The Three Musketeers (Translated by Richard Pevear) - Alexandre Dumas [89]
The monks no longer had a moment’s rest. During the day, they did nothing but go up and down the stairs that led to the chapel; at night, besides compline and matins, they were obliged to jump out of bed twenty times and prostrate themselves on the floor of their cells.
It is not known whether it was the devil who let go or the monks who grew weary, but after three months the penitent reappeared in the world with the reputation of the most terrible case of possession that had ever existed.
On leaving the monastery, he entered the magistracy, became a presiding judge in place of his uncle, embraced the cardinal’s party, which showed no little sagacity; became chancelier, served His Eminence with zeal in his hatred of the queen mother and his vengeance on Anne d’Autriche; spurred on the judges in the Chalais affair, encouraged the efforts of M. de Laffemas, grand gibbeteer of France;77 and finally, invested with the cardinal’s full confidence, a confidence he had so well earned, he had now received from him the singular commission for the carrying out of which he presented himself to the queen.
The queen was still standing when he came in, but she no sooner caught sight of him than she sat down in her chair again and made a sign to her women to sit down on their cushions and stools, and, in a tone of supreme hauteur, asked:
“What do you wish, Monsieur, and to what end do you present yourself here?”
“To carry out in the name of the king, Madame, and saving all the respect I have the honor of owing to Your Majesty, a thorough perquisition among your papers.”
“How is that, Monsieur? A perquisition among my papers…Mine? What a shameful thing!”
“Pardon me, Madame, but in this circumstance I am only an instrument made use of by the king. Did His Majesty not just leave here, and did he not ask you to prepare for this visit?”
“Search then, Monsieur; I am a criminal, it seems. Estefania, give him the keys to my tables and writing desks.”
The chancelier made an inspection of this furniture for the sake of form, but he knew very well that the queen would not have locked the important letter she had spent the day writing in any piece of furniture.
Once the chancelier had opened and closed the drawers of the writing desk twenty times, he had, whatever hesitation he may have felt, he had, I say, to conclude the business, that is, to search the queen herself. The chancelier took three steps towards Anne d’Autriche, and in a very perplexed tone and with a highly embarrassed air, said:
“And now I am left with the principal perquisition.”
“Which is that?” asked the queen, who did not understand or did not want to understand.
“His Majesty is certain that a letter was written by you during the day. He knows that it has not yet been sent to its addressee. This letter is to be found neither in your table nor in your writing desk, and yet this letter is somewhere.”
“Will you dare lay hands on your queen?” said Anne d’Autriche, drawing herself up to her full height and fixing the chancelier with her eyes, whose expression had become almost threatening.
“I am a faithful subject of the king, Madame, and will do all that His Majesty orders.”
“Well, then, it’s true,” said Anne d’Autriche, “and the spies of M. le cardinal have served him very well. I wrote a letter today, and that letter has not yet gone out. The letter is here.”
And the queen brought her beautiful hand to her bodice.
“Give me the letter then, Madame,” said the chancelier.
“I will give it only to the king, Monsieur,” said Anne.
“If the king had wanted this letter handed to him, Madame, he would have asked you for it himself. But, I repeat to you, it is I who have been entrusted with demanding it from you, and if you do not give it up…”
“Well, then?”
“It is also I who have been entrusted to take it from you.”
“What do you mean to say?”
“That my orders are far-reaching, Madame, and