“Is it not enough that I, your mother, who have governed France almost from your birth, should declare to you my pleasure? Would you prefer a lackey to your own mother?”[21] “Let it suffice that Richelieu has offended me past forgiveness. Sit down, my son”—and she seized on the terrified Louis, and almost forced him into a chair beside the table—“here are my tablets; write instantly an order that within twenty-four hours Richelieu leaves France forever.”
Louis took the tablets, but his trembling hands could not hold them. The jewelled leaves of ivory, set in gold, fell on the ground with a crash. There was a pause.
“What! Louis, you hesitate to obey me?” and the Queen’s fierce eyes darted a look of fury at the King, whose slender figure positively seemed to shrink as she laid her hand upon him.
“My mother,” he said, in a faltering voice, “you have told me nothing. A great minister like Richelieu cannot be dismissed on the instant.”
“Yes, he can, if there be another to replace him, a better than he; one who knows the respect due to the Queen-dowager of France, the widow of Henry the Great, your mother, and still Regent of the kingdom.”
“But, Madame, what has Richelieu done to offend you?” and the King had the courage to meet his mother’s glance unmoved.
“He has dared to disobey my positive orders. I had appointed the Duc d’Epernon governor of Poitiers. He has placed there a creature of his own. After this insult, you will understand, I can never again sit at the Council with Richelieu.”
“Well, Madame, and suppose you do not!” rejoined the King, whose nervous dread was rapidly giving place to resentment at his mother’s arrogance. “I shall still be King of France, and Richelieu will be my minister.”
“Undutiful boy!” exclaimed Marie de’ Medici, and she raised her hand as if to strike him; “You forget yourself.”
“No, Madame, it is you who forget that, if I am your son, I am also your king. You may strike me, if you please, Madame,” added he in a lower voice, “but I will not sign the exile of Richelieu.” The countenance of Louis darkened with growing passion; the threatening aspect of his mother standing before him with upraised arm, aroused him to unwonted courage. “I will not exile Richelieu. I leave him to settle his differences with you and your favourites—their claims do not concern me. I will have no more Concini, madame; I would rather abdicate at once.” And turning on his heel, without another word, or even saluting the Queen, he left the room.