Part 50 (1/2)

”The Duke of Braganza, then,” coldly repeated the Secretary of State, ”sends his nephew, Don Ignacio de Mascarenas, to the princ.i.p.ality of Catalonia, to seize the protection (and it may be the sovereignty) of that country, which he would add to that he has just reconquered. Your Majesty's troops are before Perpignan--”

”Well, and what of that?” said Louis.

”The Catalonians are more disposed toward France than toward Portugal, and there is still time to deprive the King of-the Duke of Portugal, I should say--of this protectors.h.i.+p.”

”What! I a.s.sist rebels! You dare--”

”Such was the intention of his Eminence,” continued the Secretary of State. ”Spain and France are nearly at open war, and Monsieur d'Olivares has not hesitated to offer the a.s.sistance of his Catholic Majesty to the Huguenots.”

”Very good. I will consider it,” said the King. ”Leave me.”

”Sire, the States-General of Catalonia are in a dilemma. The troops from Aragon march against them.”

”We shall see. I will come to a decision in a quarter of an hour,”

answered Louis XIII.

The little Secretary of State left the apartment discontented and discouraged. In his place Chavigny immediately appeared, holding a portfolio, on which were emblazoned the arms of England. ”Sire,” said he, ”I have to request your Majesty's commands upon the affairs of England. The Parliamentarians, commanded by the Earl of Ess.e.x, have raised the siege of Gloucester. Prince Rupert has at Newbury fought a disastrous battle, and of little profit to his Britannic Majesty. The Parliament is prolonged. All the princ.i.p.al cities take part with it, together with all the seaports and the Presbyterian population. King Charles I implores a.s.sistance, which the Queen can no longer obtain from Holland.”

”Troops must be sent to my brother of England,” said Louis; but he wanted to look over the preceding papers, and casting his eyes over the notes of the Cardinal, he found that under a former request of the King of England he had written with his own hand:

”We must consider some time and wait. The Commons are strong. King Charles reckons upon the Scots; they will sell him.

”We must be cautious. A warlike man has been over to see Vincennes, and he has said that 'princes ought never to be struck, except on the head.'”

The Cardinal had added ”remarkable,” but he had erased this word and subst.i.tuted ”formidable.” Again, beneath:

”This man rules Fairfax. He plays an inspired part. He will be a great man--a.s.sistance refused--money lost.”

The King then said, ”No, no! do nothing hastily. I shall wait.”

”But, Sire,” said Chavigny, ”events pa.s.s rapidly. If the courier be delayed, the King's destruction may happen a year sooner.”

”Have they advanced so far?” asked Louis.

”In the camp of the Independents they preach up the republic with the Bible in their hands. In that of the Royalists, they dispute for precedency, and amuse themselves.”

”But one turn of good fortune may save everything?”

”The Stuarts are not fortunate, Sire,” answered Chavigny, respectfully, but in a tone which left ample room for consideration.

”Leave me,” said the King, with some displeasure.

The State-Secretary slowly retired.

It was then that Louis XIII beheld himself as he really was, and was terrified at the nothingness he found in himself. He at first stared at the ma.s.s of papers which surrounded him, pa.s.sing from one to the other, finding dangers on every side, and finding them still greater with the remedies he invented. He rose; and changing his place, he bent over, or rather threw himself upon, a geographical map of Europe. There he found all his fears concentrated. In the north, the south, the very centre of the kingdom, revolutions appeared to him like so many Eumenides.

In every country he thought he saw a volcano ready to burst forth. He imagined he heard cries of distress from kings, who appealed to him for help, and the furious shouts of the populace. He fancied he felt the territory of France trembling and crumbling beneath his feet. His feeble and fatigued sight failed him. His weak head was attacked by vertigo, which threw all his blood back upon his heart.

”Richelieu!” he cried, in a stifled voice, while he rang a bell; ”summon the Cardinal immediately.”

And he swooned in an armchair.