"Alexandre Dumas. Twenty Years After." - читать интересную книгу автора

streaming with blood. The queen on seeing him uttered a cry of surprise and
asked him what was going on.
As the mayor had foreseen, the sight of the guards had exasperated the
mob. The tocsin was sounded. Comminges had arrested one of the ringleaders
and had ordered him to be hanged near the cross of Du Trahoir; but in
attempting to execute this command the soldiery were attacked in the
market-place with stones and halberds; the delinquent had escaped to the
Rue des Lombards and rushed into a house. They broke open the doors and
searched the dwelling, but in vain. Comminges, wounded by a stone which had
struck him on the forehead, had left a picket in the street and returned to
the Palais Royal, followed by a menacing crowd, to tell his story.
This account confirmed that of the mayor. The authorities were not in
a condition to cope with serious revolt. Mazarin endeavored to circulate
among the people a report that troops had only been stationed on the quays
and on the Pont Neuf, on account of the ceremonial of the day, and that
they would soon withdraw. In fact, about four o'clock they were all
concentrated about the Palais Royal, the courts and ground floors of which
were filled with musketeers and Swiss guards, and there awaited the outcome
of all this disturbance.
Such was the state of affairs at the very moment we introduced our
readers to the study of Cardinal Mazarin-once that of Cardinal Richelieu.
We have seen in what state of mind he listened to the murmurs from below,
which even reached him in his seclusion, and to the guns, the firing of
which resounded through that room. All at once he raised his head; his brow
slightly contracted like that of a man who has formed a resolution; he
fixed his eyes upon an enormous clock that was about to strike ten, and
taking up a whistle of silver gilt that stood upon the table near him, he
shrilled it twice.
A door hidden in the tapestry opened noiselessly and a man in black
silently advanced and stood behind the chair on which Mazarin sat.
"Bernouin," said the cardinal, not turning round, for having whistled,
he knew that it was his valet-de-chambre who was behind him; "what
musketeers are now within the palace?"
"The Black Musketeers, my lord."
"What company?"
"Treville's company."
"Is there any officer belonging to this company in the ante-chamber?"
"Lieutenant d'Artagnan."
"A man on whom we can depend, I hope."
"Yes, my lord."
"Give me a uniform of one of these musketeers and help me to put it
on."
The valet went out as silently as he had entered and appeared in a few
minutes bringing the dress demanded.
The cardinal, in deep thought and in silence, began to take off the
robes of state he had assumed in order to be present at the sitting of
parliament, and to attire himself in the military coat, which he wore with
a certain degree of easy grace, owing to his former campaigns in Italy.
When he was completely dressed he said:
"Send hither Monsieur d'Artagnan."