Ten minutes afterward Mazarin entered the court of that chateau which his predecessor had built for him at Rueil; as he alighted, Comminges approached him.
“My lord,” he asked, “where does your eminence wish Monsieur Comte de la Fere to be lodged?”
“In the pavilion of the orangery, of course, in front of the pavilion where the guard is. I wish every respect to be shown the count, although he is the prisoner of her majesty the queen.”
“My lord,” answered Comminges, “he begs to be taken to the place where Monsieur d’Artagnan is confined—that is, in the hunting lodge, opposite the orangery.”
Mazarin thought for an instant.
Comminges saw that he was undecided.
“’Tis a very strong post,” he resumed, “and we have forty good men, tried soldiers, having no connection with Frondeurs nor any interest in the Fronde.”
“If we put these three men together, Monsieur Comminges,” said Mazarin, “we must double the guard, and we are not rich enough in fighting men to commit such acts of prodigality.”
Comminges smiled; Mazarin read and construed that smile.
“You do not know these men, Monsieur Comminges, but I know them, first personally, also by hearsay. I sent them to carry aid to King Charles and they performed prodigies to save him; had it not been for an adverse destiny, that beloved monarch would this day have been among us.”