“From General Oliver Cromwell,” said the new comer. “Be so good as to mention this name to his eminence and to bring me word whether he will receive me—yes or no.”
Saying which, he resumed the proud and sombre bearing peculiar at that time to Puritans. Bernouin cast an inquisitorial glance at the person of the young man and entered the cabinet of the cardinal, to whom he transmitted the messenger’s words.
“A man bringing a letter from Oliver Cromwell?” said Mazarin. “And what kind of a man?”
“A genuine Englishman, your eminence. Hair sandy-red—more red than sandy; gray-blue eyes—more gray than blue; and for the rest, stiff and proud.”
“Let him give in his letter.”
“His eminence asks for the letter,” said Bernouin, passing back into the ante-chamber.
“His eminence cannot see the letter without the bearer of it,” replied the young man; “but to convince you that I am really the bearer of a letter, see, here it is; and kindly add,” continued he, “that I am not a simple messenger, but an envoy extraordinary.”
Bernouin re-entered the cabinet, returning in a few seconds. “Enter, sir,” said he.
The young man appeared on the threshold of the minister’s closet, in one hand holding his hat, in the other the letter. Mazarin rose. “Have you, sir,” asked he, “a letter accrediting you to me?”
“There it is, my lord,” said the young man.