The queen advanced a few steps to meet him, and then stopped, cold, severe, unmoved, with her lower lip scornfully protruded.
Gondy bowed respectfully.
“Well, sir,” said the queen, “what is your opinion of this riot?”
“That it is no longer a riot, madame,” he replied, “but a revolt.”
“The revolt is at the door of those who think my people can rebel,” cried Anne, unable to dissimulate before the coadjutor, whom she looked upon, and probably with reason, as the promoter of the tumult. “Revolt! thus it is called by those who have wished for this demonstration and who are, perhaps, the cause of it; but, wait, wait! the king’s authority will put all this to rights.”
“Was it to tell me that, madame,” coldly replied Gondy, “that your majesty admitted me to the honor of entering your presence?”
“No, my dear coadjutor,” said Mazarin; “it was to ask your advice in the unhappy dilemma in which we find ourselves.”
“Is it true,” asked Gondy, feigning astonishment, “that her majesty summoned me to ask for my opinion?”
“Yes,” said the queen, “it is requested.”
The coadjutor bowed.