The Ambassadors.
The two friends rode rapidly down the declivity of the Faubourg, but on arriving at the bottom were surprised to find that the streets of Paris had become rivers, and the open places lakes; after the great rains which fell in January the Seine had overflowed its banks and the river inundated half the capital. The two gentlemen were obliged, therefore, to get off their horses and take a boat; and in that strange manner they approached the Louvre.
Night had closed in, and Paris, seen thus, by the light of lanterns flickering on the pools of water, crowded with ferry-boats of every kind, including those that glittered with the armed patrols, with the watchword, passing from post to post -- Paris presented such an aspect as to strongly seize the senses of Aramis, a man most susceptible to warlike impressions.
They reached the queen's apartments, but were compelled to stop in the ante-chamber, since her majesty was at that moment giving audience to gentlemen bringing her news from England.
"We? too?" said Athos, to the footman who had given him that answer, "not only bring news from England, but have just come from there."
"What? then, are your names, gentlemen?"
"The Comte de la Fere and the Chevalier d'Herblay," said Aramis.
"Ah! in that case, gentlemen," said the footman, on hearing the names which the queen had so often pronounced with hope, "in that case it is another thing, and I think her majesty will pardon me for not keeping you here a moment. Please follow me," and he went on before, followed by Athos and Aramis.
On arriving at the door of the room where the queen was receiving he made a sign for them to wait and opening the door:
"Madame," he said, "I hope your majesty will forgive me for disobeying your orders, when you learn that the gentlemen I have come to announce are the Comte de la Fere and the Chevalier d'Herblay."
On hearing those two names the queen uttered a cry of joy, which the two gentlemen heard.
"Poor queen!" murmured Athos.
"Oh, let them come in! let them come in," cried the young princess, bounding to the door.
The poor child was constant in her attendance on her mother and sought by her filial attentions to make her forget the absence of her two sons and her other daughter.
"Come in, gentlemen," repeated the princess, opening the door herself.
The queen was seated on a fauteuil and before her were standing two or three gentlemen, and among them the Duc de Chatillon, the brother of the nobleman killed eight or nine years previously in a duel on account of Madame de Longueville, on the Place Royale. All these gentlemen had been noticed by Athos and Aramis in the guardhouse, and when the two friends were announced they started and exchanged some words in a low tone. "Well, sirs!" cried the queen, on perceiving the two friends, "you have come, faithful friends! But the royal couriers have been more expeditious than you, and here are Monsieur de Flamarens and Monsieur de Chatillon, who bring me from Her Majesty the Queen Anne of Austria, the very latest intelligence."
Aramis and Athos were astounded by the calmness, even the gayety of the queen's manner.
"Go on with your recital, sirs," said the queen, turning to the Duc de Chatillon. "You said that His Majesty, King Charles, my august consort, had been condemned to death by a majority of his subjects!"
"Yes, madame," Chatillon stammered out.
Athos and Aramis were more and more astonished.
"And that being conducted to the scaffold," resumed the queen -- "oh, my lord! oh, my king! -- and that being led to the scaffold he had been saved by an indignant people."
"Just so madame," replied Chatillon, in so low a voice that though the two friends were listening eagerly they could hardly hear this affirmation.
The queen clasped her hands in enthusiastic gratitude, whilst her daughter threw her arms around her mother's neck and kissed her -- her own eyes streaming with tears.
"Now, madame, nothing remains to me except to proffer my respectful homage," said Chatillon, who felt confused and ashamed beneath the stern gaze of Athos.
"One moment, yes," answered the queen. "One moment -- I beg -- for here are the Chevalier d'Herblay and the Comte de la Fere, just arrived from London, and they can give you, as eye-witnesses, such details as you can convey to the queen, my royal sister. Speak, gentlemen, speak -- I am listening; conceal nothing, gloss over nothing. Since his majesty still lives, since the honor of the throne is safe, everything else is a matter of indifference to me."
Athos turned pale and laid his hand on his heart.
"Well!" exclaimed the queen, who remarked this movement and his paleness. "Speak, sir! I beg you to do so."
"I beg you to excuse me, madame; I wish to add nothing to the recital of these gentlemen until they perceive themselves that they have perhaps been mistaken."
"Mistaken!" cried the queen, almost suffocated by emotion;
"mistaken! what has happened, then?"
"Sir," interposed Monsieur de Flamarens to Athos, "if we are mistaken the error has originated with the queen. I do not suppose you will have the presumption to set it to rights -- that would be to accuse Her Majesty, Queen Anne, of falsehood."
"With the queen, sir?" replied Athos, in his calm, vibrating voice.
"Yes," murmured Flamarens, lowering his eyes.
Athos sighed deeply.
"Or rather, sir," said Aramis, with his peculiar irritating politeness, "the error of the person who was with you when we met you in the guardroom; for if the Comte de la Fere and I are not mistaken, we saw you in the company of a third gentleman."
Chatillon and Flamarens started.
"Explain yourself, count!" cried the queen, whose anxiety grew greater every moment. "On your brow I read despair -- your lips falter ere you announce some terrible tidings -- your hands tremble. Oh, my God! my God! what has happened?"
"Lord!" ejaculated the young princess, falling on her knees, "have mercy on us!"
"Sir," said Chatillon, "if you bring bad tidings it will be cruel in you to announce them to the queen."