The cardinal's order was pressing; Guenaud quickly obeyed it. He foundhis patient stretched on his bed, his legs swelled, his face livid, andhis stomach collapsed. Mazarin had a severe attack of gout. He sufferedtortures with the impatience of a man who has not been accustomed toresistances. On seeing Guenaud: "Ah!" said he; "now I am saved!"
Guenaud was a very learned and circumspect man, who stood in no need ofthe critiques of Boileau to obtain a reputation. When facing a disease,if it were personified in a king, he treated the patient as a Turktreats a Moor. He did not, therefore, reply to Mazarin as the ministerexpected: "Here is the doctor; good-bye disease!" On the contrary, onexamining his patient, with a very serious air:
"Oh! oh!" said he.
"Eh! what! Guenaud! How you look at me!"
"I look as I should on seeing your complaint, my lord; it is a verydangerous one."
"The gout--oh! yes, the gout."
"With complications, my lord"
Mazarin raised himself upon his elbow, and, questioning by look andgesture: "What do you mean by that? Am I worse than I believe myself tobe?"
"My lord," said Guenaud, seating himself beside the bed, "your eminencehas worked very hard during your life; your eminence has suffered much."
"But I am not old, I fancy. The late M. de Richelieu was but seventeenmonths younger than I am when he died, and died of a mortal disease. Iam young, Guenaud: remember, I am scarcely fifty-two."
"Oh! my lord, you are much more than that. How long did the Frondelast?"
"For what purpose do you put such a question to me?"
"For a medical calculation, monseigneur."
"Well, some ten years--off and on."
"Very well, be kind enough to reckon every year of the Fronde as threeyears--that makes thirty; now twenty and fifty-two makes seventy-twoyears. You are seventy-two, my lord; and that is a great age."
Whilst saying this, he felt the pulse of his patient. This pulsewas full of such fatal indications, that the physician continued,notwithstanding the interruptions of the patient: "Put down the years ofthe Fronde at four each, and you have lived eighty-two years."
"Are you speaking seriously, Guenaud?"
"Alas! yes, monseigneur."
"You take a roundabout way, then, to inform me that I am very ill?"
"Ma foi! yes, my lord, and with a man of the mind and courage of youreminence, it ought not to be necessary to do."
The cardinal breathed with such difficulty that he inspired pity evenin a pitiless physician. "There are diseases and diseases," resumedMazarin. "From some of them people escape."
"That is true, my lord."
"Is it not?" cried Mazarin, almost joyously; "for, in short, what elsewould be the use of power, of strength of will? What would the use ofgenius be--your genius, Guenaud? What would be the use of science andart, if the patient, who disposes of all that, cannot be saved fromperil?"
Guenaud was about to open his mouth, but Mazarin continued:
"Remember," said he, "I am the most confiding of your patients; rememberI obey you blindly, and that consequently----"
"I know all that," said Guenaud.
"I shall be cured, then?"
"Monseigneur, there is neither strength of will, nor power, nor genius,nor science that can resist a disease which God doubtless sends, orwhich He casts upon the earth at the creation, with full power todestroy and kill mankind. When the disease is mortal, it kills, andnothing can----"
"Is--my--disease--mortal?" asked Mazarin.
"Yes, my lord."
His eminence sank down for a moment, like an unfortunate wretch who iscrushed by a falling column. But the spirit of Mazarin was a strong one,or rather his mind was a firm one. "Guenaud," said he, recovering fromhis first shock, "you will permit me to appeal from your judgment. Iwill call together the most learned men of Europe: I will consult them.I will live, in short, by the virtue of I care not what remedy."
"My lord must not suppose," said Guenaud, "that I have the presumptionto pronounce alone upon an existence so valuable as yours. I havealready assembled all the good physicians and practitioners of Franceand Europe. There were twelve of them."
"And they said----"
"They said that your eminence was suffering from a mortal disease; Ihave the consultation signed in my portfolio. If your eminence willplease to see it, you will find the names of all the incurable diseaseswe have met with. There is first----"
"No, no!" cried Mazarin, pushing away the paper. "No, no, Guenaud,I yield! I yield!" And a profound silence, during which the cardinalresumed his senses and recovered his strength, succeeded to theagitation of this scene. "There is another thing," murmured Mazarin;"there are empirics and charlatans. In my country, those whom physiciansabandon run the chance of a quack, who kills them ten times but savesthem a hundred times."
"Has not your eminence observed, that during the last month I havechanged my remedies ten times?"
"Yes. Well?"
"Well, I have spent fifty thousand crowns in purchasing the secrets ofall these fellows: the list is exhausted, and so is my purse. You arenot cured; and but for my art, you would be dead."
"That ends it!" murmured the cardinal; "that ends it." And he threw amelancholy look upon the riches which surrounded him. "And must I quitall that?" sighed he. "I am dying, Guenaud! I am dying!"
"Oh! not yet, my lord," said the physician.
Mazarin seized his hand. "In what time?" asked he, fixing his two largeeyes upon the impassible countenance of the physician.
"My lord, we never tell that."
"To ordinary men, perhaps not;--but to me--to me, whose every minute isworth a treasure. Tell me, Guenaud, tell me!"
"No, no, my lord."
"I insist upon it, I tell you. Oh! give me a month and for every one ofthose thirty days I will pay you a hundred thousand crowns."
"My lord," replied Guenaud, in a firm voice, "it is God who can give youdays of grace, and not I. God only allows you a fortnight."
The cardinal breathed a painful sigh, and sank back upon his pillow,murmuring, "Thank you, Guenaud, thank you!"
The physician was about to depart; the dying man, raising himself up:"Silence!" said he, with flaming eyes, "silence!"
"My lord, I have known this secret two months; you see that I have keptit faithfully."
"Go, Guenaud, I will take care of your fortunes, go and tell Brienne tosend me a clerk called M. Colbert. Go!"
CHAPTER 44. Colbert
Ten Years Later Page 47