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By Root 1277 0

himself through d’Artagnan, not about all that had happened, but about what d’Artagnan knew. By comparing what he heard from the young man’s lips with his own memories, he was able to form a fairly accurate idea of a situation the gravity of which, moreover, the queen’s letter, short and inexplicit as it was, gave him the measure. But what surprised him most of all was that the cardinal, interested as he was in keeping the young man from setting foot in England, had not managed to stop him on the way. It was then, and on the showing of this surprise, that d’Artagnan told him of the precautions taken, and how, thanks to the devotion of his three friends, whom he had scattered all bleeding along the roadside, he had managed to get off with the sword stroke that had pierced the queen’s letter, and which he had paid back to M. de Wardes in such terrible coin. While listening to this account, which was made in the greatest simplicity, the duke looked at the young man from time to time with an astonished air, as if he could not understand how so much prudence, courage, and devotion could combine with a face that indicated something less than twenty years of age.

The horses went like the wind, and in a few minutes they were at the gates of London. D’Artagnan had thought that, on reaching town, the duke would slow his horse’s pace, but that was not so: he continued on his way at full tilt, little concerned with knocking over those who were in his way. Indeed, as they crossed the city, two or three accidents of that sort occurred, but Buckingham did not even turn his head to see what had become of those he had overturned. D’Artagnan followed him amidst shouts that strongly resembled curses.

On entering the courtyard of his house, Buckingham leaped from his horse and, without concerning himself about what would become of it, threw the bridle over its neck and rushed to the front steps. D’Artagnan did the same, with a little more concern, however, for those noble animals, whose worth he had been able to appreciate. But he had the consolation of seeing that three or four valets had already come running from the kitchens and stables, and at once took charge of their mounts.

The duke walked so quickly that d’Artagnan had difficulty following him. He passed through a series of reception rooms of an elegance that the greatest lords of France could not even conceive of, and came finally to a bedroom that was at once a miracle of taste and opulence. In the alcove of this room was a door set into the tapestry, which the duke opened with a little golden key that he wore around his neck on a chain of the same metal. Out of discretion, d’Artagnan had stayed behind; but the moment Buckingham crossed the threshold of this door, he turned and, seeing the young man’s hesitation, said:

“Come, and if you have the good fortune to be admitted to Her Majesty’s presence, tell her what you have seen.”

Encouraged by this invitation, d’Artagnan followed the duke, who closed the door behind him.

The two then found themselves in a small chapel all hung with Persian silk and gold brocade, brightly lit by a great number of candles. Above a sort of altar, and beneath a blue velvet canopy topped with white and red plumes, was a life-size portrait of Anne d’Autriche, of such perfect likeness that d’Artagnan cried out in surprise: one would have thought the queen was about to speak.

On the altar, and beneath the portrait, was the box containing the diamond pendants.

The duke went up to the altar, knelt as a priest might have done before Christ, then opened the box.

“Here,” he said, drawing from the box a big bow of blue ribbon all sparkling with diamonds, “these are the precious pendants which I have sworn to be buried with. The queen gave them to me; the queen is taking them back again: her will, like God’s, be done in all things.”

Then he began kissing one after another the pendants he had to part with. All at once he let out a terrible cry.

“What is it?” d’Artagnan asked worriedly. “What is wrong with you, Milord?”

“All is lost,” cried Buckingham,