Vingt ans après. English

by Alexandre Dumas

  36. A Letter from Charles the First.

  The reader must now cross the Seine with us and follow us to the door ofthe Carmelite Convent in the Rue Saint Jacques. It is eleven o'clock inthe morning and the pious sisters have just finished saying mass for thesuccess of the armies of King Charles I. Leaving the church, a woman anda young girl dressed in black, the one as a widow and the other as anorphan, have re-entered their cell.

  The woman kneels on a prie-dieu of painted wood and at a short distancefrom her stands the young girl, leaning against a chair, weeping.

  The woman must have once been handsome, but traces of sorrow have agedher. The young girl is lovely and her tears only embellish her; the ladyappears to be about forty years of age, the girl about fourteen.

  "Oh, God!" prayed the kneeling suppliant, "protect my husband, guard myson, and take my wretched life instead!"

  "Oh, God!" murmured the girl, "leave me my mother!"

  "Your mother can be of no use to you in this world, Henrietta," said thelady, turning around. "Your mother has no longer either throne orhusband; she has neither son, money nor friends; the whole world, mypoor child, has abandoned your mother!" And she fell back, weeping, intoher daughter's arms.

  "Courage, take courage, my dear mother!" said the girl.

  "Ah! 'tis an unfortunate year for kings," said the mother. "And no onethinks of us in this country, for each must think about his own affairs.As long as your brother was with me he kept me up; but he is gone andcan no longer send us news of himself, either to me or to your father. Ihave pledged my last jewels, sold your clothes and my own to pay hisservants, who refused to accompany him unless I made this sacrifice. Weare now reduced to live at the expense of these daughters of Heaven; weare the poor, succored by God."

  "But why not address yourself to your sister, the queen?" asked thegirl.

  "Alas! the queen, my sister, is no longer queen, my child. Anotherreigns in her name. One day you will be able to understand how all thisis."

  "Well, then, to the king, your nephew. Shall I speak to him? You knowhow much he loves me, my mother.

  "Alas! my nephew is not yet king, and you know Laporte has told ustwenty times that he himself is in need of almost everything."

  "Then let us pray to Heaven," said the girl.

  The two women who thus knelt in united prayer were the daughter andgrand-daughter of Henry IV., the wife and daughter of Charles I.

  They had just finished their double prayer, when a nun softly tapped atthe door of the cell.

  "Enter, my sister," said the queen.

  "I trust your majesty will pardon this intrusion on her meditations, buta foreign lord has arrived from England and waits in the parlor,demanding the honor of presenting a letter to your majesty."

  "Oh, a letter! a letter from the king, perhaps. News from your father,do you hear, Henrietta? And the name of this lord?"

  "Lord de Winter."

  "Lord de Winter!" exclaimed the queen, "the friend of my husband. Oh,bid him enter!"

  And the queen advanced to meet the messenger, whose hand she seizedaffectionately, whilst he knelt down and presented a letter to her,contained in a case of gold.

  "Ah! my lord!" said the queen, "you bring us three things which we havenot seen for a long time. Gold, a devoted friend, and a letter from theking, our husband and master."

  De Winter bowed again, unable to reply from excess of emotion.

  On their side the mother and daughter retired into the embrasure of awindow to read eagerly the following letter:

  "Dear Wife,--We have now reached the moment of decision. I haveconcentrated here at Naseby camp all the resources Heaven has left me,and I write to you in haste from thence. Here I await the army of myrebellious subjects. I am about to struggle for the last time with them.If victorious, I shall continue the struggle; if beaten, I am lost. Ishall try, in the latter case (alas! in our position, one must providefor everything), I shall try to gain the coast of France. But can they,will they receive an unhappy king, who will bring such a sad story intoa country already agitated by civil discord? Your wisdom and youraffection must serve me as guides. The bearer of this letter will tellyou, madame, what I dare not trust to pen and paper and the risks oftransit. He will explain to you the steps that I expect you to pursue. Icharge him also with my blessing for my children and with the sentimentsof my soul for yourself, my dearest sweetheart."

  The letter bore the signature, not of "Charles, King," but of"Charles--still king."

  "And let him be no longer king," cried the queen. "Let him be conquered,exiled, proscribed, provided he still lives. Alas! in these days thethrone is too dangerous a place for me to wish him to retain it. But mylord, tell me," she continued, "hide nothing from me--what is, in truth,the king's position? Is it as hopeless as he thinks?"

  "Alas! madame, more hopeless than he thinks. His majesty has so good aheart that he cannot understand hatred; is so loyal that he does notsuspect treason! England is torn in twain by a spirit of disturbancewhich, I greatly fear, blood alone can exorcise."

  "But Lord Montrose," replied the queen, "I have heard of his great andrapid successes of battles gained. I heard it said that he was marchingto the frontier to join the king."

  "Yes, madame; but on the frontier he was met by Lesly; he had triedvictory by means of superhuman undertakings. Now victory has abandonedhim. Montrose, beaten at Philiphaugh, was obliged to disperse theremains of his army and to fly, disguised as a servant. He is at Bergen,in Norway."

  "Heaven preserve him!" said the queen. "It is at least a consolation toknow that some who have so often risked their lives for us are safe. Andnow, my lord, that I see how hopeless the position of the king is, tellme with what you are charged on the part of my royal husband."

  "Well, then, madame," said De Winter, "the king wishes you to try anddiscover the dispositions of the king and queen toward him."

  "Alas! you know that even now the king is but a child and the queen awoman weak enough. Here, Monsieur Mazarin is everything."

  "Does he desire to play the part in France that Cromwell plays inEngland?"

  "Oh, no! He is a subtle, conscienceless Italian, who though he verylikely dreams of crime, dares not commit it; and unlike Cromwell, whodisposes of both Houses, Mazarin has had the queen to support him in hisstruggle with the parliament."

  "More reason, then, he should protect a king pursued by parliament."

  The queen shook her head despairingly.

  "If I judge for myself, my lord," she said, "the cardinal will donothing, and will even, perhaps, act against us. The presence of mydaughter and myself in France is already irksome to him; much more sowould be that of the king. My lord," added Henrietta, with a melancholysmile, "it is sad and almost shameful to be obliged to say that we havepassed the winter in the Louvre without money, without linen, almostwithout bread, and often not rising from bed because we wanted fire."

  "Horrible!" cried De Winter; "the daughter of Henry IV., and the wife ofKing Charles! Wherefore did you not apply, then, madame, to the firstperson you saw from us?"

  "Such is the hospitality shown to a queen by the minister from whom aking demands it."

  "But I heard that a marriage between the Prince of Wales andMademoiselle d'Orleans was spoken of," said De Winter.

  "Yes, for an instant I hoped it was so. The young people felt a mutualesteem; but the queen, who at first sanctioned their affection, changedher mind, and Monsieur, the Duc d'Orleans, who had encouraged thefamiliarity between them, has forbidden his daughter to think any moreabout the union. Oh, my lord!" continued the queen, without restrainingher tears, "it is better to fight as the king has done, and to die, asperhaps he will, than live in beggary like me."

  "Courage, madame! courage! Do not despair! The interests of the Frenchcrown, endangered at this moment, are to discountenance rebellion in aneighboring nation. Mazarin, as a statesman, will understand the politicnecessity."

  "Are you sure," said the queen doubtfully, "that you have
not beenforestalled?"

  "By whom?"

  "By the Joices, the Prinns, the Cromwells?"

  "By a tailor, a coachmaker, a brewer! Ah! I hope, madame, that thecardinal will not enter into negotiations with such men!"

  "Ah! what is he himself?" asked Madame Henrietta.

  "But for the honor of the king--of the queen."

  "Well, let us hope he will do something for the sake of their honor,"said the queen. "A true friend's eloquence is so powerful, my lord, thatyou have reassured me. Give me your hand and let us go to the minister;and yet," she added, "suppose he should refuse and that the king losesthe battle?"

  "His majesty will then take refuge in Holland, where I hear his highnessthe Prince of Wales now is."

  "And can his majesty count upon many such subjects as yourself for hisflight?"

  "Alas! no, madame," answered De Winter; "but the case is provided forand I am come to France to seek allies."

  "Allies!" said the queen, shaking her head.

  "Madame," replied De Winter, "provided I can find some of my good oldfriends of former times I will answer for anything."

  "Come then, my lord," said the queen, with the painful doubt that isfelt by those who have suffered much; "come, and may Heaven hear you."