty years."
"Then no misfortune has happened to you?"
"And what misfortune could happen to me? To quote some Latin verses I have forgotten, or rather, never knew well, "the thunderbolt never falls on the valleys," and I am a valley, dear Rochefort,—one of the lowliest of the low."
"Then Mazarin is still Mazarin?"
"The same as ever, my friend; it is said that he is married to the queen."
"Married?"
"If not her husband, he is unquestionably her lover."
"You surprise me. Rebuff Buckingham and consent to Mazarin!"
"Just like the women," replied D'Artagnan, coolly.
"Like women, not like queens."
"Egad! queens are the weakest of their sex, when it comes to such things as these."
"And M. de Beaufort—is he still in prison?"
"Yes. Why?"
"Oh, nothing, but that he might get me out of this, if he were favorably inclined to me."
"You are probably nearer freedom than he is, so it will be your business to get him out."
"And," said the prisoner, "what talk is there of war with Spain?"
"With Spain, no," answered D'Artagnan; "but Paris."
"What do you mean?" cried Rochefort.
"Do you hear the guns, pray? The citizens are amusing themselves in the meantime."
"And you—do you really think that anything could be done with these bourgeois?"
"Yes, they might do well if they had any leader to unite them in one body."
"How miserable not to be free!"
"Don't be downcast. Since Mazarin has sent for you, it is because he wants you. I congratulate you! Many a long year has passed since any one has wanted to employ me; so you see in what a situation I am."
"Make your complaints known; that's my advice."
"Listen, Rochefort; let us make a compact. We are friends, are we not?"
"Egad! I bear the traces of our friendship—three slits or slashes from your sword."
"Well, if you should be restored to favor, don't forget me."
"On the honor of a Rochefort; but you must do the like for me."
"There's my hand,—I promise."
"Therefore, whenever you find any opportunity of saying something in my behalf——"
"I shall say it, and you?"
"I shall do the same."
"Apropos, are we to speak of your friends also, Athos, Porthos, and Aramis? or have you forgotten them?"
"Almost."
"What has become of them?"
"I don't know; we separated, as you know. They are alive, that's all that I can say about them; from time to time I hear of them indirectly, but in what part of the world they are, devil take me if I know, No, on my honor, I have not a friend in the world but you, Rochefort."
"And the illustrious—what's the name of the lad whom I made a sergeant in Piedmont's regiment?"
"Planchet!"
"The illustrious Planchet. What has become of him?"
"I shouldn't wonder if he were at the head of the mob at this very moment. He married a woman who keeps a confectioner's shop in the Rue des Lombards, for he's a lad who was always fond of sweetmeats; he's now a citizen of Paris. You'll see that that queer fellow will be a sheriff before I shall be a captain."
"Come, dear D'Artagnan, look up a little! Courage! It is when one is lowest on the wheel of fortune that the merry–go–round wheels and rewards us. This evening your destiny begins to change."
"Amen!" exclaimed D'Artagnan, stopping the carriage.
"What are you doing?" asked Rochefort.
"We are almost there and I want no one to see me getting out of your carriage; we are supposed not to know each other."
"You are right. Adieu."
"Au revoir. Remember your promise."
In five minutes the party entered the courtyard and D'Artagnan led the prisoner up the great staircase and across the corridor and ante–chamber.
As they stopped at the door of the cardinal's study, D'Artagnan was about to be announced when Rochefort slapped him on his shoulder.
"D'Artagnan, let me confess to you what I've been thinking about during the whole of my drive, as I looked out upon the parties of citizens who perpetually crossed our path and looked at you and your four men with fiery eyes."
"Speak out," answered D'Artagnan.
"I had only to cry out "Help!" for you and for your companions to be cut to pieces, and then I should have been free."
"Why didn't you do it?" asked the lieutenant.
"Come, come!" cried Rochefort. "Did we not swear friendship? Ah! had any one but you been there, I don't say——"
D'Artagnan bowed. "Is it possible that Rochefort has become a better man than I am?" he said to himself. And he caused himself to be announced to the minister.
"Let M. de Rochefort enter," said Mazarin, eagerly, on hearing their names pronounced; "and beg M. d'Artagnan to wait; I shall have further need of him."
These words gave great joy to D'Artagnan. As he had said, it had been a long time since any one had needed him; and that demand for his services on the part of Mazarin seemed to him an auspicious sign.
Rochefort, rendered suspicious and cautious by these words, entered the apartment, where he found Mazarin sitting at the table, dressed in his ordinary garb and as one of the prelates of the Church, his costume being similar to that of the abbes in that day, excepting that his scarf and stockings were violet.
As the door was closed Rochefort cast a glance toward Mazarin, which was answered by one, equally furtive, from the minister.
There was little change in the cardinal; still dressed with sedulous care, his hair well arranged and curled, his person perfumed, he looked, owing to his extreme taste in dress, only half his age. But Rochefort, who had passed five years in prison, had become old in the lapse of a few years; the dark locks of this estimable friend of the defunct Cardinal Richelieu were now white; the deep bronze of his complexion had been succeeded by a mortal pallor which betokened debility. As he gazed at him Mazarin shook his head slightly, as much as to say, "This is a man who does not appear to me fit for much."
After a pause, which appeared an age to Rochefort, Mazarin took from a bundle of papers a letter, and showing it to the count, he said:
"I find here a letter in which you sue for liberty, Monsieur de Rochefort. You are in prison, then?"
Rochefort trembled in every limb at this question. "But I thought," he said, "that your eminence knew that circumstance better than any one——"
"I? Oh no! There is a congestion of prisoners in the Bastile, who were cooped up in the time of Monsieur de Richelieu; I don't even know their names."
"Yes, but in regard to myself, my lord, it cannot be so, for I was removed from the Chatelet to the Bastile owing to an order from your eminence."
"You think you were."
"I am certain of it."
"Ah, stay! I fancy I remember it. Did you not once refuse to undertake a journey to Brussels for the queen?"
"Ah! ah!" exclaimed Rochefort. "There is the true reason! Idiot that I am, though I have been trying to find it out for five years, I never found it out."
"But I do not say it was the cause of your imprisonment. I merely ask you, did you not refuse to go to Brussels for the queen, whilst you had consented to go there to do some service for the late cardinal?"