question the three Musketeers put to one another. Then, seeing that none of their replies could throw any light on the subject, Porthos called the host and asked for dice.
Porthos and Aramis placed themselves at the table and began to play. Athos walked about in a contemplative mood.
While thinking and walking, Athos passed and repassed before the pipe of the stove, broken in halves, the other extremity passing into the chamber above; and every time he passed and repassed he heard a murmur of words, which at length fixed his attention. Athos went close to it, and distinguished some words that appeared to merit so great an interest that he made a sign to his friends to be silent, remaining himself bent with his ear directed to the opening of the lower orifice.
“Listen, Milady,” said the cardinal, “the affair is important. Sit down, and let us talk it over.”
“Milady!” murmured Athos.
“I listen to your Eminence with greatest attention,” replied a female voice which made the Musketeer start.
“A small vessel with an English crew, whose captain is on my side, awaits you at the mouth of Charente, at Fort La Pointe*. He will set sail tomorrow morning.”
*Fort La Pointe, or Fort Vasou, was not built until 1672, nearly 50 years later.
“I must go thither tonight?”
“Instantly! That is to say, when you have received my instructions. Two men, whom you will find at the door on going out, will serve you as escort. You will allow me to leave first; then, after half an hour, you can go away in your turn.”
“Yes, monseigneur. Now let us return to the mission with which you wish to charge me; and as I desire to continue to merit the confidence of your Eminence, deign to unfold it to me in terms clear and precise, that I may not commit an error.”
There was an instant of profound silence between the two interlocutors. It was evident that the cardinal was weighing beforehand the terms in which he was about to speak, and that Milady was collecting all her intellectual faculties to comprehend the things he was about to say, and to engrave them in her memory when they should be spoken.
Athos took advantage of this moment to tell his two companions to fasten the door inside, and to make them a sign to come and listen with him.
The two Musketeers, who loved their ease, brought a chair for each of themselves and one for Athos. All three then sat down with their heads together and their ears on the alert.
“You will go to London,” continued the cardinal. “Arrived in London, you will seek Buckingham.”
“I must beg your Eminence to observe,” said Milady, “that since the affair of the diamond studs, about which the duke always suspected me, his Grace distrusts me.”
“Well, this time,” said the cardinal, “it is not necessary to steal his confidence, but to present yourself frankly and loyally as a negotiator.”
“Frankly and loyally,” repeated Milady, with an unspeakable expression of duplicity.
“Yes, frankly and loyally,” replied the cardinal, in the same tone. “All this negotiation must be carried on openly.”
“I will follow your Eminence’s instructions to the letter. I only wait till you give them.”
“You will go to Buckingham in my behalf, and you will tell him I am acquainted with all the preparations he has made; but that they give me no uneasiness, since at the first step he takes I will ruin the queen.”
“Will he believe that your Eminence is in a position to accomplish the threat thus made?”
“Yes; for I have the proofs.”
“I must be able to present these proofs for his appreciation.”
“Without doubt. And you will tell him I will publish the report of Bois-Robert and the Marquis de Beautru, upon the interview which the duke had at the residence of Madame the Constable with the queen on the evening Madame the Constable gave a masquerade. You will tell him, in order that he may not doubt, that he came there in the costume of the Great Mogul, which the Chevalier de Guise was to have worn, and that he purchased this exchange for the sum of three thousand pistoles.”
“Well, monseigneur?”
“All the details of his coming into and going out of the palace—on the night when he introduced himself in the character of an Italian fortune teller—you will tell him, that he may not doubt the correctness of my information; that he had under his cloak a large white robe dotted with black tears, death’s heads, and crossbones—for in case of a surprise, he was to pass for the phantom of the White Lady who, as all the world knows, appears at the Louvre every time any great event is impending.”
“Is that all, monseigneur?”
“Tell him also that I am acquainted with all the details of the adventure at Amiens; that I will have a little romance made of it, wittily turned, with a plan of the garden and portraits of the principal actors in that nocturnal romance.”
“I will tell him that.”
“Tell him further that I hold Montague in my power; that Montague is in the Bastille; that no letters were found upon him, it is true, but that torture may make him tell much of what he knows, and even what he does not know.”
“Exactly.”
“Then add that his Grace has, in the precipitation with which he quit the Isle of Re, forgotten and left behind him in his lodging a certain letter from Madame de Chevreuse which singularly compromises the queen, inasmuch as it proves not only that her Majesty can love the enemies of the king but that she can conspire with the enemies of France. You recollect perfectly all I have told you, do you not?”
“Your Eminence will judge: the ball of Madame the Constable; the night at the Louvre; the evening at Amiens; the arrest of Montague; the letter of Madame de Chevreuse.”
“That’s it,” said the cardinal, “that’s it. You have an excellent memory, Milady.”
“But,” resumed she to whom the cardinal addressed this flattering compliment, “if, in spite of all these reasons, the duke does not give way and continues to menace France?”
“The duke is in love to madness, or rather to folly,” replied Richelieu, with great bitterness. “Like the ancient paladins, he has only undertaken this war to obtain a look from his lady love. If he becomes certain that this war will cost the honor, and perhaps the liberty, of the lady of his thoughts, as he says, I will answer for it he will look twice.”
“And yet,” said Milady, with a persistence that proved she wished to see clearly to the end of the mission with which she was about to be charged, “if he persists?”
“If he persists?” said the cardinal. “That is not probable.”
“It is possible,” said Milady.
“If he persists—” His Eminence made a pause, and resumed: “If he persists—well, then I shall hope for one of those events which change the destinies of states.”
“If
