"To think of the Parisians," soliloquized D'Artagnan, "offering only the other day, by an edict of the parliament, six hundred thousand francs to any man soever who would deliver up the cardinal to them, dead or alive -- if alive, in order to hang him; if dead, to deny him the rites of Christian burial!"
"Come," said Anne, "'tis reasonable, since you only ask from a queen the sixth of what the parliament has proposed;" and she signed an order for a hundred thousand francs.
"Now, then," she said, "what next?"
"Madame, my friend Du Vallon is rich and has therefore nothing in the way of fortune to desire; but I think I remember that there was a question between him and Monsieur Mazarin as to making his estate a barony. Nay, it must have been a promise."
"A country clown," said Anne of Austria, "people will laugh."
"Let them," answered D'Artagnan. "But I am sure of one thing -- that those who laugh at him in his presence will never laugh a second time."
"Here goes the barony." said the queen; she signed a patent.
"Now there remains the chevalier, or the Abbe d'Herblay, as your majesty pleases."
"Does he wish to be a bishop?"
"No, madame, something easier to grant."
"What?"
"It is that the king should deign to stand godfather to the son of Madame de Longueville."
The queen smiled.
"Monsieur de Longueville is of royal blood, madame," said D'Artagnan.
"Yes," said the queen; "but his son?"
"His son, madame, must be, since the husband of the son's mother is."
"And your friend has nothing more to ask for Madame de Longueville?"
"No, madame, for I presume that the king, standing godfather to him, could do no less than present him with five hundred thousand francs, giving his father, also, the government of Normandy."
"As to the government of Normandy," replied the queen, "I think I can promise; but with regard to the present, the cardinal is always telling me there is no more money in the royal coffers."
"We shall search for some, madame, and I think we can find a little, and if your majesty approves, we will seek for some together."
"What next?"
"What next, madame?"
"Yes."
"That is all."
"Haven't you, then, a fourth companion?"
"Yes, madame, the Comte de la Fere."
"What does he ask?"
"Nothing."
"There is in the world, then, one man who, having the power to ask, asks -- nothing!"
"There is the Comte de la Fere, madame. The Comte de la Fere is not a man."
"What is he, then?"
"The Comte de la Fere is a demi-god."
"Has he not a son, a young man, a relative, a nephew, of whom Comminges spoke to me as being a brave boy, and who, with Monsieur de Chatillon, brought the standards from Lens?"
"He has, as your majesty has said, a ward, who is called the Vicomte de Bragelonne."
"If that young man should be appointed to a regiment what would his guardian say?"
"Perhaps he would accept."
"Perhaps?"
"Yes, if your majesty herself should beg him to accept."
"He must be indeed a strange man. Well, we will reflect and perhaps we will beg him. Are you satisfied, sir?"
"There is one thing the queen has not signed -- her assent to the treaty."
"Of what use to-day? I will sign it to-morrow."
"I can assure her majesty that if she does not sign to-day she will not have time to sign to-morrow. Consent, then, I beg you, madame, to write at the bottom of this schedule, which has been drawn up by Mazarin, as you see:
"`I consent to ratify the treaty proposed by the Parisians.'"
Anne was caught, she could not draw back -- she signed; but scarcely had she done so when pride burst forth and she began to weep.
D'Artagnan started on seeing these tears. Since that period of history queens have shed tears, like other women.
The Gascon shook his head, these tears from royalty melted his heart.
