D'Artagnan had not reached the bottom of the staircase, whenthe king called his gentleman. "I have a commission to giveyou, monsieur," said he.

"I am at your majesty's commands."

"Wait, then." And the young king began to write thefollowing letter, which cost him more than one sigh,although, at the same time, something like a feeling oftriumph glittered in his eyes:

"My Lord Cardinal, - Thanks to your good counsels and,above all, thanks to your firmness, I have succeeded inovercoming a weakness unworthy of a king. You have too ablyarranged my destiny to allow gratitude not to stop me at themoment when I was about to destroy your work. I felt I waswrong to wish to make my life turn from the course you hadmarked out for it. Certainly it would have been a misfortuneto France and my family if a misunderstanding had takenplace between me and my minister. This, however, wouldcertainly have happened if I had made your niece my wife. Iam perfectly aware of this, and will henceforth opposenothing to the accomplishment of my destiny. I am prepared,then, to wed the infanta, Maria Theresa. You may at onceopen the conference. - Your affectionate Louis."

The king, after reperusing the letter, sealed it himself."This letter for my lord cardinal," said he.

The gentleman took it. At Mazarin's door he found Bernouinwaiting with anxiety.

"Well?" asked the minister's valet de chambre.

"Monsieur," said the gentleman, "here is a letter for hiseminence."

"A letter! Ah! we expected one after the little journey ofthe morning."

"Oh! you know, then, that his majesty - - "

"As first minister, it belongs to the duties of our chargeto know everything. And his majesty prays and implores, Ipresume."

"I don't know, but he sighed frequently whilst he waswriting."

"'Yes, yes, yes; we understand all that; people sighsometimes from happiness as well as from grief, monsieur."

"And yet the king did not look very happy when he returned,monsieur."

"You did not see clearly. Besides, you only saw his majestyon his return, for he was only accompanied by the lieutenantof the guards. But I had his eminence's telescope, I lookedthrough it when he was tired, and I am sure they both wept."

"Well! was it for happiness they wept?"

"No, but for love, and they vowed to each other a thousandtendernesses, which the king asks no better than to keep.Now this letter is a beginning of the execution."

"And what does his eminence think of this love, which is, bythe bye, no secret to anybody?"

Bernouin took the gentleman by the arm, and whilst ascendingthe staircase, - "In confidence," said he, in a low voice,"his eminence looks for success in the affair. I know verywell we shall have war with Spain; but, bah! war will pleasethe nobles. My lord cardinal, besides, can endow his nieceroyally, nay, more than royally. There will be money,festivities, and fireworks - everybody will be delighted."

"Well, for my part," replied the gentleman, shaking hishead, "it appears to me that this letter is very light tocontain all that."

"My friend," replied Bernouin, "I am certain of what I tellyou. M. d'Artagnan related all that passed to me."

"Ay, ay! and what did he tell you? Let us hear."

"I accosted him by asking him, on the part of the cardinal,if there were any news, without discovering my designs,observe, for M. d'Artagnan is a cunning hand. `My dearMonsieur Bernouin,' he replied, `the king is madly in lovewith Mademoiselle de Mancini, that is all I have to tellyou.' And then I asked him `Do you think, to such a degreethat it will urge him to act contrary to the designs of hiseminence?' `Ah! don't ask me,' said he; `I think the kingcapable of anything; he has a will of iron, and what hewills he wills in earnest. If he takes it into his head tomarry Mademoiselle de Mancini, he will marry her, dependupon it.' And thereupon he left me and went straight to thestables, took a horse, saddled it himself, jumped upon itsback, and set off as if the devil were at his heels."

"So that you believe, then - - "

"I believe that monsieur the lieutenant of the guards knewmore than he was willing to say."

"In your opinion, then, M. d'Artagnan - - "

"Is gone, according to all probability, after the exiles, tocarry out all that can facilitate the success of the king'slove."

Chatting thus, the two confidants arrived at the door of hiseminence's apartment. His eminence's gout had left him; hewas walking about his chamber in a state of great anxiety,listening at doors and looking out of windows. Bernouinentered, followed by the gentleman, who had orders from theking to place the letter in the hands of the cardinalhimself. Mazarin took the letter, but before opening it, hegot up a ready smile, a smile of circumstance, able to throwa veil over emotions of whatever sort they might be. Soprepared, whatever was the impression received from theletter, no reflection of that impression was allowed totranspire upon his countenance.

"Well," said he, when he had read and reread the letter,"very well, monsieur. Inform the king that I thank him forhis obedience to the wishes of the queen-mother, and that Iwill do everything for the accomplishment of his will."

The gentlemen left the room. The door had scarcely closedbefore the cardinal, who had no mask for Bernouin, took offthat which had so recently covered his face, and with a mostdismal expression, - "Call M. de Brienne," said he. Fiveminutes afterward the secretary entered.

"Monsieur," said Mazarin, "I have just rendered a greatservice to the monarchy, the greatest I have ever renderedit. You will carry this letter, which proves it, to hermajesty the queen-mother, and when she shall have returnedit to you, you will lodge it in portfolio B., which isfilled with documents and papers relative to my ministry."

Brienne went as desired, and, as the letter was unsealed,did not fail to read it on his way. There is likewise nodoubt that Bernouin, who was on good terms with everybody,approached so near to the secretary as to be able to readthe letter over his shoulder; so that the news spread withsuch activity through the castle, that Mazarin might havefeared it would reach the ears of the queen-mother before M.de Brienne could convey Louis XIV.'s letter to her. A momentafter orders were given for departure, and M. de Condehaving been to pay his respects to the king on his pretendedrising, inscribed the city of Poitiers upon his tablets, asthe place of sojourn and rest for their majesties.

Thus in a few instants was unraveled an intrigue which hadcovertly occupied all the diplomacies of Europe. It hadnothing, however, very clear as a result, but to make a poorlieutenant of musketeers lose his commission and hisfortune. It is true, that in exchange he gained his liberty.We shall soon know how M. d'Artagnan profited by this. Forthe moment, if the reader will permit us, we shall return tothe hostelry of les Medici, of which one of the windowsopened at the very moment the orders were given for thedeparture of the king.

The window that opened was that of one of the rooms ofCharles II. The unfortunate prince had passed the night inbitter reflections, his head resting on his hands, and hiselbows on the table, whilst Parry, infirm and old, weariedin body and in mind, had fallen asleep in a corner. Asingular fortune was that of this faithful servant, who sawbeginning for the second generation the fearful series ofmisfortunes which had weighed so heavily on the first. WhenCharles II. had well thought over the fresh defeat he hadexperienced, when he perfectly comprehended the completeisolation into which he had just fallen, on seeing his freshhope left behind him, he was seized as with a vertigo, andsank back in the large armchair in which he was seated. ThenGod took pity on the unhappy prince, and sent to console himsleep, the innocent brother of death. He did not wake tillhalf-past six, that is to say, till the sun shone brightlyinto his chamber, and Parry, motionless with fear of wakinghim, was observing with profound grief the eyes of the youngman already red with wakefulness, and his cheeks pale withsuffering and privations.

At length the noise of some heavy carts descending towardsthe Loire awakened Charles. He arose, looked around him likea man who has forgotten everything, perceived Parry, shookhim by the hand, and commanded him to settle the reckoningwith Master Cropole. Master Cropole, being called upon tosettle his account with Parry, acquitted himself, it must beallowed, like an honest man; he only made his customaryremark, that the two travelers had eaten nothing, which hadthe double disadvantage of being humiliating for hiskitchen, and of forcing him to ask payment for a repast notconsumed, but not the less lost. Parry had nothing to say tothe contrary, and paid.

"I hope," said the king, "it has not been the same with thehorses. I don't see that they have eaten at your expense,and it would be a misfortune for travelers like us, who havea long journey to make, to have our horses fail us."

But Cropole, at this doubt, assumed his majestic air, andreplied that the stables of les Medici were not lesshospitable than its refectory.

The king mounted his horse; his old servant did the same,and both set out towards Paris, without meeting a singleperson on their road, in the streets or the faubourgs of thecity. For the prince the blow was the more severe, as it wasa fresh exile. The unfortunates cling to the smallest hopes,as the happy do to the greatest good; and when they areobliged to quit the place where that hope has soothed theirhearts, they experience the mortal regret which the banishedman feels when he places his foot upon the vessel which isto bear him into exile. It appears that the heart alreadywounded so many times suffers from the least scratch; itappears that it considers as a good the momentary absence ofevil, which is nothing but the absence of pain; and thatGod, into the most terrible misfortunes, has thrown hope asthe drop of water which the rich bad man in hell entreatedof Lazarus.

For one instant even the hope of Charles II. had been morethan a fugitive joy; - that was when he found himself sokindly welcomed by his brother king; then it had taken aform that had become a reality; then, all at once, therefusal of Mazarin had reduced the fictitious reality to thestate of a dream. This promise of Louis XIV., so soonretracted, had been nothing but a mockery; a mockery likehis crown - like his scepter - like his friends - likeall that had surrounded his royal childhood, and which hadabandoned his proscribed youth. Mockery! everything was amockery for Charles II. except the cold, black reposepromised by death.

Such were the ideas of the unfortunate prince while sittinglistlessly upon his horse, to which he abandoned the reins;he rode slowly along beneath the warm May sun, in which thesomber misanthropy of the exile perceived a last insult tohis grief.