Twenty Years After | Page 7

well proportioned; his
forehead broad and majestic; his hair, of a chestnut color, was curled
slightly; his beard, which was darker than his hair, was turned carefully
with a curling iron, a practice that greatly improved it. After a short
time the cardinal arranged his shoulder belt, then looked with great
complacency at his hands, which were most elegant and of which he
took the greatest care; and throwing on one side the large kid gloves
tried on at first, as belonging to the uniform, he put on others of silk
only. At this instant the door opened.
"Monsieur d'Artagnan," said the valet-de-chambre.
An officer, as he spoke, entered the apartment. He was a man between
thirty-nine and forty years of age, of medium height but a very well
proportioned figure; with an intellectual and animated physiognomy;
his beard black, and his hair turning gray, as often happens when
people have found life either too gay or too sad, more especially when
they happen to be of swart complexion.
D'Artagnan advanced a few steps into the apartment.
How perfectly he remembered his former entrance into that very room!
Seeing, however, no one there except a musketeer of his own troop, he
fixed his eyes upon the supposed soldier, in whose dress, nevertheless,
he recognized at the first glance the cardinal.
The lieutenant remained standing in a dignified but respectful posture,
such as became a man of good birth, who had in the course of his life

been frequently in the society of the highest nobles.
The cardinal looked at him with a cunning rather than serious glance,
yet he examined his countenance with attention and after a momentary
silence said:
"You are Monsieur d'Artagnan?"
"I am that individual," replied the officer.
Mazarin gazed once more at a countenance full of intelligence, the play
of which had been, nevertheless, subdued by age and experience; and
D'Artagnan received the penetrating glance like one who had formerly
sustained many a searching look, very different, indeed, from those
which were inquiringly directed on him at that instant.
"Sir," resumed the cardinal, "you are to come with me, or rather, I am
to go with you."
"I am at your command, my lord," returned D'Artagnan.
"I wish to visit in person the outposts which surround the Palais Royal;
do you suppose that there is any danger in so doing?"
"Danger, my lord!" exclaimed D'Artagnan with a look of astonishment,
"what danger?"
"I am told that there is a general insurrection."
"The uniform of the king's musketeers carries a certain respect with it,
and even if that were not the case I would engage with four of my men
to put to flight a hundred of these clowns."
"Did you witness the injury sustained by Comminges?"
"Monsieur de Comminges is in the guards and not in the musketeers
---- "
"Which means, I suppose, that the musketeers are better soldiers than
the guards." The cardinal smiled as he spoke.
"Every one likes his own uniform best, my lord."
"Myself excepted," and again Mazarin smiled; "for you perceive that I
have left off mine and put on yours."
"Lord bless us! this is modesty indeed!" cried D'Artagnan. "Had I such
a uniform as your eminence possesses, I protest I should be mightily
content, and I would take an oath never to wear any other costume ----
"
"Yes, but for to-night's adventure I don't suppose my dress would have
been a very safe one. Give me my felt hat, Bernouin."
The valet instantly brought to his master a regimental hat with a wide

brim. The cardinal put it on in military style.
"Your horses are ready saddled in their stables, are they not?" he said,
turning to D'Artagnan.
"Yes, my lord."
"Well, let us set out."
"How many men does your eminence wish to escort you?"
"You say that with four men you will undertake to disperse a hundred
low fellows; as it may happen that we shall have to encounter two
hundred, take eight ---- "
"As many as my lord wishes."
"I will follow you. This way -- light us downstairs Bernouin.
The valet held a wax-light; the cardinal took a key from his bureau and
opening the door of a secret stair descended into the court of the Palais
Royal.

2
A Nightly Patrol.

In ten minutes Mazarin and his party were traversing the street "Les
Bons Enfants" behind the theatre built by Richelieu expressly for the
play of "Mirame," and in which Mazarin, who was an amateur of music,
but not of literature, had introduced into France the first opera that was
ever acted in that country.
The appearance of the town denoted the greatest agitation. Numberless
groups paraded the streets and, whatever D'Artagnan might think of it,
it was obvious that the