“How? so young, sir! You must be fond of political wars.”
“On the contrary, your Majesty will pardon me,” replied he, “for I served with the princes of the peace.”
Anne of Austria smiled at this jeu-de-mot. The Duc de Bouillon, seizing the moment to bring forward the grand question he had in view, quitted Cinq-Mars, to whom he had just given his hand with an air of the most zealous friendship, and approaching the Queen with him, “It is miraculous, Madame,” said he, “that this period still contains in its bosom some noble characters, such as these;” and he pointed to the master of the horse, to young Beauvau, and to De Thou. “It is only in them that we can place our hope for the future. Such men are indeed very rare now, for the great leveller has swung a long scythe over France.”
“Is it of Time you speak,” said the Queen, “or of a real personage?”
“Too real, too living, too long living, Madame!” replied the Duke, becoming more animated; “but his measureless ambition, his colossal selfishness can no longer be endured. All those who have noble hearts are indignant at this yoke; and at this moment, more than ever, we see misfortunes threatening us in the future. It must be said, Madame—yes, it is no longer time to blind ourselves to the truth, or to conceal it—the King’s illness is serious. The moment for thinking and resolving has arrived, for the time to act is not far distant.”
The severe and abrupt tone of M. de Bouillon did not surprise Anne of Austria; but she had always seen him more calm, and was, therefore, somewhat alarmed by the disquietude he betrayed. Quitting accordingly the tone of pleasantry which she had at first adopted, she said:
“How! what fear you, and what would you do?”
“I fear nothing for myself, Madame, for the army of Italy or Sedan will always secure my safety; but I fear for you, and perhaps for the princes, your sons.”
“For my children, Monsieur le Duc, for the sons of France? Do you hear him, my brother, and do you not appear astonished?”
The Queen was deeply agitated.