The cardinal, on passing into his cabinet, found the Comte de la Fere, who was waiting for him, engaged in admiring a very fine Raphael placed over a sideboard covered with a plate. His eminence came in softly, lightly, and as silently as a shadow, and surprised the countenance of the comte, as he was accustomed to do, pretending to divine by the simple expression of the face of his interlocutor what would be the result of the conversation.
But this time Mazarin was foiled in his expectation: he read nothing upon the face of Athos, not even the respect he was accustomed to see on all faces. Athos was dressed in black, with a simple lacing of silver. He wore the Holy Ghost, the Garter, and the Golden Fleece, three orders of such importance, that a king alone, or else a player, could wear them at once.
Mazarin rummaged a long time in his somewhat troubled memory to recall the name he ought to give to this icy figure, but he did not succeed. "I am told," said he, at length, "you have a message from England for me."
And he sat down, dismissing Bernouin, who, in his quality of secretary, was getting his pen ready.
"On the part of his majesty, the king of England, yes, your eminence."
"You speak very good French for an Englishman, monsieur," said Mazarin, graciously, looking through his fingers at the Holy Ghost, Garter, and Golden Fleece, but more particularly at the face of the messenger.
"I am not an Englishman, but a Frenchman, monsieur le cardinal," replied Athos.
"It is remarkable that the king of England should choose a Frenchman for his ambassador; it is an excellent augury. Your name, monsieur, if you please."
"Comte de la Fere," replied Athos, bowing more slightly than the ceremonial and pride of the all-powerful minister required.
Mazarin bent his shoulders, as if to say:-"I do not know that name."
Athos did not alter his carriage.
"And you come, monsieur," continued Mazarin, "to tell me--"
"I come on the part of his majesty the king of Great Britain to announce to the king of France"--Mazarin frowned--"to announce to the king of France," continued Athos, imperturbably, "the happy restoration of his majesty Charles II. to the throne of his ancestors."
This shade did not escape his cunning eminence. Mazarin was too much accustomed to mankind, not to see in the cold and almost haughty politeness of Athos, an index of hostility, which was not of the temperature of that hot-house called a court.