In which it is shown that it is sometimes more difficult for Kings to return to the Capitals of their Kingdoms, than to make an Exit.
Whilst D'Artagnan and Porthos were engaged in conducting the cardinal to Saint Germain, Athos and Aramis returned to Paris.
Each had his own particular visit to make.
Aramis rushed to the Hotel de Ville, where Madame de Longueville was sojourning. The duchess loudly lamented the announcement of peace. War had made her a queen; peace brought her abdication. She declared that she would never assent to the treaty and that she wished eternal war.
But when Aramis had presented that peace to her in a true light -- that is to say, with all its advantages; when he had pointed out to her, in exchange for the precarious and contested royalty of Paris, the viceroyalty of Font-de-l'Arche, in other words, of all Normandy; when he had rung in her ears the five hundred thousand francs promised by the cardinal; when he had dazzled her eyes with the honor bestowed on her by the king in holding her child at the baptismal font, Madame de Longueville contended no longer, except as is the custom with pretty women to contend, and defended herself only to surrender at last.
Aramis made a presence of believing in the reality of her opposition and was unwilling to deprive himself in his own view of the credit of her conversion.
"Madame," he said, "you have wished to conquer the prince your brother -- that is to say, the greatest captain of the age; and when women of genius wish anything they always succeed in attaining it. You have succeeded; the prince is beaten, since he can no longer fight. Now attach him to our party. Withdraw him gently from the queen, whom he does not like, from Mazarin, whom he despises. The Fronde is a comedy, of which the first act only is played. Let us wait for a denouement -- for the day when the prince, thanks to you, shall have turned against the court."
Madame de Longueville was persuaded. This Frondist duchess trusted so confidently to the power of her fine eyes, that she could not doubt their influence even over Monsieur de Conde; and the chronicles of the time aver that her confidence was justified.
Athos, on quitting Aramis, went to Madame de Chevreuse. Here was another frondeuse to persuade, and she was even less open to conviction than her younger rival. There had been no stipulation in her favor. Monsieur de Chevreuse had not been appointed governor of a province, and if the queen should consent to be godmother it could be only of her grandson or granddaughter. At the first announcement of peace Madame de Chevreuse frowned, and in spite of all the logic of Athos to show her that a prolonged war would have been impracticable, contended in favor of hostilities.
"My fair friend," said Athos, "allow me to tell you that everybody is tired of war. You will get yourself exiled, as you did in the time of Louis XIII. Believe me, we have passed the time of success in intrigue, and your fine eyes are not destined to be eclipsed by regretting Paris, where there will always be two queens as long as you are there."
"Oh," cried the duchess, "I cannot make war alone, but I can avenge myself on that ungrateful queen and most ambitious favorite-on the honor of a duchess, I will avenge myself."
"Madame," replied Athos, "do not injure the Vicomte de Bragelonne -- do not ruin his prospects. Alas! excuse my weakness! There are moments when a man grows young again in his children."
The duchess smiled, half tenderly, half ironically.
"Count," she said, "you are, I fear, gained over to the court. I suppose you have a blue ribbon in your pocket?"
"Yes, madame; I have that of the Garter, which King Charles I. gave me some days before he died."
"Come, I am growing an old woman!" said the duchess, pensively.
Athos took her hand and kissed it. She sighed, as she looked at him.
"Count," she said, "Bragelonne must be a charming place. You are a man of taste. You have water -- woods -- flowers there?"
She sighed again and leaned her charming head, gracefully reclined, on her hand, still beautiful in form and color.
"Madame!" exclaimed Athos, "what were you saying just now about growing old? Never have I seen you look so young, so beautiful!"
The duchess shook her head.
"Does Monsieur de Bragelonne remain in Paris?" she inquired.
"What think you of it?" inquired Athos.
"Leave him with me," replied the duchess.
"No, madame; if you have forgotten the history of Oedipus, I, at least, remember it."
"Really, sir, you are delightful, and I should like to spend a month at Bragelonne."
"Are you not afraid of making people envious of me, duchess?" replied Athos.
"No, I shall go incognito, count, under the name of Marie Michon."
"You are adorable, madame."
"But do not keep Raoul with you."
"Why not?"
"Because he is in love."
"He! he is quite a child!"
"And 'tis a child he loves."
Athos became thoughtful.
"You are right, duchess. This singular passion for a child of seven may some day make him very unhappy. There is to be war in Flanders. He shall go thither."
"And at his return you will send him to me. I will arm him against love."
"Alas, madame!" exclaimed Athos, "to-day love is like war -- the breastplate is becoming useless."
Raoul entered at this moment; he came to announce that the solemn entrance of the king, queen, and her ministers was to take place on the ensuing day.
The next day, in fact, at daybreak, the court made preparations to quit Saint Germain.
Meanwhile, the queen every hour had been sending for D'Artagnan.
"I hear," she said, "that Paris is not quiet. I am afraid for the king's safety; place yourself close to the coach door on the right."
"Reassure yourself, madame, I will answer for the king's safety."
As he left the queen's presence Bernouin summoned him to the cardinal.
"Sir," said Mazarin to him "an emeute is spoken of in Paris.
I shall be on the king's left and as I am the chief person threatened, remain at the coach door to the left."
"Your eminence may be perfectly easy," replied D'Artagnan;
"they will not touch a hair of your head."
