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      “Wait, wait!” said the duke. “The only time I have worn these studs was at a ball given by the king eight days ago at Windsor. The Comtesse de Winter, with whom I had quarreled, became reconciled to me at that ball. That reconciliation was nothing but the vengeance of a jealous woman. I have never seen her from that day. The woman is an agent of the cardinal.”

      “He has agents, then, throughout the world?” cried d’Artagnan.

      “Oh, yes,” said Buckingham, grating his teeth with rage. “Yes, he is a terrible antagonist. But when is this ball to take place?”

      “Monday next.”

      “Monday next! Still five days before us. That’s more time than we want. Patrick!” cried the duke, opening the door of the chapel, “Patrick!” His confidential valet appeared.

      “My jeweler and my secretary.”

      The valet went out with a mute promptitude which showed him accustomed to obey blindly and without reply.

      But although the jeweler had been mentioned first, it was the secretary who first made his appearance. This was simply because he lived in the hotel. He found Buckingham seated at a table in his bedchamber, writing orders with his own hand.

      “Mr. Jackson,” said he, “go instantly to the Lord Chancellor, and tell him that I charge him with the execution of these orders. I wish them to be promulgated immediately.”

      “But, my Lord, if the Lord Chancellor interrogates me upon the motives which may have led your Grace to adopt such an extraordinary measure, what shall I reply?”

      “That such is my pleasure, and that I answer for my will to no man.”

      “Will that be the answer,” replied the secretary, smiling, “which he must transmit to his Majesty if, by chance, his Majesty should have the curiosity to know why no vessel is to leave any of the ports of Great Britain?”

      “You are right, Mr. Jackson,” replied Buckingham. “He will say, in that case, to the king that I am determined on war, and that this measure is my first act of hostility against France.”

      The secretary bowed and retired.

      “We are safe on that side,” said Buckingham, turning toward d’Artagnan. “If the studs are not yet gone to Paris, they will not arrive till after you.”

      “How so?”

      “I have just placed an embargo on all vessels at present in his Majesty’s ports, and without particular permission, not one dare lift an anchor.”

      D’Artagnan looked with stupefaction at a man who thus employed the unlimited power with which he was clothed by the confidence of a king in the prosecution of his intrigues. Buckingham saw by the expression of the young man’s face what was passing in his mind, and he smiled.

      “Yes,” said he, “yes, Anne of Austria is my true queen. Upon a word from her, I would betray my country, I would betray my king, I would betray my God. She asked me not to send the Protestants of La Rochelle the assistance I promised them; I have not done so. I broke my word, it is true; but what signifies that? I obeyed my love; and have I not been richly paid for that obedience? It was to that obedience I owe her portrait.”

      D’Artagnan was amazed to note by what fragile and unknown threads the destinies of nations and the lives of men are suspended. He was lost in these reflections when the goldsmith entered. He was an Irishman—one of the most skillful of his craft, and who himself confessed that he gained a hundred thousand livres a year by the Duke of Buckingham.

      “Mr. O’Reilly,” said the duke, leading him into the chapel, “look at these diamond studs, and tell me what they are worth apiece.”

      The goldsmith cast a glance at the elegant manner in which they were set, calculated, one with another, what the diamonds were worth, and without hesitation said, “Fifteen hundred pistoles each, my Lord.”

      “How many days would it require to make two studs exactly like them? You see there are two wanting.”

      “Eight days, my Lord.”

      “I will give you three thousand pistoles apiece if I can have them by the day after tomorrow.”

      “My Lord, they shall be yours.”

      “You are a jewel of a man, Mr. O’Reilly; but that is not all. These studs cannot be trusted to anybody; it must be done in the palace.”

      “Impossible, my Lord! There is no one but myself can so execute them that one cannot tell the new from the old.”

      “Therefore, my dear Mr. O’Reilly, you are my prisoner. And if you wish ever to leave my palace, you cannot; so make the best of it. Name to me such of your workmen as you need, and point out the tools they must bring.”

      The goldsmith knew the duke. He knew all objection would be useless, and instantly determined how to act.

      “May I be permitted to inform my wife?” said he.

      “Oh, you may even see her if you like, my dear Mr. O’Reilly. Your captivity shall be mild, be assured; and as every inconvenience deserves its indemnification, here is, in addition to the price of the studs, an order for a thousand pistoles, to make you forget the annoyance I cause you.”

      D’Artagnan could not get over the surprise created in him by this minister, who thus open-handed, sported with men and millions.

      As to the goldsmith, he wrote to his wife, sending her the order for the thousand pistoles, and charging her to send him, in exchange, his most skillful apprentice, an assortment of diamonds, of which he gave the names and the weight, and the necessary tools.

      Buckingham conducted the goldsmith to the chamber destined for him, and which, at the end of half an hour, was transformed into a workshop. Then he placed a sentinel at each door, with an order to admit nobody upon any pretense but his VALET DE CHAMBRE, Patrick. We need not add that the goldsmith, O’Reilly, and his assistant, were prohibited from going out under any pretext. This point, settled, the duke turned to d’Artagnan. “Now, my young friend,” said he, “England is all our own. What do you wish for? What do you desire?”

      “A bed, my Lord,” replied d’Artagnan. “At present, I confess, that is the thing I stand most in need of.”

      Buckingham gave d’Artagnan a chamber adjoining his own. He wished to have the young man at hand—not that he at all mistrusted him, but for the sake of having someone to whom he could constantly talk of the queen.

      In one hour after, the ordinance was published in London that no vessel bound for France should leave port, not even the packet boat with letters. In the eyes of everybody this was a declaration of war between the two kingdoms.

      On the day after the morrow, by eleven o’clock, the two diamond studs were finished, and they were so completely imitated, so perfectly alike, that Buckingham could not tell the new ones from the old ones, and experts in such matters would have been deceived as he was. He immediately called d’Artagnan. “Here,” said he to him, “are the diamond studs that you came to bring; and be my witness that I have done all that human power could do.”

      “Be satisfied, my Lord, I will tell all that I have seen. But does your Grace mean to give me the studs without the casket?”

      “The casket would encumber you. Besides, the casket is the more precious from being all that is left to me. You will say that I keep it.”

      “I will perform your commission, word for word, my Lord.”

      “And now,” resumed Buckingham, looking earnestly at the young man, “how shall I ever acquit myself of the debt I owe you?”

      D’Artagnan blushed up to the whites of his eyes. He saw that the duke was searching for a means of making him accept something and the idea that the blood of his friends and himself was about to be paid for with

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