Twenty Years After | Page 8

citizens had for the night laid aside their usual
forbearance, in order to assume a warlike aspect. From time to time
noises came in the direction of the public markets. The report of
firearms was heard near the Rue Saint Denis and occasionally church
bells began to ring indiscriminately and at the caprice of the populace.
D'Artagnan, meantime, pursued his way with the indifference of a man
upon whom such acts of folly made no impression. When he
approached a group in the middle of the street he urged his horse upon
it without a word of warning; and the members of the group, whether
rebels or not, as if they knew with what sort of a man they had to deal,
at once gave place to the patrol. The cardinal envied that composure,

which he attributed to the habit of meeting danger; but none the less he
conceived for the officer under whose orders he had for the moment
placed himself, that consideration which even prudence pays to careless
courage. On approaching an outpost near the Barriere des Sergens, the
sentinel cried out, "Who's there?" and D'Artagnan answered -- having
first asked the word of the cardinal -- "Louis and Rocroy." After which
he inquired if Lieutenant Comminges were not the commanding officer
at the outpost. The soldier replied by pointing out to him an officer who
was conversing, on foot, his hand upon the neck of a horse on which
the individual to whom he was talking sat. Here was the officer
D'Artagnan was seeking.
"Here is Monsieur Comminges," said D'Artagnan, returning to the
cardinal. He instantly retired, from a feeling of respectful delicacy; it
was, however, evident that the cardinal was recognized by both
Comminges and the other officers on horseback.
"Well done, Guitant," cried the cardinal to the equestrian; "I see plainly
that, notwithstanding the sixty-four years that have passed over your
head, you are still the same man, active and zealous. What were you
saying to this youngster?"
"My lord," replied Guitant, "I was observing that we live in troublous
times and that to-day's events are very like those in the days of the
Ligue, of which I heard so much in my youth. Are you aware that the
mob have even suggested throwing up barricades in the Rue Saint
Denis and the Rue Saint Antoine?"
"And what was Comminges saying to you in reply, my good Guitant?"
"My lord," said Comminges, "I answered that to compose a Ligue only
one ingredient was wanting -- in my opinion an essential one -- a Duc
de Guise; moreover, no generation ever does the same thing twice."
"No, but they mean to make a Fronde, as they call it," said Guitant.
"And what is a Fronde?" inquired Mazarin.
"My lord, Fronde is the name the discontented give to their party."
"And what is the origin of this name?"
"It seems that some days since Councillor Bachaumont remarked at the
palace that rebels and agitators reminded him of schoolboys slinging --
qui frondent -- stones from the moats round Paris, young urchins who
run off the moment the constable appears, only to return to their
diversion the instant his back is turned. So they have picked up the

word and the insurrectionists are called `Frondeurs,' and yesterday
every article sold was `a la Fronde;' bread `a la Fronde,' hats `a la
Fronde,' to say nothing of gloves, pocket-handkerchiefs, and fans; but
listen ---- "
At that moment a window opened and a man began to sing:

"A tempest from the Fronde
Did blow to-day:
I think 'twill blow
Sieur Mazarin away."

"Insolent wretch!" cried Guitant.
"My lord," said Comminges, who, irritated by his wounds, wished for
revenge and longed to give back blow for blow, "shall I fire off a ball to
punish that jester, and to warn him not to sing so much out of tune in
the future?"
And as he spoke he put his hand on the holster of his uncle's
saddle-bow.
"Certainly not! certainly not," exclaimed Mazarin. "Diavolo! my dear
friend, you are going to spoil everything -- everything is going on
famously. I know the French as well as if I had made them myself.
They sing -- let them pay the piper. During the Ligue, about which
Guitant was speaking just now, the people chanted nothing except the
mass, so everything went to destruction. Come, Guitant, come along,
and let's see if they keep watch at the Quinze-Vingts as at the Barriere
des Sergens."
And waving his hand to Comminges he rejoined D'Artagnan, who
instantly put himself at the head of his troop, followed by the cardinal,
Guitant and the rest of the escort.
"Just so," muttered Comminges, looking after Mazarin. "True, I forgot;
provided he can get money out of the