Part 36 (1/2)
”He will be minister!” echoed the Comte du Lude.
”Oh, no doubt of it!” said Montresor.
”I hope he'll give me a regiment, and I'll marry my cousin,” cried Olivier d'Entraigues, with boyish vivacity.
The Abbe de Gondi sneered, and, looking up at the sky, began to sing to a hunting tune.
”Les etourneaux ont le vent bon, Ton ton, ton ton, ton taine, ton ton--”
”I think, gentlemen, you are more short-sighted than I, or else miracles will come to pa.s.s in the year of grace 1642; for Monsieur de Bouillon is no nearer being Prime-Minister, though the King do embrace him, than I.
He has good qualities, but he will not do; his qualities are not various enough. However, I have much respect for his great and singularly foolish town of Sedan, which is a fine shelter in case of need.”
Montresor and the rest were too attentive to every gesture of the Prince to answer him; and they continued:
”See, Monsieur le Grand takes the reins, and is driving.”
The Abbe replied with the same air:
”Si vous conduisez ma brouette, Ne versez pas, beau postillon, Ton ton, ton ton, ton taine, ton ton.”
”Ah, Abbe, your songs will drive me mad!” said Fontrailles. ”You've got airs ready for every event in life.”
”I will also find you events which shall go to all the airs,” answered Gondi.
”Faith, the air of these pleases me!” said Fontrailles, in an under voice. ”I shall not be obliged by Monsieur to carry his confounded treaty to Madrid, and I am not sorry for it; it is a somewhat touchy commission. The Pyrenees are not so easily pa.s.sed as may be supposed; the Cardinal is on the road.”
”Ha! Ha!” cried Montresor.
”Ha! Ha!” said Olivier.
”Well, what is the matter with you? ah, ah!” asked Gondi. ”What have you discovered that is so great?”
”Why, the King has again shaken hands with Monsieur. Thank Heaven, gentlemen, we're rid of the Cardinal! The old boar is hunted down. Who will stick the knife into him? He must be thrown into the sea.”
”That's too good for him,” said Olivier; ”he must be tried.”
”Certainly,” said the Abbe; ”and we sha'n't want for charges against an insolent fellow who has dared to discharge a page, shall we?” Then, curbing his horse, and letting Olivier and Montresor pa.s.s on, he leaned toward M. du Lude, who was talking with two other serious personages, and said:
”In truth, I am tempted to let my valet-de-chambre into the secret; never was a conspiracy treated so lightly. Great enterprises require mystery. This would be an admirable one if some trouble were taken with it. 'Tis in itself a finer one than I have ever read of in history.
There is stuff enough in it to upset three kingdoms, if necessary, and the blockheads will spoil all. It is really a pity. I should be very sorry. I've a taste for affairs of this kind; and in this one in particular I feel a special interest. There is grandeur about it, as can not be denied. Do you not think so, D'Aubijoux, Montmort?”
While he was speaking, several large and heavy carriages, with six and four horses, followed the same path at two hundred paces behind these gentlemen; the curtains were open on the left side through which to see the King. In the first was the Queen; she was alone at the back, clothed in black and veiled. On the box was the Marechale d'Effiat; and at the feet of the Queen was the Princesse Marie. Seated on one side on a stool, her robe and her feet hung out of the carriage, and were supported by a gilt step--for, as we have already observed, there were then no doors to the coaches. She also tried to see through the trees the movements of the King, and often leaned back, annoyed by the pa.s.sing of the Prince-Palatine and his suite.
This northern Prince was sent by the King of Poland, apparently on a political negotiation, but in reality, to induce the d.u.c.h.esse de Mantua to espouse the old King Uladislas VI; and he displayed at the court of France all the luxury of his own, then called at Paris ”barbarian and Scythian,” and so far justified these names by strange eastern costumes.
The Palatine of Posnania was very handsome, and wore, in common with the people of his suite, a long, thick beard. His head, shaved like that of a Turk, was covered with a furred cap. He had a short vest, enriched with diamonds and rubies; his horse was painted red, and amply plumed.
He was attended by a company of Polish guards in red and yellow uniforms, wearing large cloaks with long sleeves, which hung negligently from the shoulder. The Polish lords who escorted him were dressed in gold and silver brocade; and behind their shaved heads floated a single lock of hair, which gave them an Asiatic and Tartar aspect, as unknown at the court of Louis XIII as that of the Moscovites. The women thought all this rather savage and alarming.
Marie de Mantua was importuned with the profound salutations and Oriental elegancies of this foreigner and his suite. Whenever he pa.s.sed before her, he thought himself called upon to address a compliment to her in broken French, awkwardly made up of a few words about hope and royalty. She found no other means to rid herself of him than by repeatedly putting her handkerchief to her nose, and saying aloud to the Queen: