“Your majesty wishes, then——”
“You to say what you would do in her place,” Mazarin hastened to reply.
The coadjutor looked at the queen, who replied by a sign in the affirmative.
“Were I in her majesty’s place,” said Gondy, coldly, “I should not hesitate; I should release Broussel.”
“And if I do not give him up, what think you will be the result?” exclaimed the queen.
“I believe that not a stone in Paris will remain unturned,” put in the marechal.
“It was not your opinion that I asked,” said the queen, sharply, without even turning around.
“If it is I whom your majesty interrogates,” replied the coadjutor in the same calm manner, “I reply that I hold monsieur le marechal’s opinion in every respect.”
The color mounted to the queen’s face; her fine blue eyes seemed to start out of her head and her carmine lips, compared by all the poets of the day to a pomegranate in flower, were trembling with anger. Mazarin himself, who was well accustomed to the domestic outbreaks of this disturbed household, was alarmed.
“Give up Broussel!” she cried; “fine counsel, indeed. Upon my word! one can easily see it comes from a priest.”