CINQ MARS

By Alfred De Vigny

With a Prefaces by CHARLES DE MAZADE, and GASTON BOISSIER of the FrenchAcademy. 

ALFRED DE VIGNY

The reputation of Alfred de Vigny has endured extraordinary vicissitudesin France. First he was lauded as the precursor of French romanticpoetry and stately prose; then he sank in semi-oblivion, became thecuriosity of criticism, died in retirement, and was neglected for a longtime, until the last ten years or so produced a marked revolutionof taste in France. The supremacy of Victor Hugo has been, if notquestioned, at least mitigated; other poets have recovered from theirobscurity. Lamartine shines now like a lamp relighted; and the pure, brilliant, and profoundly original genius of Alfred de Vigny now takes, for the first time, its proper place as one of the main illuminatingforces of the nineteenth century. 

It was not until one hundred years after this poet's birth that itbecame clearly recognized that he is one of the most important ofall the great writers of France, and he is distinguished not only infiction, but also in poetry and the drama. He is a follower of AndreChenier, Lamartine, and Victor Hugo, a lyric sun, a philosophic poet, later, perhaps in consequence of the Revolution of 1830, becoming a"Symbolist. " He has been held to occupy a middle ground between DeMusset and Chenier, but he has also something suggestive of Madame deStael, and, artistically, he has much in common with Chateaubriand, though he is more coldly impersonal and probably much more sincere inhis philosophy. If Sainte-Beuve, however, calls the poet in his NouveauxLundis a "beautiful angel, who has been drinking vinegar, " then themodern reader needs a strong caution against malice and raillery, if notjealousy and perfidy, although the article on De Vigny abounds otherwisewith excessive critical cleverness. 

At times, indeed, under the cruel deceptions of love, he seemed to losefaith in his idealism; his pessimism, nevertheless, always remainednoble, restrained, sympathetic, manifesting itself not in appeals forcondolence, but in pitying care for all who were near and dear to him. Yet his lofty prose and poetry, interpenetrated with the stern despairof pessimistic idealism, will always be unintelligible to the many. As apoet, De Vigny appeals to the chosen few alone. In his dramas his geniusis more emancipated from himself, in his novels most of all. It is bythese that he is most widely known, and by these that he exercised thegreatest influence on the literary life of his generation. 

 Alfred-Victor, Count de Vigny, was born in Loches, Touraine, March 27, 1797. His father was an army officer, wounded in the Seven Years' War. Alfred, after having been well educated, also selected a military careerand received a commission in the "Mousquetaires Rouges, " in 1814, whenbarely seventeen. He served until 1827, "twelve long years of peace, "then resigned. Already in 1822 appeared a volume of 'Poemes' which washardly noticed, although containing poetry since become important tothe evolution of French verse: 'La Neige, le Coy, le Deluge, Elva, laFrigate', etc. , again collected in 'Poemes antiques et modernes' (1826). Other poems were published after his death in 'Les Destinies' (1864). 

Under the influence of Walter Scott, he wrote a historical romance in1826, 'Cinq-Mars, ou une Conjuration sans Louis XIII'. It met withthe most brilliant and decided success and was crowned by the Academy. Cinq-Mars will always be remembered as the earliest romantic novelin France and the greatest and most dramatic picture of Richelieu nowextant. De Vigny was a convinced Anglophile, well acquainted with thewritings of Shakespeare and Milton, Byron, Wordsworth, Shelley, MatthewArnold, and Leopardi. He also married an English lady in 1825--LydiaBunbury. 

Other prose works are 'Stello' (1832), in the manner of Sterne andDiderot, and 'Servitude et Grandeur militaire' (1835), the languageof which is as caustic as that of Merimee. As a dramatist, De Vignyproduced a translation of 'Othello--Le More de Venice' (1829); also 'LaMarechale d'Ancre' (1832); both met with moderate success only. But adecided "hit" was 'Chatterton' (1835), an adaption from his prose-work'Stello, ou les Diables bleus'; it at once established his reputationon the stage; the applause was most prodigious, and in the annals ofthe French theatre can only be compared with that of 'Le Cid'. It was agreat victory for the Romantic School, and the type of Chatterton, theslighted poet, "the marvellous boy, the sleepless soul that perished inhis pride, " became contagious as erstwhile did the type of Werther. 

For twenty years before his death Alfred de Vigny wrote nothing. Helived in retirement, almost a recluse, in La Charente, rarely visitingParis. Admitted into L'Academie Francaise in 1845, he describes in his'Journal d'un Poete' his academic visits and the reception held out tohim by the members of L'Institut. This work appeared posthumously in1867. 

He died in Paris, September 17, 1863. 

 CHARLES DE MAZADE de l'Academie Francaise. 

PREFACE

Considering Alfred de Vigny first as a writer, it is evident that hewished the public to regard him as different from the other romanticistsof his day; in fact, in many respects, his method presents a strikingcontrast to theirs. To their brilliant facility, their prodigiousabundance, and the dazzling luxury of color in their pictures of lifehe opposes a style always simple, pure, clear, with delicacy of touch, careful drawing of character, correct locution, and absolute chastity. Yet, even though he had this marked regard for purity in literary style, no writer had more dislike of mere pedantry. His high ideal in literaryart and his self-respect inspired him with an invincible repugnancetoward the artificialities of style of that period, which theromanticists--above all, Chateaubriand, their master--had so muchabused. 

Every one knows of the singular declaration made by Chateaubriand toJoubert, while relating the details of a nocturnal voyage: "The moonshone upon me in a slender crescent, and that prevented me from writingan untruth, for I feel sure that had not the moon been there I shouldhave said in my letter that it was shining, and then you would haveconvicted me of an error in my almanac!"

This habit of sacrificing truth and exactitude of impression, for thesake of producing a harmonious phrase or a picturesque suggestion, disgusted Alfred de Vigny. "The worst thing about writers is that theycare very little whether what they write is true, so long as they onlywrite, " we read on one page of his Journal. He adds, "They should seekwords only in their own consciences. " On another page he says: "The mostserious lack in literary work is sincerity. Perceiving clearly that thecombination of technical labor and research for effective expression, inproducing literary work, often leads us to a paradox, I have resolved tosacrifice all to conviction and truth, so that this precious element ofsincerity, complete and profound, shall dominate my books and give tothem the sacred character which the divine presence of truth alwaysgives. "

Besides sincerity, De Vigny possessed, in a high degree, a gift whichwas not less rare in that age--good taste. He had taste in the art ofwriting, a fine literary tact, a sense of proportion, a perception ofdelicate shades of expression, an instinct that told him what to say andwhat to suppress, to insinuate, or to be left to the understanding. Evenin his innovations in form, in his boldness of style, he showed arare discretion; never did he do violence to the genius of the Frenchlanguage, and one may apply to him without reserve the eulogy thatQuintilian pronounced upon Horace: 'Verbis felicissime audax'. 

He cherished also a fixed principle that art implied selection. He wasneither idealist nor realist, in the exclusive and opposing sense inwhich we understand these terms; he recommended a scrupulous observanceof nature, and that every writer should draw as close to it as possible, but only in order to interpret it, to reveal it with a true feeling, yet without a too intimate analysis, and that no one should attempt toportray it exactly or servilely copy it. "Of what use is art, " he says, "if it is only a reduplication of existence? We see around us only toomuch of the sadness and disenchantment of reality. " The three novelsthat compose the volume 'Servitude et Grandeur militaire' are, in thisrespect, models of romantic composition that never will be surpassed, bearing witness to the truth of the formula followed by De Vigny in allhis literary work: "Art is the chosen truth. "

If, as a versifier, Alfred de Vigny does not equal the great poets ofhis time, if they are his superiors in distinction and brilliancy, inrichness of vocabulary, freedom of movement, and variety of rhythm, thecause is to be ascribed less to any lack of poetic genius than to thenature of his inspiration, even to the laws of poesy, and to the secretand irreducible antinomy that exists between art and thought. When, for example, Theophile Gautier reproached him with being too littleimpressed with the exigencies of rhyme, his criticism was not wellgrounded, for richness of rhyme, though indispensable in works ofdescriptive imagination, has no 'raison d'etre' in poems dominated bysentiment and thought. But, having said that, we must recognize in hispoetry an element, serious, strong, and impressive, characteristicof itself alone, and admire, in the strophes of 'Mozse', in theimprecations of 'Samson', and in the 'Destinees', the majesticsimplicity of the most beautiful Hebraic verse. 

Moreover, the true originality of De Vigny does not lie in the mannerof composition; it was primarily in the role of precursor that he playedhis part on the stage of literature. Let us imagine ourselves at theperiod about the beginning of the year 1822. Of the three poets who, in making their literary debuts, had just published the 'Meditations, Poemes antiques et modernes, and Odes', only one had, at that time, theinstinct of renewal in the spirit of French poesy, and a sense ofthe manner in which this must be accomplished; and that one was notLamartine, and certainly it was not Victor Hugo. 

Sainte-Beuve has said, with authority, that in Lamartine there issomething suggestive of Millevoye, of Voltaire (he of the charmingepistles), and of Fontanes; and Victor Hugo wrote with very littlevariation from the technical form of his predecessors. "But with Alfredde Vigny, " he says, "we seek in vain for a resemblance to any Frenchpoetry preceding his work. For example, where can we find anythingresembling 'Moise, Eloa, Doloeida'? Where did he find his inspirationfor style and composition in these poems? If the poets of the Pleiadesof the Restoration seem to have found their inspiration withinthemselves, showing no trace of connection with the literature of thepast, thus throwing into confusion old habits of taste and of routine, certain it is that among them Alfred de Vigny should be ranked first. "

Even in the collection that bears the date of 1822, some years beforethe future author of Legende des Siecles had taken up romanticism, Alfred de Vigny had already conceived the idea of setting forth, in aseries of little epics, the migrations of the human soul throughout theages. "One feels, " said he in his Preface, "a keen intellectual delightin transporting one's self, by mere force of thought, to a period ofantiquity; it resembles the pleasure an old man feels in recalling firsthis early youth, and then the whole course of his life. In the age ofsimplicity, poetry was devoted entirely to the beauties of the physicalforms of nature and of man; each step in advance that it has made sincethen toward our own day of civilization and of sadness, seems to haveblended it more and more with our arts, and even with the sufferings ofour souls. At present, with all the serious solemnity of Religion and ofDestiny, it lends to them their chief beauty. Never discouraged, Poetryhas followed Man in his long journey through the ages, like a sweet andbeautiful companion. I have attempted, in our language, to show some ofher beauties, in following her progress toward the present day. "

The arrangement of the poems announced in this Preface is tripartite, like that of the 'Legende des Siecles: Poemes antiques, poemesjudaiques, poemes modernes. --Livre mystique, livre antique, livremoderne'. But the name of precursor would be a vain title if all thatwere necessary to merit it was the fact that one had been the first toperceive a new path to literary glory, to salute it from a distance, yetnever attempt to make a nearer approach. 

In one direction at least, Alfred de Vigny was a true innovator, in thebroadest and most meritorious sense of the word: he was the creator ofphilosophic poetry in France. Until Jocelyn appeared, in 1836, the formof poetic expression was confined chiefly to the ode, the ballad, andthe elegy; and no poet, with the exception of the author of 'Moise' and'Eloa', ever dreamed that abstract ideas and themes dealing with themoralities could be expressed in the melody of verse. 

To this priority, of which he knew the full value, Alfred de Vigny laidinsistent claim. "The only merit, " he says in one of his prefaces, "thatany one ever has disputed with me in this sort of composition is thehonor of having promulgated in France all works of the kind in whichphilosophic thought is presented in either epic or dramatic form. "

But it was not alone priority in the sense of time that gave himright of way over his contemporaries; he was the most distinguishedrepresentative of poetic philosophy of his generation. If the phrases ofLamartine seem richer, if his flight is more majestic, De Vigny's rangeis surer and more powerful. While the philosophy of the creator of'Les Harmonies' is uncertain and inconsistent, that of the poet of 'LesDestinees' is strong and substantial, for the reason that the formerinspires more sentiment than ideas, while the latter, soaring farabove the narrow sphere of personal emotion, writes of everything thatoccupies the intellect of man. 

Thus, by his vigor and breadth of thought, by his profound understandingof life, by the intensity of his dreams, Alfred de Vigny is superior toVictor Hugo, whose genius was quite different, in his power to portraypicturesque scenes, in his remarkable fecundity of imagination, and inhis sovereign mastery of technique. 

But nowhere in De Vigny's work is that superiority of poetic thought soclearly shown as in those productions wherein the point of departure wasfarthest from the domain of intellect, and better than any other has heunderstood that truth proclaimed by Hegel: "The passions of the soul andthe affections of the heart are matter for poetic expression only in sofar as they are general, solid, and eternal. "

De Vigny was also the only one among our poets that had a lofty idealof woman and of love. And in order to convince one's self of this itis sufficient to reread successively the four great love-poems of thatperiod: 'Le Lac, La Tristesse d'Olympio, Le Souvenir, and La Colere deSamson'. 

Lamartine's conception of love was a sort of mild ecstasy, the sacredrapture in which the senses play no part, and noble emotions that causeneither trouble nor remorse. He ever regarded love as a kind of sublimeand passionate religion, of which 'Le Lac' was the most beautiful hymn, but in which the image of woman is so vague that she almost seems to beabsent. 

On the other hand, what is 'La Tristesse d'Olympio' if not an admirablebut common poetic rapture, a magnificent summary of the sufferings ofthe heart--a bit of lyric writing equal to the most beautiful canzoni ofthe Italian masters, but wherein we find no idea of love, because allis artificial and studied; no cry from the soul is heard, --no trace ofpassion appears. 

After another fashion the same criticism applies to Le Souvenir; it waswritten under a stress of emotion resulting from too recent events;and the imagination of the author, subservient to a memory relentlesslyfaithful, as is often the case with those to whom passion is the chiefprinciple of inspiration, was far from fulfilling the duties of his highvocation, which is to purify the passions of the poet from individualand accidental characteristics in order to leave unhampered whatever hiswork may contain that is powerful and imperishable. 

Alfred de Vigny alone, of the poets of his day, in his 'Colere deSamson', has risen to a just appreciation of woman and of love; hisideal is grand and tragic, it is true, and reminds one of that gloomypassage in Ecclesiastes which says: "Woman is more bitter than death, and her arms are like chains. "

It is by this character of universality, of which all his writings showstriking evidence, that Alfred de Vigny is assured of immortality. Aheedless generation neglected him because it preferred to seek subjectsin strong contrast to life of its own time. But that which was notappreciated by his contemporaries will be welcomed by posterity. Andwhen, in French literature, there shall remain of true romanticism onlya slight trace and the memory of a few great names, the author of the'Destinees' will still find an echo in all hearts. 

No writer, no matter how gifted, immortalizes himself unless he hascrystallized into expressive and original phrase the eternal sentimentsand yearnings of the human heart. "A man does not deserve the name ofpoet unless he can express personal feeling and emotion, and only thatman is worthy to be called a poet who knows how to assimilate the variedemotions of mankind. " If this fine phrase of Goethe's is true, if truepoetry is only that which implies a mastery of spiritual things as wellas of human emotion, Alfred de Vigny is assuredly one of our greatestpoets, for none so well as he has realized a complete vision of theuniverse, no one has brought before the world with more boldness theproblem of the soul and that of humanity. Under the title of poet hebelongs not only to our national literature, but occupies a distinctiveplace in the world of intellect, with Lucretius, Dante, and Goethe, among those inspired beings who transmit throughout succeeding centuriesthe light of reason and the traditions of the loftiest poetic thought. 

Alfred de Vigny was elected to a chair in the French Academy in 1846 anddied at Paris, September 17, 1863. 

 GASTON BOISSIER Secretaire Perpetuel de l'Academie Francaise. 

TRUTH IN ART

The study of social progress is to-day not less needed in literaturethan is the analysis of the human heart. We live in an age of universalinvestigation, and of exploration of the sources of all movements. France, for example, loves at the same time history and the drama, because the one explores the vast destinies of humanity, and the otherthe individual lot of man. These embrace the whole of life. But it isthe province of religion, of philosophy, of pure poetry only, to gobeyond life, beyond time, into eternity. 

Of late years (perhaps as a result of our political changes) art hasborrowed from history more than ever. All of us have our eyes fixed onour chronicles, as though, having reached manhood while going on towardgreater things, we had stopped a moment to cast up the account of ouryouth and its errors. We have had to double the interest by adding to itrecollection. 

As France has carried farther than other nations this love of facts, andas I had chosen a recent and well-remembered epoch, it seemed to me thatI ought not to imitate those foreigners who in their pictures barelyshow in the horizon the men who dominate their history. I placed ours inthe foreground of the scene; I made them leading actors in this tragedy, wherever I endeavored to represent the three kinds of ambition by whichwe are influenced, and with them the beauty of self-sacrifice to a nobleideal. A treatise on the fall of the feudal system; on the position, at home and abroad, of France in the seventeenth century; on foreignalliances; on the justice of parliaments or of secret commissions, oron accusations of sorcery, would not perhaps have been read. But theromance was read. 

I do not mean to defend this last form of historical composition, beingconvinced that the real greatness of a work lies in the substance ofthe author's ideas and sentiments, and not in the literary form in whichthey are dressed. The choice of a certain epoch necessitates a certaintreatment--to another epoch it would be unsuitable; these are meresecrets of the workshop of thought which there is no need of disclosing. What is the use of theorizing as to wherein lies the charm that movesus? We hear the tones of the harp, but its graceful form conceals fromus its frame of iron. Nevertheless, since I have been convincedthat this book possesses vitality, I can not help throwing out somereflections on the liberty which the imagination should employ inweaving into its tapestry all the leading figures of an age, and, togive more consistency to their acts, in making the reality of factgive way to the idea which each of them should represent in the eyes ofposterity; in short, on the difference which I find between Truth in artand the True in fact. 

Just as we descend into our consciences to judge of actions which ourminds can not weigh, can we not also search in ourselves for the feelingwhich gives birth to forms of thought, always vague and cloudy? We shallfind in our troubled hearts, where discord reigns, two needs which seemat variance, but which merge, as I think, in a common source--the loveof the true, and the love of the fabulous. 

On the day when man told the story of his life to man, history was born. Of what use is the memory of facts, if not to serve as an exampleof good or of evil? But the examples which the slow train of eventspresents to us are scattered and incomplete. They lack always a tangibleand visible coherence leading straight on to a moral conclusion. Theacts of the human race on the world's stage have doubtless a coherentunity, but the meaning of the vast tragedy enacted will be visible onlyto the eye of God, until the end, which will reveal it perhaps to thelast man. All systems of philosophy have sought in vain to explain it, ceaselessly rolling up their rock, which, never reaching the top, fallsback upon them--each raising its frail structure on the ruins of theothers, only to see it fall in its turn. 

I think, then, that man, after having satisfied his first longing forfacts, wanted something fuller--some grouping, some adaptation to hiscapacity and experience, of the links of this vast chain of eventswhich his sight could not take in. Thus he hoped to find in the historicrecital examples which might support the moral truths of which he wasconscious. Few single careers could satisfy this longing, being onlyincomplete parts of the elusive whole of the history of the world; onewas a quarter, as it were, the other a half of the proof; imaginationdid the rest and completed them. From this, without doubt, sprang thefable. Man created it thus, because it was not given him to see morethan himself and nature, which surrounds him; but he created it truewith a truth all its own. 

This Truth, so beautiful, so intellectual, which I feel, I see, and longto define, the name of which I here venture to distinguish from that ofthe True, that I may the better make myself understood, is the soul ofall the arts. It is the selection of the characteristic token in all thebeauties and the grandeurs of the visible True; but it is not thething itself, it is something better: it is an ideal combination of itsprincipal forms, a luminous tint made up of its brightest colors, anintoxicating balm of its purest perfumes, a delicious elixir of itsbest juices, a perfect harmony of its sweetest sounds--in short, it isa concentration of all its good qualities. For this Truth, and nothingelse, should strive those works of art which are a moral representationof life-dramatic works. To attain it, the first step is undoubtedly tolearn all that is true in fact of every period, to become deeply imbuedwith its general character and with its details; this involves only acheap tribute of attention, of patience, and of memory: But then onemust fix upon some chosen centre, and group everything around it; thisis the work of imagination, and of that sublime common-sense which isgenius itself. 

Of what use were the arts if they were only the reproduction and theimitation of life? Good heavens! we see only too clearly about us thesad and disenchanting reality--the insupportable lukewarmness of feeblecharacters, of shallow virtues and vices, of irresolute loves, oftempered hates, of wavering friendships, of unsettled beliefs, ofconstancy which has its height and its depth, of opinions whichevaporate. Let us dream that once upon a time have lived men strongerand greater, who were more determined for good or for evil; that doesus good. If the paleness of your True is to follow us into art, we shallclose at once the theatre and the book, to avoid meeting it a secondtime. What is wanted of works which revive the ghosts of human beingsis, I repeat, the philosophical spectacle of man deeply wrought uponby the passions of his character and of his epoch; it is, in short, theartistic Truth of that man and that epoch, but both raised to a higherand ideal power, which concentrates all their forces. You recognize thisTruth in works of the imagination just as you cry out at the resemblanceof a portrait of which you have never seen the original; for true talentpaints life rather than the living. 

To banish finally the scruples on this point of the consciences of somepersons, timorous in literary matters, whom I have seen affected witha personal sorrow on viewing the rashness with which the imaginationsports with the most weighty characters of history, I will hazard theassertion that, not throughout this work, I dare not say that, but inmany of these pages, and those perhaps not of the least merit, historyis a romance of which the people are the authors. The human mind, Ibelieve, cares for the True only in the general character of an epoch. What it values most of all is the sum total of events and the advance ofcivilization, which carries individuals along with it; but, indifferentto details, it cares less to have them real than noble or, rather, grandand complete. 

Examine closely the origin of certain deeds, of certain heroicexpressions, which are born one knows not how; you will see them leapout ready-made from hearsay and the murmurs of the crowd, without havingin themselves more than a shadow of truth, and, nevertheless, they willremain historical forever. As if by way of pleasantry, and to put a jokeupon posterity, the public voice invents sublime utterances to mark, during their lives and under their very eyes, men who, confused, avowthemselves as best they may, as not deserving of so much glory and asnot being able to support so high renown. 

 [In our time has not a Russian General denied the fire of Moscow, which we have made heroic, and which will remain so? Has not a French General denied that utterance on the field of Waterloo which will immortalize it? And if I were not withheld by my respect for a sacred event, I might recall that a priest has felt it to be his duty to disavow in public a sublime speech which will remain the noblest that has ever been pronounced on a scaffold: "Son of Saint Louis, rise to heaven!" When I learned not long ago its real author, I was overcome by the destruction of my illusion, but before long I was consoled by a thought that does honor to humanity in my eyes. I feel that France has consecrated this speech, because she felt the need of reestablishing herself in her own eyes, of blinding herself to her awful error, and of believing that then and there an honest man was found who dared to speak aloud. ]

In vain; their disclaimers are not received. Let them cry out, let themwrite, let them print, let them sign--they are not listened to. Theseutterances are inscribed in bronze; the poor fellows remain historicaland sublime in spite of themselves. And I do not find that all this isdone in the ages of barbarism alone; it is still going on, and itmolds the history of yesterday to the taste of public opinion--a Musetyrannical and capricious, which preserves the general purport andscorns detail. 

Which of you knows not of such transformation? Do you not see with yourown eyes the chrysalis fact assume by degrees the wings of fiction? Halfformed by the necessities of the time, a fact is hidden in the groundobscure and incomplete, rough, misshapen, like a block of marble not yetrough-hewn. The first who unearth it, and take it in hand, would wishit differently shaped, and pass it, already a little rounded, into otherhands; others polish it as they pass it along; in a short time it isexhibited transformed into an immortal statue. We disclaim it; witnesseswho have seen and heard pile refutations upon explanations; the learnedinvestigate, pore over books, and write. No one listens to them any morethan to the humble heroes who disown it; the torrent rolls on and bearswith it the whole thing under the form which it has pleased it togive to these individual actions. What was needed for all this work? Anothing, a word; sometimes the caprice of a journalist out of work. Andare we the losers by it? No. The adopted fact is always better composedthan the real one, and it is even adopted only because it is better. Thehuman race feels a need that its destinies should afford it a series oflessons; more careless than we think of the reality of facts, it strivesto perfect the event in order to give it a great moral significance, feeling sure that the succession of scenes which it plays upon earth isnot a comedy, and that since it advances, it marches toward an end, ofwhich the explanation must be sought beyond what is visible. 

For my part, I acknowledge my gratitude to the voice of the peoplefor this achievement; for often in the finest life are found strangeblemishes and inconsistencies which pain me when I see them. If a manseems to me a perfect model of a grand and noble character, and ifsome one comes and tells me of a mean trait which disfigures him, I amsaddened by it, even though I do not know him, as by a misfortune whichaffects me in person; and I could almost wish that he had died beforethe change in his character. 

Thus, when the Muse (and I give that name to art as a whole, toeverything which belongs to the domain of imagination, almost in thesame way as the ancients gave the name of Music to all education), whenthe Muse has related, in her impassioned manner, the adventures ofa character whom I know to have lived; and when she reshapes hisexperiences into conformity with the strongest idea of vice orvirtue which can be conceived of him--filling the gaps, veiling theincongruities of his life, and giving him that perfect unity of conductwhich we like to see represented even in evil--if, in addition to this, she preserves the only thing essential to the instruction of the world, the spirit of the epoch, I know no reason why we should be more exactingwith her than with this voice of the people which every day makes everyfact undergo so great changes. 

The ancients carried this liberty even into history; they wanted tosee in it only the general march, and broad movements of peoples andnations; and on these great movements, brought to view in courses verydistinct and very clear, they placed a few colossal figures--symbols ofnoble character and of lofty purpose. 

One might almost reckon mathematically that, having undergone the doublecomposition of public opinion and of the author, their history reachesus at third hand and is thus separated by two stages from the originalfact. 

It is because in their eyes history too was a work of art; and inconsequence of not having realized that such is its real nature, thewhole Christian world still lacks an historical monument like thosewhich dominate antiquity and consecrate the memory of its destinies--asits pyramids, its obelisks, its pylons, and its porticos still dominatethe earth which was known to them, and thereby commemorate the grandeurof antiquity. 

If, then, we find everywhere evidence of this inclination to desert thepositive, to bring the ideal even into historic annals, I believe thatwith greater reason we should be completely indifferent to historicalreality in judging the dramatic works, whether poems, romances, ortragedies, which borrow from history celebrated characters. Art oughtnever to be considered except in its relations with its ideal beauty. Let it be said that what is true in fact is secondary merely; it is onlyan illusion the more with which it adorns itself--one of our prejudiceswhich it respects. It can do without it, for the Truth by which it mustlive is the truth of observation of human nature, and not authenticityof fact. The names of the characters have nothing to do with the matter. The idea is everything; the proper name is only the example and theproof of the idea. 

So much the better for the memory of those who are chosen to representphilosophical or moral ideas; but, once again, that is not the question. The imagination can produce just as fine things without them; it isa power wholly creative; the imaginary beings which it animates areendowed with life as truly as the real beings which it brings to lifeagain. We believe in Othello as we do in Richard III. , whose tomb isin Westminster; in Lovelace and Clarissa as in Paul and Virginia, whosetombs are in the Isle of France. It is with the same eye that we mustwatch the performance of its characters, and demand of the Muse only herartistic Truth, more lofty than the True--whether collecting the traitsof a character dispersed among a thousand entire individuals, shecomposes from them a type whose name alone is imaginary; or whether shegoes to their tomb to seek and to touch with her galvanic current thedead whose great deeds are known, forces them to arise again, and dragsthem dazzled to the light of day, where, in the circle which this fairyhas traced, they re-assume unwillingly their passions of other days, andbegin again in the sight of their descendants the sad drama of life. 

ALFRED DE VIGNY. 

1827. 

CINQ-MARS

BOOK 1. 

CHAPTER I. THE ADIEU

 Fare thee well! and if forever, Still forever fare thee well!

 LORD BYRON. 

Do you know that charming part of our country which has been called thegarden of France--that spot where, amid verdant plains watered by widestreams, one inhales the purest air of heaven?

If you have travelled through fair Touraine in summer, you have no doubtfollowed with enchantment the peaceful Loire; you have regretted theimpossibility of determining upon which of its banks you would choose todwell with your beloved. On its right bank one sees valleys dotted withwhite houses surrounded by woods, hills yellow with vines or whitewith the blossoms of the cherry-tree, walls covered with honeysuckles, rose-gardens, from which pointed roofs rise suddenly. Everything remindsthe traveller either of the fertility of the land or of the antiquityof its monuments; and everything interests him in the work of its busyinhabitants. 

Nothing has proved useless to them; it seems as if in their love forso beautiful a country--the only province of France never occupied byforeigners--they have determined not to lose the least part of its soil, the smallest grain of its sand. Do you fancy that this ruined tower isinhabited only by hideous night-birds? No; at the sound of your horse'shoofs, the smiling face of a young girl peeps out from the ivy, whitenedwith the dust from the road. If you climb a hillside covered with vines, a light column of smoke shows you that there is a chimney at your feet;for the very rock is inhabited, and families of vine-dressers breathein its caverns, sheltered at night by the kindly earth which theylaboriously cultivate during the day. The good people of Touraine are assimple as their life, gentle as the air they breathe, and strong as thepowerful earth they dig. Their countenances, like their characters, have something of the frankness of the true people of St. Louis; theirchestnut locks are still long and curve around their ears, as in thestone statues of our old kings; their language is the purest French, with neither slowness, haste, nor accent--the cradle of the language isthere, close to the cradle of the monarchy. 

But the left bank of the stream has a more serious aspect; in thedistance you see Chambord, which, with its blue domes and littlecupolas, appears like some great city of the Orient; there isChanteloup, raising its graceful pagoda in the air. Near these a simplerbuilding attracts the eyes of the traveller by its magnificent situationand imposing size; it is the chateau of Chaumont. Built upon the highesthill of the shore, it frames the broad summit with its lofty walls andits enormous towers; high slate steeples increase their loftiness, andgive to the building that conventual air, that religious form of allour old chateaux, which casts an aspect of gravity over the landscapeof most of our provinces. Black and tufted trees surround this ancientmansion, resembling from afar the plumes that encircled the hat of KingHenry. At the foot of the hill, connected with the chateau by a narrowpath, lies a pretty village, whose white houses seem to have sprungfrom the golden sand; a chapel stands halfway up the hill; the lordsdescended and the villagers ascended to its altar-the region ofequality, situated like a neutral spot between poverty and riches, whichhave been too often opposed to each other in bitter conflict. 

Here, one morning in the month of June, 1639, the bell of the chateauhaving, as usual, rung at midday, the dinner-hour of the family, occurrences of an unusual kind were passing in this ancient dwelling. The numerous domestics observed that in repeating the morning prayersbefore the assembled household, the Marechale d'Effiat had spoken with abroken voice and with tears in her eyes, and that she had appeared in adeeper mourning than was customary. The people of the household and theItalians of the Duchesse de Mantua, who had at that time retired for awhile to Chaumont, saw with surprise that sudden preparations were beingmade for departure. The old domestic of the Marechal d'Effiat (who hadbeen dead six months) had taken again to his travelling-boots, which hehad sworn to abandon forever. This brave fellow, named Grandchamp, hadfollowed the chief of the family everywhere in the wars, and in hisfinancial work; he had been his equerry in the former, and his secretaryin the latter. He had recently returned from Germany, to inform themother and the children of the death of the Marechal, whose last sighshe had heard at Luzzelstein. He was one of those faithful servants whoare become too rare in France; who suffer with the misfortunes of thefamily, and rejoice with their joys; who approve of early marriages, that they may have young masters to educate; who scold the children andoften the fathers; who risk death for them; who serve without wages inrevolutions; who toil for their support; and who in prosperous timesfollow them everywhere, or exclaim at their return, "Behold ourvines!" He had a severe and remarkable face, a coppery complexion, andsilver-gray hair, in which, however, some few locks, black as his heavyeyebrows, made him appear harsh at first; but a gentle countenancesoftened this first impression. At present his voice was loud. He busiedhimself much that day in hastening the dinner, and ordered about all theservants, who were in mourning like himself. 

"Come, " said he, "make haste to serve the dinner, while Germain, Louis, and Etienne saddle their horses; Monsieur Henri and I must be far awayby eight o'clock this evening. And you, gentlemen, Italians, have youwarned your young Princess? I wager that she is gone to read with herladies at the end of the park, or on the banks of the lake. She alwayscomes in after the first course, and makes every one rise from thetable. "

"Ah, my good Grandchamp, " said in a low voice a young maid servant whowas passing, "do not speak of the Duchess; she is very sorrowful, and Ibelieve that she will remain in her apartment. Santa Maria! what a shameto travel to-day! to depart on a Friday, the thirteenth of the month, and the day of Saint Gervais and of Saint-Protais--the day of twomartyrs! I have been telling my beads all the morning for Monsieurde Cinq-Mars; and I could not help thinking of these things. And mymistress thinks of them too, although she is a great lady; so you neednot laugh!"

With these words the young Italian glided like a bird across the largedining-room, and disappeared down a corridor, startled at seeing thegreat doors of the salon opened. 

Grandchamp had hardly heard what she had said, and seemed to havebeen occupied only with the preparations for dinner; he fulfilled theimportant duties of major-domo, and cast severe looks at the domesticsto see whether they were all at their posts, placing himself behind thechair of the eldest son of the house. Then all the inhabitants of themansion entered the salon. Eleven persons seated themselves at table. The Marechale came in last, giving her arm to a handsome old man, magnificently dressed, whom she placed upon her left hand. She seatedherself in a large gilded arm-chair at the middle of one side of thetable, which was oblong in form. Another seat, rather more ornamented, was at her right, but it remained empty. The young Marquis d'Effiat, seated in front of his mother, was to assist her in doing the honors ofthe table. He was not more than twenty years old, and his countenancewas insignificant; much gravity and distinguished manners proclaimed, however, a social nature, but nothing more. His young sister offourteen, two gentlemen of the province, three young Italian noblemen ofthe suite of Marie de Gonzaga (Duchesse de Mantua), a lady-in-waiting, the governess of the young daughter of the Marechale, and an abbe of theneighborhood, old and very deaf, composed the assembly. A seat at theright of the elder son still remained vacant. 

The Marechale, before seating herself, made the sign of the cross, and repeated the Benedicite aloud; every one responded by making thecomplete sign, or upon the breast alone. This custom was preservedin many families in France up to the Revolution of 1789; some stillpractise it, but more in the provinces than in Paris, and not withoutsome hesitation and some preliminary words upon the weather, accompaniedby a deprecatory smile when a stranger is present--for it is too truethat virtue also has its blush. 

The Marechale possessed an imposing figure, and her large blue eyeswere remarkably beautiful. She did not appear to have yet attained herforty-fifth year; but, oppressed with sorrow, she walked slowly andspoke with difficulty, closing her eyes, and allowing her head to droopfor a moment upon her breast, after she had been obliged to raise hervoice. At such efforts her hand pressed to her bosom showed that sheexperienced sharp pain. She saw therefore with satisfaction that theperson who was seated at her left, having at the beginning engrossedthe conversation, without having been requested by any one to talk, persisted with an imperturbable coolness in engrossing it to the end ofthe dinner. This was the old Marechal de Bassompierre; he had preservedwith his white locks an air of youth and vivacity curious to see. Hisnoble and polished manners showed a certain gallantry, antiquated likehis costume--for he wore a ruff in the fashion of Henri IV, and theslashed sleeves fashionable in the former reign, an absurdity which wasunpardonable in the eyes of the beaux of the court. This would not haveappeared more singular than anything else at present; but it is admittedthat in every age we laugh at the costume of our fathers, and, exceptthe Orientals, I know of no people who have not this fault. 

One of the Italian gentlemen had hardly finished asking the Marechalwhat he thought of the way in which the Cardinal treated the daughter ofthe Duc de Mantua, when he exclaimed, in his familiar language:

"Heavens, man! what are you talking about? what do I comprehend of thisnew system under which France is living? We old companions-in-armsof his late Majesty can ill understand the language spoken by the newcourt, and that in its turn does not comprehend ours. But what do I say?We speak no language in this sad country, for all the world is silentbefore the Cardinal; this haughty little, vassal looks upon us as merelyold family portraits, which occasionally he shortens by the head; buthappily the motto always remains. Is it not true, my dear Puy-Laurens?"

This guest was about the same age as the Marechal, but, being more graveand cautious, he answered in vague and few words, and made a sign to hiscontemporary in order to induce him to observe the unpleasant emotionswhich he had caused the mistress of the house by reminding her of therecent death of her husband and in speaking thus of the minister, hisfriend. But it was in vain, for Bassompierre, pleased with the sign ofhalf-approval, emptied at one draught a great goblet of wine--a remedywhich he lauds in his Memoirs as infallible against the plague andagainst reserve; and leaning back to receive another glass from hisesquire, he settled himself more firmly than ever upon his chair, and inhis favorite ideas. 

"Yes, we are in the way here; I said so the other day to my dear Ducde Guise, whom they have ruined. They count the minutes that we have tolive, and shake the hour-glass to hasten the descent of its sands. WhenMonsieur le Cardinal-Duc observes in a corner three or four of our tallfigures, who never quitted the side of the late King, he feels that heis unable to move those statues of iron, and that to do it would requirethe hand of a great man; he passes quickly by, and dares not meddle withus, who fear him not. He believes that we are always conspiring; andthey say at this very moment that there is talk of putting me in theBastille. "

"Eh! Monsieur le Marechal, why do you delay your departure?" saidthe Italian. "I know of no place, except Flanders, where you can findshelter. "

"Ah, Monsieur! you do not know me. So far from flying, I sought out theKing before his departure, and told him that I did so in order to savepeople the trouble of looking for me; and that if I knew when he wishedto send me, I would go myself without being taken. He was as kind as Iexpected him to be, and said to me, 'What, my old friend, could youhave thought that I desired to send you there? You know well that I loveyou. '"

"Ah, my dear Marechal, let me compliment you, " said Madame d'Effiat, ina soft voice. "I recognize the benevolence of the King in these words;he remembers the affection which the King, his father, had toward you. It appears to me that he always accorded to you all that you desired foryour friends, " she added, with animation, in order to put him into thetrack of praise, and to beguile him from the discontent which he had soloudly declared. 

"Assuredly, Madame, " answered he; "no one is more willing to recognizehis virtues than Francois de Bassompierre. I shall be faithful to himto the end, because I gave myself, body and fortune, to his father ata ball; and I swear that, with my consent at least, none of my familyshall ever fail in their duties toward the King of France. Although theBesteins are foreigners and Lorrains, a shake of the hand from Henri IVgained us forever. My greatest grief has been to see my brother die inthe service of Spain; and I have just written to my nephew to say thatI shall disinherit him if he has passed over to the Emperor, as reportsays he has. "

One of the gentlemen guests who had as yet been silent, and who wasremarkable for the profusion of knots, ribbons, and tags which coveredhis dress, and for the black cordon of the Order of St. Michael whichdecorated his neck, bowed, observing that it was thus all faithfulsubjects ought to speak. 

"I' faith, Monsieur de Launay, you deceive yourself very much, " saidthe Marechal, to whom the recollection of his ancestors now occurred;"persons of our blood are subjects only at our own pleasure, for God hascaused us to be born as much lords of our lands as the King is of his. When I came to France, I came at my ease, accompanied by my gentlemenand pages. I perceive, however, that the farther we go, the more we losesight of this idea, especially at the court. But here is a young man whoarrives very opportunely to hear me. "

The door indeed opened, and a young man of fine form entered. He waspale; his hair was brown, his eyes were black, his expression was sadand reckless. This was Henri d'Effiat, Marquis de Cinq-Mars (a nametaken from an estate of his family). His dress and his short cloak wereblack; a collar of lace fell from his neck halfway down his breast; hisstout, small, and very wide-spurred boots made so much noise upon theflags of the salon that his approach was heard at a distance. He walkeddirectly toward the Marechale, bowed low, and kissed her hand. 

"Well, Henri, " she said, "are your horses ready? At what hour do youdepart?"

"Immediately after dinner, Madame, if you will allow me, " said he to hismother, with the ceremonious respect of the times; and passing behindher, he saluted M. De Bassompierre before seating himself at the left ofhis eldest brother. 

"Well, " said the Marechal, continuing to eat with an excellent appetite, "you are about to depart, my son; you are going to the court--a slipperyplace nowadays. I am sorry for your sake that it is not now what it usedto be. In former times, the court was simply the drawing-room of theKing, in which he received his natural friends: nobles of great family, his peers, who visited him to show their devotion and their friendship, lost their money with him, and accompanied him in his pleasure parties, but never received anything from him, except permission to bring theirvassals with them, to break their heads in his service. The honors a manof quality received did not enrich him, for he paid for them out ofhis purse. I sold an estate for every grade I received; the title ofcolonel-general of the Swiss cost me four hundred thousand crowns, andat the baptism of the present King I had to buy a costume that cost me ahundred thousand francs. "

"Ah!" said the mistress of the house, smiling, "you must acknowledgefor once that you were not obliged to do that. We have all heard of yoursplendid dress of pearls; but I should be much vexed were it still thecustom to wear such. "

"Oh, Madame la Marquise, do not fear, those times of magnificencenever will return. We committed follies, no doubt, but they proved ourindependence; it is clear that it would then have been hard to convertfrom their allegiance to the King adherents who were attached to himby love alone, and whose coronets contained as many diamonds as his ownlocked-up crown. It is also certain that ambition could not then attackall classes, since such expenses could come only from rich hands, andsince gold comes only from mines. Those great houses, which are beingso furiously assailed, were not ambitious, and frequently, desiringno employment from the Government, maintained their places at court bytheir own weight, existed upon their own foundation, and might say, asone of them did say, 'The Prince condescends not; I am Rohan. ' It wasthe same with every noble family, to which its own nobility sufficed;the King himself expressed it in writing to one of my friends: 'Money isnot a common thing between gentlemen like you and me. '"

"But, Monsieur le Marechal, " coldly, and with extreme politeness, interrupted M. De Launay, who perhaps intended to anger him, "thisindependence has produced as many civil wars and revolts as those ofMonsieur de Montmorency. "

"Monsieur! I can not consent to hear these things spoken, " said thefiery Marechal, leaping up in his armchair. "Those revolts and wars hadnothing to do with the fundamental laws of the State, and could no morehave overturned the throne than a duel could have done so. Of allthe great party-chiefs, there was not one who would not have laid hisvictory at the feet of the King, had he succeeded, knowing well that allthe other lords who were as great as himself would have abandoned theenemy of the legitimate sovereign. Arms were taken against a faction, and not against the sovereign authority; and, this destroyed, everythingwent on again in the old way. But what have you done in crushing us?You have crushed the arm of the throne, and have not put anything inits place. Yes, I no longer doubt that the Cardinal-Duke will whollyaccomplish his design; the great nobility will leave and lose theirlands, and, ceasing to be great proprietors, they will cease to be agreat power. The court is already no more than a palace where peoplebeg; by and by it will become an antechamber, when it will be composedonly of those who constitute the suite of the King. Great names willbegin by ennobling vile offices; but, by a terrible reaction, thoseoffices will end by rendering great names vile. Estranged from theirhomes, the nobility will be dependent upon the employments which theyshall have received; and if the people, over whom they will no longerhave any influence, choose to revolt--"

"How gloomy you are to-day, Marechal!" interrupted the Marquise; "Ihope that neither I nor my children will ever see that time. I no longerperceive your cheerful disposition, now that you talk like a politician. I expected to hear you give advice to my son. Henri, what troubles you?You seem very absent. "

Cinq-Mars, with eyes fixed upon the great bay window of thedining-room, looked sorrowfully upon the magnificent landscape. The sunshone in full splendor, and colored the sands of the Loire, the trees, and the lawns with gold and emerald. The sky was azure, the waves wereof a transparent yellow, the islets of a vivid green; behind theirrounded outlines rose the great sails of the merchant-vessels, like afleet in ambuscade. 

"O Nature, Nature!" he mused; "beautiful Nature, farewell! Soon will myheart cease to be of simplicity enough to feel your charm, soon youwall no longer please my eyes. This heart is already burned by a deeppassion; and the mention of the interests of men stirs it with hithertounknown agitation. I must, however, enter this labyrinth; I may, perchance, lose myself there, but for Marie--"

At this moment, aroused by the words of his mother, and fearing toexhibit a childish regret at leaving his beautiful country and hisfamily, he said:

"I am thinking, Madame, of the road which I shall take to Perpignan, andalso of that which shall bring me back to you. "

"Do not forget to take that of Poitiers, and to go to Loudun to see yourold tutor, our good Abbe Quillet; he will give you useful advice aboutthe court. He is on very good terms with the Duc de Bouillon; andbesides, though he may not be very necessary to you, it is a mark ofdeference which you owe him. "

"Is it, then, to the siege of Perpignan that you are going, my boy?"asked the old Marechal, who began to think that he had been silent along time. "Ah! it is well for you. Plague upon it! a siege! 'tis anexcellent opening. I would have given much had I been able to assist thelate King at a siege, upon my arrival in his court; it would have beenbetter to be disembowelled then than at a tourney, as I was. But we wereat peace; and I was compelled to go and shoot the Turks with the Roswormof the Hungarians, in order that I might not afflict my family by myidleness. For the rest, may his Majesty receive you as kindly as hisfather received me! It is true that the King is good and brave; but theyhave unfortunately taught him that cold Spanish etiquette which arrestsall the impulses of the heart. He restrains himself and others by animmovable presence and an icy look; as for me, I confess that I amalways waiting for the moment of thaw, but in vain. We were accustomedto other manners from the witty and simple-hearted Henri; and we were atleast free to tell him that we loved him. "

Cinq-Mars, with eyes fixed upon those of Bassompierre, as if to forcehimself to attend to his discourse, asked him what was the manner of thelate king in conversation. 

"Lively and frank, " said he. "Some time after my arrival in France, Iplayed with him and with the Duchesse de Beaufort at Fontainebleau; forhe wished, he said, to win my gold-pieces, my fine Portugal money. Heasked me the reason why I came into this country. 'Truly, Sire, ' said I, frankly, 'I came with no intention of enlisting myself in your service, but only to pass some time at your court, and afterward at that ofSpain; but you have charmed me so much that, instead of going farther, if you desire my service, I will devote myself to you till death. ' Thenhe embraced me, and assured me that I could not find a better master, orone who would love me more. Alas! I have found it so. And for my part, Isacrificed everything to him, even my love; and I would have donemore, had it been possible to do more than renounce Mademoiselle deMontmorency. "

The good Marechal had tears in his eyes; but the young Marquis d'Effiatand the Italians, looking at one another, could not help smiling tothink that at present the Princesse de Conde was far from young andpretty. Cinq-Mars noticed this interchange of glances, and smiled also, but bitterly. 

"Is it true then, " he thought, "that the affections meet the same fateas the fashions, and that the lapse of a few years can throw the sameridicule upon a costume and upon love? Happy is he who does not outlivehis youth and his illusions, and who carries his treasures with him tothe grave!"

But--again, with effort breaking the melancholy course of his thoughts, and wishing that the good Marechal should read nothing unpleasant uponthe countenances of his hosts, he said:

"People spoke, then, with much freedom to King Henri? Possibly, however, he found it necessary to assume that tone at the beginning of his reign;but when he was master did he change it?"

"Never! no, never, to his last day, did our great King cease to be thesame. He did not blush to be a man, and he spoke to men with force andsensibility. Ah! I fancy I see him now, embracing the Duc de Guise inhis carriage, on the very day of his death; he had just made one of hislively pleasantries to me, and the Duke said to him, 'You are, inmy opinion, one of the most agreeable men in the world, and destinyordained us for each other. For, had you been but an ordinary man, I should have taken you into my service at whatever price; but sinceheaven ordained that you should be born a great King, it is inevitablethat I belong to you. ' Oh, great man!" cried Bassompierre, with tearsin his eyes, and perhaps a little excited by the frequent bumpers he haddrunk, "you said well, 'When you have lost me you will learn my value. '"

During this interlude, the guests at the table had assumed variousattitudes, according to their position in public affairs. One of theItalians pretended to chat and laugh in a subdued manner with the youngdaughter of the Marechale; the other talked to the deaf old Abbe, who, with one hand behind his ear that he might hear, was the only onewho appeared attentive. Cinq-Mars had sunk back into his melancholyabstraction, after throwing a glance at the Marechal, as one looks asideafter throwing a tennis-ball until its return; his elder brother didthe honors of the table with the same calm. Puy-Laurens observedthe mistress of the house with attention; he was devoted to the Ducd'Orleans, and feared the Cardinal. As for the Marechale, she had ananxious and afflicted air. Careless words had often recalled the deathof her husband or the departure of her son; and, oftener still, she hadfeared lest Bassompierre should compromise himself. She had touched himmany times, glancing at the same time toward M. De Launay, of whom sheknew little, and whom she had reason to believe devoted to the primeminister; but to a man of his character, such warnings were useless. He appeared not to notice them; but, on the contrary, crushing thatgentleman with his bold glance and the sound of his voice, he affectedto turn himself toward him, and to direct all his conversation to him. M. De Launay assumed an air of indifference and of assenting politeness, which he preserved until the moment when the folding-doors opened, and"Mademoiselle la Duchesse de Mantua" was announced. 

The conversation which we have transcribed so lengthily passed, inreality, with rapidity; and the repast was only half over when thearrival of Marie de Gonzaga caused the company to rise. She was small, but very well made, and although her eyes and hair were black, hercomplexion was as dazzling as the beauty of her skin. The Marechalearose to acknowledge her rank, and kissed her on the forehead, inrecognition of her goodness and her charming age. 

"We have waited a long time for you to-day, dear Marie, " she said, placing the Duchess beside her; "fortunately, you remain with me toreplace one of my children, who is about to depart. "

The young Duchess blushed, lowered her head and her eyes, in order thatno one might see their redness, and said, timidly:

"Madame, that may well be, since you have taken toward me the place ofa mother;" and a glance thrown at Cinq-Mars, at the other end of thetable, made him turn pale. 

This arrival changed the conversation; it ceased to be general, and eachguest conversed in a low voice with his neighbor. The Marechal alonecontinued to utter a few sentences concerning the magnificence of theold court, his wars in Turkey, the tournaments, and the avarice of thenew court; but, to his great regret, no one made any reply, and thecompany were about to leave the table, when, as the clock struck two, five horses appeared in the courtyard. Four were mounted by servants, cloaked and armed; the other horse, black and spirited, was held by oldGrandchamp--it was his master's steed. 

"Ah!" exclaimed Bassompierre; "see, our battlehorses are saddled andbridled. Come, young man, we must say, with our old Marot:

 'Adieu la cour, adieu les dames! Adieu les filles et les femmes! Adieu vous dy pour quelque temps; Adieu vos plaisans parse-temps! Adieu le bal, adieu la dance; Adieu mesure, adieu cadance, Tabourins, Hautbois, Violons, Puisqu'a la guerre nous allons!'"

These old verses and the air of the Marechal made all the guests laugh, except three persons. 

"Heavens!" he continued, "it seems to me as if, like him, I were onlyseventeen years old; he will return to us covered with embroidery. Madame, we must keep his chair vacant for him. "

The Marechale suddenly grew pale, and left the table in tears; every onerose with her; she took only two steps, and sank into another chair. Hersons and her daughter and the young Duchess gathered anxiously aroundher, and heard her say, amid the sighs and tears which she strove torestrain:

"Pardon, my friends! it is foolish of me--childish; but I am weak atpresent, and am not mistress of myself. We were thirteen at table; andyou, my dear Duchess, were the cause of it. But it is very wrong of meto show so much weakness before him. Farewell, my child; give me yourforehead to kiss, and may God conduct you! Be worthy of your name and ofyour father. "

Then, as Homer says, "smiling under tears, " she raised herself, pushedher son from her, and said:

"Come, let me see you on horseback, fair sir!"

The silent traveller kissed the hands of his mother, and made a low bowto her; he bowed also to the Duchess, without raising his eyes. Then, embracing his elder brother, pressing the hand of the Marechal, andkissing the forehead of his young sister almost simultaneously, he wentforth, and was on horseback in an instant. Every one went to the windowswhich overlooked the court, except Madame d'Effiat, who was still seatedand suffering. 

"He sets off at full gallop. That is a good sign, " said the Marechal, laughing. 

"Oh, heavens!" cried the young Princess, retiring from the bay-window. 

"What is the matter?" said the mother. 

"Nothing, nothing!" said M. De Launay. "Your son's horse stumbled underthe gateway; but he soon pulled him up. See, he salutes us from theroad. "

"Another ominous presage!" said the Marquise, upon retiring to herapartments. 

Every one imitated her by being silent or speaking low. 

The day was sad, and in the evening the supper was silent at the chateauof Chaumont. 

At ten o'clock that evening, the old Marechal, conducted by his valet, retired to the northern tower near the gateway, and opposite the river. The heat was extreme; he opened the window, and, enveloping himselfin his great silk robe, placed a heavy candlestick upon the table anddesired to be left alone. His window looked out upon the plain, whichthe moon, in her first quarter, indistinctly lighted; the sky wascharged with thick clouds, and all things disposed the mind tomelancholy. Although Bassompierre had nothing of the dreamer in hischaracter, the tone which the conversation had taken at dinner returnedto his memory, and he reconsidered his life, the sad changes which thenew reign had wrought in it, a reign which seemed to have breathedupon him a wind of misfortune--the death of a cherished sister; theirregularities of the heir of his name; the loss of his lands and ofhis favor; the recent fate of his friend, the Marechal d'Effiat, whose chambers he now occupied. All these thoughts drew from him aninvoluntary sigh, and he went to the window to breathe. 

At that moment he fancied he heard the tramp of a troop of horse at theside of the wood; but the wind rising made him think that he had beenmistaken, and, as the noise suddenly ceased, he forgot it. He stillwatched for some time all the lights of the chateau, which weresuccessively extinguished, after winding among the windows of thestaircases and rambling about the courtyards and the stables. Then, leaning back in his great tapestried armchair, his elbow resting on thetable, he abandoned himself to his reflections. After a while, drawingfrom his breast a medallion which hung concealed, suspended by a blackribbon, he said:

"Come, my good old master, talk with me as you have so often talked;come, great King, forget your court for the smile of a true friend;come, great man, consult me concerning ambitious Austria; come, inconstant chevalier, speak to me of the lightness of thy love, and ofthe fidelity of thine inconstancy; come, heroic soldier, complain to meagain that I obscure you in combat. Ah, had I only done it in Paris!Had I only received thy wound? With thy blood the world has lost thebenefits of thine interrupted reign--"

The tears of the Marechal obscured the glass that covered the largemedallion, and he was effacing them with respectful kisses, when, hisdoor being roughly opened, he quickly drew his sword. 

"Who goes there?" he cried, in his surprise, which was much increasedwhen he saw M. De Launay, who, hat in hand, advanced toward him, andsaid to him, with embarrassment:

"Monsieur, it is with a heart pierced with grief that I am forced totell you that the King has commanded me to arrest you. A carriage awaitsyou at the gate, attended by thirty of the Cardinal-Duke's musketeers. "

Bassompierre had not risen: and he still held the medallion in his righthand, and the sword in the other. He tendered it disdainfully to thisman, saying:

"Monsieur, I know that I have lived too long, and it is that of whichI was thinking; in the name of the great Henri, I restore this swordpeacefully to his son. Follow me. "

He accompanied these words with a look so firm that De Launay wasdepressed, and followed him with drooping head, as if he had himselfbeen arrested by the noble old man, who, seizing a flambeau, issuedfrom the court and found all the doors opened by horse-guards, whohad terrified the people of the chateau in the name of the King, and commanded silence. The carriage was ready, and departed rapidly, followed by many horses. The Marechal, seated beside M. De Launay, wasabout to fall asleep, rocked by the movement of the vehicle, when avoice cried to the driver, "Stop!" and, as he continued, a pistol-shotfollowed. The horses stopped. 

"I declare, Monsieur, that this is done without my participation, " saidBassompierre. Then, putting his head out at the door, he saw that theywere in a little wood, and that the road was too narrow to allow thehorses to pass to either the right or the left of the carriage--a greatadvantage for the aggressors, since the musketeers could not advance. He tried to see what was going on when a cavalier, having in his hand along sword, with which he parried the strokes of the guard, approachedthe door, crying:

"Come, come, Monsieur le Marechal!"

"What! is that you, you madcap, Henri, who are playing these pranks?Gentlemen, let him alone; he is a mere boy. "

And, as De Launay called to the musketeers to cease, Bassompierrerecognized the cavalier. 

"And how the devil came you here?" cried Bassompierre. "I thought youwere at Tours, or even farther, if you had done your duty; but here youare returned to make a fool of yourself. "

"Truly, it was not for you I returned, but for a secret affair, " saidCinq-Mars, in a lower tone; "but, as I take it, they are about tointroduce you to the Bastille, and I am sure you will not betray me, forthat delightful edifice is the very Temple of Discretion. Yet had youthought fit, " he continued, aloud, "I should have released you fromthese gentlemen in the wood here, which is so dense that their horseswould not have been able to stir. A peasant informed me of the insultpassed upon us, more than upon you, by this violation of my father'shouse. "

"It is the King's order, my boy, and we must respect his will; reserveyour ardor for his service, though I thank you with all my heart. Nowfarewell, and let me proceed on my agreeable journey. "

De Launay interposed, "I may inform you, Monsieur de Cinq-Mars, that Ihave been desired by the King himself to assure Monsieur le Marechal, that he is deeply afflicted at the step he has found it necessaryto take, and that it is solely from an apprehension that Monsieur leMarechal may be led into evil that his Majesty requests him to remainfor a few days in the Bastille. "--[He remained there twelve years. ]

Bassompierre turned his head toward Cinq-Mars with a hearty laugh. "Yousee, my friend, how we young men are placed under guardianship; so takecare of yourself. "

"I will go, then, " said Henri; "this is the last time I shall play theknight-errant for any one against his will;" and, reentering the woodas the carriage dashed off at full speed, he proceeded by narrow pathstoward the castle, followed at a short distance by Grandchamp and hissmall escort. 

On arriving at the foot of the western tower, he reined in his horse. Hedid not alight, but, approaching so near the wall that he could rest hisfoot upon an abutment, he stood up, and raised the blind of a windowon the ground-floor, made in the form of a portcullis, such as is stillseen on some ancient buildings. 

It was now past midnight, and the moon was hidden behind the clouds. Noone but a member of the family could have found his way through darknessso profound. The towers and the roof formed one dark mass, which stoodout in indistinct relief against the sky, hardly less dark; no lightshone throughout the chateau, wherein all inmates seemed buried inslumber. Cinq-Mars, enveloped in a large cloak, his face hidden underthe broad brim of his hat, awaited in suspense a reply to his signal. 

It came; a soft voice was heard from within:

"Is that you, Monsieur Cinq-Mars?"

"Alas, who else should it be? Who else would return like a criminal tohis paternal house, without entering it, without bidding one more adieuto his mother? Who else would return to complain of the present, withouta hope for the future, but I?"

The gentle voice replied, but its tones were agitated, and evidentlyaccompanied with tears: "Alas! Henri, of what do you complain? Have Inot already done more, far more than I ought? It is not my fault, but mymisfortune, that my father was a sovereign prince. Can one chooseone's birthplace or one's rank, and say for example, 'I will be ashepherdess?' How unhappy is the lot of princesses! From the cradle, the sentiments of the heart are prohibited to them; and when they haveadvanced beyond childhood, they are ceded like a town, and must not evenweep. Since I have known you, what have I not done to bring my futurelife within the reach of happiness, in removing it far from a throne?For two years I have struggled in vain, at once against my evil fortune, that separates me from you, and against you, who estrange me from theduty I owe to my family. I have sought to spread a belief that I wasdead; I have almost longed for revolutions. I should have blessed achange which deprived me of my rank, as I thanked Heaven when my fatherwas dethroned; but the court wonders at my absence; the Queen requiresme to attend her. Our dreams are at an end, Henri; we have alreadyslumbered too long. Let us awake, be courageous, and think no more ofthose dear two years--forget all in the one recollection of our greatresolve. Have but one thought; be ambitious for--be ambitious--for mysake. "

"Must we, then, indeed, forget all, Marie?" murmured Cinq-Mars. 

She hesitated. 

"Yes, forget all--that I myself have forgotten. " Then, after a moment'spause, she continued with earnestness: "Yes, forget our happy daystogether, our long evenings, even our walks by the lake and throughthe wood; but keep the future ever in mind. Go, Henri; your father wasMarechal. Be you more; be you Constable, Prince. Go; you are young, noble, rich, brave, beloved--"

"Beloved forever?" said Henri. 

"Forever; for life and for eternity. "

Cinq-Mars, tremulously extending his hand to the window, exclaimed:

"I swear, Marie, by the Virgin, whose name you bear, that you shall bemine, or my head shall fall on the scaffold!"

"Oh, Heaven! what is it you say?" she cried, seizing his hand in herown. "Swear to me that you will share in no guilty deeds; that you willnever forget that the King of France is your master. Love him aboveall, next to her who will sacrifice all for you, who will await you amidsuffering and sorrow. Take this little gold cross and wear it upon yourheart; it has often been wet with my tears, and those tears will flowstill more bitterly if ever you are faithless to the King. Give me thering I see on your finger. Oh, heavens, my hand and yours are red withblood!"

"Oh, only a scratch. Did you hear nothing, an hour ago?"

"No; but listen. Do you hear anything now?"

"No, Marie, nothing but some bird of night on the tower. "

"I heard whispering near us, I am sure. But whence comes this blood?Tell me, and then depart. "

"Yes, I will go, while the clouds are still dark above us. Farewell, sweet soul; in my hour of danger I will invoke thee as a guardian angel. Love has infused the burning poison of ambition into my soul, andfor the first time I feel that ambition may be ennobled by its aim. Farewell! I go to accomplish my destiny. "

"And forget not mine. "

"Can they ever be separated?"

"Never!" exclaimed Marie, "but by death. "

"I fear absence still more, " said Cinq-Mars. 

"Farewell! I tremble; farewell!" repeated the beloved voice, and thewindow was slowly drawn down, the clasped hands not parting till thelast moment. 

The black horse had all the while been pawing the earth, tossing hishead with impatience, and whinnying. Cinq-Mars, as agitated and restlessas his steed, gave it the rein; and the whole party was soon near thecity of Tours, which the bells of St. Gatien had announced from afar. To the disappointment of old Grandchamp, Cinq-Mars would not enter thetown, but proceeded on his way, and five days later he entered, with hisescort, the old city of Loudun in Poitou, after an uneventful journey. 

CHAPTER II. THE STREET

 Je m'avancais d'un pas penible et mal assure vers le but de ce convoi tragique. --NODIER, 'Smarra'. 

The reign of which we are about to paint a few years--a reign offeebleness, which was like an eclipse of the crown between the splendorsof Henri IV and those of Louis le Grand--afflicts the eyes whichcontemplate it with dark stains of blood, and these were not all thework of one man, but were caused by great and grave bodies. It ismelancholy to observe that in this age, still full of disorder, theclergy, like a nation, had its populace, as it had its nobility, itsignorant and its criminal prelates, as well as those who were learnedand virtuous. Since that time, its remnant of barbarism has been refinedaway by the long reign of Louis XIV, and its corruptions have beenwashed out in the blood of the martyrs whom it offered up to therevolution of 1793. 

We felt it necessary to pause for a moment to express this reflectionbefore entering upon the recital of the facts presented by the historyof this period, and to intimate that, notwithstanding this consolatoryreflection, we have found it incumbent upon us to pass over many detailstoo odious to occupy a place in our pages, sighing in spirit at thoseguilty acts which it was necessary to record, as in relating the lifeof a virtuous old man, we should lament over the impetuosities of hispassionate youth, or over the corrupt tendencies of his riper age. 

When the cavalcade entered the narrow streets of Loudun, they heardstrange noises all around them. The streets were filled with agitatedmasses; the bells of the church and of the convent were ringingfuriously, as if the town was in flames; and the whole population, without paying any attention to the travellers, was pressingtumultuously toward a large edifice that adjoined the church. Here andthere dense crowds were collected, listening in silence to some voicethat seemed raised in exhortation, or engaged in emphatic reading; then, furious cries, mingled with pious exclamations, arose from the crowd, which, dispersing, showed the travellers that the orator was someCapuchin or Franciscan friar, who, holding a wooden crucifix in onehand, pointed with the other to the large building which was attractingsuch universal interest. 

"Jesu Maria!" exclaimed an old woman, "who would ever have thought thatthe Evil Spirit would choose our old town for his abode?"

"Ay, or that the pious Ursulines should be possessed?" said another. 

"They say that the demon who torments the Superior is called Legion, "cried a third:

"One demon, say you?" interrupted a nun; "there were seven in her poorbody, whereunto, doubtless, she had attached too much importance, byreason of its great beauty, though now 'tis but the receptacle of evilspirits. The prior of the Carmelites yesterday expelled the demon Eazasthrough her mouth; and the reverend Father Lactantius has driven out inlike manner the demon Beherit. But the other five will not depart, andwhen the holy exorcists (whom Heaven support!) summoned them in Latin towithdraw, they replied insolently that they would not go till theyhad proved their power, to the conviction even of the Huguenots andheretics, who, misbelieving wretches! seem to doubt it. The demon Elimi, the worst of them all, as you know, has threatened to take off Monsieurde Laubardemont's skull-cap to-day, and to dangle it in the air atMiserere. "

"Holy Virgin!" rejoined the first speaker, "I'm all of a tremble! And tothink that many times I have got this magician Urbain to say masses forme!"

"For myself, " exclaimed a girl, crossing herself; "I too confessed tohim ten months ago! No doubt I should have been possessed myself, butfor the relic of Saint-Genevieve I luckily had about me, and--"

"Luckily, indeed, Martine, " interposed a fat gossip; "for--nooffence!--you, as I remember, were long enough with the handsomesorcerer. "

"Pshaw!" said a young soldier, who had joined the group, smoking hispipe, "don't you know that pretty Martine was dispossessed a month ago. "

The girl blushed, and drew the hood of her black cloak over her face. The elder gossips cast a glance of indignation at the reckless trooper, and finding themselves now close to the door of the building, and thussure of making their way in among the first when it should be thrownopen, sat down upon the stone bench at the side, and, talking of thelatest wonders, raised the expectations of all as to the delight theywere about to have in being spectators of something marvellous--anapparition, perhaps, but at the very least, an administration of thetorture. 

"Is it true, aunt, " asked Martine of the eldest gossip, "that you haveheard the demons speak?"

"Yes, child, true as I see you; many and many can say the same; and itwas to convince you of it I brought you with me here, that you may seethe power of the Evil One. "

"What kind of voice has he?" continued the girl, glad to encouragea conversation which diverted from herself the invidious attentionprocured her by the soldier's raillery. 

"Oh, he speaks with a voice like that of the Superior herself, to whomOur Lady be gracious! Poor young woman! I was with her yesterday a longtime; it was sad to see her tearing her breast, turning her arms and herlegs first one way and then another, and then, all of a sudden, twisting them together behind her back. When the holy Father Lactantiuspronounced the name of Urbain Grandier, foam came out of her mouth, andshe talked Latin for all the world as if she were reading the Bible. Ofcourse, I did not understand what she said, and all I can remember of itnow is, 'Urbanus Magicus rosas diabolica, ' which they tell me meansthat the magician Urbain had bewitched her with some roses the Devil hadgiven him; and so it must have been, for while Father Lactantius spoke, out of her ears and neck came a quantity of flame-colored roses, allsmelling of sulphur so strongly that the judge-Advocate called out forevery one present to stop their noses and eyes, for that the demons wereabout to come out. "

"Ah, look there now!" exclaimed with shrill voices and a triumphant airthe whole bevy of assembled women, turning toward the crowd, and moreparticularly toward a group of men attired in black, among whomwas standing the young soldier who had cut his joke just before sounceremoniously. 

"Listen to the noisy old idiots!" exclaimed the soldier. "They thinkthey're at the witches' Sabbath, but I don't see their broomsticks. "

"Young man, young man!" said a citizen, with a sad air, "jest not uponsuch subjects in the open air, or, in such a time as this, the wind maybecome gushing flames and destroy you. "

"Pooh! I laugh at your exorcists!" returned the soldier; "my name isGrand-Ferre, and I've got here a better exorciser than any of you canshow. "

And significantly grasping the handle of his rapier in one hand, withthe other he twisted up his blond moustache, as he looked fiercelyaround; but meeting no glance which returned the defiance of his own, heslowly withdrew, left foot foremost, and strolled along the dark, narrowstreets with all the reckless nonchalance of a young soldier who hasjust donned his uniform, and a profound contempt for all who wear not amilitary coat. 

In the meantime eight or ten of the more substantial and rationalinhabitants traversed in a body, slowly and silently, the agitatedthrong; they seemed overwhelmed with amazement and distress at theagitation and excitement they witnessed everywhere, and as each newinstance of the popular frenzy appeared, they exchanged glances ofwonder and apprehension. Their mute depression communicated itself tothe working-people, and to the peasants who had flocked in from theadjacent country, and who, all sought a guide for their opinions in thefaces of the principal townsmen, also for the most part proprietors ofthe surrounding districts. They saw that something calamitous was onfoot, and resorted accordingly to the only remedy open to the ignorantand the beguiled--apathetic resignation. 

Yet, in the character of the French peasant is a certain scoffingfinesse of which he makes effective use, sometimes with his equals, and almost invariably with his superiors. He puts questions to power asembarrassing as are those which infancy puts to mature age. He affectsexcessive humility, in order to confuse him whom he addresses with thevery height of his isolated elevation. He exaggerates the awkwardnessof his manner and the rudeness of his speech, as a means of covering hisreal thoughts under the appearance of mere uncouthness; yet, despiteall his self-command, there is something in his air, certain fierceexpressions which betray him to the close observer, who discerns in hissardonic smile, and in the marked emphasis with which he leans on hislong staff, the hopes that secretly nourish his soul, and the aid uponwhich he ultimately relies. 

One of the oldest of the peasants whom we have indicated came onvigorously, followed by ten or twelve young men, his sons and nephews, all wearing the broad-brimmed hat and the blue frock or blouse of theancient Gauls, which the peasants of France still wear over theirother garments, as peculiarly adapted to their humid climate and theirlaborious habits. 

When the old man had reached the group of personages of whom we havejust spoken, he took off his hat--an example immediately followed by hiswhole family--and showed a face tanned with exposure to the weather, aforehead bald and wrinkled with age, and long, white hair. His shoulderswere bent with years and labor, but he was still a hale and sturdy man. He was received with an air of welcome, and even of respect, by oneof the gravest of the grave group he had approached, who, withoutuncovering, however, extended to him his hand. 

"What! good Father Guillaume Leroux!" said he, "and have you, too, leftour farm of La Chenaie to visit the town, when it's not market-day?Why, 'tis as if your oxen were to unharness themselves and go hunting, leaving their work to see a poor rabbit run down!"

"Faith, Monsieur le Comte du Lude, " replied the farmer, "for thatmatter, sometimes the rabbit runs across our path of itself; but, intruth, I've a notion that some of the people here want to make fools ofus, and so I've come to see about it. "

"Enough of that, my friend, " returned the Count; "here is MonsieurFournier, the Advocate, who assuredly will not deceive you, for heresigned his office of Attorney-General last night, that he mighthenceforth devote his eloquence to the service of his own noblethoughts. You will hear him, perhaps, to-day, though truly, I dreadhis appearing for his own sake as much as I desire it for that of theaccused. "

"I care not for myself, " said Fournier; "truth is with me a passion, andI would have it taught in all times and all places. "

He that spoke was a young man, whose face, pallid in the extreme, wasfull of the noblest expression. His blond hair, his light-blue eyes, his thinness, the delicacy of his frame, made him at first sightseem younger than he was; but his thoughtful and earnest countenanceindicated that mental superiority and that precocious maturity of soulwhich are developed by deep study in youth, combined with natural energyof character. He was attired wholly in black, with a short cloak in thefashion of the day, and carried under his left arm a roll of documents, which, when speaking, he would take in the right hand and graspconvulsively, as a warrior in his anger grasps the pommel of his sword. At one moment it seemed as if he were about to unfurl the scroll, andfrom it hurl lightning upon those whom he pursued with looks of fieryindignation--three Capuchins and a Franciscan, who had just passed. 

"Pere Guillaume, " pursued M. Du Lude, "how is it you have brought withyou only your sons, and they armed with their staves?"

"Faith, Monsieur, I have no desire that our girls should learn to danceof the nuns; and, moreover, just now the lads with their staves maybestir themselves to better purpose than their sisters would. "

"Take my advice, my old friend, " said the Count, "and don't bestiryourselves at all; rather stand quietly aside to view the processionwhich you see approaching, and remember that you are seventy years old. "

"Ah!" murmured the old man, drawing up his twelve sons in doublemilitary rank, "I fought under good King Henriot, and can play at swordand pistol as well as the worthy 'ligueurs';" and shaking his head heleaned against a post, his knotty staff between his crossed legs, hishands clasped on its thick butt-end, and his white, bearded chinresting on his hands. Then, half closing his eyes, he appeared lost inrecollections of his youth. 

The bystanders observed with interest his dress, slashed in the fashionof Henri IV, and his resemblance to the Bearnese monarch in the latteryears of his life, though the King's hair had been prevented by theassassin's blade from acquiring the whiteness which that of the oldpeasant had peacefully attained. A furious pealing of the bells, however, attracted the general attention to the end of the greatstreet, down which was seen filing a long procession, whose banners andglittering pikes rose above the heads of the crowd, which successivelyand in silence opened a way for the at once absurd and terrible train. 

First, two and two, came a body of archers, with pointed beards andlarge plumed hats, armed with long halberds, who, ranging in a singlefile on each side of the middle of the street, formed an avenue alongwhich marched in solemn order a procession of Gray Penitents--menattired in long, gray robes, the hoods of which entirely covered theirheads; masks of the same stuff terminated below their chins in points, like beards, each having three holes for the eyes and nose. Even at thepresent day we see these costumes at funerals, more especially in thePyrenees. The Penitents of Loudun carried enormous wax candles, andtheir slow, uniform movement, and their eyes, which seemed to glitterunder their masks, gave them the appearance of phantoms. 

The people expressed their various feelings in an undertone:

"There's many a rascal hidden under those masks, " said a citizen. 

"Ay, and with a face uglier than the mask itself, " added a young man. 

"They make me afraid, " tremulously exclaimed a girl. 

"I'm only afraid for my purse, " said the first speaker. 

"Ah, heaven! there are our holy brethren, the Penitents, " cried an oldwoman, throwing back her hood, the better to look at them. "See thebanner they bear! Ah, neighbors, 'tis a joyful thing to have it amongus! Beyond a doubt it will save us; see, it shows the devil in flames, and a monk fastening a chain round his neck, to keep him in hell. Ah, here come the judges--noble gentlemen! dear gentlemen! Look at their redrobes; how beautiful! Blessed be the Virgin, they've been well chosen!"

"Every man of them is a personal enemy of the Cure, " whispered the Countdu Lude to the advocate Fournier, who took a note of the information. 

"Don't you know them, neighbors?" pursued the shrill, sharp voice of theold woman, as she elbowed one and pinched another of those near her toattract their attention to the objects of her admiration; "see, there'sexcellent Monsieur Mignon, whispering to Messieurs the Counsellors ofthe Court of Poitiers; Heaven bless them all, say I!"

"Yes, there are Roatin, Richard, and Chevalier--the very men who triedto have him dismissed a year ago, " continued M. Du Lude, in undertones, to the young advocate, who, surrounded and hidden from publicobservation by the group of dark-clad citizens, was writing down hisobservations in a note-book under his cloak. 

"Here; look, look!" screamed the woman. "Make way! here's MonsieurBarre, the Cure of Saint-Jacques at Chinon. "

"A saint!" murmured one bystander. 

"A hypocrite!" exclaimed a manly voice. 

"See how thin he is with fasting!"

"See how pale he is with remorse!"

"He's the man to drive away devils!"

"Yes, but not till he's done with them for his own purposes. "

The dialogue was interrupted by the general exclamation, "How beautifulshe is!"

The Superior of the Ursulines advanced, followed by all her nuns. Herwhite veil was raised; in order that the people might see the featuresof the possessed ones, it had been ordered that it should be thus withher and six of the sisterhood. Her attire had no distinguishing feature, except a large rosary extending from her neck nearly to her feet, fromwhich hung a gold cross; but the dazzling pallor of her face, renderedstill more conspicuous by the dark hue of her capuchon, at once fixedthe general gaze upon her. Her brilliant, dark eyes, which bore theimpress of some deep and burning passion, were crowned with eyebrows soperfectly arched that Nature herself seemed to have taken as much painsto form them as the Circassian women to pencil theirs artistically; butbetween them a slight fold revealed the powerful agitation within. Inher movements, however, and throughout her whole bearing, she affectedperfect calm; her steps were slow and measured, and her beautiful handswere crossed on her bosom, as white and motionless as those of themarble statues joined in eternal prayer. 

"See, aunt, " ejaculated Martine, "see how Sister Agnes and Sister Claireare weeping, next to the Superior!"

"Ay, niece, they weep because they are the prey of the demon. "

"Or rather, " interposed the same manly voice that spoke before, "becausethey repent of having mocked Heaven. "

A deep silence now pervaded the multitude; not a word was heard, nota movement, hardly a breath. Every one seemed paralyzed by some suddenenchantment, when, following the nuns, among four Penitents who held himin chains, appeared the Cure of the Church of Ste. Croix, attired in hispastor's robe. His was a noble, fine face, with grandeur in its wholeexpression, and gentleness in every feature. Affecting no scornfulindifference to his position, he looked calmly and kindly around, as ifhe sought on his dark path the affectionate glances of those who lovedhim. Nor did he seek in vain; here and there he encountered thoseglances, and joyfully returned them. He even heard sobs, and he sawhands extended toward him, many of which grasped weapons. But no gestureof his encouraged these mute offers of aid; he lowered his eyes and wenton, careful not to compromise those who so trusted in him, or to involvethem in his own misfortunes. This was Urbain Grandier. 

Suddenly the procession stopped, at a sign from the man who walkedapart, and who seemed to command its progress. He was tall, thin, sallow; he wore a long black robe, with a cap of the same materialand color; he had the face of a Don Basilio, with the eye of Nero. He motioned the guards to surround him more closely, when he saw withaffright the dark group we have mentioned, and the strong-limbed andresolute peasants who seemed in attendance upon them. Then, advancingsomewhat before the Canons and Capuchins who were with him, hepronounced, in a shrill voice, this singular decree:

 "We, Sieur de Laubardemont, referendary, being delegated and invested with discretionary power in the matter of the trial of the magician Urbain Grandier, upon the various articles of accusation brought against him, assisted by the reverend Fathers Mignon, canon, Barre, cure of St. Jacques at Chinon, Father Lactantius, and all the other judges appointed to try the said magician, have decreed as follows:

 "Primo: the factitious assembly of proprietors, noble citizens of this town and its environs, is dissolved, as tending to popular sedition; its proceedings are declared null, and its letter to the King, against us, the judges, which has been intercepted, shall be publicly burned in the marketplace as calumniating the good Ursulines and the reverend fathers and judges. 

 "Secundo: it is forbidden to say, publicly or in private, that the said nuns are not possessed by the Evil Spirit, or to doubt of the power of the exorcists, under pain of a fine of twenty thousand livres, and corporal punishment. 

 "Let the bailiffs and sheriffs obey this. Given the eighteenth of June, in the year of grace 1639. "

Before he had well finished reading the decree, the discordant blare oftrumpets, bursting forth at a prearranged signal, drowned, to acertain extent, the murmurs that followed its proclamation, amid whichLaubardemont urged forward the procession, which entered the greatbuilding already referred to--an ancient convent, whose interior hadcrumbled away, its walls now forming one vast hall, well adapted for thepurpose to which it was about to be applied. Laubardemont did not deemhimself safe until he was within the building and had heard the heavy, double doors creak on their hinges as, closing, they excluded thefurious crowd without. 

CHAPTER III. THE GOOD PRIEST

 L'homme de paix me parla ainsi. --VICAIRE SAVOYARD. 

Now that the diabolical procession is in the arena destined for itsspectacle, and is arranging its sanguinary representation, let us seewhat Cinq-Mars had been doing amid the agitated throng. He was naturallyendowed with great tact, and he felt that it would be no easy matterfor him to attain his object of seeing the Abbe Quillet, at a time whenpublic excitement was at its height. He therefore remained on horsebackwith his four servants in a small, dark street that led into the mainthoroughfare, whence he could see all that passed. No one at first paidany attention to him; but when public curiosity had no other aliment, hebecame an object of general interest. Weary of so many strange scenes, the inhabitants looked upon him with some exasperation, and whispered toone another, asking whether this was another exorcist come among them. Feeling that it was time to take a decided course, he advanced withhis attendants, hat in hand, toward the group in black of whom wehave spoken, and addressing him who appeared its chief member, said, "Monsieur, where can I find Monsieur l'Abbe Quillet?"

At this name, all regarded him with an air of terror, as if he hadpronounced that of Lucifer. Yet no anger was shown; on the contrary, itseemed that the question had favorably changed for him the minds of allwho heard him. Moreover, chance had served him well in his choice; theComte du Lude came up to his horse, and saluting him, said, "Dismount, Monsieur, and I will give you some useful information concerning him. "

After speaking a while in whispers, the two gentlemen separated withall the ceremonious courtesy of the time. Cinq-Mars remounted his blackhorse, and passing through numerous narrow streets, was soon out of thecrowd with his retinue. 

"How happy I am!" he soliloquized, as he went his way; "I shall, at allevents, for a moment see the good and kind clergyman who brought meup; even now I recall his features, his calm air, his voice so full ofgentleness. "

As these tender thoughts filled his mind, he found himself in the small, dark street which had been indicated to him; it was so narrow that theknee-pieces of his boots touched the wall on each side. At the end ofthe street he came to a one-storied wooden house, and in his eagernessknocked at the door with repeated strokes. 

"Who is there?" cried a furious voice within; and at the same moment, the door opening revealed a little short, fat man, with a very redface, dressed in black, with a large white ruff, and riding-boots whichengulfed his short legs in their vast depths. In his hands were a pairof horse-pistols. 

"I will sell my life dearly!" he cried; "and--"

"Softly, Abbe, softly, " said his pupil, taking his arm; "we arefriends. "

"Ah, my son, is it you?" said the good man, letting fall his pistols, which were picked up by a domestic, also armed to the teeth. "What doyou here? The abomination has entered the town, and I only await thenight to depart. Make haste within, my dear boy, with your people. Itook you for the archers of Laubardemont, and, faith, I intended totake a part somewhat out of my line. You see the horses in the courtyardthere; they will convey me to Italy, where I shall rejoin our friend, the Duc de Bouillon. Jean! Jean! hasten and close the great gate afterMonsieur's domestics, and recommend them not to make too much noise, although for that matter we have no habitation near us. "

Grandchamp obeyed the intrepid little Abbe, who then embraced Cinq-Marsfour consecutive times, raising himself on the points of his boots, soas to attain the middle of his pupil's breast. He then hurried him intoa small room, which looked like a deserted granary; and seating himbeside himself upon a black leather trunk, he said, warmly:

"Well, my son, whither go you? How came Madame la Marechale to allow youto come here? Do you not see what they are doing against an unhappy man, whose death alone will content them? Alas, merciful Heaven! is thisthe first spectacle my dear pupil is to see? And you at that delightfulperiod of life when friendship, love, confidence, should alone encompassyou; when all around you should give you a favorable opinion of yourspecies, at your very entry into the great world! How unfortunate! alas, why did you come?"

When the good Abbe had followed up this lamentation by pressingaffectionately both hands of the young traveller in his own, so red andwrinkled, the latter answered:

"Can you not guess, my dear Abbe, that I came to Loudun because youare here? As to the spectacle you speak of, it appears to me simplyridiculous; and I swear that I do not a whit the less on its accountlove that human race of which your virtues and your good lessons havegiven me an excellent idea. As to the five or six mad women who--"

"Let us not lose time; I will explain to you all that matter; but answerme, whither go you, and for what?"

"I am going to Perpignan, where the Cardinal-Duke is to present me tothe King. "

At this the worthy but hasty Abbe rose from his box, and walked, orrather ran, to and fro, stamping. "The Cardinal! the Cardinal!" herepeated, almost choking, his face becoming scarlet, and the tearsrising to his eyes; "My poor child! they will destroy him! Ah, mon Dieu!what part would they have him play there? What would they do withhim? Ah, who will protect thee, my son, in that dangerous place?" hecontinued, reseating himself, and again taking his pupil's hands in hisown with a paternal solicitude, as he endeavored to read his thoughts inhis countenance. 

"Why, I do not exactly know, " said Cinq-Mars, looking up at the ceiling;"but I suppose it will be the Cardinal de Richelieu, who was the friendof my father. "

"Ah, my dear Henri, you make me tremble; he will ruin you unless youbecome his docile instrument. Alas, why can not I go with you? Why mustI act the young man of twenty in this unfortunate affair? Alas, I shouldbe perilous to you; I must, on the contrary, conceal myself. But youwill have Monsieur de Thou near you, my son, will you not?" said he, trying to reassure himself; "he was your friend in childhood, thoughsomewhat older than yourself. Heed his counsels, my child, he is a wiseyoung man of mature reflection and solid ideas. "

"Oh, yes, my dear Abbe, you may depend upon my tender attachment forhim; I never have ceased to love him. "

"But you have ceased to write to him, have you not?" asked the goodAbbe, half smilingly. 

"I beg your pardon, my dear Abbe, I wrote to him once, and againyesterday, to inform him that the Cardinal has invited me to court. "

"How! has he himself desired your presence?"

Cinq-Mars hereupon showed the letter of the Cardinal-Duke to his mother, and his old preceptor grew gradually calmer. 

"Ah, well!" said he to himself, "this is not so bad, perhaps, afterall. It looks promising; a captain of the guards at twenty--that soundswell!" and the worthy Abbe's face became all smiles. 

The young man, delighted to see these smiles, which so harmonized withhis own thoughts, fell upon the neck of the Abbe and embraced him, as ifthe good man had thus assured to him a futurity of pleasure, glory, andlove. 

But the good Abbe, with difficulty disengaging himself from this warmembrace, resumed his walk, his reflections, and his gravity. He coughedoften and shook his head; and Cinq-Mars, not venturing to pursue theconversation, watched him, and became sad as he saw him become serious. 

The old man at last sat down, and in a mournful tone addressed hispupil:

"My friend, my son, I have for a moment yielded like a father to yourhopes; but I must tell you, and it is not to afflict you, that theyappear to me excessive and unnatural. If the Cardinal's sole aim wereto show attachment and gratitude toward your family, he would not havecarried his favors so far; no, the extreme probability is that he hasdesigns upon you. From what has been told him, he thinks you adapted toplay some part, as yet impossible for us to divine, but which he himselfhas traced out in the deepest recesses of his mind. He wishes to educateyou for this; he wishes to drill you into it. Allow me the expression inconsideration of its accuracy, and think seriously of it when the timeshall come. But I am inclined to believe that, as matters are, you woulddo well to follow up this vein in the great mine of State; in this wayhigh fortunes have begun. You must only take heed not to be blindedand led at will. Let not favors dazzle you, my poor child, and let notelevation turn your head. Be not so indignant at the suggestion; thething has happened to older men than yourself. Write to me often, aswell as to your mother; see Monsieur de Thou, and together we will tryto keep you in good counsel. Now, my son, be kind enough to close thatwindow through which the wind comes upon my head, and I will tell youwhat has been going on here. "

Henri, trusting that the moral part of the discourse was over, andanticipating nothing in the second part but a narrative more or lessinteresting, closed the old casement, festooned with cobwebs, andresumed his seat without speaking. 

"Now that I reflect further, " continued the Abbe, "I think it willnot perhaps be unprofitable for you to have passed through this place, although it be a sad experience you shall have acquired; but it willsupply what I may not have formerly told you of the wickedness of men. I hope, moreover, that the result will not be fatal, and that the letterwe have written to the King will arrive in time. "

"I heard that it had been intercepted, " interposed Cinq-Mars. 

"Then all is over, " said the Abbe Quillet; "the Cure is lost. Butlisten. God forbid, my son, that I, your old tutor, should seek toassail my own work, and attempt to weaken your faith! Preserve ever andeverywhere that simple creed of which your noble family has given youthe example, which our fathers possessed in a still higher degree thanwe, and of which the greatest captains of our time are not ashamed. Always, while you wear a sword, remember that you hold it for theservice of God. But at the same time, when you are among men, avoidbeing deceived by the hypocrite. He will encompass you, my son; he willassail you on the vulnerable side of your ingenuous heart, in addressingyour religion; and seeing the extravagance of his affected zeal, youwill fancy yourself lukewarm as compared with him. You will think thatyour conscience cries out against you; but it will not be the voice ofconscience that you hear. And what cries would not that conscience sendforth, how fiercely would it not rise upon you, did you contributeto the destruction of innocence by invoking Heaven itself as a falsewitness against it?"

"Oh, my father! can such things be possible?" exclaimed Henri d'Effiat, clasping his hands. 

"It is but too true, " continued the Abbe; "you saw a partial executionof it this morning. God grant you may not witness still greater horrors!But listen! whatever you may see, whatever crime they dare to commit, Iconjure you, in the name of your mother and of all that you holddear, say not a word; make not a gesture that may indicate any opinionwhatever. I know the impetuous character that you derive fromthe Marechal, your father; curb it, or you are lost. These littleebullitions of passion give but slight satisfaction, and bring aboutgreat misfortunes. I have observed you give way to them too much. Oh, did you but know the advantage that a calm temper gives one over men!The ancients stamped it on the forehead of the divinity as his finestattribute, since it shows that he is superior to our fears and to ourhopes, to our pleasures and to our pains. Therefore, my dear child, remain passive in the scenes you are about to witness; but see themyou must. Be present at this sad trial; for me, I must suffer theconsequences of my schoolboy folly. I will relate it to you; it willprove to you that with a bald head one may be as much a child as withyour fine chestnut curls. "

And the excellent old Abbe, taking his pupil's head affectionatelybetween his hands, continued:

"Like other people, my dear son, I was curious to see the devils of theUrsulines; and knowing that they professed to speak all languages, I wasso imprudent as to cease speaking Latin and to question them in Greek. The Superior is very pretty, but she does not know Greek! Duncan, thephysician, observed aloud that it was surprising that the demon, whoknew everything, should commit barbarisms and solecisms in Latin, andnot be able to answer in Greek. The young Superior, who was then uponher bed, turned toward the wall to weep, and said in an undertone toFather Barre, 'I can not go on with this, father. ' I repeated her wordsaloud, and infuriated all the exorcists; they cried out that I ought toknow that there are demons more ignorant than peasants, and said that asto their power and physical strength, it could not be doubted, since thespirits named Gresil des Trones, Aman des Puissance, and Asmodeus, hadpromised to carry off the calotte of Monsieur de Laubardemont. They werepreparing for this, when the physician Duncan, a learned and uprightman, but somewhat of a scoffer, took it into his head to pull a cord hediscovered fastened to a column like a bell-rope, and which hung downjust close to the referendary's head; whereupon they called him aHuguenot, and I am satisfied that if Marechal de Breze were not hisprotector, it would have gone ill with him. The Comte du Lude then cameforward with his customary 'sang-froid', and begged the exorcists toperform before him. Father Lactantius, the Capuchin with the dark visageand hard look, proceeded with Sister Agnes and Sister Claire; he raisedboth his hands, looking at them as a serpent would look at two dogs, andcried in a terrible voice, 'Quis to misit, Diabole?' and the two sistersanswered, as with one voice, 'Urbanus. ' He was about to continue, whenMonsieur du Lude, taking out of his pocket, with an air of veneration, a small gold box, said that he had in it a relic left by his ancestors, and that though not doubting the fact of the possession, he wished totest it. Father Lactantius seized the box with delight, and hardly hadhe touched the foreheads of the two sisters with it when they made greatleaps and twisted about their hands and feet. Lactantius shouted forthhis exorcisms; Barre threw himself upon his knees with all the oldwomen; and Mignon and the judges applauded. The impassible Laubardemontmade the sign of the cross, without being struck dead for it! WhenMonsieur du Lude took back his box the nuns became still. 'I think, 'said Lactantius, insolently, 'that--you will not question your relicsnow. ' 'No more than I do the possession, ' answered Monsieur du Lude, opening his box and showing that it was empty. 'Monsieur, you mock us, 'said Lactantius. I was indignant at these mummeries, and said to him, 'Yes, Monsieur, as you mock God and men. ' And this, my dear friend, isthe reason why you see me in my seven-league boots, so heavy that theyhurt my legs, and with pistols; for our friend Laubardemont has orderedmy person to be seized, and I don't choose it to be seized, old as itis. "

"What, is he so powerful, then?" cried Cinq-Mars. 

"More so than is supposed--more so than could be believed. I know thatthe possessed Abbess is his niece, and that he is provided with an orderin council directing him to judge, without being deterred by any appealslodged in Parliament, the Cardinal having prohibited the latter fromtaking cognizance of the matter of Urbain Grandier. "

"And what are his offences?" asked the young man, already deeplyinterested. 

"Those of a strong mind and of a great genius, an inflexible will whichhas irritated power against him, and a profound passion which has drivenhis heart and him to commit the only mortal sin with which I believehe can be reproached; and it was only by violating the sanctity of hisprivate papers, which they tore from Jeanne d'Estievre, his mother, anold woman of eighty, that they discovered his love for the beautifulMadeleine de Brou. This girl had refused to marry, and wished to takethe veil. May that veil have concealed from her the spectacle of thisday! The eloquence of Grandier and his angelic beauty drove the womenhalf mad; they came miles and miles to hear him. I have seen them swoonduring his sermons; they declared him an angel, and touched his garmentand kissed his hands when he descended from the pulpit. It is certainthat, unless it be his beauty, nothing could equal the sublimity ofhis discourses, ever full of inspiration. The pure honey of the gospelcombined on his lips with the flashing flame of the prophecies; and onerecognized in the sound of his voice a heart overflowing with holy pityfor the evils to which mankind are subject, and filled with tears, readyto flow for us. "

The good priest paused, for his own voice and eyes were filled withtears; his round and naturally Joyous face was more touching than agraver one under the same circumstances, for it seemed as if it badedefiance to sadness. Cinq-Mars, even more moved, pressed his handwithout speaking, fearful of interrupting him. The Abbe took out a redhandkerchief, wiped his eyes, and continued:

"This is the second attack upon Urbain by his combined enemies. Hehad already been accused of bewitching the nuns; but, examined by holyprelates, by enlightened magistrates, and learned physicians, he wasimmediately acquitted, and the judges indignantly imposed silence uponthese devils in human form. The good and pious Archbishop of Bordeaux, who had himself chosen the examiners of these pretended exorcists, drove the prophets away and shut up their hell. But, humiliated by thepublicity of the result, annoyed at seeing Grandier kindly received byour good King when he threw himself at his feet at Paris, they saw thatif he triumphed they were lost, and would be universally regarded asimpostors. Already the convent of the Ursulines was looked upon only asa theatre for disgraceful comedies, and the nuns themselves as shamelessactresses. More than a hundred persons, furious against the Cure, had compromised themselves in the hope of destroying him. Their plot, instead of being abandoned, has gained strength by its first check; andhere are the means that have been set to work by his implacable enemies. 

"Do you know a man called 'L'Eminence Grise', that formidable Capuchinwhom the Cardinal employs in all things, consults upon some, andalways despises? It was to him that the Capuchins of Loudun addressedthemselves. A woman of this place, of low birth, named Hamon, havingbeen so fortunate as to please the Queen when she passed through Loudun, was taken into her service. You know the hatred that separates her courtfrom that of the Cardinal; you know that Anne of Austria and Monsieur deRichelieu have for some time disputed for the King's favor, and that, of her two suns, France never knew in the evening which would rise nextmorning. During a temporary eclipse of the Cardinal, a satire appeared, issuing from the planetary system of the Queen; it was called, 'Lacordonniere de la seine-mere'. Its tone and language were vulgar; but itcontained things so insulting about the birth and person of the Cardinalthat the enemies of the minister took it up and gave it a publicitywhich irritated him. It revealed, it is said, many intrigues andmysteries which he had deemed impenetrable. He read this anonymouswork, and desired to know its author. It was just at this time thatthe Capuchins of this town wrote to Father Joseph that a constantcorrespondence between Grandier and La Hamon left no doubt in theirminds as to his being the author of this diatribe. It was in vain thathe had previously published religious books, prayers, and meditations, the style of which alone ought to have absolved him from having puthis hand to a libel written in the language of the marketplace; theCardinal, long since prejudiced against Urbain, was determined to fixupon him as the culprit. He remembered that when he was only prior ofCoussay, Grandier disputed precedence with him and gained it; I fearthis achievement of precedence in life will make poor Grandier precedethe Cardinal in death also. "

A melancholy smile played upon the lips of the good Abbe as he utteredthis involuntary pun. 

"What! do you think this matter will go so far as death?"

"Ay, my son, even to death; they have already taken away all thedocuments connected with his former absolution that might have servedfor his defence, despite the opposition of his poor mother, whopreserved them as her son's license to live. Even now they affect toregard a work against the celibacy of priests, found among his papers, as destined to propagate schism. It is a culpable production, doubtless, and the love which dictated it, however pure it may be, is an enormoussin in a man consecrated to God alone; but this poor priest was far fromwishing to encourage heresy, and it was simply, they say, to appeasethe remorse of Mademoiselle de Brou that he composed the work. It was soevident that his real faults would not suffice to condemn him to deaththat they have revived the accusation of sorcery, long since disposedof; but, feigning to believe this, the Cardinal has established a newtribunal in this town, and has placed Laubardemont at its head, a suresign of death. Heaven grant that you never become acquainted with whatthe corruption of governments call coups-d'etat!"

At this moment a terrible shriek sounded from beyond the wall of thecourtyard; the Abbe arose in terror, as did Cinq-Mars. 

"It is the cry of a woman, " said the old man. 

"'Tis heartrending!" exclaimed Cinq-Mars. "What is it?" he asked hispeople, who had all rushed out into the courtyard. 

They answered that they heard nothing further. 

"Well, well, " said the Abbe, "make no noise. " He then shut the window, and put his hands before his eyes. 

"Ah, what a cry was that, my son!" he said, with his face of an ashypaleness--"what a cry! It pierced my very soul; some calamity hashappened. Ah, holy Virgin! it has so agitated me that I can talk withyou no more. Why did I hear it, just as I was speaking to you of yourfuture career? My dear child, may God bless you! Kneel!"

Cinq-Mars did as he was desired, and knew by a kiss upon his head thathe had been blessed by the old man, who then raised him, saying:

"Go, my son, the time is advancing; they might find you with me. Go, leave your people and horses here; wrap yourself in a cloak, and go; Ihave much to write ere the hour when darkness shall allow me to departfor Italy. "

They embraced once more, promising to write to each other, and Henriquitted the house. The Abby, still following him with his eyes from thewindow, cried:

"Be prudent, whatever may happen, " and sent him with his hands one morepaternal blessing, saying, "Poor child! poor child!"

CHAPTER IV. THE TRIAL

 Oh, vendetta di Dio, quanto to dei Esser temuta da ciascun che legge Cio, che fu manifesto agli occhi miei. --DANTE. 

Notwithstanding the custom of having secret trials, freely countenancedby Richelieu, the judges of the Cure of Loudun had resolved that thecourt should be open to the public; but they soon repented this measure. They were all interested in the destruction of Urbain Grandier; butthey desired that the indignation of the country should in some degreesanction the sentence of death they had received orders to pass and tocarry into effect. 

Laubardemont was a kind of bird of prey, whom the Cardinal always letloose when he required a prompt and sure agent for his vengeance; and onthis occasion he fully justified the choice that had been made of him. He committed but one error--that of allowing a public trial, contraryto the usual custom; his object had been to intimidate and to dismay. Hedismayed, indeed, but he created also a feeling of indignant horror. 

The throng without the gates had waited there two hours, during whichtime the sound of hammers indicated that within the great hall they werehastily completing their mysterious preparations. At length the archerslaboriously turned upon their hinges the heavy gates opening into thestreet, and the crowd eagerly rushed in. The young Cinq-Mars was carriedalong with the second enormous wave, and, placed behind a thick column, stood there, so as to be able to see without being seen. He observedwith vexation that the group of dark-clad citizens was near him; but thegreat gates, closing, left the part of the court where the people stoodin such darkness that there was no likelihood of his being recognized. Although it was only midday, the hall was lighted with torches; but theywere nearly all placed at the farther end, where rose the judges' benchbehind a long table. The chairs, tables, and steps were all covered withblack cloth, and cast a livid hue over the faces of those near them. A seat reserved for the prisoner was placed upon the left, and on thecrape robe which covered him flames were represented in gold embroideryto indicate the nature of the offence. Here sat the accused, surroundedby archers, with his hands still bound in chains, held by two monks, who, with simulated terror, affected to start from him at his slightestmotion, as if they held a tiger or enraged wolf, or as if the flamesdepicted on his robe could communicate themselves to their clothing. They also carefully kept his face from being seen in the least degree bythe people. 

The impassible countenance of M. De Laubardemont was there to dominatethe judges of his choice; almost a head taller than any of them, hesat upon a seat higher than theirs, and each of his glassy and uneasyglances seemed to convey a command. He wore a long, full scarlet robe, and a black cap covered his head; he seemed occupied in arrangingpapers, which he then passed to the judges. The accusers, allecclesiastics, sat upon the right hand of the judges; they wore theiralbs and stoles. Father Lactantius was distinguishable among them byhis simple Capuchin habit, his tonsure, and the extreme hardness ofhis features. In a side gallery sat the Bishop of Poitiers, hidden fromview; other galleries were filled with veiled women. Below the bench ofjudges a group of men and women, the dregs of the populace, stood behindsix young Ursuline nuns, who seemed full of disgust at their proximity;these were the witnesses. 

The rest of the hall was filled with an enormous crowd, gloomy andsilent, clinging to the arches, the gates, and the beams, and full ofa terror which communicated itself to the judges, for it arose from aninterest in the accused. Numerous archers, armed with long pikes, formedan appropriate frame for this lugubrious picture. 

At a sign from the President, the witnesses withdrew through a narrowdoor opened for them by an usher. As the Superior of the Ursulinespassed M. De Laubardemont she was heard to say to him, "You havedeceived me, Monsieur. " He remained immovable, and she went on. Aprofound silence reigned throughout the whole assembly. 

Rising with all the gravity he could assume, but still with visibleagitation, one of the judges, named Houmain, judge-Advocate of Orleans, read a sort of indictment in a voice so low and hoarse that it wasimpossible to follow it. He made himself heard only when what he had tosay was intended to impose upon the minds of the people. He dividedthe evidence into two classes: one, the depositions of seventy-twowitnesses; the other, more convincing, that resulting from "theexorcisms of the reverend fathers here present, " said he, crossinghimself. 

Fathers Lactantius, Barre, and Mignon bowed low, repeating the sacredsign. 

"Yes, my lords, " said Houmain, addressing the judges, "this bouquet ofwhite roses and this manuscript, signed with the blood of the magician, a counterpart of the contract he has made with Lucifer, and which hewas obliged to carry about him in order to preserve his power, havebeen recognized and brought before you. We read with horror these wordswritten at the bottom of the parchment: 'The original is in hell, inLucifer's private cabinet. '"

A roar of laughter, which seemed to come from stentorian lungs, washeard in the throng. The president reddened, and made a sign tothe archers, who in vain endeavored to discover the disturber. Thejudge-Advocate continued:

"The demons have been forced to declare their names by the mouths oftheir victims. Their names and deeds are deposited upon this table. Theyare called Astaroth, of the order of Seraphim; Eazas, Celsus, Acaos, Cedron, Asmodeus, of the order of Thrones; Alex, Zebulon, Cham, Uriel, and Achas, of the order of Principalities, and so on, for their numberis infinite. For their actions, who among us has not been a witness ofthem?"

A prolonged murmur arose from the gathering, but, upon some halberdiersadvancing, all became silent. 

"We have seen, with grief, the young and respectable Superior of theUrsulines tear her bosom with her own hands and grovel in the dust;we have seen the sisters, Agnes, Claire, and others, deviate from themodesty of their sex by impassioned gestures and unseemly laughter. Whenimpious men have inclined to doubt the presence of the demons, and weourselves felt our convictions shaken, because they refused to answerto unknown questions in Greek or Arabic, the reverend fathers have, toestablish our belief, deigned to explain to us that the malignity ofevil spirits being extreme, it was not surprising that they should feignthis ignorance in order that they might be less pressed with questions;and that in their answers they had committed various solecisms and othergrammatical faults in order to bring contempt upon themselves, so thatout of this disdain the holy doctors might leave them in quiet. Theirhatred is so inveterate that just before performing one of theirmiraculous feats, they suspended a rope from a beam in order to involvethe reverend personages in a suspicion of fraud, whereas it has beendeposed on oath by credible people that there never had been a cord inthat place. 

"But, my lords, while Heaven was thus miraculously explaining itself bythe mouths of its holy interpreters, another light has just beenthrown upon us. At the very time the judges were absorbed in profoundmeditation, a loud cry was heard near the hall of council; and upongoing to the spot, we found the body of a young lady of high birth. Shehad just exhaled her last breath in the public street, in the arms ofthe reverend Father Mignon, Canon; and we learned from the said fatherhere present, and from several other grave personages, that, suspectingthe young lady to be possessed, by reason of the current rumor for sometime past of the admiration Urbain Grandier had for her, an idea oftesting it happily occurred to the Canon, who suddenly said, approachingher, 'Grandier has just been put to death, ' whereat she uttered one loudscream and fell dead, deprived by the demon of the time necessary forgiving her the assistance of our holy Mother, the Catholic Church. "

A murmur of indignation arose from the crowd, among whom the word"Assassin" was loudly reechoed; the halberdiers commanded silence witha loud voice, but it was obtained rather by the judge resuming hisaddress, the general curiosity triumphing. 

"Oh, infamy!" he continued, seeking to fortify himself by exclamations;"upon her person was found this work, written by the hand of UrbainGrandier, " and he took from among his papers a book bound in parchment. 

"Heavens!" cried Urbain from his seat. 

"Look to your prisoner!" cried the judge to the archers who surroundedhim. 

"No doubt the demon is about to manifest himself, " said FatherLactantius, in a sombre voice; "tighten his bonds. " He was obeyed. 

The judge-Advocate continued, "Her name was Madeleine de Brou, agednineteen. "

"O God! this is too much!" cried the accused, as he fell fainting on theground. 

The assembly was deeply agitated; for a moment there was an absolutetumult. 

"Poor fellow! he loved her, " said some. 

"So good a lady!" cried the women. 

Pity began to predominate. Cold water was thrown upon Grandier, withouthis being taken from the court, and he was tied to his seat. TheJudge-Advocate went on:

"We are directed to read the beginning of this book to the court, " andhe read as follows:

 "'It is for thee, dear and gentle Madeleine, in order to set at rest thy troubled conscience, that I have described in this book one thought of my soul. All those thoughts tend to thee, celestial creature, because in thee they return to the aim and object of my whole existence; but the thought I send thee, as 'twere a flower, comes from thee, exists only in thee, and returns to thee alone. 

 "'Be not sad because thou lovest me; be not afflicted because I adore thee. The angels of heaven, what is it that they do? The souls of the blessed, what is it that is promised them? Are we less pure than the angels? Are our souls less separated from the earth than they will be after death? Oh, Madeleine, what is there in us wherewith the Lord can be displeased? Can it be that we pray together, that with faces prostrate in the dust before His altars, we ask for early death to take us while yet youth and love are ours? Or that, musing together beneath the funereal trees of the churchyard, we yearned for one grave, smiling at the idea of death, and weeping at life? Or that, when thou kneelest before me at the tribunal of penitence, and, speaking in the presence of God, canst find naught of evil to reveal to me, so wholly have I kept thy soul in the pure regions of heaven? What, then, could offend our Creator? Perhaps--yes! perhaps some spirit of heaven may have envied me my happiness when on Easter morn I saw thee kneeling before me, purified by long austerities from the slight stain which original sin had left in thee! Beautiful, indeed, wert thou! Thy glance sought thy God in heaven, and my trembling hand held His image to thy pure lips, which human lip had never dared to breathe upon. Angelic being! I alone participated in the secret of the Lord, in the one secret of the entire purity of thy soul; I it was that united thee to thy Creator, who at that moment descended also into my bosom. Ineffable espousals, of which the Eternal himself was the priest, you alone were permitted between the virgin and her pastor! the sole joy of each was to see eternal happiness beginning for the other, to inhale together the perfumes of heaven, to drink in already the harmony of the spheres, and to feel assured that our souls, unveiled to God and to ourselves alone, were worthy together to adore Him. 

 "'What scruple still weighs upon thy soul, O my sister? Dost thou think I have offered too high a worship to thy virtue? Fearest thou so pure an admiration should deter me from that of the Lord?'"

Houmain had reached this point when the door through which the witnesseshad withdrawn suddenly opened. The judges anxiously whispered together. Laubardemont, uncertain as to the meaning of this, signed to the fathersto let him know whether this was some scene executed by their orders;but, seated at some distance from him, and themselves taken by surprise, they could not make him understand that they had not prepared thisinterruption. Besides, ere they could exchange looks, to the amazementof the assembly, three women, 'en chemise', with naked feet, each witha cord round her neck and a wax taper in her hand, came through the doorand advanced to the middle of the platform. It was the Superior of theUrsulines, followed by Sisters Agnes and Claire. Both the latter wereweeping; the Superior was very pale, but her bearing was firm, and hereyes were fixed and tearless. She knelt; her companions followedher example. Everything was in such confusion that no one thought ofchecking them; and in a clear, firm voice she pronounced these words, which resounded in every corner of the hall:

"In the name of the Holy Trinity, I, Jeanne de Belfiel, daughter of theBaron de Cose, I, the unworthy Superior of the Convent of the Ursulinesof Loudun, ask pardon of God and man for the crime I have committed inaccusing the innocent Urbain Grandier. My possession was feigned, mywords were dictated; remorse overwhelms me. "

"Bravo!" cried the spectators, clapping their hands. The judges arose;the archers, in doubt, looked at the president; he shook in every limb, but did not change countenance. 

"Let all be silent, " he said, in a sharp voice; "archers, do your duty. "

This man felt himself supported by so strong a hand that nothing couldaffright him--for no thought of Heaven ever visited him. 

"What think you, my fathers?" said he, making a sign to the monks. 

"That the demon seeks to save his friend. Obmutesce, Satanas!" criedFather Lactantius, in a terrible voice, affecting to exorcise theSuperior. 

Never did fire applied to gunpowder produce an effect more instantaneousthan did these two words. Jeanne de Belfiel started up in all the beautyof twenty, which her awful nudity served to augment; she seemed a soulescaped from hell appearing to, her seducer. With her dark eyes she castfierce glances upon the monks; Lactantius lowered his beneath that look. She took two steps toward him with her bare feet, beneath which thescaffolding rung, so energetic was her movement; the taper seemed, inher hand, the sword of the avenging angel. 

"Silence, impostor!" she cried, with warmth; "the demon who possessed mewas yourself. You deceived me; you said he was not to be tried. To-day, for the first time, I know that he is to be tried; to-day, for the firsttime, I know that he is to be murdered. And I will speak!"

"Woman, the demon bewilders thee. "

"Say, rather, that repentance enlightens me. Daughters, miserable asmyself, arise; is he not innocent?"

"We swear he is, " said the two young lay sisters, still kneeling andweeping, for they were not animated with so strong a resolution as thatof the Superior. 

Agnes, indeed, had hardly uttered these words when turning toward thepeople, she cried, "Help me! they will punish me; they will kill me!"And hurrying away her companion, she drew her into the crowd, whoaffectionately received them. A thousand voices swore to protect them. Imprecations arose; the men struck their staves against the floor; theofficials dared not prevent the people from passing the sisters on fromone to another into the street. 

During this strange scene the amazed and panic-struck judges whispered;M. Laubardemont looked at the archers, indicating to them the pointsthey were especially to watch, among which, more particularly, was thatoccupied by the group in black. The accusers looked toward the galleryof the Bishop of Poitiers, but discovered no expression in his dullcountenance. He was one of those old men of whom death appears to takepossession ten years before all motion entirely ceases in them. His eyesseemed veiled by a half sleep; his gaping mouth mumbled a few vagueand habitual words of prayer without meaning or application; the entireamount of intelligence he retained was the ability to distinguish theman who had most power, and him he obeyed, regardless at what price. Hehad accordingly signed the sentence of the doctors of the Sorbonnewhich declared the nuns possessed, without even deducing thence theconsequence of the death of Urbain; the rest seemed to him one of thosemore or less lengthy ceremonies, to which he paid not the slightestattention--accustomed as he was to see and live among them, himself anindispensable part and parcel of them. He therefore gave no sign of lifeon this occasion, merely preserving an air at once perfectly noble andexpressionless. 

Meanwhile, Father Lactantius, having had a moment to recover from thesudden attack made upon him, turned toward the president and said:

"Here is a clear proof, sent us by Heaven, of the possession, for theSuperior never before has forgotten the modesty and severity of herorder. "

"Would that all the world were here to see me!" said Jeanne de Belfiel, firm as ever. "I can not be sufficiently humiliated upon earth, andHeaven will reject me, for I have been your accomplice. "

Perspiration appeared upon the forehead of Laubardemont, but he triedto recover his composure. "What absurd tale is this, Sister; what hasinfluenced you herein?"

The voice of the girl became sepulchral; she collected all her strength, pressed her hand upon her heart as if she desired to stay its throbbing, and, looking at Urbain Grandier, answered, "Love. "

A shudder ran through the assembly. Urbain, who since he had fainted hadremained with his head hanging down as if dead, slowly raised hiseyes toward her, and returned entirely to life only to undergo a freshsorrow. The young penitent continued:

"Yes, the love which he rejected, which he never fully knew, whichI have breathed in his discourses, which my eyes drew in from hiscelestial countenance, which his very counsels against it haveincreased. 

"Yes, Urbain is pure as an angel, but good as a man who has loved. Iknew not that he had loved! It is you, " she said more energetically, pointing to Lactantius, Barre, and Mignon, and changing her passionateaccents for those of indignation--"it is you who told me that he loved;you, who this morning have too cruelly avenged me by killing my rivalwith a word. Alas, I only sought to separate them! It was a crime; but, by my mother, I am an Italian! I burned with love, with jealousy; youallowed me to see Urbain, to have him as a friend, to see him daily. "She was silent for a moment, then exclaimed, "People, he is innocent!Martyr, pardon me, I embrace thy feet!"

She prostrated herself before Urbain and burst into a torrent of tears. 

Urbain raised his closely bound hands, and giving her his benediction, said, gently:

"Go, Sister; I pardon thee in the name of Him whom I shall soon see. Ihave before said to you, and you now see, that the passions work muchevil, unless we seek to turn them toward heaven. "

The blood rose a second time to Laubardemont's forehead. "Miscreant!" heexclaimed, "darest thou pronounce the words of the Church?"

"I have not quitted her bosom, " said Urbain. 

"Remove the girl, " said the President. 

When the archers went to obey, they found that she had tightened thecord round her neck with such force that she was of a livid hue andalmost lifeless. Fear had driven all the women from the assembly; manyhad been carried out fainting, but the hall was no less crowded. Theranks thickened, for the men out of the streets poured in. 

The judges arose in terror, and the president attempted to have thehall cleared; but the people, putting on their hats, stood in alarmingimmobility. The archers were not numerous enough to repel them. Itbecame necessary to yield; and accordingly Laubardemont in an agitatedvoice announced that the council would retire for half an hour. He brokeup the sitting; the people remained gloomily, each man fixed firmly tohis place. 

BOOK 2. 

CHAPTER V. THE MARTYRDOM

 'La torture interroge, et la douleur repond. ' RAYNOURARD, Les Templiers. 

The continuous interest of this half-trial, its preparations, itsinterruptions, all had held the minds of the people in such attentionthat no private conversations had taken place. Some irrepressible crieshad been uttered, but simultaneously, so that no man could accuse hisneighbor. But when the people were left to themselves, there was anexplosion of clamorous sentences. 

There was at this period enough of primitive simplicity among thelower classes for them to be persuaded by the mysterious tales of thepolitical agents who were deluding them; so that a large portion of thethrong in the hall of trial, not venturing to change their judgment, though upon the manifest evidence just given them, awaited in painfulsuspense the return of the judges, interchanging with an air of mysteryand inane importance the usual remarks prompted by imbecility on suchoccasions. 

"One does not know what to think, Monsieur?"

"Truly, Madame, most extraordinary things have happened. "

"We live in strange times!"

"I suspected this; but, i' faith, it is not wise to say what onethinks. "

"We shall see what we shall see, " and so on--the unmeaning chatter ofthe crowd, which merely serves to show that it is at the command of thefirst who chooses to sway it. Stronger words were heard from the groupin black. 

"What! shall we let them do as they please, in this manner? What! dareto burn our letter to the King!"

"If the King knew it!"

"The barbarian impostors! how skilfully is their plot contrived! What!shall murder be committed under our very eyes? Shall we be afraid ofthese archers?"

"No, no, no!" rang out in trumpet-like tones. 

Attention was turned toward the young advocate, who, standing on abranch, began tearing to pieces a roll of paper; then he cried:

"Yes, I tear and scatter to the winds the defence I had prepared for theaccused. They have suppressed discussion; I am not allowed to speak forhim. I can only speak to you, people; I rejoice that I can do so. Youheard these infamous judges. Which of them can hear the truth? Which ofthem is worthy to listen to an honest man? Which of them will dare tomeet his gaze? But what do I say? They all know the truth. They carryit in their guilty breasts; it stings their hearts like a serpent. Theytremble in their lair, where doubtless they are devouring their victim;they tremble because they have heard the cries of three deluded women. What was I about to do? I was about to speak in behalf of UrbainGrandier! But what eloquence could equal that of those unfortunates?What words could better have shown you his innocence? Heaven has takenup arms for him in bringing them to repentance and to devotion; Heavenwill finish its work--"

"Vade retro, Satanas, " was heard through a high window in the hall. 

Fournier stopped for a moment, then said:

"You hear these voices parodying the divine language? If I mistake not, these instruments of an infernal power are, by this song, preparing somenew spell. "

"But, " cried those who surrounded him, "what shall we do? What have theydone with him?"

"Remain here; be immovable, be silent, " replied the young advocate. "Theinertia of a people is all-powerful; that is its true wisdom, that itsstrength. Observe them closely, and in silence; and you will make themtremble. "

"They surely will not dare to appear here again, " said the Comte duLude. 

"I should like to look once more at the tall scoundrel in red, " saidGrand-Ferre, who had lost nothing of what had occurred. 

"And that good gentleman, the Cure, " murmured old Father GuillaumeLeroux, looking at all his indignant parishioners, who were talkingtogether in a low tone, measuring and counting the archers, ridiculingtheir dress, and beginning to point them out to the observation of theother spectators. 

Cinq-Mars, still leaning against the pillar behind which he had firstplaced himself, still wrapped in his black cloak, eagerly watched allthat passed, lost not a word of what was said, and filled his heart withhate and bitterness. Violent desires for slaughter and revenge, a vaguedesire to strike, took possession of him, despite himself; this is thefirst impression which evil produces on the soul of a young man. Later, sadness takes the place of fury, then indifference and scorn, laterstill, a calculating admiration for great villains who have beensuccessful; but this is only when, of the two elements which constituteman, earth triumphs over spirit. 

Meanwhile, on the right of the hall near the judges' platform, a groupof women were watching attentively a child about eight years old, whohad taken it into his head to climb up to a cornice by the aid of hissister Martine, whom we have seen the subject of jest with the youngsoldier, Grand-Ferre. The child, having nothing to look at after thecourt had left the hall, had climbed to a small window which admitted afaint light, and which he imagined to contain a swallow's nest or someother treasure for a boy; but after he was well established on thecornice, his hands grasping the bars of an old shrine of Jerome, hewished himself anywhere else, and cried out:

"Oh, sister, sister, lend me your hand to get down!"

"What do you see there?" asked Martine. 

"Oh, I dare not tell; but I want to get down, " and he began to cry. 

"Stay there, my child; stay there!" said all the women. "Don't beafraid; tell us all that you see. "

"Well, then, they've put the Cure between two great boards that squeezehis legs, and there are cords round the boards. "

"Ah! that is the rack, " said one of the townsmen. "Look again, my littlefriend, what do you see now?"

The child, more confident, looked again through the window, and then, withdrawing his head, said:

"I can not see the Cure now, because all the judges stand round him, andare looking at him, and their great robes prevent me from seeing. Thereare also some Capuchins, stooping down to whisper to him. "

Curiosity attracted more people to the boy's perch; every one wassilent, waiting anxiously to catch his words, as if their lives dependedon them. 

"I see, " he went on, "the executioner driving four little pieces ofwood between the cords, after the Capuchins have blessed the hammer andnails. Ah, heavens! Sister, how enraged they seem with him, because hewill not speak. Mother! mother! give me your hand, I want to come down!"

Instead of his mother, the child, upon turning round, saw only men'sfaces, looking up at him with a mournful eagerness, and signing himto go on. He dared not descend, and looked again through the window, trembling. 

"Oh! I see Father Lactantius and Father Barre themselves forcing in morepieces of wood, which squeeze his legs. Oh, how pale he is! he seemspraying. There, his head falls back, as if he were dying! Oh, take meaway!"

And he fell into the arms of the young Advocate, of M. Du Lude, and ofCinq-Mars, who had come to support him. 

"Deus stetit in synagoga deorum: in medio autem Deus dijudicat--"chanted strong, nasal voices, issuing from the small window, whichcontinued in full chorus one of the psalms, interrupted by blows of thehammer--an infernal deed beating time to celestial songs. One might havesupposed himself near a smithy, except that the blows were dull, andmanifested to the ear that the anvil was a man's body. 

"Silence!" said Fournier, "He speaks. The chanting and the blows stop. "

A weak voice within said, with difficulty, "Oh, my fathers, mitigate therigor of your torments, for you will reduce my soul to despair, and Imight seek to destroy myself!"

At this the fury of the people burst forth like an explosion, echoingalong the vaulted roofs; the men sprang fiercely upon the platform, thrust aside the surprised and hesitating archers; the unarmed crowddrove them back, pressed them, almost suffocated them against the walls, and held them fast, then dashed against the doors which led to thetorture chamber, and, making them shake beneath their blows, threatenedto drive them in; imprecations resounded from a thousand menacing voicesand terrified the judges within. 

"They are gone; they have taken him away!" cried a man who had climbedto the little window. 

The multitude at once stopped short, and changing the direction of theirsteps, fled from this detestable place and spread rapidly through thestreets, where an extraordinary confusion prevailed. 

Night had come on during the long sitting, and the rain was pouring intorrents. The darkness was terrifying. The cries of women slipping onthe pavement or driven back by the horses of the guards; the shoutsof the furious men; the ceaseless tolling of the bells which had beenkeeping time with the strokes of the question; the roll of distantthunder--all combined to increase the disorder. 

 [Torture ('Question') was regulated in scrupulous detail by Holy Mother The Church: The ordinary question was regulated for minor infractions and used for interrogating women and children. For more serious crimes the suspect (and sometimes the witnesses) were put to the extraordinary question by the officiating priests. D. W. ]

If the ear was astonished, the eyes were no less so. A few dismaltorches lighted up the corners of the streets; their flickering gleamsshowed soldiers, armed and mounted, dashing along, regardless of thecrowd, to assemble in the Place de St. Pierre; tiles were sometimesthrown at them on their way, but, missing the distant culprit, fell uponsome unoffending neighbor. The confusion was bewildering, and becamestill more so, when, hurrying through all the streets toward the Placede St. Pierre, the people found it barricaded on all sides, and filledwith mounted guards and archers. Carts, fastened to the posts at eachcorner, closed each entrance, and sentinels, armed with arquebuses, werestationed close to the carts. In the centre of the Place rose a pilecomposed of enormous beams placed crosswise upon one another, so asto form a perfect square; these were covered with a whiter and lighterwood; an enormous stake arose from the centre of the scaffold. A manclothed in red and holding a lowered torch stood near this sort of mast, which was visible from a long distance. A huge chafing-dish, covered onaccount of the rain, was at his feet. 

At this spectacle, terror inspired everywhere a profound silence; foran instant nothing was heard but the sound of the rain, which fell infloods, and of the thunder, which came nearer and nearer. 

Meanwhile, Cinq-Mars, accompanied by MM. Du Lude and Fournier and allthe more important personages of the town, had sought refuge from thestorm under the peristyle of the church of Ste. -Croix, raised upontwenty stone steps. The pile was in front, and from this height theycould see the whole of the square. The centre was entirely clear, largestreams of water alone traversed it; but all the windows of the houseswere gradually lighted up, and showed the heads of the men and women whothronged them. 

The young D'Effiat sorrowfully contemplated this menacing preparation. Brought up in sentiments of honor, and far removed from the blackthoughts which hatred and ambition arouse in the heart of man, he couldnot conceive that such wrong could be done without some powerful andsecret motive. The audacity of such a condemnation seemed to him soenormous that its very cruelty began to justify it in his eyes; a secrethorror crept into his soul, the same that silenced the people. He almostforgot the interest with which the unhappy Urbain had inspired him, inthinking whether it were not possible that some secret correspondencewith the infernal powers had justly provoked such excessive severity;and the public revelations of the nuns, and the statement of hisrespected tutor, faded from his memory, so powerful is success, evenin the eyes of superior men! so strongly does force impose upon men, despite the voice of conscience!

The young traveller was asking himself whether it were not probable thatthe torture had forced some monstrous confession from the accused, whenthe obscurity which surrounded the church suddenly ceased. Its twogreat doors were thrown open; and by the light of an infinite numberof flambeaux, appeared all the judges and ecclesiastics, surrounded byguards. Among them was Urbain, supported, or rather carried, by six menclothed as Black Penitents--for his limbs, bound with bandages saturatedwith blood, seemed broken and incapable of supporting him. It was atmost two hours since Cinq-Mars had seen him, and yet he could hardlyrecognize the face he had so closely observed at the trial. All color, all roundness of form had disappeared from it; a livid pallor covereda skin yellow and shining like ivory; the blood seemed to have left hisveins; all the life that remained within him shone from his dark eyes, which appeared to have grown twice as large as before, as he lookedlanguidly around him; his long, chestnut hair hung loosely down his neckand over a white shirt, which entirely covered him--or rather a sortof robe with large sleeves, and of a yellowish tint, with an odor ofsulphur about it; a long, thick cord encircled his neck and fell uponhis breast. He looked like an apparition; but it was the apparition of amartyr. 

Urbain stopped, or, rather, was set down upon the peristyle of thechurch; the Capuchin Lactantius placed a lighted torch in his righthand, and held it there, as he said to him, with his hard inflexibility:

"Do penance, and ask pardon of God for thy crime of magic. "

The unhappy man raised his voice with great difficulty, and with hiseyes to heaven said:

"In the name of the living God, I cite thee, Laubardemont, false judge, to appear before Him in three years. They have taken away my confessor, and I have been fain to pour out my sins into the bosom of God Himself, for my enemies surround me. I call that God of mercy to witness I neverhave dealt in magic. I have known no mysteries but those of the Catholicreligion, apostolic and Roman, in which I die; I have sinned muchagainst myself, but never against God and our Lord--"

"Cease!" cried the Capuchin, affecting to close his mouth ere he couldpronounce the name of the Saviour. "Obdurate wretch, return to the demonwho sent thee!"

He signed to four priests, who, approaching with sprinklers in theirhands, exorcised with holy water the air the magician breathed, theearth he touched, the wood that was to burn him. During this ceremony, the judge-Advocate hastily read the decree, dated the 18th of August, 1639, declaring Urbain Grandier duly attainted and convicted of thecrime of sorcery, witchcraft, and possession, in the persons of sundryUrsuline nuns of Loudun, and others, laymen, etc. 

The reader, dazzled by a flash of lightning, stopped for an instant, and, turning to M. De Laubardemont, asked whether, considering the awfulweather, the execution could not be deferred till the next day. 

"The decree, " coldly answered Laubardemont, "commands execution withintwenty-four hours. Fear not the incredulous people; they will soon beconvinced. "

All the most important persons of the town and many strangers were underthe peristyle, and now advanced, Cinq-Mars among them. 

"The magician never has been able to pronounce the name of the Saviour, and repels his image. "

Lactantius at this moment issued from the midst of the Penitents, withan enormous iron crucifix in his hand, which he seemed to hold withprecaution and respect; he extended it to the lips of the sufferer, who indeed threw back his head, and collecting all his strength, madea gesture with his arm, which threw the cross from the hands of theCapuchin. 

"You see, " cried the latter, "he has thrown down the cross!"

A murmur arose, the meaning of which was doubtful. 

"Profanation!" cried the priests. 

The procession moved toward the pile. 

Meanwhile, Cinq-Mars, gliding behind a pillar, had eagerly watched allthat passed; he saw with astonishment that the cross, in falling uponthe steps, which were more exposed to the rain than the platform, smokedand made a noise like molten lead when thrown into water. While thepublic attention was elsewhere engaged, he advanced and touched itlightly with his bare hand, which was immediately scorched. Seized withindignation, with all the fury of a true heart, he took up the crosswith the folds of his cloak, stepped up to Laubardemont, and, strikinghim with it on the forehead, cried:

"Villain, I brand thee with the mark of this red-hot iron!"

The crowd heard these words and rushed forward. 

"Arrest this madman!" cried the unworthy magistrate. 

He was himself seized by the hands of men who cried, "Justice! justice, in the name of the King!"

"We are lost!" said Lactantius; "to the pile, to the pile!"

The Penitents dragged Urbain toward the Place, while the judges andarchers reentered the church, struggling with the furious citizens; theexecutioner, having no time to tie up the victim, hastened to lay himon the wood, and to set fire to it. But the rain still fell in torrents, and each piece of wood had no sooner caught the flame than it becameextinguished. In vain did Lactantius and the other canons themselvesseek to stir up the fire; nothing could overcome the water which fellfrom heaven. 

Meanwhile, the tumult which had begun in the peristyle of the churchextended throughout the square. The cry of "Justice!" was repeatedand circulated, with the information of what had been discovered; twobarricades were forced, and despite three volleys of musketry, thearchers were gradually driven back toward the centre of the square. Invain they spurred their horses against the crowd; it overwhelmed themwith its swelling waves. Half an hour passed in this struggle, theguards still receding toward the pile, which they concealed as theypressed closer upon it. 

"On! on!" cried a man; "we will deliver him; do not strike the soldiers, but let them fall back. See, Heaven will not permit him to die! Thefire is out; now, friend, one effort more! That is well! Throw down thathorse! Forward! On!"

The guard was broken and dispersed on all sides. The crowd rushed tothe pile, but no more light was there: all had disappeared, even theexecutioner. They tore up and threw aside the beams; one of themwas still burning, and its light showed under a mass of ashes andensanguined mire a blackened hand, preserved from the fire by a largeiron bracelet and chain. A woman had the courage to open it; the fingersclasped a small ivory cross and an image of St. Magdalen. 

"These are his remains, " she said, weeping. 

"Say, the relics of a martyr!" exclaimed a citizen, baring his head. 

CHAPTER VI. THE DREAM

Meanwhile, Cinq-Mars, amid the excitement which his outbreak hadprovoked, felt his left arm seized by a hand as hard as iron, which, drawing him from the crowd to the foot of the steps, pushed him behindthe wall of the church, and he then saw the dark face of old Grandchamp, who said to him in a sharp voice:

"Sir, your attack upon thirty musketeers in a wood at Chaumont wasnothing, because we were near you, though you knew it not, and, moreover, you had to do with men of honor; but here 'tis different. Yourhorses and people are at the end of the street; I request you to mountand leave the town, or to send me back to Madame la Marechale, for I amresponsible for your limbs, which you expose so freely. "

Cinq-Mars was somewhat astonished at this rough mode of having a servicedone him, was not sorry to extricate himself thus from the affair, having had time to reflect how very awkward it might be for him to berecognized, after striking the head of the judicial authority, the agentof the very Cardinal who was to present him to the King. He observedalso that around him was assembled a crowd of the lowest class ofpeople, among whom he blushed to find himself. He therefore followedhis old domestic without argument, and found the other three servantswaiting for him. Despite the rain and wind he mounted, and was soon uponthe highroad with his escort, having put his horse to a gallop to avoidpursuit. 

He had, however, hardly left Loudun when the sandy road, furrowed bydeep ruts completely filled with water, obliged him to slacken his pace. The rain continued to fall heavily, and his cloak was almost saturated. He felt a thicker one thrown over his shoulders; it was his old valet, who had approached him, and thus exhibited toward him a maternalsolicitude. 

"Well, Grandchamp, " said Cinq-Mars, "now that we are clear of the riot, tell me how you came to be there when I had ordered you to remain at theAbbe's. "

"Parbleu, Monsieur!" answered the old servant, in a grumbling tone, "do you suppose that I should obey you any more than I did Monsieur leMarechal? When my late master, after telling me to remain in his tent, found me behind him in the cannon's smoke, he made no complaint, becausehe had a fresh horse ready when his own was killed, and he only scoldedme for a moment in his thoughts; but, truly, during the forty years Iserved him, I never saw him act as you have in the fortnight I have beenwith you. Ah!" he added with a sigh, "things are going strangely; and ifwe continue thus, there's no knowing what will be the end of it. "

"But knowest thou, Grandchamp, that these scoundrels had made thecrucifix red hot?--a thing at which no honest man would have been lessenraged than I. "

"Except Monsieur le Marechal, your father, who would not have done atall what you have done, Monsieur. "

"What, then, would he have done?"

"He would very quietly have let this cure be burned by the other cures, and would have said to me, 'Grandchamp, see that my horses have oats, and let no one steal them'; or, 'Grandchamp, take care that the raindoes not rust my sword or wet the priming of my pistols'; for Monsieurle Marechal thought of everything, and never interfered in what did notconcern him. That was his great principle; and as he was, thank Heaven, alike good soldier and good general, he was always as careful of hisarms as a recruit, and would not have stood up against thirty younggallants with a dress rapier. "

Cinq-Mars felt the force of the worthy servitor's epigrammatic scolding, and feared that he had followed him beyond the wood of Chaumont; buthe would not ask, lest he should have to give explanations or to tella falsehood or to command silence, which would at once have been takinghim into confidence on the subject. As the only alternative, he spurredhis horse and rode ahead of his old domestic; but the latter had not yethad his say, and instead of keeping behind his master, he rode up to hisleft and continued the conversation. 

"Do you suppose, Monsieur, that I should allow you to go where youplease? No, Monsieur, I am too deeply impressed with the respect Iowe to Madame la Marquise, to give her an opportunity of saying to me:'Grandchamp, my son has been killed with a shot or with a sword; whywere you not before him?' Or, 'He has received a stab from the stilettoof an Italian, because he went at night beneath the window of a greatprincess; why did you not seize the assassin?' This would be verydisagreeable to me, Monsieur, for I never have been reproached withanything of the kind. Once Monsieur le Marechal lent me to his nephew, Monsieur le Comte, to make a campaign in the Netherlands, because I knowSpanish. I fulfilled the duty with honor, as I always do. When Monsieurle Comte received a bullet in his heart, I myself brought back hishorses, his mules, his tent, and all his equipment, without so much asa pocket-handkerchief being missed; and I can assure you that the horseswere as well dressed and harnessed when we reentered Chaumont as ifMonsieur le Comte had been about to go a-hunting. And, accordingly, Ireceived nothing but compliments and agreeable things from the wholefamily, just in the way I like. "

"Well, well, my friend, " said Henri d'Effiat, "I may some day, perhaps, have these horses to take back; but in the mean time take this greatpurse of gold, which I have well-nigh lost two or three times, and thoushalt pay for me everywhere. The money wearies me. "

"Monsieur le Marechal did not so, Monsieur. He had been superintendentof finances, and he counted every farthing he paid out of his own hand. I do not think your estates would have been in such good condition, orthat you would have had so much money to count yourself, had he doneotherwise; have the goodness, therefore, to keep your purse, whosecontents, I dare swear, you do not know. "

"Faith, not I. "

Grandchamp sent forth a profound sigh at his master's disdainfulexclamation. 

"Ah, Monsieur le Marquis! Monsieur le Marquis! When I think that thegreat King Henri, before my eyes, put his chamois gloves into his pocketto keep the rain from spoiling them; when I think that Monsieur de Rosnirefused him money when he had spent too much; when I think--"

"When thou dost think, thou art egregiously tedious, my old friend, "interrupted his master; "and thou wilt do better in telling me what thatblack figure is that I think I see walking in the mire behind us. "

"It looks like some poor peasant woman who, perhaps, wants alms of us. She can easily follow us, for we do not go at much of a pace in thissand, wherein our horses sink up to the hams. We shall go to the Landesperhaps some day, Monsieur, and you will see a country all the same asthis sandy road, and great, black firs all the way along. It lookslike a churchyard; this is an exact specimen of it. Look, the rain hasceased, and we can see a little ahead; there is nothing but furze-busheson this great plain, without a village or a house. I don't know where wecan pass the night; but if you will take my advice, you will let us cutsome boughs and bivouac where we are. You shall see how, with a littleearth, I can make a hut as warm as a bed. "

"I would rather go on to the light I see in the horizon, " saidCinq-Mars; "for I fancy I feel rather feverish, and I am thirsty. Butfall back, I would ride alone; rejoin the others and follow. "

Grandchamp obeyed; he consoled himself by giving Germain, Louis, andEtienne lessons in the art of reconnoitring a country by night. 

Meanwhile, his young master was overcome with fatigue. The violentemotions of the day had profoundly affected his mind; and thelong journey on horseback, the last two days passed almost withoutnourishment, owing to the hurried pressure of events, the heat of thesun by day, the icy coldness of the night, all contributed to increasehis indisposition and to weary his delicate frame. For three hours herode in silence before his people, yet the light he had seen in thehorizon seemed no nearer; at last he ceased to follow it with his eyes, and his head, feeling heavier and heavier, sank upon his breast. Hegave the reins to his tired horse, which of its own accord followed thehigh-road, and, crossing his arms, allowed himself to be rocked by themonotonous motion of his fellow-traveller, which frequently stumbledagainst the large stones that strewed the road. The rain had ceased, ashad the voices of his domestics, whose horses followed in the track oftheir master's. The young man abandoned himself to the bitterness of histhoughts; he asked himself whether the bright object of his hopes wouldnot flee from him day by day, as that phosphoric light fled from himin the horizon, step by step. Was it probable that the young Princess, almost forcibly recalled to the gallant court of Anne of Austria, wouldalways refuse the hands, perhaps royal ones, that would be offered toher? What chance that she would resign herself to renounce a presentthrone, in order to wait till some caprice of fortune should realizeromantic hopes, or take a youth almost in the lowest rank of the armyand lift him to the elevation she spoke of, till the age of love shouldbe passed? How could he be certain that even the vows of Marie deGonzaga were sincere?

"Alas!" he said, "perhaps she has blinded herself as to her ownsentiments; the solitude of the country had prepared her soul to receivedeep impressions. I came; she thought I was he of whom she had dreamed. Our age and my love did the rest. But when at court, she, the companionof the Queen, has learned to contemplate from an exalted position thegreatness to which I aspire, and which I as yet see only from avery humble distance; when she shall suddenly find herself in actualpossession of the future she aims at, and measures with a more correcteye the long road I have to travel; when she shall hear around her vowslike mine, pronounced by lips which could undo me with a word, with aword destroy him whom she awaits as her husband, her lord--oh, madmanthat I have been!--she will see all her folly, and will be incensed atmine. "

Thus did doubt, the greatest misery of love, begin to torture hisunhappy heart; he felt his hot blood rush to his head and oppress it. Ever and anon he fell forward upon the neck of his horse, and a halfsleep weighed down his eyes; the dark firs that bordered the road seemedto him gigantic corpses travelling beside him. He saw, or thoughthe saw, the same woman clothed in black, whom he had pointed out toGrandchamp, approach so near as to touch his horse's mane, pull hiscloak, and then run off with a jeering laugh; the sand of the roadseemed to him a river running beneath him, with opposing current, backtoward its source. This strange sight dazzled his worn eyes; he closedthem and fell asleep on his horse. 

Presently, he felt himself stopped, but he was numbed with cold andcould not move. He saw peasants, lights, a house, a great room intowhich they carried him, a wide bed, whose heavy curtains were closed byGrandchamp; and he fell asleep again, stunned by the fever that whirredin his ears. 

Dreams that followed one another more rapidly than grains of sand beforethe wind rushed through his brain; he could not catch them, and movedrestlessly on his bed. Urbain Grandier on the rack, his mother in tears, his tutor armed, Bassompierre loaded with chains, passed before him, making signs of farewell; at last, as he slept, he instinctively put hishand to his head to stay the passing dream, which then seemed to unfolditself before his eyes like pictures in shifting sands. 

He saw a public square crowded with a foreign people, a northern people, who uttered cries of joy, but they were savage cries; there was a lineof guards, ferocious soldiers--these were Frenchmen. "Come with me, "said the soft voice of Marie de Gonzaga, who took his hand. "See, I weara diadem; here is thy throne, come with me. " And she hurried him on, thepeople still shouting. He went on, a long way. "Why are you sad, if youare a queen?" he said, trembling. But she was pale, and smiled and spokenot. She ascended, step after step, up to a throne, and seated herself. "Mount!" said she, forcibly pulling his hand. But, at every movement, the massive stairs crumbled beneath his feet, so that he could notascend. "Give thanks to love, " she continued; and her hand, now morepowerful, raised him to the throne. The people still shouted. He bowedlow to kiss that helping hand, that adored hand; it was the hand of theexecutioner!

"Oh, heavens!" exclaimed Cinq-Mars, as, heaving a deep sigh, he openedhis eyes. A flickering lamp lighted the ruinous chamber of the inn; heagain closed his eyes, for he had seen, seated on his bed, a woman, a nun, young and beautiful! He thought he was still dreaming, but shegrasped his hand firmly. He opened his burning eyes, and fixed them uponher. 

"Is it you, Jeannede Belfiel? The rain has drenched your veil and yourblack hair! Why are you here, unhappy woman?"

"Hark! awake not my Urbain; he sleeps there in the next room. Ay, myhair is indeed wet, and my feet--see, my feet that were once so white, see how the mud has soiled them. But I have made a vow--I will not washthem till I have seen the King, and until he has granted me Urbain'spardon. I am going to the army to find him; I will speak to him asGrandier taught me to speak, and he will pardon him. And listen, Iwill also ask thy pardon, for I read it in thy face that thou, too, artcondemned to death. Poor youth! thou art too young to die, thy curlinghair is beautiful; but yet thou art condemned, for thou hast on thy browa line that never deceives. The man thou hast struck will kill thee. Thou hast made too much use of the cross; it is that which will bringevil upon thee. Thou hast struck with it, and thou wearest it roundthy neck by a hair chain. Nay, hide not thy face; have I said aughtto afflict thee, or is it that thou lovest, young man? Ah, reassurethyself, I will not tell all this to thy love. I am mad, but I amgentle, very gentle; and three days ago I was beautiful. Is she alsobeautiful? Ah! she will weep some day! Yet, if she can weep, she will behappy!"

And then suddenly Jeanne began to recite the service for the dead in amonotonous voice, but with incredible rapidity, still seated on the bed, and turning the beads of a long rosary. 

Suddenly the door opened; she looked up, and fled through another doorin the partition. 

"What the devil's that-an imp or an angel, saying the funeral serviceover you, and you under the clothes, as if you were in a shroud?"

This abrupt exclamation came from the rough voice of Grandchamp, who wasso astonished at what he had seen that he dropped the glass of lemonadehe was bringing in. Finding that his master did not answer, he becamestill more alarmed, and raised the bedclothes. Cinq-Mars's face wascrimson, and he seemed asleep, but his old domestic saw that the bloodrushing to his head had almost suffocated him; and, seizing a jug fullof cold water, he dashed the whole of it in his face. This militaryremedy rarely fails to effect its purpose, and Cinq-Mars returned tohimself with a start. 

"Ah! it is thou, Grandchamp; what frightful dreams I have had!"

"Peste! Monsieur le Marquis, your dreams, on the contrary, are verypretty ones. I saw the tail of the last as I came in; your choice is notbad. "

"What dost mean, blockhead?"

"Nay, not a blockhead, Monsieur; I have good eyes, and I have seen whatI have seen. But, really ill as you are, Monsieur le Marechal wouldnever--"

"Thou art utterly doting, my friend; give me some drink, I am parchedwith thirst. Oh, heavens! what a night! I still see all those women. "

"All those women, Monsieur? Why, how many are here?"

"I am speaking to thee of a dream, blockhead. Why standest there like apost, instead of giving me some drink?"

"Enough, Monsieur; I will get more lemonade. " And going to the door, hecalled over the staircase, "Germain! Etienne! Louis!"

The innkeeper answered from below: "Coming, Monsieur, coming; they havebeen helping me to catch the madwoman. "

"What mad-woman?" said Cinq-Mars, rising in bed. 

The host entered, and, taking off his cotton cap, said, respectfully:"Oh, nothing, Monsieur le Marquis, only a madwoman that came here lastnight on foot, and whom we put in the next room; but she has escaped, and we have not been able to catch her. "

"Ah!" exclaimed Cinq-Mars, returning to himself and putting his hand tohis eyes, "it was not a dream, then. And my mother, where is she? andthe Marechal, and--Ah! and yet it is but a fearful dream! Leave me. "

As he said this, he turned toward the wall, and again pulled the clothesover his head. 

The innkeeper, in amazement, touched his forehead three times with hisfinger, looking at Grandchamp as if to ask him whether his master werealso mad. 

Grandchamp motioned him away in silence, and in order to watch therest of the night by the side of Cinq-Mars, who was in a deep sleep, heseated himself in a large armchair, covered with tapestry, and began tosqueeze lemons into a glass of water with an air as grave and severe asArchimedes calculating the condensing power of his mirrors. 

CHAPTER VII. THE CABINET

 Men have rarely the courage to be wholly good or wholly bad. MACHIAVELLI. 

Let us leave our young traveller sleeping; he will soon pursue a longand beautiful route. Since we are at liberty to turn to all points ofthe map, we will fix our eyes upon the city of Narbonne. 

Behold the Mediterranean, not far distant, washing with its blue watersthe sandy shores. Penetrate into that city resembling Athens; and tofind him who reigns there, follow that dark and irregular street, mountthe steps of the old archiepiscopal palace, and enter the first andlargest of its apartments. 

This was a very long salon, lighted by a series of high lancet windows, of which the upper part only retained the blue, yellow, and red panesthat shed a mysterious light through the apartment. A large round tableoccupied its entire breadth, near the great fireplace; around thistable, covered with a colored cloth and scattered with papers andportfolios, were seated, bending over their pens, eight secretariescopying letters which were handed to them from a smaller table. Othermen quietly arranged the completed papers in the shelves of a bookcase, partly filled with books bound in black. 

Notwithstanding the number of persons assembled in the room, one mighthave heard the movements of the wings of a fly. The only interruptionto the silence was the sound of pens rapidly gliding over paper, and ashrill voice dictating, stopping every now and then to cough. Thisvoice proceeded from a great armchair placed beside the fire, which wasblazing, notwithstanding the heat of the season and of the country. Itwas one of those armchairs that you still see in old castles, and whichseem made to read one's self to sleep in, so easy is every part of it. The sitter sinks into a circular cushion of down; if the head leansback, the cheeks rest upon pillows covered with silk, and the seatjuts out so far beyond the elbows that one may believe the providentupholsterers of our forefathers sought to provide that the book shouldmake no noise in falling so as to awaken the sleeper. 

But we will quit this digression, and speak of the man who occupiedthe chair, and who was very far from sleeping. He had a broad forehead, bordered with thin white hair, large, mild eyes, a wan face, to whicha small, pointed, white beard gave that air of subtlety and finessenoticeable in all the portraits of the period of Louis XIII. His mouthwas almost without lips, which Lavater deems an indubitable sign of anevil mind, and it was framed in a pair of slight gray moustaches and a'royale'--an ornament then in fashion, which somewhat resembled a commain form. The old man wore a close red cap, a large 'robe-dechambre', andpurple silk stockings; he was no less a personage than Armand Duplessis, Cardinal de Richelieu. 

Near him, around the small table, sat four youths from fifteen to twentyyears of age; these were pages, or domestics, according to the term thenin use, which signified familiars, friends of the house. This customwas a relic of feudal patronage, which still existed in our manners. Theyounger members of high families received wages from the great lords, and were devoted to their service in all things, challenging the firstcomer at the wish of their patron. The pages wrote letters from theoutline previously given them by the Cardinal, and after their masterhad glanced at them, passed them to the secretaries, who made faircopies. The Duke, for his part, wrote on his knee private notes uponsmall slips of paper, inserting them in almost all the packets beforesealing them, which he did with his own hand. 

He had been writing a short time, when, in a mirror before him, he sawthe youngest of his pages writing something on a sheet of paper muchsmaller than the official sheet. He hastily wrote a few words, andthen slipped the paper under the large sheet which, much against hisinclination, he had to fill; but, seated behind the Cardinal, he hopedthat the difficulty with which the latter turned would prevent himfrom seeing the little manoeuvre he had tried to exercise with muchdexterity. Suddenly Richelieu said to him, dryly, "Come here, MonsieurOlivier. "

These words came like a thunder-clap on the poor boy, who seemed aboutsixteen. He rose at once, however, and stood before the minister, hisarms hanging at his side and his head lowered. 

The other pages and the secretaries stirred no more than soldiers whena comrade is struck down by a ball, so accustomed were they to this kindof summons. The present one, however, was more energetic than usual. 

"What were you writing?"

"My lord, what your Eminence dictated. "

"What!"

"My lord, the letter to Don Juan de Braganza. "

"No evasions, Monsieur; you were writing something else. "

"My lord, " said the page, with tears in his eyes, "it was a letter toone of my cousins. "

"Let me see it. "

The page trembled in every limb and was obliged to lean against thechimney-piece, as he said, in a hardly audible tone, "It is impossible. "

"Monsieur le Vicomte Olivier d'Entraigues, " said the minister, withoutshowing the least emotion, "you are no longer in my service. " The pagewithdrew. He knew that there was no reply; so, slipping his letter intohis pocket, and opening the folding-doors just wide enough to allow hisexit, he glided out like a bird escaped from the cage. 

The minister went on writing the note upon his knee. 

The secretaries redoubled their silent zeal, when suddenly the two wingsof the door were thrown back and showed, standing in the opening, aCapuchin, who, bowing, with his arms crossed over his breast, seemedwaiting for alms or for an order to retire. He had a dark complexion, and was deeply pitted with smallpox; his eyes, mild, but somewhatsquinting, were almost hidden by his thick eyebrows, which met in themiddle of his forehead; on his mouth played a crafty, mischievous, andsinister smile; his beard was straight and red, and his costume was thatof the order of St. Francis in all its repulsiveness, with sandals onhis bare feet, that looked altogether unfit to tread upon carpet. 

Such as he was, however, this personage appeared to create a greatsensation throughout the room; for, without finishing the phrase, theline, or even the word begun, every person rose and went out by the doorwhere he was still standing--some saluting him as they passed, othersturning away their heads, and the young pages holding their fingers totheir noses, but not till they were behind him, for they seemed to havea secret fear of him. When they had all passed out, he entered, making aprofound reverence, because the door was still open; but, as soon asit was shut, unceremoniously advancing, he seated himself near theCardinal, who, having recognized him by the general movement he created, saluted him with a dry and silent inclination of the head, regardinghim fixedly, as if awaiting some news and unable to avoid knitting hisbrows, as at the aspect of a spider or some other disagreeable creature. 

The Cardinal could not resist this movement of displeasure, becausehe felt himself obliged, by the presence of his agent, to resume thoseprofound and painful conversations from which he had for some daysbeen free, in a country whose pure air, favorable to him, had somewhatsoothed the pain of his malady; that malady had changed to a slow fever, but its intervals were long enough to enable him to forget during itsabsence that it must return. Giving, therefore, a little rest to hishitherto indefatigable mind, he had been awaiting, for the first time inhis life perhaps, without impatience, the return of the couriers he hadsent in all directions, like the rays of a sun which alone gave life andmovement to France. He had not expected the visit he now received, and the sight of one of those men, whom, to use his own expression, he"steeped in crime, " rendered all the habitual disquietudes of hislife more present to him, without entirely dissipating the cloud ofmelancholy which at that time obscured his thoughts. 

The beginning of his conversation was tinged with the gloomy hue of hislate reveries; but he soon became more animated and vigorous than ever, when his powerful mind had reentered the real world. 

His confidant, seeing that he was expected to break the silence, did soin this abrupt fashion:

"Well, my lord, of what are you thinking?"

"Alas, Joseph, of what should we all think, but of our future happinessin a better life? For many days I have been reflecting that humaninterests have too much diverted me from this great thought; and Irepent me of having spent some moments of my leisure in profane works, such as my tragedies, 'Europe' and 'Mirame, ' despite the glory they havealready gained me among our brightest minds--a glory which will extendunto futurity. "

Father Joseph, full of what he had to say, was at first surprised atthis opening; but he knew his master too well to betray his feelings, and, well skilled in changing the course of his ideas, replied:

"Yes, their merit is very great, and France will regret that theseimmortal works are not followed by similar productions. "

"Yes, my dear Joseph; but it is in vain that such men as Boisrobert, Claveret, Colletet, Corneille, and, above all, the celebrated Mairet, have proclaimed these tragedies the finest that the present or any pastage has produced. I reproach myself for them, I swear to you, as for amortal sin, and I now, in my hours of repose, occupy myself only with my'Methode des Controverses', and my book on the 'Perfection du Chretien. 'I remember that I am fifty-six years old, and that I have an incurablemalady. "

"These are calculations which your enemies make as precisely asyour Eminence, " said the priest, who began to be annoyed with thisconversation, and was eager to talk of other matters. 

The blood mounted to the Cardinal's face. 

"I know it! I know it well!" he said; "I know all their black villainy, and I am prepared for it. But what news is there?"

"According to our arrangement, my lord, we have removed Mademoiselled'Hautefort, as we removed Mademoiselle de la Fayette before her. So farit is well; but her place is not filled, and the King--"

"Well!"

"The King has ideas which he never had before. "

"Ha! and which come not from me? 'Tis well, truly, " said the minister, with an ironic sneer. 

"What, my lord, leave the place of the favorite vacant for six wholedays? It is not prudent; pardon me for saying so. "

"He has ideas--ideas!" repeated Richelieu, with a kind of terror; "andwhat are they?"

"He talks of recalling the Queen-mother, " said the Capuchin, in a lowvoice; "of recalling her from Cologne. "

"Marie de Medicis!" cried the Cardinal, striking the arms of his chairwith his hands. "No, by Heaven, she shall not again set her foot uponthe soil of France, whence I drove her, step by step! England has notdared to receive her, exiled by me; Holland fears to be crushed byher; and my kingdom to receive her! No, no, such an idea could not haveoriginated with himself! To recall my enemy! to recall his mother! Whatperfidy! He would not have dared to think of it. "

Then, having mused for a moment, he added, fixing a penetrating lookstill full of burning anger upon Father Joseph:

"But in what terms did he express this desire? Tell me his precisewords. "

"He said publicly; and in the presence of Monsieur: 'I feel that one ofthe first duties of a Christian is to be a good son, and I will resistno longer the murmurs of my conscience. '"

"Christian! conscience! these are not his expressions. It is FatherCaussin--it is his confessor who is betraying me, " cried the Cardinal. "Perfidious Jesuit! I pardoned thee thy intrigue with La Fayette; butI will not pass over thy secret counsels. I will have this confessordismissed, Joseph; he is an enemy to the State, I see it clearly. ButI myself have acted with negligence for some days past; I have notsufficiently hastened the arrival of the young d'Effiat, who willdoubtless succeed. He is handsome and intellectual, they say. What ablunder! I myself merit disgrace. To leave that fox of a Jesuit withthe King, without having given him my secret instructions, without ahostage, a pledge, or his fidelity to my orders! What neglect! Joseph, take a pen, and write what I shall dictate for the other confessor, whomwe will choose better. I think of Father Sirmond. "

Father Joseph sat down at the large table, ready to write, and theCardinal dictated to him those duties, of a new kind, which shortlyafterward he dared to have given to the King, who received them, respected them, and learned them by heart as the commandments of theChurch. They have come down to us, a terrible monument of the empirethat a man may seize upon by means of circumstances, intrigues, andaudacity:

 "I. A prince should have a prime minister, and that minister three qualities: (1) He should have no passion but for his prince; (2) He should be able and faithful; (3) He should be an ecclesiastic. 

 "II. A prince ought perfectly to love his prime minister. 

 "III. Ought never to change his prime minister. 

 "IV. Ought to tell him all things. 

 "V. To give him free access to his person. 

 "VI. To give him sovereign authority over his people. 

 "VII. Great honors and large possessions. 

 "VIII. A prince has no treasure more precious than his prime minister. 

 "IX. A prince should not put faith in what people say against his prime minister, nor listen to any such slanders. 

 "X. A prince should reveal to his prime minister all that is said against him, even though he has been bound to keep it secret. 

 "XI. A prince should prefer not only the well-being of the State, but also his prime minister, to all his relations. "

Such were the commandments of the god of France, less astonishing inthemselves than the terrible naivete which made him bequeath them toposterity, as if posterity also must believe in him. 

While he dictated his instructions, reading them from a small piece ofpaper, written with his own hand, a deep melancholy seemed to possesshim more and more at each word; and when he had ended, he fell back inhis chair, his arms crossed, and his head sunk on his breast. 

Father Joseph, dropping his pen, arose and was inquiring whether he wereill, when he heard issue from the depths of his chest these mournful andmemorable words:

"What utter weariness! what endless trouble! If the ambitious mancould see me, he would flee to a desert. What is my power? A miserablereflection of the royal power; and what labors to fix upon my starthat incessantly wavering ray! For twenty years I have been in vainattempting it. I can not comprehend that man. He dare not flee me; butthey take him from me--he glides through my fingers. What things couldI not have done with his hereditary rights, had I possessed them? But, employing such infinite calculation in merely keeping one's balance, what of genius remains for high enterprises? I hold Europe in my hand, yet I myself am suspended by a trembling hair. What is it to me thatI can cast my eyes confidently over the map of Europe, when all myinterests are concentrated in his narrow cabinet, and its few feet ofspace give me more trouble to govern than the whole country besides?See, then, what it is to be a prime minister! Envy me, my guards, if youcan. "

His features were so distorted as to give reason to fear some accident;and at the same moment he was seized with a long and violent fit ofcoughing, which ended in a slight hemorrhage. He saw that Father Joseph, alarmed, was about to seize a gold bell that stood on the table, and, suddenly rising with all the vivacity of a young man, he stopped him, saying:

"'Tis nothing, Joseph; I sometimes yield to these fits of depression;but they do not last long, and I leave them stronger than before. As formy health, I know my condition perfectly; but that is not the businessin hand. What have you done at Paris? I am glad to know the King hasarrived in Bearn, as I wished; we shall be able to keep a closer watchupon him. How did you induce him to come away?"

"A battle at Perpignan. "

"That is not bad. Well, we can arrange it for him; that occupation willdo as well as another just now. But the young Queen, what says she?"

"She is still furious against you; her correspondence discovered, thequestioning to which you had subjected her--"

"Bah! a madrigal and a momentary submission on my part will make herforget that I have separated her from her house of Austria and from thecountry of her Buckingham. But how does she occupy herself?"

"In machinations with Monsieur. But as we have his entire confidence, here are the daily accounts of their interviews. "

"I shall not trouble myself to read them; while the Duc de Bouillonremains in Italy I have nothing to fear in that quarter. She may haveas many petty plots with Gaston in the chimney-corner as she pleases; henever got beyond his excellent intentions, forsooth! He carries nothinginto effect but his withdrawal from the kingdom. He has had his thirddismissal; I will manage a fourth for him whenever he pleases; he is notworth the pistol-shot you had the Comte de Soissons settled with, andyet the poor Comte had scarce more energy than he. "

And the Cardinal, reseating himself in his chair, began to laugh gaylyenough for a statesman. 

"I always laugh when I think of their expedition to Amiens. They had mebetween them, Each had fully five hundred gentlemen with him, armed tothe teeth, and all going to despatch me, like Concini; but the greatVitry was not there. They very quietly let me talk for an hour with themabout the hunt and the Fete Dieu, and neither of them dared make a signto their cut-throats. I have since learned from Chavigny that for twolong months they had been waiting that happy moment. For myself, indeed, I observed nothing, except that little villain, the Abbe deGondi, --[Afterward Cardinal de Retz. ]--who prowled near me, and seemedto have something hidden under his sleeve; it was he that made me getinto the coach. "

"Apropos of the Abbe, my lord, the Queen insists upon making himcoadjutor. "

"She is mad! he will ruin her if she connects herself with him; he's amusketeer in canonicals, the devil in a cassock. Read his 'Histoire deFiesque'; you may see himself in it. He will be nothing while I live. "

"How is it that with a judgment like yours you bring another ambitiousman of his age to court?"

"That is an entirely different matter. This young Cinq-Mars, my friend, will be a mere puppet. He will think of nothing but his ruff and hisshoulder-knots; his handsome figure assures me of this. I know that heis gentle and weak; it was for this reason I preferred him to his elderbrother. He will do whatever we wish. "

"Ah, my lord, " said the monk, with an expression of doubt, "I neverplace much reliance on people whose exterior is so calm; the hiddenflame is often all the more dangerous. Recollect the Marechal d'Effiat, his father. "

"But I tell you he is a boy, and I shall bring him up; while Gondi isalready an accomplished conspirator, an ambitious knave who sticks atnothing. He has dared to dispute Madame de la Meilleraie with me. Canyou conceive it? He dispute with me! A petty priestling, who hasno other merit than a little lively small-talk and a cavalier air. Fortunately, the husband himself took care to get rid of him. "

Father Joseph, who listened with equal impatience to his master whenhe spoke of his 'bonnes fortunes' or of his verses, made, however, agrimace which he meant to be very sly and insinuating, but which wassimply ugly and awkward; he fancied that the expression of his mouth, twisted about like a monkey's, conveyed, "Ah! who can resist yourEminence?" But his Eminence only read there, "I am a clown who knowsnothing of the great world"; and, without changing his voice, hesuddenly said, taking up a despatch from the table:

"The Duc de Rohan is dead, that is good news; the Huguenots are ruined. He is a lucky man. I had him condemned by the Parliament of Toulouseto be torn in pieces by four horses, and here he dies quietly on thebattlefield of Rheinfeld. But what matters? The result is the same. Another great head is laid low! How they have fallen since that ofMontmorency! I now see hardly any that do not bow before me. We havealready punished almost all our dupes of Versailles; assuredly they havenothing with which to reproach me. I simply exercise against them thelaw of retaliation, treating them as they would have treated me in thecouncil of the Queen-mother. The old dotard Bassompierre shall be doomedfor perpetual imprisonment, and so shall the assassin Marechal deVitry, for that was the punishment they voted me. As for Marillac, whocounselled death, I reserve death for him at the first false step hemakes, and I beg thee, Joseph, to remind me of him; we must be just toall. The Duc de Bouillon still keeps up his head proudly on accountof his Sedan, but I shall make him yield. Their blindness is trulymarvellous! They think themselves all free to conspire, not perceivingthat they are merely fluttering at the ends of the threads that I holdin my hand, and which I lengthen now and then to give them air andspace. Did the Huguenots cry out as one man at the death of their dearduke?"

"Less so than at the affair of Loudun, which is happily concluded. "

"What! Happily? I hope that Grandier is dead?"

"Yes; that is what I meant. Your Eminence may be fully satisfied. Allwas settled in twenty-four hours. He is no longer thought of. OnlyLaubardemont committed a slight blunder in making the trial public. Thiscaused a little tumult; but we have a description of the rioters, andmeasures have been taken to seek them out. "

"This is well, very well. Urbain was too superior a man to be leftthere; he was turning Protestant. I would wager that he would have endedby abjuring. His work against the celibacy of priests made me conjecturethis; and in cases of doubt, remember, Joseph, it is always best to cutthe tree before the fruit is gathered. These Huguenots, you see, forma regular republic in the State. If once they had a majority in France, the monarchy would be lost, and they would establish some populargovernment which might be durable. "

"And what deep pain do they daily cause our holy Father the Pope!" saidJoseph. 

"Ah, " interrupted the Cardinal, "I see; thou wouldst remind me of hisobstinacy in not giving thee the hat. Be tranquil; I will speak to-dayon the subject to the new ambassador we are sending, the Marechald'Estrees, and he will, on his arrival, doubtless obtain that whichhas been in train these two years--thy nomination to the cardinalate. I myself begin to think that the purple would become thee well, for itdoes not show blood-stains. "

And both burst into laughter--the one as a master, overwhelming theassassin whom he pays with his utter scorn; the other as a slave, resigned to all the humiliation by which he rises. 

The laughter which the ferocious pleasantry of the old minister hadexcited had hardly subsided, when the door opened, and a page announcedseveral couriers who had arrived simultaneously from different points. Father Joseph arose, and, leaning against the wall like an Egyptianmummy, allowed nothing to appear upon his face but an expression ofstolid contemplation. Twelve messengers entered successively, attired invarious disguises; one appeared to be a Swiss soldier, another a sutler, a third a master-mason. They had been introduced into the palace by asecret stairway and corridor, and left the cabinet by a door oppositethat at which they had entered, without any opportunity of meeting oneanother or communicating the contents of their despatches. Each laid arolled or folded packet of papers on the large table, spoke for a momentwith the Cardinal in the embrasure of a window and withdrew. Richelieuhad risen on the entrance of the first messenger, and, careful to do allhimself, had received them all, listened to all, and with his own handhad closed the door upon all. When the last was gone, he signed toFather Joseph, and, without speaking, both proceeded to unfold, or, rather, to tear open, the packets of despatches, and in a few wordscommunicated to each other the substance of the letters. 

"The Due de Weimar pursues his advantage; the Duc Charles is defeated. Our General is in good spirits; here are some of his lively remarks attable. Good!"

"Monseigneur le Vicomte de Turenne has retaken the towns of Lorraine;and here are his private conversations--"

"Oh! pass over them; they can not be dangerous. He is ever a good andhonest man, in no way mixing himself up with politics; so that some onegives him a little army to play at chess with, no matter against whom, he is content. We shall always be good friends. "

"The Long Parliament still endures in England. The Commons pursuetheir project; there are massacres in Ireland. The Earl of Strafford iscondemned to death. "

"To death! Horrible!"

"I will read: 'His Majesty Charles I has not had the courage to sign thesentence, but he has appointed four commissioners. '"

"Weak king, I abandon thee! Thou shalt have no more of our money. Fall, since thou art ungrateful! Unhappy Wentworth!"

A tear rose in the eyes of Richelieu as he said this; the man who hadbut now played with the lives of so many others wept for a ministerabandoned by his prince. The similarity between that position and hisown affected him, and it was his own case he deplored in the person ofthe foreign minister. He ceased to read aloud the despatches thathe opened, and his confidant followed his example. He examined withscrupulous attention the detailed accounts of the most minute andsecret actions of each person of any importance-accounts which he alwaysrequired to be added to the official despatches made by his able spies. All the despatches to the King passed through his hands, and werecarefully revised so as to reach the King amended to the state in whichhe wished him to read them. The private notes were all carefully burnedby the monk after the Cardinal had ascertained their contents. Thelatter, however, seemed by no means satisfied, and he was walkingquickly to and fro with gestures expressive of anxiety, when the dooropened, and a thirteenth courier entered. This one seemed a boy hardlyfourteen years old; he held under his arm a packet sealed with blackfor the King, and gave to the Cardinal only a small letter, of whicha stolen glance from Joseph could collect but four words. The Cardinalstarted, tore the billet into a thousand pieces, and, bending down tothe ear of the boy, spoke to him for a long time; all that Joseph heardwas, as the messenger went out:

"Take good heed to this; not until twelve hours from this time. "

During this aside of the Cardinal, Joseph was occupied in concealing aninfinite number of libels from Flanders and Germany, which the ministeralways insisted upon seeing, however bitter they might be to him. Inthis respect, he affected a philosophy which he was far from possessing, and to deceive those around him he would sometimes pretend that hisenemies were not wholly wrong, and would outwardly laugh at theirpleasantries; but those who knew his character better detected bitterrage lurking under this apparent moderation, and knew that he was neversatisfied until he had got the hostile book condemned by the parliamentto be burned in the Place de Greve, as "injurious to the King, in theperson of his minister, the most illustrious Cardinal, " as we read inthe decrees of the time, and that his only regret was that the authorwas not in the place of his book--a satisfaction he gave himselfwhenever he could, as in the case of Urbain Grandier. 

It was his colossal pride which he thus avenged, without avowing it evento himself--nay, laboring for a length of time, sometimes for a wholetwelvemonth together, to persuade himself that the interest of the Statewas concerned in the matter. Ingenious in connecting his private affairswith the affairs of France, he had convinced himself that she bledfrom the wounds which he received. Joseph, careful not to irritatehis ill-temper at this moment, put aside and concealed a book entitled'Mystres Politiques du Cardinal de la Rochelle'; also another, attributed to a monk of Munich, entitled 'Questions quolibetiques, ajustees au temps present, et Impiete Sanglante du dieu Mars'. Theworthy advocate Aubery, who has given us one of the most faithfulhistories of the most eminent Cardinal, is transported with rage at themere title of the first of these books, and exclaims that "the greatminister had good reason to glorify himself that his enemies, inspiredagainst their will with the same enthusiasm which conferred the gift ofrendering oracles upon the ass of Balaam, upon Caiaphas and others, who seemed most unworthy of the gift of prophecy, called him with goodreason Cardinal de la Rochelle, since three years after their writinghe reduced that town; thus Scipio was called Africanus for havingsubjugated that PROVINCE!" Very little was wanting to make FatherJoseph, who had necessarily the same feelings, express his indignationin the same terms; for he remembered with bitterness the ridiculous parthe had played in the siege of Rochelle, which, though not a provincelike Africa, had ventured to resist the most eminent Cardinal, and intowhich Father Joseph, piquing himself on his military skill, had proposedto introduce the troops through a sewer. However, he restrained himself, and had time to conceal the libel in the pocket of his brown robe erethe minister had dismissed his young courier and returned to the table. 

"And now to depart, Joseph, " he said. "Open the doors to all thatcourt which besieges me, and let us go to the King, who awaits me atPerpignan; this time I have him for good. "

The Capuchin drew back, and immediately the pages, throwing open thegilded doors, announced in succession the greatest lords of the period, who had obtained permission from the King to come and salute theminister. Some, even, under the pretext of illness or business, haddeparted secretly, in order not to be among the last at Richelieu'sreception; and the unhappy monarch found himself almost as alone asother kings find themselves on their deathbeds. But with him, the throneseemed, in the eyes of the court, his dying couch, his reign a continuallast agony, and his minister a threatening successor. 

Two pages, of the first families of France, stood at the door, where theushers announced each of the persons whom Father Joseph had found in theante room. The Cardinal, still seated in his great arm chair, remainedmotionless as the common couriers entered, inclined his head to the moredistinguished, and to princes alone put his hands on the elbows of hischair and slightly rose; each person, having profoundly saluted him, stood before him near the fireplace, waited till he had spoken to him, and then, at a wave of his hand, completed the circuit of the room, andwent out by the same door at which he had entered, paused for a momentto salute Father Joseph, who aped his master, and who for that reasonhad been named "his Gray Eminence, " and at last quitted the palace, unless, indeed, he remained standing behind the chair, if the ministerhad signified that he should, which was considered a token of very greatfavor. 

He allowed to pass several insignificant persons, and many whose meritswere useless to him; the first whom he stopped in the procession was theMarechal d'Estrees, who, about to set out on an embassy to Rome, cameto make his adieux; those behind him stopped short. This circumstancewarned the courtiers in the anteroom that a longer conversation thanusual was on foot, and Father Joseph, advancing to the threshold, exchanged with the Cardinal a glance which seemed to say, on the oneside, "Remember the promise you have just made me, " on the other, "Setyour mind at rest. " At the same time, the expert Capuchin let his mastersee that he held upon his arm one of his victims, whom he was forminginto a docile instrument; this was a young gentleman who wore a veryshort green cloak, a pourpoint of the same color, close-fitting redbreeches, with glittering gold garters below the knee-the costume of thepages of Monsieur. Father Joseph, indeed, spoke to him secretly, but notin the way the Cardinal imagined; for he contemplated being his equal, and was preparing other connections, in case of defection on the part ofthe prime minister. 

"Tell Monsieur not to trust in appearances, and that he has no servantmore faithful than I. The Cardinal is on the decline, and my consciencetells me to warn against his faults him who may inherit the royal powerduring the minority. To give your great Prince a proof of my faith, tellhim that it is intended to arrest his friend, Puy-Laurens, and that hehad better be kept out of the way, or the Cardinal will put him in theBastille. "

While the servant was thus betraying his master, the master, not tobe behindhand with him, betrayed his servant. His self-love, and someremnant of respect to the Church, made him shudder at the idea of seeinga contemptible agent invested with the same hat which he himself woreas a crown, and seated as high as himself, except as to the precariousposition of minister. Speaking, therefore, in an undertone to theMarechal d'Estrees, he said:

"It is not necessary to importune Urbain VIII any further in favor ofthe Capuchin you see yonder; it is enough that his Majesty has deignedto name him for the cardinalate. One can readily conceive the repugnanceof his Holiness to clothe this mendicant in the Roman purple. "

Then, passing on to general matters, he continued:

"Truly, I know not what can have cooled the Holy Father toward us; whathave we done that was not for the glory of our Holy Mother, the CatholicChurch?"

"I myself said the first mass at Rochelle, and you see for yourself, Monsieur le Marechal, that our habit is everywhere; and even in yourarmies, the Cardinal de la Vallette has commanded gloriously in thepalatinate. "

"And has just made a very fine retreat, " said the Marechal, laying aslight emphasis upon the word. 

The minister continued, without noticing this little outburst ofprofessional jealousy, and raising his voice, said:

"God has shown that He did not scorn to send the spirit of victory uponhis Levites, for the Duc de Weimar did not more powerfully aid in theconquest of Lorraine than did this pious Cardinal, and never was a navalarmy better commanded than by our Archbishop of Bordeaux at Rochelle. "

It was well known that at this very time the minister was incensedagainst this prelate, whose haughtiness was so overbearing, and whoseimpertinent ebullitions were so frequent as to have involved him intwo very disagreeable affairs at Bordeaux. Four years before, the Ducd'Epernon, then governor of Guyenne, followed by all his train and byhis troops, meeting him among his clergy in a procession, had calledhim an insolent fellow, and given him two smart blows with his cane;whereupon the Archbishop had excommunicated him. And again, recently, despite this lesson, he had quarrelled with the Marechal de Vitry, from whom he had received "twenty blows with a cane or stick, which youplease, " wrote the Cardinal Duke to the Cardinal de la Vallette, "andI think he would like to excommunicate all France. " In fact, he didexcommunicate the Marechal's baton, remembering that in the former casethe Pope had obliged the Duc d'Epernon to ask his pardon; but M. Vitry, who had caused the Marechal d'Ancre to be assassinated, stood too highat court for that, and the Archbishop, in addition to his beating, gotwell scolded by the minister. 

M. D'Estrees thought, therefore, sagely that there might be some ironyin the Cardinal's manner of referring to the warlike talents of theArchbishop, and he answered, with perfect sang-froid:

"It is true, my lord, no one can say that it was upon the sea he wasbeaten. "

His Eminence could not restrain a smile at this; but seeing that theelectrical effect of that smile had created others in the hall, as wellas whisperings and conjectures, he immediately resumed his gravity, andfamiliarly taking the Marechal's arm, said:

"Come, Monsieur l'Ambassadeur, you are ready at repartee. With you Ishould not fear Cardinal Albornos, or all the Borgias in the world--no, nor all the efforts of their Spain with the Holy Father. "

Then, raising his voice, and looking around, as if addressing himself tothe silent, and, so to speak, captive assembly, he continued:

"I hope that we shall no more be reproached, as formerly, for havingformed an alliance with one of the greatest men of our day; but asGustavus Adolphus is dead, the Catholic King will no longer have anypretext for soliciting the excommunication of the most Christian King. How say you, my dear lord?" addressing himself to the Cardinal de laVallette, who now approached, fortunately without having heard the lateallusion to himself. "Monsieur d'Estrees, remain near our chair; we havestill many things to say to you, and you are not one too many in ourconversations, for we have no secrets. Our policy is frank and open toall men; the interest of his Majesty and of the State--nothing more. "

The Marechal made a profound bow, fell back behind the chair ofthe minister, and gave place to the Cardinal de la Vallette, who, incessantly bowing and flattering and swearing devotion and entireobedience to the Cardinal, as if to expiate the obduracy of his father, the Duc d'Epernon, received in return a few vague words, to no meaningor purpose, the Cardinal all the while looking toward the door, tosee who should follow. He had even the mortification to find himselfabruptly interrupted by the minister, who cried at the most flatteringperiod of his honeyed discourse:

"Ah! is that you at last, my dear Fabert? How I have longed to see you, to talk of the siege!"

The General, with a brusque and awkward manner, saluted theCardinal-Generalissimo, and presented to him the officers who had comefrom the camp with him. He talked some time of the operations of thesiege, and the Cardinal seemed to be paying him court now, in orderto prepare him afterward for receiving his orders even on the field ofbattle; he spoke to the officers who accompanied him, calling them bytheir names, and questioning them about the camp. 

They all stood aside to make way for the Duc d'Angouleme--that Valois, who, having struggled against Henri IV, now prostrated himself beforeRichelieu. He solicited a command, having been only third in rank atthe siege of Rochelle. After him came young Mazarin, ever supple andinsinuating, but already confident in his fortune. 

The Duc d'Halluin came after them; the Cardinal broke off thecompliments he was addressing to the others, to utter, in a loud voice:

"Monsieur le Duc, I inform you with pleasure that the King has made youa marshal of France; you will sign yourself Schomberg, will you not, atLeucate, delivered, as we hope, by you? But pardon me, here is Monsieurde Montauron, who has doubtless something important to communicate. "

"Oh, no, my lord, I would only say that the poor young man whom youdeigned to consider in your service is dying of hunger. "

"Pshaw! at such a moment to speak of things like this! Your littleCorneille will not write anything good; we have only seen 'Le Cid' and'Les Horaces' as yet. Let him work, let him work! it is known that heis in my service, and that is disagreeable. However, since you interestyourself in the matter, I give him a pension of five hundred crowns onmy privy purse. "

The Chancellor of the Exchequer retired, charmed with the liberalityof the minister, and went home to receive with great affability thededication of Cinna, wherein the great Corneille compares his soulto that of Augustus, and thanks him for having given alms 'a quelquesMuses'. 

The Cardinal, annoyed by this importunity, rose, observing that the daywas advancing, and that it was time to set out to visit the King. 

At this moment, and as the greatest noblemen present were offering theirarms to aid him in walking, a man in the robe of a referendary advancedtoward him, saluting him with a complacent and confident smile whichastonished all the people there, accustomed to the great world, seemingto say: "We have secret affairs together; you shall see how agreeable hemakes himself to me. I am at home in his cabinet. " His heavy and awkwardmanner, however, betrayed a very inferior being; it was Laubardemont. 

Richelieu knit his brows when he saw him, and cast a glance at Joseph;then, turning toward those who surrounded him, he said, with bitterscorn:

"Is there some criminal about us to be apprehended?"

Then, turning his back upon the discomfited Laubardemont, the Cardinalleft him redder than his robe, and, preceded by the crowd of personageswho were to escort him in carriages or on horseback, he descended thegreat staircase of the palace. 

All the people and the authorities of Narbonne viewed this royaldeparture with amazement. 

The Cardinal entered alone a spacious square litter, in which he wasto travel to Perpignan, his infirmities not permitting him to go ina coach, or to perform the journey on horseback. This kind of movingchamber contained a bed, a table, and a small chair for the page whowrote or read for him. This machine, covered with purple damask, wascarried by eighteen men, who were relieved at intervals of a league;they were selected among his guards, and always performed this serviceof honor with uncovered heads, however hot or wet the weather might be. The Duc d'Angouleme, the Marechals de Schomberg and d'Estrees, Fabert, and other dignitaries were on horseback beside the litter; after them, among the most prominent were the Cardinal de la Vallette and Mazarin, with Chavigny, and the Marechal de Vitry, anxious to avoid the Bastille, with which it was said he was threatened. 

Two coaches followed for the Cardinal's secretaries, physicians, andconfessor; then eight others, each with four horses, for his gentlemen, and twenty-four mules for his luggage. Two hundred musketeers on footmarched close behind him, and his company of men-at-arms of the guardand his light-horse, all gentlemen, rode before and behind him onsplendid horses. 

Such was the equipage in which the prime minister proceeded toPerpignan; the size of the litter often made it necessary to enlarge theroads, and knock down the walls of some of the towns and villages on theway, into which it could not otherwise enter, "so that, " say the authorsand manuscripts of the time, full of a sincere admiration for all thisluxury--"so that he seemed a conqueror entering by the breach. " We havesought in vain with great care in these documents, for any account ofproprietors or inhabitants of these dwellings so making room for hispassage who shared in this admiration; but we have been unable to findany mention of such. 

CHAPTER VIII. THE INTERVIEW

The pompous cortege of the Cardinal halted at the beginning of the camp. All the armed troops were drawn up in the finest order; and amid thesound of cannon and the music of each regiment the litter traversed along line of cavalry and infantry, formed from the outermost tent tothat of the minister, pitched at some distance from the royal quarters, and which its purple covering distinguished at a distance. Each generalof division obtained a nod or a word from the Cardinal, who at lengthreaching his tent and, dismissing his train, shut himself in, waitingfor the time to present himself to the King. But, before him, everyperson of his escort had repaired thither individually, and, withoutentering the royal abode, had remained in the long galleries coveredwith striped stuff, and arranged as became avenues leading to thePrince. The courtiers walking in groups, saluted one another and shookhands, regarding each other haughtily, according to their connections orthe lords to whom they belonged. Others whispered together, and showedsigns of astonishment, pleasure, or anger, which showed that somethingextraordinary had taken place. Among a thousand others, one singulardialogue occurred in a corner of the principal gallery. 

"May I ask, Monsieur l'Abbe, why you look at me so fixedly?"

"Parbleu! Monsieur de Launay, it is because I'm curious to see what youwill do. All the world abandons your Cardinal-Duke since your journeyinto Touraine; if you do not believe it, go and ask the people ofMonsieur or of the Queen. You are behind-hand ten minutes by thewatch with the Cardinal de la Vallette, who has just shaken hands withRochefort and the gentlemen of the late Comte de Soissons, whom I shallregret as long as I live. "

"Monsieur de Gondi, I understand you; is it a challenge with which youhonor me?"

"Yes, Monsieur le Comte, " answered the young Abbe, saluting him with allthe gravity of the time; "I sought an occasion to challenge you in thename of Monsieur d'Attichi, my friend, with whom you had something to doat Paris. "

"Monsieur l'Abbe, I am at your command. I will seek my seconds; do youthe same. "

"On horseback, with sword and pistol, I suppose?" added Gondi, with theair of a man arranging a party of pleasure, lightly brushing the sleeveof his cassock. 

"If you please, " replied the other. And they separated for a time, saluting one another with the greatest politeness, and with profoundbows. 

A brilliant crowd of gentlemen circulated around them in the gallery. They mingled with it to procure friends for the occasion. All theelegance of the costumes of the day was displayed by the court thatmorning-small cloaks of every color, in velvet or in satin, embroideredwith gold or silver; crosses of St. Michael and of the Holy Ghost; theruffs, the sweeping hat-plumes, the gold shoulder-knots, the chainsby which the long swords hung: all glittered and sparkled, yet not sobrilliantly as did the fiery glances of those warlike youths, ortheir sprightly conversation, or their intellectual laughter. Amid theassembly grave personages and great lords passed on, followed by theirnumerous gentlemen. 

The little Abbe de Gondi, who was very shortsighted, made his waythrough the crowd, knitting his brows and half shutting his eyes, thathe might see the better, and twisting his moustache, for ecclesiasticswore them in those days. He looked closely at every one in order torecognize his friends, and at last stopped before a young man, very talland dressed in black from head to foot; his sword, even, was of quitedark, bronzed steel. He was talking with a captain of the guards, whenthe Abbe de Gondi took him aside. 

"Monsieur de Thou, " said he, "I need you as my second in an hour, onhorseback, with sword and pistol, if you will do me that honor. "

"Monsieur, you know I am entirely at your service on all occasions. Where shall we meet?"

"In front of the Spanish bastion, if you please. "

"Pardon me for returning to a conversation that greatly interests me. Iwill be punctual at the rendezvous. "

And De Thou quitted him to rejoin the Captain. He had said all this inthe gentlest of voices with unalterable coolness, and even with somewhatof an abstracted manner. 

The little Abbe squeezed his hand with warm satisfaction, and continuedhis search. 

He did not so easily effect an agreement with the young lords to whom headdressed himself; for they knew him better than did De Thou, and whenthey saw him coming they tried to avoid him, or laughed at him openly, and would not promise to serve him. 

"Ah, Abbe! there you are hunting again; I'll swear it's a second youwant, " said the Duc de Beaufort. 

"And I wager, " added M. De la Rochefoucauld, "that it's against one ofthe Cardinal-Duke's people. "

"You are both right, gentlemen; but since when have you laughed ataffairs of honor?"

"The saints forbid I should, " said M. De Beaufort. "Men of the swordlike us ever reverence tierce, quarte, and octave; but as for the foldsof the cassock, I know nothing of them. "

"Pardieu! Monsieur, you know well enough that it does not embarrassmy wrist, as I will prove to him who chooses; as to the gown itself, Ishould like to throw it into the gutter. "

"Is it to tear it that you fight so often?" asked La Rochefoucauld. "Butremember, my dear Abbe, that you yourself are within it. "

Gondi turned to look at the clock, wishing to lose no more time in suchsorry jests; but he had no better success elsewhere. Having stoppedtwo gentlemen in the service of the young Queen, whom he thoughtill-affected toward the Cardinal, and consequently glad to measureweapons with his creatures, one of them said to him very gravely:

"Monsieur de Gondi, you know what has just happened; the King has saidaloud, 'Whether our imperious Cardinal wishes it or not, the widow ofHenri le Grand shall no longer remain in exile. ' Imperious! the Kingnever before said anything so strong as that, Monsieur l'Abbe, markthat. Imperious! it is open disgrace. Certainly no one will dare tospeak to him; no doubt he will quit the court this very day. "

"I have heard this, Monsieur, but I have an affair--"

"It is lucky for you he stopped short in the middle of your career. "

"An affair of honor--"

"Whereas Mazarin is quite a friend of yours. "

"But will you, or will you not, listen to me?"

"Yes, a friend indeed! your adventures are always uppermost in histhoughts. Your fine duel with Monsieur de Coutenan about the prettylittle pin-maker, --he even spoke of it to the King. Adieu, my dear Abbe, we are in great haste; adieu, adieu!" And, taking his friend's arm, theyoung mocker, without listening to another word, walked rapidly down thegallery and disappeared in the throng. 

The poor Abbe was much mortified at being able to get only one second, and was watching sadly the passing of the hour and of the crowd, whenhe perceived a young gentleman whom he did not know, seated at atable, leaning on his elbow with a pensive air; he wore mourning whichindicated no connection with any great house or party, and appeared toawait, without any impatience, the time for attending the King, lookingwith a heedless air at those who surrounded him, and seeming not tonotice or to know any of them. 

Gondi looked at him a moment, and accosted him without hesitation:

"Monsieur, I have not the honor of your acquaintance, but afencing-party can never be unpleasant to a man of honor; and if you willbe my second, in a quarter of an hour we shall be on the ground. I amPaul de Gondi; and I have challenged Monsieur de Launay, one of theCardinal's clique, but in other respects a very gallant fellow. "

The unknown, apparently not at all surprised at this address, replied, without changing his attitude: "And who are his seconds?"

"Faith, I don't know; but what matters it who serves him? We stand noworse with our friends for having exchanged a thrust with them. "

The stranger smiled nonchalantly, paused for an instant to pass his handthrough his long chestnut hair, and then said, looking idly at a large, round watch which hung at his waist:

"Well, Monsieur, as I have nothing better to do, and as I have nofriends here, I am with you; it will pass the time as well as anythingelse. "

And, taking his large, black-plumed hat from the table, he followed thewarlike Abbe, who went quickly before him, often running back to hastenhim on, like a child running before his father, or a puppy that goesbackward and forward twenty times before it gets to the end of a street. 

Meanwhile, two ushers, attired in the royal livery, opened the greatcurtains which separated the gallery from the King's tent, and silencereigned. The courtiers began to enter slowly, and in succession, thetemporary dwelling of the Prince. He received them all gracefully, andwas the first to meet the view of each person introduced. 

Before a very small table surrounded with gilt armchairs stood LouisXIII, encircled by the great officers of the crown. His dress was veryelegant: a kind of fawn-colored vest, with open sleeves, ornamented withshoulder-knots and blue ribbons, covered him down to the waist. Widebreeches reached to the knee, and the yellow-and-red striped stuffof which they were made was ornamented below with blue ribbons. Hisriding-boots, reaching hardly more than three inches above the ankle, were turned over, showing so lavish a lining of lace that they seemed tohold it as a vase holds flowers. A small mantle of blue velvet, on whichwas embroidered the cross of the Holy Ghost, covered the King's leftarm, which rested on the hilt of his sword. 

His head was uncovered, and his pale and noble face was distinctlyvisible, lighted by the sun, which penetrated through the top of thetent. The small, pointed beard then worn augmented the appearance ofthinness in his face, while it added to its melancholy expression. Byhis lofty brow, his classic profile, his aquiline nose, he was at oncerecognized as a prince of the great race of Bourbon. He had all thecharacteristic traits of his ancestors except their penetratingglance; his eyes seemed red from weeping, and veiled with a perpetualdrowsiness; and the weakness of his vision gave him a somewhat vacantlook. 

He called around him, and was attentive to, the greatest enemies of theCardinal, whom he expected every moment; and, balancing himself withone foot over the other, an hereditary habit of his family, he spokequickly, but pausing from time to time to make a gracious inclination ofthe head, or a gesture of the hand, to those who passed before him withlow reverences. 

The court had been thus paying its respects to the King for two hoursbefore the Cardinal appeared; the whole court stood in close ranksbehind the Prince, and in the long galleries which extended fromhis tent. Already longer intervals elapsed between the names of thecourtiers who were announced. 

"Shall we not see our cousin the Cardinal?" said the King, turning, andlooking at Montresor, one of Monsieur's gentlemen, as if to encouragehim to answer. 

"He is said to be very ill just now, Sire, " was the answer. 

"And yet I do not see how any but your Majesty can cure him, " said theDuc de Beaufort. 

"We cure nothing but the king's evil, " replied Louis; "and thecomplaints of the Cardinal are always so mysterious that we own we cannot understand them. "

The Prince thus essayed to brave his minister, gaining strength injests, the better to break his yoke, insupportable, but so difficult toremove. He almost thought he had succeeded in this, and, sustainedby the joyous air surrounding him, he already privately congratulatedhimself on having been able to assume the supreme empire, and for themoment enjoyed all the power of which he fancied himself possessed. Aninvoluntary agitation in the depth of his heart had warned him indeedthat, the hour passed, all the burden of the State would fall uponhimself alone; but he talked in order to divert the troublesome thought, and, concealing from himself the doubt he had of his own inabilityto reign, he set his imagination to work upon the result of hisenterprises, thus forcing himself to forget the tedious roads which hadled to them. Rapid phrases succeeded one another on his lips. 

"We shall soon take Perpignan, " he said to Fabert, who stood at somedistance. 

"Well, Cardinal, Lorraine is ours, " he added to La Vallette. Then, touching Mazarin's arm:

"It is not so difficult to manage a State as is supposed, eh?"

The Italian, who was not so sure of the Cardinal's disgrace as most ofthe courtiers, answered, without compromising himself:

"Ah, Sire, the late successes of your Majesty at home and abroad proveyour sagacity in choosing your instruments and in directing them, and--"

But the Duc de Beaufort, interrupting him with that self-confidence, that loud voice and overbearing air, which subsequently procured him thesurname of Important, cried out, vehemently:

"Pardieu! Sire, it needs only to will. A nation is driven like a horse, with spur and bridle; and as we are all good horsemen, your Majesty hasonly to choose among us. "

This fine sally had not time to take effect, for two ushers cried, simultaneously, "His Eminence!"

The King's face flushed involuntarily, as if he had been surprised enflagrant delit. But immediately gaining confidence, he assumed an air ofresolute haughtiness, which was not lost upon the minister. 

The latter, attired in all the pomp of a cardinal, leaning upon twoyoung pages, and followed by his captain of the guards and more thanfive hundred gentlemen attached to his house, advanced toward the Kingslowly and pausing at each step, as if forced to it by his sufferings, but in reality to observe the faces before him. A glance sufficed. 

His suite remained at the entrance of the royal tent; of all thosewithin it, not one was bold enough to salute him, or to look towardhim. Even La Vallette feigned to be occupied in a conversation withMontresor; and the King, who desired to give him an unfavorablereception, greeted him lightly and continued a private conversation in alow voice with the Duc de Beaufort. 

The Cardinal was therefore forced, after the first salute, to stop andpass to the side of the crowd of courtiers, as if he wished to minglewith them, but in reality to test them more closely; they all recoiledas at the sight of a leper. Fabert alone advanced toward him with thefrank, brusque air habitual with him, and, making use of the termsbelonging to his profession, said:

"Well, my lord, you make a breach in the midst of them like acannon-ball; I ask pardon in their name. "

"And you stand firm before me as before the enemy, " said the Cardinal;"you will have no cause to regret it in the end, my dear Fabert. "

Mazarin also approached the Cardinal, but with caution, and, giving tohis mobile features an expression of profound sadness, made him fiveor six very low bows, turning his back to the group gathered around theKing, so that in the latter quarter they might be taken for those coldand hasty salutations which are made to a person one desires to be ridof, and, on the part of the Duke, for tokens of respect, blended with adiscreet and silent sorrow. 

The minister, ever calm, smiled disdainfully; and, assuming that firmlook and that air of grandeur which he always wore in the hour ofdanger, he again leaned upon his pages, and, without waiting for a wordor a glance from his sovereign, he suddenly resolved upon his line ofconduct, and walked directly toward him, traversing the whole lengthof the tent. No one had lost sight of him, although all affected not toobserve him. Every one now became silent, even those who were conversingwith the King. All the courtiers bent forward to see and to hear. 

Louis XIII turned toward him in astonishment, and, all presence ofmind totally failing him, remained motionless and waited with an icyglance-his sole force, but a force very effectual in a prince. 

The Cardinal, on coming close to the monarch, did not bow; and, withoutchanging his attitude, with his eyes lowered and his hands placed on theshoulders of the two boys half bending, he said:

"Sire, I come to implore your Majesty at length to grant me theretirement for which I have long sighed. My health is failing; I feelthat my life will soon be ended. Eternity approaches me, and beforerendering an account to the eternal King, I would render one to myearthly sovereign. It is eighteen years, Sire, since you placed inmy hands a weak and divided kingdom; I return it to you united andpowerful. Your enemies are overthrown and humiliated. My work isaccomplished. I ask your Majesty's permission to retire to Citeaux, ofwhich I am abbot, and where I may end my days in prayer and meditation. "

The King, irritated by some haughty expressions in this address, showednone of the signs of weakness which the Cardinal had expected, andwhich he had always seen in him when he had threatened to resign themanagement of affairs. On the contrary, feeling that he had the eyes ofthe whole court upon him, Louis looked upon him with the air of a king, and coldly replied:

"We thank you, then, for your services, Monsieur le Cardinal, and wishyou the repose you desire. "

Richelieu was deeply moved, but no indication of his anger appeared uponhis countenance. "Such was the coldness with which you left Montmorencyto die, " he said to himself; "but you shall not escape me thus. " He thencontinued aloud, bowing at the same time:

"The only recompense I ask for my services is that your Majesty willdeign to accept from me, as a gift, the Palais-Cardinal I have erectedat my own expense in Paris. "

The King, astonished, bowed his assent. A murmur of surprise for amoment agitated the attentive court. 

"I also throw myself at your Majesty's feet, to beg that you will grantme the revocation of an act of rigor, which I solicited (I publiclyconfess it), and which I perhaps regarded too hastily beneficial to therepose of the State. Yes, when I was of this world, I was too forgetfulof my early sentiments of personal respect and attachment, in myeagerness for the public welfare; but now that I already enjoy theenlightenment of solitude, I see that I have done wrong, and I repent. "

The attention of the spectators was redoubled, and the uneasiness of theKing became visible. 

"Yes, there is one person, Sire, whom I have always loved, despite herwrong toward you, and the banishment which the affairs of the kingdomforced me to bring about for her; a person to whom I have owed much, and who should be very dear to you, notwithstanding her armed attemptsagainst you; a person, in a word, whom I implore you to recall fromexile--the Queen Marie de Medicis, your mother!"

The King uttered an involuntary exclamation, so little did he expect tohear that name. A repressed agitation suddenly appeared upon every face. All waited in silence the King's reply. Louis XIII looked for a longtime at his old minister without speaking, and this look decided thefate of France; in that instant he called to mind all the indefatigableservices of Richelieu, his unbounded devotion, his wonderful capacity, and was surprised at himself for having wished to part with him. He feltdeeply affected at this request, which had probed for the exact cause ofhis anger at the bottom of his heart, and uprooted it, thus taking fromhis hands the only weapon he had against his old servant. Filial lovebrought words of pardon to his lips and tears into his eyes. Rejoicingto grant what he desired most of all things in the world, he extendedhis hands to the Duke with all the nobleness and kindliness of aBourbon. The Cardinal bowed and respectfully kissed it; and his heart, which should have burst with remorse, only swelled in the joy of ahaughty triumph. 

The King, deeply touched, abandoning his hand to him, turned gracefullytoward his court and said, with a trembling voice:

"We often deceive ourselves, gentlemen, and especially in our knowledgeof so great a politician as this. "

"I hope he will never leave us, since his heart is as good as his head. "

Cardinal de la Vallette instantly seized the sleeve of the King'smantle, and kissed it with all the ardor of a lover, and the youngMazarin did much the same with Richelieu himself, assuming, withadmirable Italian suppleness, an expression radiant with joy andtenderness. Two streams of flatterers hastened, one toward the King, theother toward the minister; the former group, not less adroit than thesecond, although less direct, addressed to the Prince thanks which couldbe heard by the minister, and burned at the feet of the one incensewhich was intended for the other. As for Richelieu, bowing and smilingto right and left, he stepped forward and stood at the right hand ofthe King as his natural place. A stranger entering would rather havethought, indeed, that it was the King who was on the Cardinal's lefthand. The Marechal d'Estrees, all the ambassadors, the Duc d'Angouleme, the Due d'Halluin (Schomberg), the Marechal de Chatillon, and all thegreat officers of the crown surrounded him, each waiting impatiently forthe compliments of the others to be finished, in order to pay his own, fearing lest some one else should anticipate him with the flatteringepigram he had just improvised, or the phrase of adulation he wasinventing. 

As for Fabert, he had retired to a corner of the tent, and seemed tohave paid no particular attention to the scene. He was chatting withMontresor and the gentlemen of Monsieur, all sworn enemies of theCardinal, because, out of the throng he avoided, he had found none butthese to speak to. This conduct would have seemed extremely tactless inone less known; but although he lived in the midst of the court, he wasever ignorant of its intrigues. It was said of him that he returned froma battle he had gained, like the King's hunting-horse, leaving the dogsto caress their master and divide the quarry, without seeking even toremember the part he had had in the triumph. 

The storm, then, seemed entirely appeased, and to the violent agitationsof the morning succeeded a gentle calm. A respectful murmur, variedwith pleasant laughter and protestations of attachment, was all that washeard in the tent. The voice of the Cardinal arose from time to time:"The poor Queen! We shall, then, soon again see her! I never had daredto hope for such happiness while I lived!" The King listened to him withfull confidence, and made no attempt to conceal his satisfaction. "Itwas assuredly an idea sent to him from on high, " he said; "this goodCardinal, against whom they had so incensed me, was thinking only ofthe union of my family. Since the birth of the Dauphin I have not tastedgreater joy than at this moment. The protection of the Holy Virgin ismanifested over our kingdom. "

At this moment, a captain of the guards came up and whispered in theKing's ear. 

"A courier from Cologne?" said the King; "let him wait in my cabinet. "

Then, unable to restrain his impatience, "I will go! I will go!" hesaid, and entered alone a small, square tent attached to the larger one. In it he saw a young courier holding a black portfolio, and the curtainsclosed upon the King. 

The Cardinal, left sole master of the court, concentrated all itshomage; but it was observed that he no longer received it with hisformer presence of mind. He inquired frequently what time it was, andexhibited an anxiety which was not assumed; his hard, unquiet glancesturned toward the smaller tent. It suddenly opened; the King appearedalone, and stopped on the threshold. He was paler than usual, andtrembled in every limb; he held in his hand a large letter with fiveblack seals. 

"Gentlemen, " said he, in a loud but broken voice, "the Queen has justdied at Cologne; and I perhaps am not the first to hear of it, " headded, casting a severe look toward the impassible Cardinal, "but Godknows all! To horse in an hour, and attack the lines! Marechals, followme. " And he turned his back abruptly, and reentered his cabinet withthem. 

The court retired after the minister, who, without giving any sign ofsorrow or annoyance, went forth as gravely as he had entered, but now avictor. 

BOOK 3. 

CHAPTER IX. THE SIEGE

There are moments in our life when we long ardently for strongexcitement to drown our petty griefs--times when the soul, like the lionin the fable, wearied with the continual attacks of the gnat, earnestlydesires a mightier enemy and real danger. Cinq-Mars found himself inthis condition of mind, which always results from a morbid sensibilityin the organic constitution and a perpetual agitation of the heart. Weary of continually turning over in his mind a combination of theevents which he desired, and of those which he dreaded; weary ofcalculating his chances to the best of his power; of summoning to hisassistance all that his education had taught him concerning the livesof illustrious men, in order to compare it with his present situation;oppressed by his regrets, his dreams, predictions, fancies, and all thatimaginary world in which he had lived during his solitary journey-hebreathed freely upon finding himself thrown into a real world almostas full of agitation; and the realizing of two actual dangers restoredcirculation to his blood, and youth to his whole being. 

Since the nocturnal scene at the inn near Loudun, he had not beenable to resume sufficient empire over his mind to occupy himself withanything save his cherished though sad reflections; and consumptionwas already threatening him, when happily he arrived at the campof Perpignan, and happily also had the opportunity of accepting theproposition of the Abbe de Gondi--for the reader has no doubt recognizedCinq-Mars in the person of that young stranger in mourning, so carelessand so melancholy, whom the duellist in the cassock invited to be hissecond. 

He had ordered his tent to be pitched as a volunteer in the street ofthe camp assigned to the young noblemen who were to be presented tothe King and were to serve as aides-de-camp to the Generals; hesoon repaired thither, and was quickly armed, horsed, and cuirassed, according to the custom of the time, and set out alone for the Spanishbastion, the place of rendezvous. He was the first arrival, and foundthat a small plot of turf, hidden among the works of the besieged place, had been well chosen by the little Abbe for his homicidal purposes; forbesides the probability that no one would have suspected officersof engaging in a duel immediately beneath the town which they wereattacking, the body of the bastion separated them from the French camp, and would conceal them like an immense screen. It was wise to take theseprecautions, for at that time it cost a man his head to give himself thesatisfaction of risking his body. 

While waiting for his friends and his adversaries, Cinq-Mars had timeto examine the southern side of Perpignan, before which he stood. He hadheard that these works were not those which were to be attacked, andhe tried in vain to account for the besieger's projects. Between thissouthern face of the town, the mountains of Albere, and the Col duPerthus, there might have been advantageous lines of attack, andredoubts against the accessible point; but not a single soldier wasstationed there. All the forces seemed directed upon the north ofPerpignan, upon the most difficult side, against a brick fort called theCastillet, which surmounted the gate of Notre-Dame. He discovered that apiece of ground, apparently marshy, but in reality very solid, led upto the very foot of the Spanish bastion; that this post was guarded withtrue Castilian negligence, although its sole strength lay entirely inits defenders; for its battlements, almost in ruin, were furnished withfour pieces of cannon of enormous calibre, embedded in the turf, andthus rendered immovable, and impossible to be directed against a troopadvancing rapidly to the foot of the wall. 

It was easy to see that these enormous pieces had discouraged thebesiegers from attacking this point, and had kept the besieged from anyidea of addition to its means of defence. Thus, on the one side, thevedettes and advanced posts were at a distance, and on the other, thesentinels were few and ill supported. A young Spaniard, carrying a longgun, with its rest suspended at his side and the burning match in hisright hand, who was walking with nonchalance upon the rampart, stoppedto look at Cinq-Mars, who was riding about the ditches and moats. 

"Senor caballero, " he cried, "are you going to take the bastion byyourself on horseback, like Don Quixote--Quixada de la Mancha?"

At the same time he detached from his side the iron rest, planted it inthe ground, and supported upon it the barrel of his gun in order to takeaim, when a grave and older Spaniard, enveloped in a dirty brown cloak, said to him in his own tongue:

"'Ambrosio de demonio', do you not know that it is forbidden to throwaway powder uselessly, before sallies or attacks are made, merely tohave the pleasure of killing a boy not worth your match? It was in thisvery place that Charles the Fifth threw the sleeping sentinel into theditch and drowned him. Do your duty, or I shall follow his example. "

Ambrosio replaced the gun upon his shoulder, the rest at his side, andcontinued his walk upon the rampart. 

Cinq-Mars had been little alarmed at this menacing gesture, contentinghimself with tightening the reins of his horse and bringing the spursclose to his sides, knowing that with a single leap of the nimble animalhe should be carried behind the wall of a hut which stood near by, andshould thus be sheltered from the Spanish fusil before the operationof the fork and match could be completed. He knew, too, that a tacitconvention between the two armies prohibited marksmen from firing uponthe sentinels; each party would have regarded it as assassination. The soldier who had thus prepared to attack Cinq-Mars must have beenignorant of this understanding. Young D'Effiat, therefore, made novisible movement; and when the sentinel had resumed his walk uponthe rampart, he again betook himself to his ride upon the turf, andpresently saw five cavaliers directing their course toward him. Thefirst two, who came on at full gallop, did not salute him, but, stoppingclose to him, leaped to the ground, and he found himself in the arms ofthe Counsellor de Thou, who embraced him tenderly, while the little Abbede Gondi, laughing heartily, cried:

"Behold another Orestes recovering his Pylades, and at the moment ofimmolating a rascal who is not of the family of the King of kings, Iassure you. "

"What! is it you, my dear Cinq-Mars?" cried De Thou; "and I knew notof your arrival in the camp! Yes, it is indeed you; I recognize you, although you are very pale. Have you been ill, my dear friend? I haveoften written to you; for my boyish friendship has always remained in myheart. "

"And I, " answered Henri d'Effiat, "I have been very culpable toward you;but I will relate to you all the causes of my neglect. I can speakof them, but I was ashamed to write them. But how good you are! Yourfriendship has never relaxed. "

"I knew you too well, " replied De Thou; "I knew that there could be noreal coldness between us, and that my soul had its echo in yours. "

With these words they embraced once more, their eyes moist with thosesweet tears which so seldom flow in one's life, but with which it seems, nevertheless, the heart is always charged, so much relief do they givein flowing. 

This moment was short; and during these few words, Gondi had beenpulling them by their cloaks, saying:

"To horse! to horse, gentlemen! Pardieu! you will have time enough toembrace, if you are so affectionate; but do not delay. Let our firstthought be to have done with our good friends who will soon arrive. Weare in a fine position, with those three villains there before us, thearchers close by, and the Spaniards up yonder! We shall be under threefires. "

He was still speaking, when De Launay, finding himself at about sixtypaces from his opponents, with his seconds, who were chosen from his ownfriends rather than from among the partisans of the Cardinal, put hishorse to a canter, advanced gracefully toward his young adversaries, andgravely saluted them. 

"Gentlemen, I think that we shall do well to select our men, and to takethe field; for there is talk of attacking the lines, and I must be at mypost. "

"We are ready, Monsieur, " said Cinq-Mars; "and as for selectingopponents, I shall be very glad to become yours, for I have notforgotten the Marechal de Bassompierre and the wood of Chaumont. Youknow my opinion concerning your insolent visit to my mother. "

"You are very young, Monsieur. In regard to Madame, your mother, Ifulfilled the duties of a man of the world; toward the Marechal, thoseof a captain of the guard; here, those of a gentleman toward Monsieurl'Abbe, who has challenged me; afterward I shall have that honor withyou. "

"If I permit you, " said the Abbe, who was already on horseback. 

They took sixty paces of ground--all that was afforded them by theextent of the meadow that enclosed them. The Abbe de Gondi was stationedbetween De Thou and his friend, who sat nearest the ramparts, upon whichtwo Spanish officers and a score of soldiers stood, as in a balcony, to witness this duel of six persons--a spectacle common enough to them. They showed the same signs of joy as at their bullfights, and laughedwith that savage and bitter laugh which their temperament derives fromtheir admixture of Arab blood. 

At a sign from Gondi, the six horses set off at full gallop, and met, without coming in contact, in the middle of the arena; at that instant, six pistol-shots were heard almost together, and the smoke covered thecombatants. 

When it dispersed, of the six cavaliers and six horses but three men andthree animals were on their legs. Cinq-Mars was on horseback, givinghis hand to his adversary, as calm as himself; at the other end of thefield, De Thou stood by his opponent, whose horse he had killed, andwhom he was helping to rise. As for Gondi and De Launay, neither wasto be seen. Cinq-Mars, looking about for them anxiously, perceived theAbbe's horse, which, caracoling and curvetting, was dragging after himthe future cardinal, whose foot was caught in the stirrup, and who wasswearing as if he had never studied anything but the language of thecamp. His nose and hands were stained and bloody with his fall and withhis efforts to seize the grass; and he was regarding with considerabledissatisfaction his horse, which in spite of himself he irritatedwith his spurs, making its way to the trench, filled with water, whichsurrounded the bastion, when, happily, Cinq-Mars, passing between theedge of the swamp and the animal, seized its bridle and stopped itscareer. 

"Well, my dear Abbe, I see that no great harm has come to you, for youspeak with decided energy. "

"Corbleu!" cried Gondi, wiping the dust out of his eyes, "to fire apistol in the face of that giant I had to lean forward and rise in mystirrups, and thus I lost my balance; but I fancy that he is down, too. "

"You are right, sir, " said De Thou, coming up; "there is his horseswimming in the ditch with its master, whose brains are blown out. Wemust think now of escaping. "

"Escaping! That, gentlemen, will be rather difficult, " said theadversary of Cinq-Mars, approaching. "Hark! there is the cannon-shot, the signal for the attack. I did not expect it would have been given sosoon. If we return we shall meet the Swiss and the foot-soldiers, whoare marching in this direction. "

"Monsieur de Fontrailles says well, " said De Thou; "but if we do notreturn, here are these Spaniards, who are running to arms, and whoseballs we shall presently have whistling about our heads. "

"Well, let us hold a council, " said Gondi; "summon Monsieur deMontresor, who is uselessly occupied in searching for the body of poorDe Launay. You have not wounded him, Monsieur De Thou?"

"No, Monsieur l'Abbe; not every one has so good an aim as you, " saidMontresor, bitterly, limping from his fall. "We shall not have time tocontinue with the sword. "

"As to continuing, I will not consent to it, gentlemen, " saidFontrailles; "Monsieur de Cinq-Mars has behaved too nobly toward me. My pistol went off too soon, and his was at my very cheek--I feel thecoldness of it now--but he had the generosity to withdraw it and fire inthe air. I shall not forget it; and I am his in life and in death. "

"We must think of other things now, " interrupted Cinq-Mars; "a ball hasjust whistled past my ear. The attack has begun on all sides; and we aresurrounded by friends and by enemies. "

In fact, the cannonading was general; the citadel, the town, andthe army were covered with smoke. The bastion before them as yet wasunassailed, and its guards seemed less eager to defend it than toobserve the fate of the other fortifications. 

"I believe that the enemy has made a sally, " said Montresor, "for thesmoke has cleared from the plain, and I see masses of cavalry chargingunder the protection of the battery. "

"Gentlemen, " said Cinq-Mars, who had not ceased to observe the walls, "there is a very decided part which we could take, an important share inthis--we might enter this ill-guarded bastion. "

"An excellent idea, Monsieur, " said Fontrailles; "but we are but fiveagainst at least thirty, and are in plain sight and easily counted. "

"Faith, the idea is not bad, " said Gondi; "it is better to be shot upthere than hanged down here, as we shall be if we are found, for DeLaunay must be already missed by his company, and all the court knows ofour quarrel. "

"Parbleu! gentlemen, " said Montresor, "help is coming to us. "

A numerous troop of horse, in great disorder, advanced toward them atfull gallop; their red uniform made them visible from afar. It seemedto be their intention to halt on the very ground on which were ourembarrassed duellists, for hardly had the first cavalier reached it whencries of "Halt!" were repeated and prolonged by the voices of the chiefswho were mingled with their cavaliers. 

"Let us go to them; these are the men-at-arms of the King's guard, " saidFontrailles. "I recognize them by their black cockades. I see also manyof the light-horse with them; let us mingle in the disorder, for I fancythey are 'ramenes'. "

This is a polite phrase signifying in military language "put to rout. "All five advanced toward the noisy and animated troops, and found thatthis conjecture was right. But instead of the consternation which onemight expect in such a case, they found nothing but a youthful andrattling gayety, and heard only bursts of laughter from the twocompanies. 

"Ah, pardieu! Cahuzac, " said one, "your horse runs better than mine; Isuppose you have exercised it in the King's hunts!"

"Ah, I see, 'twas that we might be the sooner rallied that you arrivedhere first, " answered the other. 

"I think the Marquis de Coislin must be mad, to make four hundred of uscharge eight Spanish regiments. "

"Ha! ha! Locmaria, your plume is a fine ornament; it looks like aweeping willow. If we follow that, it will be to our burial. "

"Gentlemen, I said to you before, " angrily replied the young officer, "that I was sure that Capuchin Joseph, who meddles in everything, wasmistaken in telling us to charge, upon the part of the Cardinal. Butwould you have been satisfied if those who have the honor of commandingyou had refused to charge?"

"No, no, no!" answered all the young men, at the same time formingthemselves quickly into ranks. 

"I said, " interposed the old Marquis de Coislin, who, despite his whitehead, had all the fire of youth in his eyes, "that if you were commandedto mount to the assault on horseback, you would do it. "

"Bravo! bravo!" cried all the men-at-arms, clapping their hands. 

"Well, Monsieur le Marquis, " said Cinq-Mars, approaching, "here is anopportunity to execute what you have promised. I am only a volunteer;but an instant ago these gentlemen and I examined this bastion, and Ibelieve that it is possible to take it. "

"Monsieur, we must first examine the ditch to see--"

At this moment a ball from the rampart of which they were speakingstruck in the head the horse of the old captain, laying it low. 

"Locmaria, De Mouy, take the command, and to the assault!" cried the twonoble companies, believing their leader dead. 

"Stop a moment, gentlemen, " said old Coislin, rising, "I will lead you, if you please. Guide us, Monsieur volunteer, for the Spaniards invite usto this ball, and we must reply politely. "

Hardly had the old man mounted another horse, which one of his menbrought him, and drawn his sword, when, without awaiting his order, allthese ardent youths, preceded by Cinq-Mars and his friends, whose horseswere urged on by the squadrons behind, had thrown themselves intothe morass, wherein, to their great astonishment and to that of theSpaniards, who had counted too much upon its depth, the horses werein the water only up to their hams; and in spite of a discharge ofgrape-shot from the two largest pieces, all reached pell-mell a strip ofland at the foot of the half-ruined ramparts. In the ardor of the rush, Cinq-Mars and Fontrailles, with the young Locmaria, forced their horsesupon the rampart itself; but a brisk fusillade killed the three animals, which rolled over their masters. 

"Dismount all, gentlemen!" cried old Coislin; "forward with pistol andsword! Abandon your horses!"

All obeyed instantly, and threw themselves in a mass upon the breach. 

Meantime, De Thou, whose coolness never quitted him any more than hisfriendship, had not lost sight of the young Henri, and had received himin his arms when his horse fell. He helped him to rise, restored tohim his sword, which he had dropped, and said to him, with the greatestcalmness, notwithstanding the balls which rained on all sides:

"My friend, do I not appear very ridiculous amid all this skirmish, inmy costume of Counsellor in Parliament?"

"Parbleu!" said Montresor, advancing, "here's the Abbe, who quitejustifies you. "

And, in fact, little Gondi, pushing on among the light horsemen, wasshouting, at the top of his voice: "Three duels and an assault. I hopeto get rid of my cassock at last!"

Saying this, he cut and thrust at a tall Spaniard. 

The defence was not long. The Castilian soldiers were no match for theFrench officers, and not one of them had time or courage to recharge hiscarbine. 

"Gentlemen, we will relate this to our mistresses in Paris, " saidLocmaria, throwing his hat into the air; and Cinq-Mars, De Thou, Coislin, De Mouy, Londigny, officers of the red companies, and all theyoung noblemen, with swords in their right hands and pistols in theirleft, dashing, pushing, and doing each other by their eagerness as muchharm as they did the enemy, finally rushed upon the platform of thebastion, as water poured from a vase, of which the opening is too small, leaps out in interrupted gushes. 

Disdaining to occupy themselves with the vanquished soldiers, who castthemselves at their feet, they left them to look about the fort, without even disarming them, and began to examine their conquest, likeschoolboys in vacation, laughing with all their hearts, as if they wereat a pleasure-party. 

A Spanish officer, enveloped in his brown cloak, watched them with asombre air. 

"What demons are these, Ambrosio?" said he to a soldier. "I never havemet with any such before in France. If Louis XIII has an entire armythus composed, it is very good of him not to conquer all Europe. "

"Oh, I do not believe they are very numerous; they must be some pooradventurers, who have nothing to lose and all to gain by pillage. "

"You are right, " said the officer; "I will try to persuade one of themto let me escape. "

And slowly approaching, he accosted a young light-horseman, of abouteighteen, who was sitting apart from his comrades upon the parapet. Hehad the pink-and-white complexion of a young girl; his delicate handheld an embroidered handkerchief, with which he wiped his forehead andhis golden locks He was consulting a large, round watch set with rubies, suspended from his girdle by a knot of ribbons. 

The astonished Spaniard paused. Had he not seen this youth overthrowhis soldiers, he would not have believed him capable of anythingbeyond singing a romance, reclined upon a couch. But, filled with thesuggestion of Ambrosio, he thought that he might have stolen theseobjects of luxury in the pillage of the apartments of a woman; so, goingabruptly up to him, he said:

"Hombre! I am an officer; will you restore me to liberty, that I mayonce more see my country?"

The young Frenchman looked at him with the gentle expression of his age, and, thinking of his own family, he said:

"Monsieur, I will present you to the Marquis de Coislin, who will, Idoubt not, grant your request; is your family of Castile or of Aragon?"

"Your Coislin will ask the permission of somebody else, and will makeme wait a year. I will give you four thousand ducats if you will let meescape. "

That gentle face, those girlish features, became infused with the purpleof fury; those blue eyes shot forth lightning; and, exclaiming, "Moneyto me! away, fool!" the young man gave the Spaniard a ringing box onthe ear. The latter, without hesitating, drew a long poniard from hisbreast, and, seizing the arm of the Frenchman, thought to plunge iteasily into his heart; but, nimble and vigorous, the youth caught him bythe right arm, and, lifting it with force above his head, sent it backwith the weapon it held upon the head of the Spaniard, who was furiouswith rage. 

"Eh! eh! Softly, Olivier!" cried his comrades, running from alldirections; "there are Spaniards enough on the ground already. "

And they disarmed the hostile officer. 

"What shall we do with this lunatic?" said one. 

"I should not like to have him for my valet-dechambre, " returnedanother. 

"He deserves to be hanged, " said a third; "but, faith, gentlemen, wedon't know how to hang. Let us send him to that battalion of Swiss whichis now passing across the plain. "

And the calm and sombre Spaniard, enveloping himself anew in his cloak, began the march of his own accord, followed by Ambrosio, to join thebattalion, pushed by the shoulders and urged on by five or six of theseyoung madcaps. 

Meantime, the first troop of the besiegers, astonished at their success, had followed it out to the end; Cinq-Mars, so advised by the agedCoislin, had made with him the circuit of the bastion, and found totheir vexation that it was completely separated from the city, and thatthey could not follow up their advantage. They, therefore, returnedslowly to the platform, talking by the way, to rejoin De Thou and theAbbe de Gondi, whom they found laughing with the young light-horsemen. 

"We have Religion and justice with us, gentlemen; we could not fail totriumph. "

"No doubt, for they fought as hard as we. "

There was silence at the approach of Cinq-Mars, and they remained foran instant whispering and asking his name; then all surrounded him, andtook his hand with delight. 

"Gentlemen, you are right, " said their old captain; "he is, as ourfathers used to say, the best doer of the day. He is a volunteer, who isto be presented today to the King by the Cardinal. "

"By the Cardinal! We will present him ourselves. Ah, do not let him be aCardinalist; he is too good a fellow for that!" exclaimed all the youngmen, with vivacity. 

"Monsieur, I will undertake to disgust you with him, " said Olivierd'Entraigues, approaching Cinq-Mars, "for I have been his page. Ratherserve in the red companies; come, you will have good comrades there. "

The old Marquis saved Cinq-Mars the embarrassment of replying, byordering the trumpets to sound and rally his brilliant companies. Thecannon was no longer heard, and a soldier announced that the King andthe Cardinal were traversing the lines to examine the results of theday. He made all the horses pass through the breach, which was tolerablywide, and ranged the two companies of cavalry in battle array, upon aspot where it seemed impossible that any but infantry could penetrate. 

CHAPTER X. THE RECOMPENSE

Cardinal Richelieu had said to himself, "To soften the first paroxysm ofthe royal grief, to open a source of emotions which shall turn from itssorrow this wavering soul, let this city be besieged; I consent. LetLouis go; I will allow him to strike a few poor soldiers with the blowswhich he wishes, but dares not, to inflict upon me. Let his anger drownitself in this obscure blood; I agree. But this caprice of glory shallnot derange my fixed designs; this city shall not fall yet. It shall notbecome French forever until two years have past; it shall come into mynets only on the day upon which I have fixed in my own mind. Thunder, bombs, and cannons; meditate upon your operations, skilful captains;hasten, young warriors. I shall silence your noise, I shall dissipateyour projects, and make your efforts abortive; all shall end in vainsmoke, for I shall conduct in order to mislead you. "

This is the substance of what passed in the bald head of the Cardinalbefore the attack of which we have witnessed a part. He was stationed onhorseback, upon one of the mountains of Salces, north of the city; fromthis point he could see the plain of Roussillon before him, sloping tothe Mediterranean. Perpignan, with its ramparts of brick, its bastions, its citadel, and its spire, formed upon this plain an oval and sombremass on its broad and verdant meadows; the vast mountains surrounded it, and the valley, like an enormous bow curved from north to south, while, stretching its white line in the east, the sea looked like its silvercord. On his right rose that immense mountain called the Canigou, whose sides send forth two rivers into the plain below. The French lineextended to the foot of this western barrier. A crowd of generals and ofgreat lords were on horseback behind the minister, but at twenty paces'distance and profoundly silent. 

Cardinal Richelieu had at first followed slowly the line of operations, but had later returned and stationed himself upon this height, whencehis eye and his thought hovered over the destinies of besiegers andbesieged. The whole army had its eyes upon him, and could see him fromevery point. All looked upon him as their immediate chief, and awaitedhis gesture before they acted. France had bent beneath his yoke a longtime; and admiration of him shielded all his actions to which anotherwould have been often subjected. At this moment, for instance, no onethought of smiling, or even of feeling surprised, that the cuirassshould clothe the priest; and the severity of his character andaspect suppressed every thought of ironical comparisons or injuriousconjectures. This day the Cardinal appeared in a costume entirelymartial: he wore a reddish-brown coat, embroidered with gold, awater-colored cuirass, a sword at his side, pistols at his saddle-bow, and he had a plumed hat; but this he seldom put on his head, which wasstill covered with the red cap. Two pages were behind him; one carriedhis gauntlets, the other his casque, and the captain of his guards wasat his side. 

As the King had recently named him generalissimo of his troops, it wasto him that the generals sent for their orders; but he, knowing only toowell the secret motives of his master's present anger, affected to referto that Prince all who sought a decision from his own mouth. It happenedas he had foreseen; for he regulated and calculated the movements ofthat heart as those of a watch, and could have told with precisionthrough what sensations it had passed. Louis XIII came and placedhimself at his side; but he came as a pupil, forced to acknowledge thathis master is in the right. His air was haughty and dissatisfied, hislanguage brusque and dry. The Cardinal remained impassible. It wasremarked that the King, in consulting him, employed the words ofcommand, thus reconciling his weakness and his power of place, hisirresolution and his pride, his ignorance and his pretensions, while hisminister dictated laws to him in a tone of the most profound obedience. 

"I will have them attack immediately, Cardinal, " said the Prince oncoming up; "that is to say, " he added, with a careless air, "when allyour preparations are made, and you have fixed upon the hour with ourgenerals. "

"Sire, if I might venture to express my judgment, I should be glad didyour Majesty think proper to begin the attack in a quarter of an hour, for that will give time enough to advance the third line. "

"Yes, yes; you are right, Monsieur le Cardinal! I think so, too. I willgo and give my orders myself; I wish to do everything myself. Schomberg, Schomberg! in a quarter of an hour I wish to hear the signal-gun; Icommand it. "

And Schomberg, taking the command of the right wing, gave the order, andthe signal was made. 

The batteries, arranged long since by the Marechal de la Meilleraie, began to batter a breach, but slowly, because the artillerymen felt thatthey had been directed to attack two impregnable points; and because, with their experience, and above all with the common sense and quickperception of French soldiers, any one of them could at once haveindicated the point against which the attack should have been directed. The King was surprised at the slowness of the firing. 

"La Meilleraie, " said he, impatiently, "these batteries do not playwell; your cannoneers are asleep. "

The principal artillery officers were present as well as the Marechal;but no one answered a syllable. They had looked toward the Cardinal, who remained as immovable as an equestrian statue, and they imitatedhis example. The answer must have been that the fault was not with thesoldiers, but with him who had ordered this false disposition of thebatteries; and this was Richelieu himself, who, pretending to believethem more useful in that position, had stopped the remarks of thechiefs. 

The King, astonished at this silence, and, fearing that he had committedsome gross military blunder by his question, blushed slightly, and, approaching the group of princes who had accompanied him, said, in orderto reassure himself:

"D'Angouleme, Beaufort, this is very tiresome, is it not? We stand herelike mummies. "

Charles de Valois drew near and said:

"It seems to me, Sire, that they are not employing here the machines ofthe engineer Pompee-Targon. "

"Parbleu!" said the Duc de Beaufort, regarding Richelieu fixedly, "thatis because we were more eager to take Rochelle than Perpignan at thetime that Italian came. Here we have not an engine ready, not a mine, not a petard beneath these walls; and the Marechal de la Meilleraie toldme this morning that he had proposed to bring some with which to openthe breach. It was neither the Castillet, nor the six great bastionswhich surround it, nor the half-moon, we should have attacked. If we goon in this way, the great stone arm of the citadel will show us its fista long time yet. "

The Cardinal, still motionless, said not a single word; he only made asign to Fabert, who left the group in attendance, and ranged his horsebehind that of Richelieu, close to the captain of his guards. 

The Duc de la Rochefoucauld, drawing near the King, said:

"I believe, Sire, that our inactivity makes the enemy insolent, forlook! here is a numerous sally, directing itself straight towardyour Majesty; and the regiments of Biron and De Ponts fall back afterfiring. "

"Well!" said the King, drawing his sword, "let us charge and force thosevillains back again. Bring on the cavalry with me, D'Angouleme. Where isit, Cardinal?"

"Behind that hill, Sire, there are in column six regiments of dragoons, and the carabineers of La Roque; below you are my men-at-arms and mylight horse, whom I pray your Majesty to employ, for those of yourMajesty's guard are ill guided by the Marquis de Coislin, who is evertoo zealous. Joseph, go tell him to return. "

He whispered to the Capuchin, who had accompanied him, huddled up inmilitary attire, which he wore awkwardly, and who immediately advancedinto the plain. 

In the mean time, the compact columns of the old Spanish infantry issuedfrom the gate of Notre-Dame like a dark and moving forest, while fromanother gate proceeded the heavy cavalry, which drew up on the plain. The French army, in battle array at the foot of the hill where the Kingstood, behind fortifications of earth, behind redoubts and fascines ofturf, perceived with alarm the men-at-arms and the light horse pressedbetween these two forces, ten times their superior in numbers. 

"Sound the charge!" cried Louis XIII; "or my old Coislin is lost. "

And he descended the hill, with all his suite as ardent as himself; butbefore he reached the plain and was at the head of his musketeers, thetwo companies had taken their course, dashing off with the rapidityof lightning, and to the cry of "Vive le Roi!" They fell upon the longcolumn of the enemy's cavalry like two vultures upon a serpent; and, making a large and bloody gap, they passed beyond, and rallied behindthe Spanish bastion, leaving the enemy's cavalry so astonished that theythought only of re-forming their own ranks, and not of pursuing. 

The French army uttered a burst of applause; the King paused inamazement. He looked around him, and saw a burning desire for attack inall eyes; the valor of his race shone in his own. He paused yet anotherinstant in suspense, listening, intoxicated, to the roar of the cannon, inhaling the odor of the powder; he seemed to receive another life, andto become once more a Bourbon. All-who looked on him felt as if theywere commanded by another man, when, raising his sword and his eyestoward the sun, he cried:

"Follow me, brave friends! here I am King of France!"

His cavalry, deploying, dashed off with an ardor which devoured space, and, raising billows of dust from the ground, which trembled beneaththem, they were in an instant mingled with the Spanish cavalry, and bothwere swallowed up in an immense and fluctuating cloud. 

"Now! now!" cried the Cardinal, in a voice of thunder, from hiselevation, "now remove the guns from their useless position! Fabert, give your orders; let them be all directed upon the infantry whichslowly approaches to surround the King. Haste! save the King!"

Immediately the Cardinal's suite, until then sitting erect as somany statues, were in motion. The generals gave their orders; theaides-de-camp galloped off into the plain, where, leaping over theditches, barriers, and palisades, they arrived at their destinationas soon as the thought that directed them and the glance that followedthem. 

Suddenly the few and interrupted flashes which had shone from thediscouraged batteries became a continual and immense flame, leaving noroom for the smoke, which rose to the sky in an infinite number of lightand floating wreaths; the volleys of cannon, which had seemed like farand feeble echoes, changed into a formidable thunder whose roll was asrapid as that of drums beating the charge; while from three oppositepoints large red flashes from fiery mouths fell upon the dark columnswhich issued from the besieged city. 

Meantime, without changing his position, but with ardent eyes andimperative gestures, Richelieu ceased not to multiply his orders, casting upon those who received them a look which implied a sentence ofdeath if he was not instantly obeyed. 

"The King has overthrown the cavalry; but the foot still resist. Ourbatteries have only killed, they have not conquered. Forward withthree regiments of infantry instantly, Gassion, La Meilleraie, andLesdiguieres! Take the enemy's columns in flank. Order the rest of thearmy to cease from the attack, and to remain motionless throughout thewhole line. Bring paper! I will write myself to Schomberg. "

A page alighted and advanced, holding a pencil and paper. The minister, supported by four men of his suite, also alighted, but with difficulty, uttering a cry, wrested from him by pain; but he conquered it by aneffort, and seated himself upon the carriage of a cannon. The pagepresented his shoulder as a desk; and the Cardinal hastily penned thatorder which contemporary manuscripts have transmitted to us, and whichmight well be imitated by the diplomatists of our day, who are, itseems, more desirous to maintain themselves in perfect balance betweentwo ideas than to seek those combinations which decide the destinies ofthe world, regarding the clear and obvious dictates of true genius asbeneath their profound subtlety. 

 "M. Le Marechal, do not risk anything, and reflect before you attack. When you are thus told that the King desires you not to risk anything, you are not to understand that his Majesty forbids you to fight at all; but his intention is that you do not engage in a general battle unless it be with a notable hope of gain from the advantage which a favorable situation may present, the responsibility of the battle naturally falling upon you. "

These orders given, the old minister, still seated upon thegun-carriage, his arms resting upon the touch-hole, and his chin uponhis arms, in the attitude of one who adjusts and points a cannon, continued in silence to watch the battle, like an old wolf, which, satedwith victims and torpid with age, contemplates in the plain the ravagesof a lion among a herd of cattle, which he himself dares not attack. From time to time his eye brightens; the smell of blood rejoices him, and he laps his burning tongue over his toothless jaw. 

On that day, it was remarked by his servants--or, in other words, by allsurrounding him--that from the time of his rising until night he took nonourishment, and so fixed all the application of his soul on the eventswhich he had to conduct that he triumphed over his physical pains, seeming, by forgetting, to have destroyed them. It was this power ofattention, this continual presence of mind, that raised him almostto genius. He would have attained it quite, had he not lacked nativeelevation of soul and generous sensibility of heart. 

Everything happened upon the field of battle as he had wished, fortuneattending him there as well as in the cabinet. Louis XIII claimed witheager hand the victory which his minister had procured for him; hehad contributed himself, however, only that grandeur which consists inpersonal valor. 

The cannon had ceased to roar when the broken columns of infantry fellback into Perpignan; the remainder had met the same fate, was alreadywithin the walls, and on the plain no living man was to be seen, savethe glittering squadrons of the King, who followed him, forming ranks asthey went. 

He returned at a slow walk, and contemplated with satisfaction thebattlefield swept clear of enemies; he passed haughtily under the veryfire of the Spanish guns, which, whether from lack of skill, or by asecret agreement with the Prime Minister, or from very shame to kill aking of France, only sent after him a few balls, which, passing twofeet above his head, fell in front of the lines, and merely served toincrease the royal reputation for courage. 

At every step, however, that he took toward the spot where Richelieuawaited him, the King's countenance changed and visibly fell; he lostall the flush of combat; the noble sweat of triumph dried upon his brow. As he approached, his usual pallor returned to his face, as if havingthe right to sit alone on a royal head; his look lost its fleeting fire, and at last, when he joined the Cardinal, a profound melancholy entirelypossessed him. He found the minister as he had left him, on horseback;the latter, still coldly respectful, bowed, and after a few words ofcompliment, placed himself near Louis to traverse the lines and examinethe results of the day, while the princes and great lords, riding atsome distance before and behind, formed a crowd around them. 

The wily minister was careful not to say a word or to make a gesturethat could suggest the idea that he had had the slightest share in theevents of the day; and it was remarkable that of all those who came tohand in their reports, there was not one who did not seem to divine histhoughts, and exercise care not to compromise his occult power byopen obedience. All reports were made to the King. The Cardinal thentraversed, by the side of the Prince, the right of the camp, which hadnot been under his view from the height where he had remained; andhe saw with satisfaction that Schomberg, who knew him well, had actedprecisely as his master had directed, bringing into action only a fewof the light troops, and fighting just enough not to incur reproach forinaction, and not enough to obtain any distinct result. This line ofconduct charmed the minister, and did not displease the King, whosevanity cherished the idea of having been the sole conqueror that day. Heeven wished to persuade himself, and to have it supposed, that all theefforts of Schomberg had been fruitless, saying to him that he was notangry with him, that he had himself just had proof that the enemy beforehim was less despicable than had been supposed. 

"To show you that you have lost nothing in our estimation, " he added, "we name you a knight of our order, and we give you public and privateaccess to our person. "

The Cardinal affectionately pressed his hand as he passed him, and theMarechal, astonished at this deluge of favors, followed the Prince withhis bent head, like a culprit, recalling, to console himself, allthe brilliant actions of his career which had remained unnoticed, andmentally attributing to them these unmerited rewards to reconcile themto his conscience. 

The King was about to retrace his steps, when the Due de Beaufort, withan astonished air, exclaimed:

"But, Sire, have I still the powder in my eyes, or have I beensun-struck? It appears to me that I see upon yonder bastion severalcavaliers in red uniforms who greatly resemble your light horse whom wethought to be killed. "

The Cardinal knitted his brows. 

"Impossible, Monsieur, " he said; "the imprudence of Monsieur de Coislinhas destroyed his Majesty's men-at-arms and those cavaliers. It is forthat reason I ventured just now to say to the King that if the uselesscorps were suppressed, it might be very advantageous from a militarypoint of view. "

"Pardieu! your Eminence will pardon me, " answered the Duc de Beaufort;"but I do not deceive myself, and there are seven or eight of themdriving prisoners before them. "

"Well! let us go to the point, " said the King; "if I find my old Coislinthere I shall be very glad. "

With great caution, the horses of the King and his suite passed acrossthe marsh, and with infinite astonishment their riders saw on theramparts the two red companies in battle array as on parade. 

"Vive Dieu!" cried Louis; "I think that not one of them is missing!Well, Marquis, you keep your word--you take walls on horseback. "

"In my opinion, this point was ill chosen, " said Richelieu, withdisdain; "it in no way advances the taking of Perpignan, and must havecost many lives. "

"Faith, you are right, " said the King, for the first time since theintelligence of the Queen's death addressing the Cardinal withoutdryness; "I regret the blood which must have been spilled here. "

"Only two of own young men have been wounded in the attack, Sire, "said old Coislin; "and we have gained new companions-in-arms, in thevolunteers who guided us. "

"Who are they?" said the Prince. 

"Three of them have modestly retired, Sire; but the youngest, whom yousee, was the first who proposed the assault, and the first to venturehis person in making it. The two companies claim the honor of presentinghim to your Majesty. "

Cinq-Mars, who was on horseback behind the old captain, took off his hatand showed his pale face, his large, dark eyes, and his long, chestnuthair. 

"Those features remind me of some one, " said the King; "what say you, Cardinal?"

The latter, who had already cast a penetrating glance at the newcomer, replied:

"Unless I am mistaken, this young man is--"

"Henri d'Effiat, " said the volunteer, bowing. 

"Sire, it is the same whom I had announced to your Majesty, and who wasto have been presented to you by me; the second son of the Marechal. "

"Ah!" said Louis, warmly, "I am glad to see the son of my old friendpresented by this bastion. It is a suitable introduction, my boy, forone bearing your name. You will follow us to the camp, where we havemuch to say to you. But what! you here, Monsieur de Thou? Whom have youcome to judge?"

"Sire, " answered Coislin, "he has condemned to death, without judging, sundry Spaniards, for he was the second to enter the place. "

"I struck no one, Monsieur, " interrupted De Thou reddening; "it is notmy business. Herein I have no merit; I merely accompanied my friend, Monsieur de Cinq-Mars. "

"We approve your modesty as well as your bravery, and we shall notforget this. Cardinal, is there not some presidency vacant?"

Richelieu did not like De Thou. And as the sources of his dislikewere always mysterious, it was difficult to guess the cause of thisanimosity; it revealed itself in a cruel word that escaped him. Themotive was a passage in the history of the President De Thou--the fatherof the young man now in question--wherein he stigmatized, in the eyes ofposterity, a granduncle of the Cardinal, an apostate monk, sullied withevery human vice. 

Richelieu, bending to Joseph's ear, whispered:

"You see that man; his father put my name into his history. Well, Iwill put his into mine. " And, truly enough, he subsequently wrote it inblood. At this moment, to avoid answering the King, he feigned notto have heard his question, and to be wholly intent upon the merit ofCinq-Mars and the desire to see him well placed at court. 

"I promised you beforehand to make him a captain in my guards, " said thePrince; "let him be nominated to-morrow. I would know more of him, andraise him to a higher fortune, if he pleases me. Let us now retire; thesun has set, and we are far from our army. Tell my two good companies tofollow us. "

The minister, after repeating the order, omitting the implied praise, placed himself on the King's right hand, and the whole court quittedthe bastion, now confided to the care of the Swiss, and returned to thecamp. 

The two red companies defiled slowly through the breach which theyhad effected with such promptitude; their countenances were grave andsilent. 

Cinq-Mars went up to his friend. 

"These are heroes but ill recompensed, " said he; "not a favor, not acompliment. "

"I, on the other hand, " said the simple De Thou "I, who came hereagainst my will--receive one. Such are courts, such is life; but aboveus is the true judge, whom men can not blind. "

"This will not prevent us from meeting death tomorrow, if necessary, "said the young Olivier, laughing. 

CHAPTER XI. THE BLUNDERS

In order to appear before the King, Cinq-Mars had been compelled tomount the charger of one of the light horse, wounded in the affair, having lost his own at the foot of the rampart. As the two companieswere marching out, he felt some one touch his shoulder, and, turninground, saw old Grandchamp leading a very beautiful gray horse. 

"Will Monsieur le Marquis mount a horse of his own?" said he. "I haveput on the saddle and housings of velvet embroidered in gold thatremained in the trench. Alas, when I think that a Spaniard might havetaken it, or even a Frenchman! For just now there are so many people whotake all they find, as if it were their own; and then, as the proverbsays, 'What falls in the ditch is for the soldier. ' They might also havetaken the four hundred gold crowns that Monsieur le Marquis, be it saidwithout reproach, forgot to take out of the holsters. And the pistols!Oh, what pistols! I bought them in Germany; and here they are as good asever, and with their locks perfect. It was quite enough to kill the poorlittle black horse, that was born in England as sure as I was at Toursin Touraine, without also exposing these valuables to pass into thehands of the enemy. "

While making this lamentation, the worthy man finished saddling the grayhorse. The column was long enough filing out to give him time to payscrupulous attention to the length of the stirrups and of the bands, allthe while continuing his harangue. 

"I beg your pardon, Monsieur, for being somewhat slow about this; but Isprained my arm slightly in lifting Monsieur de Thou, who himself raisedMonsieur le Marquis during the grand scuffle. "

"How camest thou there at all, stupid?" said Cinq-Mars. "That is not thybusiness. I told thee to remain in the camp. "

"Oh, as to remaining in the camp, that is out of the question. I can'tstay there; when I hear a musket-shot, I should be ill did I not see theflash. As for my business, that is to take care of your horses, and youare on them. Monsieur, think you I should not have saved, had I beenable, the life of the poor black horse down there in the trench? Ah, howI loved him!--a horse that gained three races in his time--a time tooshort for those who loved him as I loved him! He never would take hiscorn but from his dear Grandchamp; and then he would caress me withhis head. The end of my left ear that he carried away one day--poorfellow!--proves it, for it was not out of ill-will he bit it off; quitethe contrary. You should have heard how he neighed with rage when anyone else came near him; that was the reason why he broke Jean's leg. Good creature, I loved him so!

"When he fell I held him on one side with one hand and M. De Locmariawith the other. I thought at first that both he and that gentleman wouldrecover; but unhappily only one of them returned to life, and that washe whom I least knew. You seem to be laughing at what I say about yourhorse, Monsieur; you forget that in times of war the horse is thesoul of the cavalier. Yes, Monsieur, his soul; for what is it thatintimidates the infantry? It is the horse! It certainly is not the man, who, once seated, is little more than a bundle of hay. Who is it thatperforms the fine deeds that men admire? The horse. There are times whenhis master, who a moment before would rather have been far away, findshimself victorious and rewarded for his horse's valor, while the poorbeast gets nothing but blows. Who is it gains the prize in the race? Thehorse, that sups hardly better than usual, while the master pockets thegold, and is envied by his friends and admired by all the lords as if hehad run himself. Who is it that hunts the roebuck, yet puts but a morselin his own mouth? Again, the horse; sometimes the horse is eveneaten himself, poor animal! I remember in a campaign with Monsieur leMarechal, it happened that--But what is the matter, Monsieur, you growpale?"

"Bind up my leg with something--a handkerchief, a strap, or what youwill. I feel a burning pain there; I know not what. "

"Your boot is cut, Monsieur. It may be some ball; however, lead is thefriend of man. "

"It is no friend of mine, at all events. "

"Ah, who loves, chastens! Lead must not be ill spoken of! What isthat--"

While occupied in binding his master's leg below the knee, the worthyGrandchamp was about to hold forth in praise of lead as absurdly as hehad in praise of the horse, when he was forced, as well as Cinq-Mars, to hear a warm and clamorous dispute among some Swiss soldiers whohad remained behind the other troops. They were talking with muchgesticulation, and seemed busied with two men among a group of aboutthirty soldiers. 

D'Effiat, still holding out his leg to his servant, and leaning on thesaddle of his horse, tried, by listening attentively, to understand thesubject of the colloquy; but he knew nothing of German, and could notcomprehend the dispute. Grandchamp, who, still holding the boot, hadalso been listening very seriously, suddenly burst into loud laughter, holding his sides in a manner not usual with him. 

"Ha, ha, ha! Monsieur, here are two sergeants disputing which they oughtto hang of the two Spaniards there; for your red comrades did not takethe trouble to tell them. One of the Swiss says that it's the officer, the other that it's the soldier; a third has just made a proposition formeeting the difficulty. "

"And what does he say?"

"He suggests that they hang them both. "

"Stop! stop!" cried Cinq-Mars to the soldiers, attempting to walk; buthis leg would not support him. 

"Put me on my horse, Grandchamp. "

"Monsieur, you forget your wound. "

"Do as I command, and then mount thyself. "

The old servant grumblingly obeyed, and then galloped off, in fulfilmentof another imperative order, to stop the Swiss, who were just about tohang their two prisoners to a tree, or to let them hang themselves; forthe officer, with the sang-froid of his nation, had himself passed therunning noose of a rope around his own neck, and, without being told, had ascended a small ladder placed against the tree, in order to tie theother end of the rope to one of its branches. The soldier, with the samecalm indifference, was looking on at the Swiss disputing around him, while holding the ladder. 

Cinq-Mars arrived in time to save them, gave his name to the Swisssergeant, and, employing Grandchamp as interpreter, said that the twoprisoners were his, and that he would take them to his tent; that he wasa captain in the guards, and would be responsible for them. The German, ever exact in discipline, made no reply; the only resistance was onthe part of the prisoner. The officer, still on the top of the ladder, turned round, and speaking thence as from a pulpit, said, with asardonic laugh:

"I should much like to know what you do here? Who told you I wished tolive?"

"I do not ask to know anything about that, " said Cinq-Mars; "it mattersnot to me what becomes of you afterward. All I propose now is toprevent an act which seems to me unjust and cruel. You may kill yourselfafterward, if you like. "

"Well said, " returned the ferocious Spaniard; "you please me. I thoughtat first you meant to affect the generous in order to oblige me to begrateful, which is a thing I detest. Well, I consent to come down; but Ishall hate you as much as ever, for you are a Frenchman. Nor do I thankyou, for you only discharge a debt you owe me, since it was I who thismorning kept you from being shot by this young soldier while he wastaking aim at you; and he is a man who never missed a chamois in themountains of Leon. "

"Be it as you will, " said Cinq-Mars; "come down. "

It was his character ever to assume with others the mien they woretoward him; and the rudeness of the Spaniard made him as hard as irontoward him. 

"A proud rascal that, Monsieur, " said Grandchamp; "in your placeMonsieur le Marechal would certainly have left him on his ladder. Come, Louis, Etienne, Germain, escort Monsieur's prisoners--a fineacquisition, truly! If they bring you any luck, I shall be very muchsurprised. "

Cinq-Mars, suffering from the motion of his horse, rode only at the paceof his prisoners on foot, and was accordingly at a distance behind thered companies, who followed close upon the King. He meditated on his waywhat it could be that the Prince desired to say to him. A ray of hopepresented to his mind the figure of Marie de Mantua in the distance; andfor a moment his thoughts were calmed. But all his future lay in thatbrief sentence--"to please the King"; and he began to reflect upon allthe bitterness in which his task might involve him. 

At that moment he saw approaching his friend, De Thou, who, anxious athis remaining behind, had sought him in the plain, eager to aid him ifnecessary. 

"It is late, my friend; night approaches. You have delayed long; Ifeared for you. Whom have you here? What has detained you? The King willsoon be asking for you. "

Such were the rapid inquiries of the young counsellor, whose anxiety, more than the battle itself, had made him lose his accustomed serenity. 

"I was slightly wounded; I bring a prisoner, and I was thinking of theKing. What can he want me for, my friend? What must I do if heproposes to place me about his person? I must please him; and at thisthought--shall I own it?--I am tempted to fly. But I trust that I shallnot have that fatal honor. 'To please, ' how humiliating the word!'to obey' quite the opposite! A soldier runs the chance of death, and there's an end. But in what base compliances, what sacrifices ofhimself, what compositions with his conscience, what degradation of hisown thought, may not a courtier be involved! Ah, De Thou, my dear DeThou! I am not made for the court; I feel it, though I have seen it butfor a moment. There is in my temperament a certain savageness, whicheducation has polished only on the surface. At a distance, I thoughtmyself adapted to live in this all-powerful world; I even desired it, led by a cherished hope of my heart. But I shuddered at the first step;I shuddered at the mere sight of the Cardinal. The recollection of thelast of his crimes, at which I was present, kept me from addressing him. He horrifies me; I never can endure to be near him. The King's favor, too, has that about it which dismays me, as if I knew it would be fatalto me. "

"I am glad to perceive this apprehension in you; it may be mostsalutary, " said De Thou, as they rode on. "You are about to enter intocontact with power. Before, you did not even conceive it; now you willtouch it with your very hand. You will see what it is, and what handhurls the lightning. Heaven grant that that lightning may never strikeyou! You will probably be present in those councils which regulate thedestiny of nations; you will see, you will perchance originate, thosecaprices whence are born sanguinary wars, conquests, and treaties;you will hold in your hand the drop of water which swells into mightytorrents. It is only from high places that men can judge of humanaffairs; you must look from the mountaintop ere you can appreciate thelittleness of those things which from below appear to us great. "

"Ah, were I on those heights, I should at least learn the lessonyou speak of; but this Cardinal, this man to whom I must be underobligation, this man whom I know too well by his works--what will he beto me?"

"A friend, a protector, no doubt, " answered De Thou. 

"Death were a thousand times preferable to his friendship! I hate hiswhole being, even his very name; he spills the blood of men with thecross of the Redeemer!"

"What horrors are you saying, my friend? You will ruin yourself if youreveal your sentiments respecting the Cardinal to the King. "

"Never mind; in the midst of these tortuous ways, I desire to take a newone, the right line. My whole opinion, the opinion of a just man, shallbe unveiled to the King himself, if he interrogate me, even should itcost me my head. I have at last seen this King, who has been describedto me as so weak; I have seen him, and his aspect has touched me to theheart in spite of myself. Certainly, he is very unfortunate, but he cannot be cruel; he will listen to the truth. "

"Yes; but he will not dare to make it triumph, " answered the sage DeThou. "Beware of this warmth of heart, which often draws you by suddenand dangerous movements. Do not attack a colossus like Richelieu withouthaving measured him. "

"That is just like my tutor, the Abbe Quillet. My dear and prudentfriend, neither the one nor the other of you know me; you do not knowhow weary I am of myself, and whither I have cast my gaze. I must mountor die. "

"What! already ambitious?" exclaimed De Thou, with extreme surprise. 

His friend inclined his head upon his hands, abandoning the reins of hishorse, and did not answer. 

"What! has this selfish passion of a riper age obtained possession ofyou at twenty, Henri? Ambition is the saddest of all hopes. "

"And yet it possesses me entirely at present, for I see only by means ofit, and by it my whole heart is penetrated. "

"Ah, Cinq-Mars, I no longer recognize you! how different you wereformerly! I do not conceal from you that you appear to me to havedegenerated. In those walks of our childhood, when the life, and, aboveall, the death of Socrates, caused tears of admiration and envy toflow from our eyes; when, raising ourselves to the ideal of thehighest virtue, we wished that those illustrious sorrows, those sublimemisfortunes, which create great men, might in the future come upon us;when we constructed for ourselves imaginary occasions of sacrificesand devotion--if the voice of a man had pronounced, between us two, thesingle world, 'ambition, ' we should have believed that we were touchinga serpent. "

De Thou spoke with the heat of enthusiasm and of reproach. Cinq-Marswent on without answering, and still with his face in his hands. Afteran instant of silence he removed them, and allowed his eyes to be seen, full of generous tears. He pressed the hand of his friend warmly, andsaid to him, with a penetrating accent:

"Monsieur de Thou, you have recalled to me the most beautiful thoughtsof my earliest youth. Do not believe that I have fallen; I am consumedby a secret hope which I can not confide even to you. I despise, as muchas you, the ambition which will seem to possess me. All the world willbelieve in it; but what do I care for the world? As for you, noblefriend, promise me that you will not cease to esteem me, whatever youmay see me do. I swear that my thoughts are as pure as heaven itself!"

"Well, " said De Thou, "I swear by heaven that I believe you blindly; yougive me back my life!"

They shook hands again with effusion of heart, and then perceived thatthey had arrived almost before the tent of the King. 

Day was nearly over; but one might have believed that a softer daywas rising, for the moon issued from the sea in all her splendor. Thetransparent sky of the south showed not a single cloud, and it seemedlike a veil of pale blue sown with silver spangles; the air, still hot, was agitated only by the rare passage of breezes from the Mediterranean;and all sounds had ceased upon the earth. The fatigued army reposedbeneath their tents, the line of which was marked by the fires, and thebesieged city seemed oppressed by the same slumber; upon its rampartsnothing was to be seen but the arms of the sentinels, which shone in therays of the moon, or the wandering fire of the night-rounds. Nothing wasto be heard but the gloomy and prolonged cries of its guards, who warnedone another not to sleep. 

It was only around the King that all things waked, but at a greatdistance from him. This Prince had dismissed all his suite; he walkedalone before his tent, and, pausing sometimes to contemplate the beautyof the heavens, he appeared plunged in melancholy meditation. No onedared to interrupt him; and those of the nobility who had remained inthe royal quarters had gathered about the Cardinal, who, at twenty pacesfrom the King, was seated upon a little hillock of turf, fashioned intoa seat by the soldiers. There he wiped his pale forehead, fatiguedwith the cares of the day and with the unaccustomed weight of a suit ofarmor; he bade adieu, in a few hurried but always attentive and politewords, to those who came to salute him as they retired. No one was nearhim now except Joseph, who was talking with Laubardemont. The Cardinalwas looking at the King, to see whether, before reentering, this Princewould not speak to him, when the sound of the horses of Cinq-Mars washeard. The Cardinal's guards questioned him, and allowed him to advancewithout followers, and only with De Thou. 

"You are come too late, young man, to speak with the King, " said theCardinal-Duke with a sharp voice. "One can not make his Majesty wait. "

The two friends were about to retire, when the voice of Louis XIIIhimself made itself heard. This Prince was at that moment in one ofthose false positions which constituted the misfortune of his wholelife. Profoundly irritated against his minister, but not concealing fromhimself that he owed the success of the day to him, desiring, moreover, to announce to him his intention to quit the army and to raise the siegeof Perpignan, he was torn between the desire of speaking to the Cardinaland the fear lest his anger might be weakened. The minister, uponhis part, dared not be the first to speak, being uncertain as to thethoughts which occupied his master, and fearing to choose his timeill, but yet not able to decide upon retiring. Both found themselvesprecisely in the position of two lovers who have quarrelled and desireto have an explanation, when the King, seized with joy the firstopportunity of extricating himself. The chance was fatal to theminister. See upon what trifles depend those destinies which are calledgreat. 

"Is it not Monsieur de Cinq-Mars?" said the King, in a loud voice. "Lethim approach; I am waiting for him. "

Young D'Effiat approached on horseback, and at some paces from the Kingdesired to set foot to earth; but hardly had his leg touched the groundwhen he dropped upon his knees. 

"Pardon, Sire!" said he, "I believe that I am wounded;" and the bloodissued violently from his boot. 

De Thou had seen him fall, and had approached to sustain him. Richelieuseized this opportunity of advancing also, with dissembled eagerness. 

"Remove this spectacle from the eyes of the King, " said he. "You seevery well that this young man is dying. "

"Not at all, " said Louis, himself supporting him; "a king of Franceknows how to see a man die, and has no fear of the blood which flows forhim. This young man interests me. Let him be carried into my tent, andlet my doctors attend him. If his wound is not serious, he shall comewith me to Paris, for the siege is suspended, Monsieur le Cardinal. Suchis my desire; other affairs call me to the centre of the kingdom. I willleave you here to command in my absence. This is what I desired to sayto you. "

With these words the King went abruptly into his tent, preceded by hispages and his officers, carrying flambeaux. 

The royal pavilion was closed, and Cinq-Mars was borne in by De Thou andhis people, while the Duc de Richelieu, motionless and stupefied, still regarded the spot where this scene had passed. He appearedthunder-struck, and incapable of seeing or hearing those who observedhim. 

Laubardemont, still intimidated by his ill reception of the precedingday, dared not speak a word to him, and Joseph hardly recognized in himhis former master. For an instant he regretted having given himself tohim, and fancied that his star was waning; but, reflecting that he washated by all men and had no resource save in Richelieu, he seized himby the arm, and, shaking him roughly, said to him in a low voice, butharshly:

"Come, come, Monseigneur, you are chickenhearted; come with us. "

And, appearing to sustain him by the elbow, but in fact drawing him inspite of himself, with the aid of Laubardemont, he made him enter histent, as a schoolmaster forces a schoolboy to rest, fearing the effectsof the evening mist upon him. 

The prematurely aged man slowly obeyed the wishes of his two parasites, and the purple of the pavilion dropped upon him. 

CHAPTER XII. THE NIGHT-WATCH

 O coward conscience, how dost thou afflict me! The lights burn blue. It is now dead midnight, Cold, fearful drops stand on my trembling flesh. What do I fear? Myself? I love myself! SHAKESPEARE. 

Hardly was the Cardinal in his tent before he dropped, armed andcuirassed, into a great armchair; and there, holding his handkerchief tohis mouth with a fixed gaze, he remained in this attitude, lettinghis two dark confidants wonder whether contemplation or annihilationmaintained him in it. He was deadly pale, and a cold sweat streamed uponhis brow. In wiping it with a sudden movement, he threw behind him hisred cap, the only ecclesiastical sign which remained upon him, and againrested with his mouth upon his hands. The Capuchin on one side, and thesombre magistrate on the other, considered him in silence, and seemed, with their brown and black costumes like the priest and the notary of adying man. 

The friar, drawing from the depth of his chest a voice that seemedbetter suited to repeat the service of the dead than to administerconsolation, spoke first:

"If Monseigneur will recall my counsels given at Narbonne, he willconfess that I had a just presentiment of the troubles which this youngman would one day cause him. "

The magistrate continued:

"I have learned from the old deaf abbe who dined at the house ofthe Marechale d'Effiat, and who heard all, that this young Cinq-Marsexhibited more energy than one would have imagined, and that heattempted to rescue the Marechal de Bassompierre. I have still by methe detailed report of the deaf man, who played his part very well. HisEminence the Cardinal must be sufficiently convinced by it. "

"I have told Monseigneur, " resumed Joseph--for these two ferocious Seydsalternated their discourse like the shepherds of Virgil--"I have toldhim that it would be well to get rid of this young D'Effiat, and that Iwould charge myself with the business, if such were his good pleasure. It would be easy to destroy him in the opinion of the King. "

"It would be safer to make him die of his wound, " answered Laubardemont;"if his Eminence would have the goodness to command me, I knowintimately the assistant-physician, who cured me of a blow on theforehead, and is now attending to him. He is a prudent man, entirelydevoted to Monseigneur the Cardinal-Duke, and whose affairs have beensomewhat embarrassed by gambling. "

"I believe, " replied Joseph, with an air of modesty, mingled with atouch of bitterness, "that if his Excellency proposed to employ any onein this useful project, it should be his accustomed negotiator, who hashad some success in the past. "

"I fancy that I could enumerate some signal instances, " answeredLaubardemont, "and very recent ones, of which the difficulty was great. "

"Ah, no doubt, " said the father, with a bow and an air of considerationand politeness, "your most bold and skilfully executed commissionwas the trial of Urbain Grandier, the magician. But, with Heaven'sassistance, one may be enabled to do things quite as worthy and bold. Itis not without merit, for instance, " added he, dropping his eyes like ayoung girl, "to have extirpated vigorously a royal Bourbon branch. "

"It was not very difficult, " answered the magistrate, with bitterness, "to select a soldier from the guards to kill the Comte de Soissons; butto preside, to judge--"

"And to execute one's self, " interrupted the heated Capuchin, "iscertainly less difficult than to educate a man from infancy in thethought of accomplishing great things with discretion, and to bear alltortures, if necessary, for the love of heaven, rather than revealthe name of those who have armed him with their justice, or to diecourageously upon the body of him that he has struck, as did one whowas commissioned by me. He uttered no cry at the blow of the sword ofRiquemont, the equerry of the Prince. He died like a saint; he was mypupil. "

"To give orders is somewhat different from running risk one's self. "

"And did I risk nothing at the siege of Rochelle?"

"Of being drowned in a sewer, no doubt, " said Laubardemont. 

"And you, " said Joseph, "has your danger been that of catching yourfingers in instruments of torture? And all this because the Abbess ofthe Ursulines is your niece. "

"It was a good thing for your brothers of Saint Francis, who held thehammers; but I--I was struck in the forehead by this same Cinq-Mars, whowas leading an enraged multitude. "

"Are you quite sure of that?" cried Joseph, delighted. "Did he dare toact thus against the commands of the King?" The joy which this discoverygave him made him forget his anger. 

"Fools!" exclaimed the Cardinal, suddenly breaking his long silence, and taking from his lips his handkerchief stained with blood. "I wouldpunish your angry dispute had it not taught me many secrets of infamyon your part. You have exceeded my orders; I commanded no torture, Laubardemont. That is your second fault. You cause me to be hated fornothing; that was useless. But you, Joseph, do not neglect the detailsof this disturbance in which Cinq-Mars was engaged; it may be of use inthe end. "

"I have all the names and descriptions, " said the secret judge, eagerly, bending his tall form and thin, olive-colored visage, wrinkled with aservile smile, down to the armchair. 

"It is well! it is well!" said the minister, pushing him back; "butthat is not the question yet. You, Joseph, be in Paris before this youngupstart, who will become a favorite, I am certain. Become his friend;make him of my party or destroy him. Let him serve me or fall. But, above all, send me every day safe persons to give me verbal accounts. Iwill have no more writing for the future. I am much displeased withyou, Joseph. What a miserable courier you chose to send from Cologne! Hecould not understand me. He saw the King too soon, and here we are stillin disgrace in consequence. You have just missed ruining me entirely. Goand observe what is about to be done in Paris. A conspiracy will soon behatched against me; but it will be the last. I remain here in orderto let them all act more freely. Go, both of you, and send me my valetafter the lapse of two hours; I wish now to be alone. "

The steps of the two men were still to be heard as Richelieu, with eyesfixed upon the entrance to the tent, pursued them with his irritatedglance. 

"Wretches!" he exclaimed, when he was alone, "go and accomplish somemore secret work, and afterward I will crush you, in pure instrumentsof my power. The King will soon succumb beneath the slow malady whichconsumes him. I shall then be regent; I shall be King of France myself;I shall no longer have to dread the caprices of his weakness. I willdestroy the haughty races of this country. I will be alone above themall. Europe shall tremble. "

Here the blood, which again filled his mouth, obliged him to apply hishandkerchief to it once more. 

"Ah, what do I say? Unhappy victim that I am! Here am I, death-stricken!My dissolution is near; my blood flows, and my spirit desires to laborstill. Why? For whom? Is it for glory? That is an empty word. Is it formen? I despise them. For whom, then, since I shall die, perhaps, in twoor three years? Is it for God? What a name! I have not walked with Him!He has seen all--"

Here he let his head fall upon his breast, and his eyes met the greatcross of gold which was suspended from his neck. He could not helpthrowing himself back in his chair; but it followed him. He took it; andconsidering it with fixed and devouring looks, he said in a low voice:

"Terrible sign! thou followest me! Shall I find thee elsewhere--divinityand suffering? What am I? What have I done?"

For the first time a singular and unknown terror penetrated him. Hetrembled, at once frozen and scorched by an invincible shudder. He darednot lift his eyes, fearing to meet some terrible vision. He dared notcall, fearing to hear the sound of his own voice. He remained profoundlyplunged in meditations on eternity, so terrible for him, and he murmuredthe following kind of prayer:

"Great God, if Thou hearest me, judge me then, but do not isolate mein judging me! Look upon me, surrounded by the men of my generation;consider the immense work I had undertaken! Was not an enormous leverwanted to bestir those masses; and if this lever in falling crushes someuseless wretches, am I very culpable? I seem wicked to men; but Thou, Supreme judge, dost thou regard me thus?

"No; Thou knowest it is boundless power which makes creature culpableagainst creature. It is not Armand de Richelieu who destroys; it is thePrime-Minister. It is not for his personal injuries; it is to carry outa system. But a system--what is this word? Is it permitted me to playthus with men, to regard them as numbers for working out a thought, which perhaps is false? I overturn the framework of the throne. What if, without knowing it, I sap its foundations and hasten its fall! Yes, myborrowed power has seduced me. O labyrinth! O weakness of human thought!Simple faith, why did I quit thy path? Why am I not a simple priest? IfI dared to break with man and give myself to God, the ladder of Jacobwould again descend in my dreams. "

At this moment his ear was struck by a great noise outside--laughter ofsoldiers, ferocious shouts and oaths, mingled with words which were along time sustained by a weak yet clear voice; one would have said itwas the voice of an angel interrupted by the laughter of demons. Herose and opened a sort of linen window, worked in the side of his squaretent. A singular spectacle presented itself to his view; he remainedsome instants contemplating it, attentive to the conversation which wasgoing on. 

"Listen, listen, La Valeur!" said one soldier to another. "See, shebegins again to speak and to sing!"

"Put her in the middle of the circle, between us and the fire. "

"You do not know her! You do not know her!" said another. "But here isGrand-Ferre, who says that he knows her. "

"Yes, I tell you I know her; and, by Saint Peter of Loudun, I will swearthat I have seen her in my village, when I had leave of absence; and itwas upon an occasion at which one shuddered, but concerning which onedares not talk, especially to a Cardinalist like you. "

"Eh! and pray why dare not one speak of it, you great simpleton?" saidan old soldier, twisting up his moustache. 

"It is not spoken of because it burns the tongue. Do you understandthat?"

"No, I don't understand it. "

"Well, nor I neither; but certain citizens told it to me. "

Here a general laugh interrupted him. 

"Ha, ha, ha! is he a fool?" said one. "He listens to what the townsfolktell him. "

"Ah, well! if you listen to their gabble, you have time to lose, " saidanother. 

"You do not know, then, what my mother said, greenhorn?" said theeldest, gravely dropping his eyes with a solemn air, to compelattention. 

"Eh! how can you think that I know it, La Pipe? Your mother must havedied of old age before my grandfather came into the world. "

"Well, greenhorn, I will tell you! You shall know, first of all, that mymother was a respectable Bohemian, as much attached to the regiment ofcarabineers of La Roque as my dog Canon there. She carried brandy roundher neck in a barrel, and drank better than the best of us. She hadfourteen husbands, all soldiers, who died upon the field of battle. "

"Ha! that was a woman!" interrupted the soldiers, full of respect. 

"And never once in her life did she speak to a townsman, unless it wasto say to him on coming to her lodging, 'Light my candle and warm mysoup. '"

"Well, and what was it that your mother said to you?"

"If you are in such a hurry, you shall not know, greenhorn. She saidhabitually in her talk, 'A soldier is better than a dog; but a dog isbetter than a bourgeois. '"

"Bravo! bravo! that was well said!" cried the soldier, filled withenthusiasm at these fine words. 

"That, " said Grand-Ferre, "does not prove that the citizens who made theremark to me that it burned the tongue were in the right; besides, theywere not altogether citizens, for they had swords, and they were grievedat a cure being burned, and so was I. "

"Eh! what was it to you that they burned your cure, great simpleton?"said a sergeant, leaning upon the fork of his arquebus; "after himanother would come. You might have taken one of our generals in hisstead, who are all cures at present; for me, I am a Royalist, and I sayit frankly. "

"Hold your tongue!" cried La Pipe; "let the girl speak. It is these dogsof Royalists who always disturb us in our amusements. "

"What say you?" answered Grand-Ferre. "Do you even know what it is to bea Royalist?"

"Yes, " said La Pipe; "I know you all very well. Go, you are for the oldself-called princes of the peace, together with the wranglers againstthe Cardinal and the gabelle. Am I right or not?"

"No, old red-stocking. A Royalist is one who is for the King; that'swhat it is. And as my father was the King's valet, I am for the King, you see; and I have no liking for the red-stockings, I can tell you. "

"Ah, you call me red-stocking, eh?" answered the old soldier. "Youshall give me satisfaction to-morrow morning. If you had made war inthe Valteline, you would not talk like that; and if you had seen hisEminence marching upon the dike at Rochelle, with the old Marquis deSpinola, while volleys of cannonshot were sent after him, you would havenothing to say about red-stockings. "

"Come, let us amuse ourselves, instead of quarrelling, " said the othersoldiers. 

The men who conversed thus were standing round a great fire, whichilluminated them more than the moon, beautiful as it was; and in thecentre of the group was the object of their gathering and their cries. The Cardinal perceived a young woman arrayed in black and covered witha long, white veil. Her feet were bare; a thick cord clasped her elegantfigure; a long rosary fell from her neck almost to her feet, and herhands, delicate and white as ivory, turned its beads and made them passrapidly beneath her fingers. The soldiers, with a barbarous joy, amusedthemselves with laying little brands in her way to burn her naked feet. The oldest took the smoking match of his arquebus, and, approaching itto the edge of her robe, said in a hoarse voice:

"Come, madcap, tell me your history, or I will fill you with powder andblow you up like a mine; take care, for I have already played that trickto others besides you, in the old wars of the Huguenots. Come, sing. "

The young woman, looking at him gravely, made no reply, but lowered herveil. 

"You don't manage her well, " said Grand-Ferre, with a drunken laugh;"you will make her cry. You don't know the fine language of the court;let me speak to her. " And, touching her on the chin, "My little heart, "he said, "if you will please, my sweet, to resume the little story youtold just now to these gentlemen, I will pray you to travel with me uponthe river Du Tendre, as the great ladies of Paris say, and to take aglass of brandy with your faithful chevalier, who met you formerly atLoudun, when you played a comedy in order to burn a poor devil. "

The young woman crossed her arms, and, looking around her with animperious air, cried:

"Withdraw, in the name of the God of armies; withdraw, impious men!There is nothing in common between us. I do not understand your tongue, nor you mine. Go, sell your blood to the princes of the earth at so manyoboles a day, and leave me to accomplish my mission! Conduct me to theCardinal. "

A coarse laugh interrupted her. 

"Do you think, " said a carabineer of Maurevert, "that his Eminence theGeneralissimo will receive you with your feet naked? Go and wash them. "

"The Lord has said, 'Jerusalem, lift thy robe, and pass the rivers ofwater, '" she answered, her arms still crossed. "Let me be conducted tothe Cardinal. "

Richelieu cried in a loud voice, "Bring the woman to me, and let heralone!"

All were silent; they conducted her to the minister. 

"Why, " said she, beholding him--"why bring me before an armed man?"

They left her alone with him without answering. 

The Cardinal looked at her with a suspicious air. "Madame, " said he, "what are you doing in the camp at this hour? And if your mind is notdisordered, why these naked feet?"

"It is a vow; it is a vow, " answered the young woman, with an air ofimpatience, seating herself beside him abruptly. "I have also made a vownot to eat until I have found the man I seek. "

"My sister, " said the Cardinal, astonished and softened, lookingclosely at her, "God does not exact such rigors from a weak body, andparticularly from one of your age, for you seem very young. "

"Young! oh, yes, I was very young a few days ago; but I have sincepassed two existences at least, so much have I thought and suffered. Look on my countenance. "

And she discovered a face of perfect beauty. Black and very regulareyes gave life to it; but in their absence one might have thought herfeatures were those of a phantom, she was so pale. Her lips were blueand quivering; and a strong shudder made her teeth chatter. 

"You are ill, my sister, " said the minister, touched, taking her hand, which he felt to be burning hot. A sort of habit of inquiring concerninghis own health, and that of others, made him touch the pulse of heremaciated arm; he felt that the arteries were swollen by the beatings ofa terrible fever. 

"Alas!" he continued, with more of interest, "you have killed yourselfwith rigors beyond human strength! I have always blamed them, andespecially at a tender age. What, then, has induced you to do this? Isit to confide it to me that you are come? Speak calmly, and be sure ofsuccor. "

"Confide in men!" answered the young woman; "oh, no, never! All havedeceived me. I will confide myself to no one, not even to MonsieurCinq-Mars, although he must soon die. "

"What!" said Richelieu, contracting his brows, but with a bitterlaugh, --"what! do you know this young man? Has he been the cause of yourmisfortune?"

"Oh, no! He is very good, and hates wickedness; that is what will ruinhim. Besides, " said she, suddenly assuming a harsh and savage air, "menare weak, and there are things which women must accomplish. When therewere no more valiant men in Israel, Deborah arose. "

"Ah! how came you with all this fine learning?" continued the Cardinal, still holding her hand. 

"Oh, I can't explain that!" answered she, with a touching air of naiveteand a very gentle voice; "you would not understand me. It is the Devilwho has taught me all, and who has destroyed me. "

"Ah, my child! it is always he who destroys us; but he instructsus ill, " said Richelieu, with an air of paternal protection and anincreasing pity. "What have been your faults? Tell them to me; I am verypowerful. "

"Ah, " said she, with a look of doubt, "you have much influence overwarriors, brave men and generals! Beneath your cuirass must beat a nobleheart; you are an old General who knows nothing of the tricks of crime. "

Richelieu smiled; this mistake flattered him. 

"I heard you ask for the Cardinal; do you desire to see him? Did youcome here to seek him?"

The girl drew back and placed a finger upon her forehead. 

"I had forgotten it, " said she; "you have talked to me too much. I hadoverlooked this idea, and yet it is an important one; it is for thatthat I have condemned myself to the hunger which is killing me. I mustaccomplish it, or I shall die first. Ah, " said she, putting her handbeneath her robe in her bosom, whence she appeared to take something, "behold it! this idea--"

She suddenly blushed, and her eyes widened extraordinarily. Shecontinued, bending to the ear of the Cardinal:

"I will tell you; listen! Urbain Grandier, my lover Urbain, told me thisnight that it was Richelieu who had been the cause of his death. I tooka knife from an inn, and I come here to kill him; tell me where he is. "

The Cardinal, surprised and terrified, recoiled with horror. Hedared not call his guards, fearing the cries of this woman and heraccusations; nevertheless, a transport of this madness might be fatal tohim. 

"This frightful history will pursue me everywhere!" cried he, lookingfixedly at her, and thinking within himself of the course he shouldtake. 

They remained in silence, face to face, in the same attitude, liketwo wrestlers who contemplate before attacking each other, or like thepointer and his victim petrified by the power of a look. 

In the mean time, Laubardemont and Joseph had gone forth together; andere separating they talked for a moment before the tent of the Cardinal, because they were eager mutually to deceive each other. Their hatredhad acquired new force by their recent quarrel; and each had resolvedto ruin his rival in the mind of his master. The judge then began thedialogue, which each of them had prepared, taking the arm of the otheras by one and the same movement. 

"Ah, reverend father! how you have afflicted me by seeming to take inill part the trifling pleasantries which I said to you just now. "

"Heavens, no! my dear Monsieur, I am far from that. Charity, where wouldbe charity? I have sometimes a holy warmth in conversation, for the goodof the State and of Monseigneur, to whom I am entirely devoted. "

"Ah, who knows it better than I, reverend father? But render me justice;you also know how completely I am attached to his Eminence the Cardinal, to whom I owe all. Alas! I have employed too much zeal in serving him, since he reproaches me with it. "

"Reassure yourself, " said Joseph; "he bears no ill-will toward you. Iknow him well; he can appreciate one's actions in favor of one's family. He, too, is a very good relative. "

"Yes, there it is, " answered Laubardemont; "consider my condition. My niece would have been totally ruined at her convent had Urbaintriumphed; you feel that as well as I do, particularly as she did notquite comprehend us, and acted the child when she was compelled toappear. "

"Is it possible? In full audience! What you tell me indeed makes me feelfor you. How painful it must have been!"

"More so than you can imagine. She forgot, in her madness, all that shehad been told, committed a thousand blunders in Latin, which we patchedup as well as we could; and she even caused an unpleasant scene on theday of the trial, very unpleasant for me and the judges--there wereswoons and shrieks. Ah, I swear that I would have scolded her well had Inot been forced to quit precipitately that, little town of Loudun. But, you see, it is natural enough that I am attached to her. She is mynearest relative; for my son has turned out ill, and no one knows whathas become of him during the last four years. Poor little Jeanne deBelfiel! I made her a nun, and then abbess, in order to preserve all forthat scamp. Had I foreseen his conduct, I should have retained her forthe world. "

"She is said to have great beauty, " answered Joseph; "that is a preciousgift for a family. She might have been presented at court, and theKing--Ah! ah! Mademoiselle de la Fayette--eh! eh!--Mademoiselled'Hautefort--you understand; it may be even possible to think of ityet. "

"Ah, that is like you, Monseigneur! for we know that you have beennominated to the cardinalate; how good you are to remember the mostdevoted of your friends!"

Laubardemont was yet talking to Joseph when they found themselves at theend of the line of the camp, which led to the quarter of the volunteers. 

"May God and his Holy Mother protect you during my absence!" saidJoseph, stopping. "To-morrow I depart for Paris; and as I shall havefrequent business with this young Cinq-Mars, I shall first go to seehim, and learn news of his wound. "

"Had I been listened to, " said Laubardemont, "you would not now have hadthis trouble. "

"Alas, you are right!" answered Joseph, with a profound sigh, andraising his eyes to heaven; "but the Cardinal is no longer the same man. He will not take advantage of good ideas; he will ruin us if he goes onthus. "

And, making a low bow to the judge, the Capuchin took the road which hehad indicated to him. 

Laubardemont followed him for some time with his eyes, and, when he wasquite sure of the route which he had taken, he returned, or, rather, ranback to the tent of the minister. "The Cardinal dismisses him, he tellsme; that shows that he is tired of him. I know secrets which will ruinhim. I will add that he is gone to pay court to the future favorite. I will replace this monk in the favor of the minister. The moment ispropitious. It is midnight; he will be alone for an hour and a half yet. Let me run. "

He arrived at the tent of the guards, which was before the pavilion. 

"Monseigneur gives audience to some one, " said the captain, hesitating;"you can not enter. "

"Never mind; you saw me leave an hour ago, and things are passing ofwhich I must give an account. "

"Come in, Laubardemont, " cried the minister; "come in quickly, andalone. "

He entered. The Cardinal, still seated, held the two hands of the nunin one of his, and with the other he imposed silence upon his stupefiedagent, who remained motionless, not yet seeing the face of this woman. She spoke volubly, and the strange things she said contrasted horriblywith the sweetness of her voice. Richelieu seemed moved. 

"Yes, I will stab him with a knife. It is the knife which the demonBehirith gave me at the inn; but it is the nail of Sisera. It hasa handle of ivory, you see; and I have wept much over it. Is it notsingular, my good General? I will turn it in the throat of him whokilled my friend, as he himself told me to do; and afterward I will burnthe body. There is like for like, the punishment which God permittedto Adam. You have an astonished air, my brave general; but you would bemuch more so, were I to repeat to you his song--the song which hesang to me again last night, at the hour of the funeral-pyre--youunderstand?--the hour when it rains, the hour when my hand burns as now. He said to me: 'They are much deceived, the magistrates, the red judges. I have eleven demons at my command; and I shall come to see you when theclock strikes, under a canopy of purple velvet, with torches--torches ofresin to give us light--' Ah, that is beautiful! Listen, listen to whathe sings!"

And she sang to the air of De Profundis. 

"Is it not singular, my good General?" said she, when she had finished;"and I--I answer him every evening. "

"Then he speaks as spirits and prophets speak. He says: 'Woe, woe to himwho has shed blood! Are the judges of the earth gods? No, they are menwho grow old and suffer, and yet they dare to say aloud, Let that mandie! The penalty of death, the pain of death--who has given to manthe right of imposing it on man? Is the number two? One would be anassassin, look you! But count well, one, two, three. Behold, they arewise and just, these grave and salaried criminals! O crime, the horrorof Heaven! If you looked upon them from above as I look upon them, youwould be yet paler than I am. Flesh destroys flesh! That which livesby blood sheds blood coldly and without anger, like a God with power tocreate!'"

The cries which the unhappy girl uttered, as she rapidly spoke thesewords, terrified Richelieu and Laubardemont so much that they stillremained motionless. The delirium and the fever continued to transporther. 

"'Did the judges tremble?' said Urbain Grandier to me. 'Did they trembleat deceiving themselves?' They work the work of the just. The question!They bind his limbs with ropes to make him speak. His skin cracks, tearsaway, and rolls up like a parchment; his nerves are naked, red, andglittering; his bones crack; the marrow spurts out. But the judgessleep! they dream of flowers and spring. 'How hot the grand chamber is!'says one, awaking; 'this man has not chosen to speak! Is the torturefinished?' And pitiful at last, he dooms him to death--death, the solefear of the living! death, the unknown world! He sends before him afurious soul which will wait for him. Oh! has he never seen the visionof vengeance? Has he never seen before falling asleep the flayedprevaricator?"

Already weakened by fever, fatigue, and grief, the Cardinal, seized withhorror and pity, exclaimed:

"Ah, for the love of God, let this terrible scene have an end! Take awaythis woman; she is mad!"

The frantic creature turned, and suddenly uttering loud cries, "Ah, thejudge! the judge! the judge!" she said, recognizing Laubardemont. 

The latter, clasping his hands and trembling before the Cardinal, saidwith terror:

"Alas, Monseigneur, pardon me! she is my niece, who has lost her reason. I was not aware of this misfortune, or she would have been shut up longago. Jeanne! Jeanne! come, Madame, to your knees! ask forgiveness ofMonseigneur the Cardinal-duc. "

"It is Richelieu!" she cried; and astonishment seemed wholly to paralyzethis young and unhappy beauty. The flush which had animated her at firstgave place to a deadly pallor, her cries to a motionless silence, her wandering looks to a frightful fixedness of her large eyes, whichconstantly followed the agitated minister. 

"Take away this unfortunate child quickly, " said he; "she is dying, andso am I. So many horrors pursue me since that sentence that I believeall hell is loosed upon me. "

He rose as he spoke; Jeanne de Belfiel, still silent and stupefied, withhaggard eyes, open mouth, and head bent forward, yet remained beneaththe shock of her double surprise, which seemed to have extinguished therest of her reason and her strength. At the movement of the Cardinal, she shuddered to find herself between him and Laubardemont, looked byturns at one and the other, let the knife which she held fall fromher hand, and retired slowly toward the opening of the tent, coveringherself completely with her veil, and looking wildly and with terrorbehind her upon her uncle who followed, like an affrighted lamb, whichalready feels at its back the burning breath of the wolf about to seizeit. 

Thus they both went forth; and hardly had they reached the open air, when the furious judge caught the hands of his victim, tied them witha handkerchief, and easily led her, for she uttered no cry, not even asigh, but followed him with her head still drooping upon her bosom, andas if plunged in profound somnambulism. 

CHAPTER XIII. THE SPANIARD

Meantime, a scene of different nature was passing in the tent ofCinq-Mars; the words of the King, the first balm to his wounds, had beenfollowed by the anxious care of the surgeons of the court. A spentball, easily extracted, had been the only cause of his accident. Hewas allowed to travel and all was ready. The invalid had received up tomidnight friendly or interested visits; among the first were thoseof little Gondi and of Fontrailles, who were also preparing to quitPerpignan for Paris. The ex-page, Olivier d'Entraigues, joined with themin complimenting the fortunate volunteer, whom the King seemed tohave distinguished. The habitual coldness of the Prince toward all whosurrounded him having caused those who knew of them to regard thefew words he had spoken as assured signs of high favor, all came tocongratulate him. 

At length, released from visitors, he lay upon his camp-bed. De Thousat by his side, holding his hand, and Grandchamp at his feet, stillgrumbling at the numerous interruptions that had fatigued his woundedmaster. Cinq-Mars himself tasted one of those moments of calm and hope, which so refresh the soul as well as the body. His free hand secretlypressed the gold cross that hung next to his heart, the beloved donor ofwhich he was so soon to behold. Outwardly, he listened with kindly looksto the counsels of the young magistrate; but his inward thoughts wereall turned toward the object of his journey--the object, also, of hislife. The grave De Thou went on in a calm, gentle voice:

"I shall soon follow you to Paris. I am happier than you at seeing theKing take you there with him. You are right in looking upon it asthe beginning of a friendship which must be turned to profit. I havereflected deeply on the secret causes of your ambition, and I think Ihave divined your heart. Yes; that feeling of love for France, whichmade it beat in your earliest youth, must have gained greater strength. You would be near the King in order to serve your country, in order toput in action those golden dreams of your early years. The thought is avast one, and worthy of you! I admire you; I bow before you. To approachthe monarch with the chivalrous devotion of our fathers, with aheart full of candor, and prepared for any sacrifice; to receive theconfidences of his soul; to pour into his those of his subjects; tosoften the sorrows of the King by telling him the confidence his peoplehave in him; to cure the wounds of the people by laying them open to itsmaster, and by the intervention of your favor thus to reestablishthat intercourse of love between the father and his children which foreighteen years has been interrupted by a man whose heart is marble;for this noble enterprise, to expose yourself to all the horrors of hisvengeance and, what is even worse, to brave all the perfidious calumnieswhich pursue the favorite to the very steps of the throne--this dreamwas worthy of you. 

"Pursue it, my friend, " De Thou continued. "Never become discouraged. Speak loudly to the King of the merit and misfortunes of his mostillustrious friends who are trampled on. Tell him fearlessly that hisold nobility have never conspired against him; and that from the youngMontmorency to the amiable Comte de Soissons, all have opposed theminister, and never the monarch. Tell him that the old families ofFrance were born with his race; that in striking them he affects thewhole nation; and that, should he destroy them, his own race willsuffer, that it will stand alone exposed to the blast of time andevents, as an old oak trembling and exposed to the wind of the plain, when the forest which surrounded and supported it has been destroyed. Yes!" cried De Thou, growing animated, "this aim is a fine and nobleone. Go on in your course with a resolute step; expel even that secretshame, that shyness, which a noble soul experiences before it canresolve upon flattering--upon paying what the world calls its court. Alas, kings are accustomed to these continual expressions of falseadmiration for them! Look upon them as a new language which must belearned--a language hitherto foreign to your lips, but which, believeme, may be nobly spoken, and which may express high and generousthoughts. "

During this warm discourse of his friend, Cinq-Mars could not refrainfrom a sudden blush; and he turned his head on his pillow toward thetent, so that his face might not be seen. De Thou stopped:

"What is the matter, Henri? You do not answer. Am I deceived?"

Cinq-Mars gave a deep sigh and remained silent. 

"Is not your heart affected by these ideas which I thought would havetransported it?"

The wounded man looked more calmly at his friend and said:

"I thought, my dear De Thou, that you would not interrogate me further, and that you were willing to repose a blind confidence in me. What evilgenius has moved you thus to sound my soul? I am not a stranger to theseideas which possess you. Who told you that I had not conceived them? Whotold you that I had not formed the firm resolution of prosecuting theminfinitely farther in action than you have put them in words? Love forFrance, virtuous hatred of the ambition which oppresses and shatters herancient institutions with the axe of the executioner, the firm beliefthat virtue may be as skilful as crime, --these are my gods as much asyours. But when you see a man kneeling in a church, do you ask him whatsaint or what angel protects him and receives his prayer? What mattersit to you, provided that he pray at the foot of the altars that youadore--provided that, if called upon, he fall a martyr at the foot ofthose 'altars? When our forefathers journeyed with naked feet toward theHoly Sepulchre, with pilgrims' staves in their hands, did men inquirethe secret vow which led them to the Holy Land? They struck, they died;and men, perhaps God himself, asked no more. The pious captain wholed them never stripped their bodies to see whether the red crossand haircloth concealed any other mysterious symbol; and in heaven, doubtless, they were not judged with any greater rigor for having aidedthe strength of their resolutions upon earth by some hope permitted toa Christian--some second and secret thought, more human, and nearer themortal heart. "

De Thou smiled and slightly blushed, lowering his eyes. 

"My friend, " he answered, gravely; "this excitement may be injurious toyou. Let us not continue this subject; let us not mingle God and heavenin our discourse. It is not well; and draw the coverings over yourshoulder, for the night is cold. I promise you, " he added, covering hisyoung invalid with a maternal care--"I promise not to offend you againwith my counsels. "

"And I, " cried Cinq-Mars, despite the interdiction to speak, "swear toyou by this gold cross you see, and by the Holy Mary, to die rather thanrenounce the plan that you first traced out! You may one day, perhaps, be forced to pray me to stop; but then it will be too late. "

"Very well!" repeated the counsellor, "now sleep; if you do not stop, Iwill go on with you, wherever you lead me. "

And, taking a prayer-book from his pocket, he began to read attentively;in a short time he looked at Cinq-Mars, who was still awake. He made asign to Grandchamp to put the lamp out of sight of the invalid; butthis new care succeeded no better. The latter, with his eyes still open, tossed restlessly on his narrow bed. 

"Come, you are not calm, " said De Thou, smiling; "I will read to yousome pious passage which will put your mind in repose. Ah, my friend, itis here that true repose is to be found; it is in this consolatory book, for, open it where you will, you will always see, on the one hand, man in the only condition that suits his weakness--prayer, and theuncertainty as to his destiny--and, on the other, God himself speakingto him of his infirmities! What a glorious and heavenly spectacle! Whata sublime bond between heaven and earth! Life, death, and eternity arethere; open it at random. "

"Yes!" said Cinq-Mars, rising with a vivacity which had something boyishin it; "you shall read to me, but let me open the book. You know the oldsuperstition of our country--when the mass-book is opened with a sword, the first page on the left contains the destiny of him who reads, andthe first person who enters after he has read is powerfully to influencethe reader's future fate. "

"What childishness! But be it as you will. Here is your sword; insertthe point. Let us see. "

"Let me read myself, " said Cinq-Mars, taking one side of the book. OldGrandchamp gravely advanced his tawny face and his gray hair to the footof the bed to listen. His master read, stopped at the first phrase, butwith a smile, perhaps slightly forced, he went on to the end. 

"I. Now it was in the city of Milan that they appeared. 

"II. The high-priest said to them, 'Bow down and adore the gods. '

"III. And the people were silent, looking at their faces, which appearedas the faces of angels. 

"IV. But Gervais, taking the hand of Protais, cried, looking to heaven, and filled with the Holy Ghost:

"V. Oh, my brother! I see the Son of man smiling upon us; let me diefirst. 

"VI. For if I see thy blood, I fear I shall shed tears unworthy of theLord our God. 

"VII. Then Protais answered him in these words:

"VIII. My brother, it is just that I should perish after thee, for I amolder, and have more strength to see thee suffer. 

"IX. But the senators and people ground their teeth at them. 

"X. And the soldiers having struck them, their heads fell together onthe same stone. 

"XI. Now it was in this same place that the blessed Saint Ambroise foundthe ashes of the two martyrs which gave sight to the blind. "

"Well, " said Cinq-Mars, looking at his friend when he had finished, "what do you say to that?"

"God's will be done! but we should not scrutinize it. "

"Nor put off our designs for a child's play, " said D'Effiat impatiently, and wrapping himself in a cloak which was thrown over him. "Rememberthe lines we formerly so frequently quoted, 'Justum et tenacem Propositiviruna'; these iron words are stamped upon my brain. Yes; let theuniverse crumble around me, its wreck shall carry me away stillresolute. "

"Let us not compare the thoughts of man with those of Heaven; and let usbe submissive, " said De Thou, gravely. 

"Amen!" said old Grandchamp, whose eyes had filled with tears, which hehastily brushed away. 

"What hast thou to do with it, old soldier? Thou weepest, " said hismaster. 

"Amen!" said a voice, in a nasal tone, at the entrance of the tent. 

"Parbleu, Monsieur! rather put that question to his Gray Eminence, whocomes to visit you, " answered the faithful servant, pointing to Joseph, who advanced with his arms crossed, making a salutation with a frowningair. 

"Ah, it will be he, then!" murmured Cinq-Mars. 

"Perhaps I come inopportunely, " said Joseph, soothingly. 

"Perhaps very opportunely, " said Henri d'Effiat, smiling, with a glanceat De Thou. "What can bring you here, Father, at one o'clock in themorning? It should be some good work. "

Joseph saw he was ill-received; and as he had always sundry reproachesto make himself with reference to all persons whom he addressed, and asmany resources in his mind for getting out of the difficulty, he fanciedthat they had discovered the object of his visit, and felt that heshould not select a moment of ill humor for preparing the way tofriendship. Therefore, seating himself near the bed, he said, coldly:

"I come, Monsieur, to speak to you on the part of theCardinal-Generalissimo, of the two Spanish prisoners you have made; hedesires to have information concerning them as soon as possible. I amto see and question them. But I did not suppose you were still awake; Imerely wished to receive them from your people. "

After a forced interchange of politeness, they ordered into the tent thetwo prisoners, whom Cinq-Mars had almost forgotten. 

They appeared--the one, young and displaying an animated and rather wildcountenance, was the soldier; the other, concealing his form under abrown cloak, and his gloomy features, which had something ambiguous intheir expression, under his broad-brimmed hat, which he did not remove, was the officer. He spoke first:

"Why do you make me leave my straw and my sleep? Is it to deliver me orhang me?"

"Neither, " said Joseph. 

"What have I to do with thee, man with the long beard? I did not seethee at the breach. "

It took some time after this amiable exordium to make the strangerunderstand the right a Capuchin had to interrogate him. 

"Well, " he said, "what dost thou want?"

"I would know your name and your country. "

"I shall not tell my name; and as for my country, I have the air of aSpaniard, but perhaps am not one, for a Spaniard never acknowledges hiscountry. "

Father Joseph, turning toward the two friends, said: "Unless I deceivemyself, I have heard his voice somewhere. This man speaks French withoutan accent; but it seems he wishes to give us enigmas, as in the East. "

"The East? that is it, " said the prisoner. "A Spaniard is a man from theEast; he is a Catholic Turk; his blood either flags or boils; he is lazyor indefatigable; indolence makes him a slave, ardor a tyrant; immovablein his ignorance, ingenious in his superstition, he needs only areligious book and a tyrannical master; he obeys the law of the pyre;he commands by that of the poniard. At night he falls asleep in hisbloodthirsty misery, nurses fanaticism, and awakes to crime. Who is thisgentleman? Is it the Spaniard or the Turk? Guess! Ah! you seem to thinkthat I have wit, because I light upon analogy. "

"Truly, gentlemen, you do me honor; and yet the idea may be carried muchfurther, if desired. If I pass to the physical order, for example, mayI not say to you, This man has long and serious features, a black andalmond-shaped eye, rugged brows, a sad and mobile mouth, tawny, meagre, and wrinkled cheeks; his head is shaved, and he covers it with a blackhandkerchief in the form of a turban; he passes the whole day lying orstanding under a burning sun, without motion, without utterance, smokinga pipe that intoxicates him. Is this a Turk or a Spaniard? Are yousatisfied, gentlemen? Truly, it would seem so; you laugh, and at what doyou laugh? I, who have presented this idea to you--I have not laughed;see, my countenance is sad. Ah! perhaps it is because the gloomyprisoner has suddenly become a gossip, and talks rapidly. That isnothing! I might tell you other things, and render you some service, myworthy friends. 

"If I should relate anecdotes, for example; if I told you I knew apriest who ordered the death of some heretics before saying mass, and who, furious at being interrupted at the altar during the holysacrifice, cried to those who asked for his orders, 'Kill them all! killthem all!'--should you all laugh, gentlemen? No, not all! This gentlemanhere, for instance, would bite his lips and his beard. Oh! it is true hemight answer that he did wisely, and that they were wrong to interrupthis unsullied prayer. But if I added that he concealed himself for anhour behind the curtain of your tent, Monsieur de Cinq-Mars, to listenwhile you talked, and that he came to betray you, and not to get me, what would he say? Now, gentlemen, are you satisfied? May I retire afterthis display?"

The prisoner had uttered this with the rapidity of a quack vending hiswares, and in so loud a voice that Joseph was quite confounded. He aroseindignantly at last, and, addressing himself to Cinq-Mars, said:

"How can you suffer a prisoner who should have been hanged to speak toyou thus, Monsieur?"

The Spaniard, without deigning to notice him any further, leaned towardD'Effiat, and whispered in his ear:

"I can be of no further use to you; give me my liberty. I might ere thishave taken it; but I would not do so without your consent. Give it me, or have me killed. "

"Go, if you will!" said Cinq-Mars to him. "I assure you I shall be veryglad;" and he told his people to retire with the soldier, whom he wishedto keep in his service. 

This was the affair of a moment. No one remained any longer in the tentwith the two friends, except the abashed Joseph and the Spaniard. Thelatter, taking off his hat, showed a French but savage countenance. Helaughed, and seemed to respire more air into his broad chest. 

"Yes, I am a Frenchman, " he said to Joseph. "But I hate France, becauseshe gave birth to my father, who is a monster, and to me, who havebecome one, and who once struck him. I hate her inhabitants, becausethey have robbed me of my whole fortune at play, and because I haverobbed them and killed them. I have been two years in Spain in order tokill more Frenchmen; but now I hate Spain still more. No one will knowthe reason why. Adieu! I must live henceforth without a nation; all menare my enemies. Go on, Joseph, and you will soon be as good as I. Yes, you have seen me once before, " he continued, violently striking him inthe breast and throwing him down. "I am Jacques de Laubardemont, the sonof your worthy friend. "

With these words, quickly leaving the tent, he disappeared like anapparition. De Thou and the servants, who ran to the entrance, saw him, with two bounds, spring over a surprised and disarmed soldier, andrun toward the mountains with the swiftness of a deer, despite variousmusket-shots. Joseph took advantage of the disorder to slip away, stammering a few words of politeness, and left the two friends laughingat his adventure and his disappointment, as two schoolboys laugh atseeing the spectacles of their pedagogue fall off. At last they preparedto seek a rest of which they both stood in need, and which they soonfound-=the wounded man in his bed, and the young counsellor in hischair. 

As for the Capuchin, he walked toward his tent, meditating how he shouldturn all this so as to take the greatest possible revenge, when hemet Laubardemont dragging the young mad-woman by her two hands. Theyrecounted to each other their mutual and horrible adventures. 

Joseph had no small pleasure in turning the poniard in the wound of hisfriend's heart, by telling him of the fate of his son. 

"You are not exactly happy in your domestic relations, " he added. "Iadvise you to shut up your niece and hang your son, if you are fortunateenough to find him. "

Laubardemont replied with a hideous laugh:

"As for this idiot here, I am going to give her to an ex-secret judge, at present a smuggler in the Pyrenees at Oleron. He can do what hepleases with her--make her a servant in his posada, for instance. I carenot, so that my lord never hears of her. "

Jeanne de Belfiel, her head hanging down, gave no sign of sensibility. Every glimmer of reason was extinguished in her; one word alone remainedupon her lips, and this she continually pronounced. 

"The judge! the judge! the judge!" she murmured, and was silent. 

Her uncle and Joseph threw her, almost like a sack of corn, on oneof the horses which were led up by two servants. Laubardemont mountedanother, and prepared to leave the camp, wishing to get into themountains before day. 

"A good journey to you!" he said to Joseph. "Execute your business wellin Paris. I commend to you Orestes and Pylades. "

"A good journey to you!" answered the other. "I commend to you Cassandraand OEdipus. "

"Oh! he has neither killed his father nor married his mother. "

"But he is on the high-road to those little pleasantries. "

"Adieu, my reverend Father!"

"Adieu, my venerable friend!"

Then each added aloud, but in suppressed tones:

"Adieu, assassin of the gray robe! During thy absence I shall have theear of the Cardinal. "

"Adieu, villain in the red robe! Go thyself and destroy thy cursedfamily. Finish shedding that portion of thy blood that is in others'veins. That share which remains in thee, I will take charge of. Ha! awell-employed night!"

BOOK 4. 

CHAPTER XIV. THE RIOT

 "Thus with imagin'd wing our swift scene flies, In motion of no less celerity Than that of thought, "

exclaims the immortal Shakespeare in the chorus of one of his tragedies. 

 "Suppose that you have seen The well-appointed king Embark his royalty; and his brave fleet With silken streamers the young Phoebus fanning. ...... ... Behold, And follow. "

With this poetic movement he traverses time and space, and transports atwill the attentive assembly to the theatre of his sublime scenes. 

We shall avail ourselves of the same privilege, though without the samegenius. No more than he shall we seat ourselves upon the tripod of theunities, but merely casting our eyes upon Paris and the old dark palaceof the Louvre, we will at once pass over the space of two hundredleagues and the period of two years. 

Two years! what changes may they not have upon men, upon their families, and, above all, in that great and so troublous family of nations, whoselong alliances a single day suffices to destroy, whose wars are endedby a birth, whose peace is broken by a death! We ourselves have beheldkings returning to their dwelling on a spring day; that same day avessel sailed for a voyage of two years. The navigator returned. Thekings were seated upon their thrones; nothing seemed to have taken placein his absence, and yet God had deprived those kings of a hundred daysof their reign. 

But nothing was changed for France in 1642, the epoch to which we turn, except her fears and her hopes. The future alone had changed its aspect. Before again beholding our personages, we must contemplate at large thestate of the kingdom. 

The powerful unity of the monarchy was rendered still more imposing bythe misfortunes of the neighboring States. The revolutions in England, and those in Spain and Portugal, rendered the peace which France enjoyedstill more admired. Strafford and Olivares, overthrown or defeated, aggrandized the immovable Richelieu. 

Six formidable armies, reposing upon their triumphant weapons, served asa rampart to the kingdom. Those of the north, in league with Sweden, hadput the Imperialists to flight, still pursued by the spirit of GustavusAdolphus, those on the frontiers of Italy had in Piedmont received thekeys of the towns which had been defended by Prince Thomas; and thosewhich strengthened the chain of the Pyrenees held in check revoltedCatalonia, and chafed before Perpignan, which they were not allowedto take. The interior was not happy, but tranquil. An invisible geniusseemed to have maintained this calm, for the King, mortally sick, languished at St. Germain with a young favorite; and the Cardinal was, they said, dying at Narbonne. Some deaths, however, betrayed that he yetlived; and at intervals, men falling as if struck by a poisonous blastrecalled to mind the invisible power. 

St. -Preuil, one of Richelieu's enemies, had just laid his "iron head"upon the scaffold without shame or fear, as he himself said on mountingit. 

Meantime, France seemed to govern herself, for the prince and theminister had been separated a long time; and of these two sick men, whohated each other, one never had held the reins of State, the other nolonger showed his power--he was no longer named in the public acts; heappeared no longer in the government, and seemed effaced everywhere; heslept, like the spider surrounded by his webs. 

If some events and some revolutions had taken place during these twoyears, it must have been in hearts; it must have been some of thoseoccult changes from which, in monarchies without firm foundation, terrible overthrows and long and bloody dissensions arise. 

To enlighten ourselves, let us glance at the old black building of theunfinished Louvre, and listen to the conversation of those who inhabitedit and those who surrounded it. 

It was the month of December; a rigorous winter had afflicted Paris, where the misery and inquietude of the people were extreme. However, curiosity was still alive, and they were eager for the spectacles givenby the court. Their poverty weighed less heavily upon them while theycontemplated the agitations of the rich. Their tears were less bitteron beholding the struggles of power; and the blood of the nobles whichreddened their streets, and seemed the only blood worthy of being shed, made them bless their own obscurity. Already had tumultuous scenes andconspicuous assassinations proved the monarch's weakness, the absenceand approaching end of the minister, and, as a kind of prologue to thebloody comedy of the Fronde, sharpened the malice and even fired thepassions of the Parisians. This confusion was not displeasing to them. Indifferent to the causes of the quarrels which were abstruse for them, they were not so with regard to individuals, and already began toregard the party chiefs with affection or hatred, not on account of theinterest which they supposed them to take in the welfare of their class, but simply because as actors they pleased or displeased. 

One night, especially, pistol and gun-shots had been heard frequently inthe city; the numerous patrols of the Swiss and the body-guards had evenbeen attacked, and had met with some barricades in the tortuous streetsof the Ile Notre-Dame; carts chained to the posts, and laden withbarrels, prevented the cavaliers from advancing, and some musket-shotshad wounded several men and horses. However, the town still slept, except the quarter which surrounded the Louvre, which was at thistime inhabited by the Queen and M. Le Duc d'Orleans. There everythingannounced a nocturnal expedition of a very serious nature. 

It was two o'clock in the morning. It was freezing, and the darknesswas intense, when a numerous assemblage stopped upon the quay, which wasthen hardly paved, and slowly and by degrees occupied the sandy groundthat sloped down to the Seine. This troop was composed of about twohundred men; they were wrapped in large cloaks, raised by the longSpanish swords which they wore. Walking to and fro without preservingany order, they seemed to wait for events rather than to seek them. Manyseated themselves, with their arms folded, upon the loose stones of thenewly begun parapet; they preserved perfect silence. However, after afew minutes passed in this manner, a man, who appeared to come out ofone of the vaulted doors of the Louvre, approached slowly, holding adark-lantern, the light from which he turned upon the features of eachindividual, and which he blew out after finding the man he sought amongthem. He spoke to him in a whisper, taking him by the hand:

"Well, Olivier, what did Monsieur le Grand say to you?

 [The master of the horse, Cinq-Mars, was thus named by abbreviation. This name will often occur in the course of the recital. ]

Does all go well?"

"Yes, I saw him yesterday at Saint-Germain. The old cat is very illat Narbonne; he is going 'ad patres'. But we must manage our affairsshrewdly, for it is not the first time that he has played the torpid. Have you people enough for this evening, my dear Fontrailles?"

"Be easy; Montresor is coming with a hundred of Monsieur's gentlemen. You will recognize him; he will be disguised as a master-mason, with arule in his hand. But, above all, do not forget the passwords. Do youknow them all well, you and your friends?"

"Yes, all except the Abbe de Gondi, who has not yet arrived; but 'Dieume pardonne', I think he is there himself! Who the devil would haveknown him?"

And here a little man without a cassock, dressed as a soldier of theFrench guards, and wearing a very black false moustache, slipped betweenthem. He danced about with a joyous air, and rubbed his hands. 

"Vive Dieu! all goes on well, my friend. Fiesco could not do better;"and rising upon his toes to tap Olivier upon the shoulder, he continued:

"Do you know that for a man who has just quitted the rank of pages, youdon't manage badly, Sire Olivier d'Entraigues? and you will be among ourillustrious men if we find a Plutarch. All is well organized; you arriveat the very moment, neither too soon nor too late, like a true partychief. Fontrailles, this young man will get on, I prophesy. But we mustmake haste; in two hours we shall have some of the archbishops of Paris, my uncle's parishioners. I have instructed them well; and theywill cry, 'Long live Monsieur! Long live the Regency! No more of theCardinal!' like madmen. They are good devotees, thanks to me, who havestirred them up. The King is very ill. Oh, all goes well, very well! Icome from Saint-Germain. I have seen our friend Cinq-Mars; he is good, very good, still firm as a rock. Ah, that is what I call a man! How hehas played with them with his careless and melancholy air! He is masterof the court at present. The King, they say, is going to make him dukeand peer. It is much talked of; but he still hesitates. We must decidethat by our movement this evening. The will of the people! He must dothe will of the people; we will make him hear it. It will be the deathof Richelieu, you'll see. It is, above all, hatred of him which is topredominate in the cries, for that is the essential thing. That will atlast decide our Gaston, who is still uncertain, is he not?"

"And how can he be anything else?" said Fontrailles. "If he were to takea resolution to-day in our favor it would be unfortunate. "

"Why so?"

"Because we should be sure that to-morrow morning he would be againstus. "

"Never mind, " replied the Abbe; "the Queen is firm. "

"And she has heart also, " said Olivier; "that gives me some hope forCinq-Mars, who, it seems to me, has sometimes dared to frown when helooked at her. "

"Child that you are, how little do you yet know of the court! Nothingcan sustain him but the hand of the King, who loves him as a son; andas for the Queen, if her heart beats, it is for the past and not for thefuture. But these trifles are not to the purpose. Tell me, dear friend, are you sure of your young Advocate whom I see roaming about there? Ishe all right?"

"Perfectly; he is an excellent Royalist. He would throw the Cardinalinto the river in an instant. Besides, it is Fournier of Loudun; that issaying everything. "

"Well, well, this is the kind of men we like. But take care ofyourselves, Messieurs; some one comes from the Rue Saint-Honore. "

"Who goes there?" cried the foremost of the troop to some men who wereadvancing. "Royalists or Cardinalists?"

"Gaston and Le Grand, " replied the newcomers, in low tones. 

"It is Montresor and Monsieur's people, " said Fontrailles. "We may soonbegin. "

"Yes, 'par la corbleu'!" said the newcomer, "for the Cardinalists willpass at three o'clock. Some one told us so just now. "

"Where are they going?" said Fontrailles. 

"There are more than two hundred of them to escort Monsieur de Chavigny, who is going to see the old cat at Narbonne, they say. They thought itsafer to pass by the Louvre. "

"Well, we will give him a velvet paw!" said the Abbe. 

As he finished saying this, a noise of carriages and horses was heard. Several men in cloaks rolled an enormous stone into the middle of thestreet. The foremost cavaliers passed rapidly through the crowd, pistols in hand, suspecting that something unusual was going on; butthe postilion, who drove the horses of the first carriage, ran upon thestone and fell. 

"Whose carriage is this which thus crushes foot-passengers?" cried thecloakmen, all at once. "It is tyrannical. It can be no other than afriend of the Cardinal de la Rochelle. "

 [During the long siege of La Rochelle, this name was given to Cardinal Richelieu, to ridicule his obstinacy in commanding as General-in-Chief, and claiming for himself the merit of taking that town. ]

"It is one who fears not the friends of the little Le Grand, " exclaimeda voice from the open door, from which a man threw himself upon a horse. 

"Drive these Cardinalists into the river!" cried a shrill, piercingvoice. 

This was a signal for the pistol-shots which were furiously exchanged onevery side, and which lighted up this tumultuous and sombre scene. Theclashing of swords and trampling of horses did not prevent the criesfrom being heard on one side: "Down with the minister! Long livethe King! Long live Monsieur and Monsieur le Grand! Down with thered-stockings!" On the other: "Long live his Eminence! Long live thegreat Cardinal! Death to the factious! Long live the King!" For the nameof the King presided over every hatred, as over every affection, at thisstrange time. 

The men on foot had succeeded, however, in placing the two carriagesacross the quay so as to make a rampart against Chavigny's horses, and from this, between the wheels, through the doors and springs, overwhelmed them with pistol-shots, and dismounted many. The tumult wasfrightful, but suddenly the gates of the Louvre were thrown open, andtwo squadrons of the body-guard came out at a trot. Most of them carriedtorches in their hands to light themselves and those they were aboutto attack. The scene changed. As the guards reached each of the men onfoot, the latter was seen to stop, remove his hat, make himself known, and name himself; and the guards withdrew, sometimes saluting him, andsometimes shaking him by the hand. This succor to Chavigny's carriageswas then almost useless, and only served to augment the confusion. Thebody-guards, as if to satisfy their consciences, rushed through thethrong of duellists, saying:

"Gentlemen, gentlemen, be moderate!"

But when two gentlemen had decidedly crossed swords, and were in activeconflict, the guard who beheld them stopped to judge the fight, andsometimes even to favor the one who he thought was of his opinion, forthis body, like all France, had their Royalists and their Cardinalists. 

The windows of the Louvre were lighted one after another, and manywomen's heads were seen behind the little lozenge-shaped panes, attentively watching the combat. 

Numerous Swiss patrols came out with flambeaux. 

These soldiers were easily distinguished by an odd uniform. The rightsleeve was striped blue and red, and the silk stocking of the right legwas red; the left side was striped with blue, red, and white, and thestocking was white and red. It had, no doubt, been hoped in the royalchateau that this foreign troop would disperse the crowd, but they weremistaken. These impassible soldiers coldly and exactly executed, withoutgoing beyond, the orders they had received, circulating symmetricallyamong the armed groups, which they divided for a moment, returningbefore the gate with perfect precision, and resuming their ranks as onparade, without informing themselves whether the enemies among whom theyhad passed had rejoined or not. 

But the noise, for a moment appeased, became general by reasonof personal disputes. In every direction challenges, insults, andimprecations were heard. It seemed as if nothing but the destruction ofone of the two parties could put an end to the combat, when loud cries, or rather frightful howls, raised the tumult to its highest pitch. The Abbe de Gondi, dragging a cavalier by his cloak to pull him down, exclaimed:

"Here are my people! Fontrailles, now you will see something worthwhile! Look! look already who they run! It is really charming. "

And he abandoned his hold, and mounted upon a stone to contemplate themanoeuvres of his troops, crossing his arms with the importance of aGeneral of an army. Day was beginning to break, and from the end of theIle St. -Louis a crowd of men, women, and children of the lowest dregsof the people was seen rapidly advancing, casting toward heaven andthe Louvre strange vociferations. Girls carried long swords; childrendragged great halberds and pikes of the time of the League; old women inrags pulled by cords old carts full of rusty and broken arms; workmenof every trade, the greater number drunk, followed, armed with clubs, forks, lances, shovels, torches, stakes, crooks, levers, sabres, andspits. They sang and howled alternately, counterfeiting with atrociousyells the cries of a cat, and carrying as a flag one of these animalssuspended from a pole and wrapped in a red rag, thus representing theCardinal, whose taste for cats was generally known. Public criers rushedabout, red and breathless, throwing on the pavement and sticking upon the parapets, the posts, the walls of the houses, and even on thepalace, long satires in short stanzas upon the personages of the time. Butcher-boys and scullions, carrying large cutlasses, beat the chargeupon saucepans, and dragged in the mud a newly slaughtered pig, with thered cap of a chorister on its head. Young and vigorous men, dressedas women, and painted with a coarse vermilion, were yelling, "We aremothers of families ruined by Richelieu! Death to the Cardinal!" Theycarried in their arms figures of straw that looked like children, whichthey threw into the river. 

When this disgusting mob overran the quays with its thousands of imps, it produced a strange effect upon the combatants, and entirely contraryto that expected by their patron. The enemies on both sides loweredtheir arms and separated. Those of Monsieur and Cinq-Mars were revoltedat seeing themselves succored by such auxiliaries, and, themselvesaiding the Cardinal's gentlemen to remount their horses and to gaintheir carriages, and their valets to convey the wounded to them, gavetheir adversaries personal rendezvous to terminate their quarrel upon aground more secret and more worthy of them. Ashamed of the superiorityof numbers and the ignoble troops which they seemed to command, foreseeing, perhaps, for the first time the fearful consequences oftheir political machinations, and what was the scum they were stirringup, they withdrew, drawing their large hats over their eyes, throwingtheir cloaks over their shoulders, and avoiding the daylight. 

"You have spoiled all, my dear Abbe, with this mob, " said Fontrailles, stamping his foot, to Gondi, who was already sufficiently nonplussed;"your good uncle has fine parishioners!"

"It is not my fault, " replied Gondi, in a sullen tone; "these idiotscame an hour too late. Had they arrived in the night, they would nothave been seen, which spoils the effect somewhat, to speak the truth(for I grant that daylight is detrimental to them), and we would onlyhave heard the voice of the people 'Vox populi, vox Dei'. Nevertheless, no great harm has been done. They will by their numbers give us themeans of escaping without being known, and, after all, our task isended; we did not wish the death of the sinner. Chavigny and his men areworthy fellows, whom I love; if he is only slightly wounded, so much thebetter. Adieu; I am going to see Monsieur de Bouillon, who has arrivedfrom Italy. "

"Olivier, " said Fontrailles, "go at once to Saint-Germain withFournier and Ambrosio; I will go and give an account to Monsieur, withMontresor. "

All separated, and disgust accomplished, with these highborn men, whatforce could not bring about. 

Thus ended this fray, likely to bring forth great misfortunes. No onewas killed in it. The cavaliers, having gained a few scratches and losta few purses, resumed their route by the side of the carriages along theby-streets; the others escaped, one by one, through the populace theyhad attracted. The miserable wretches who composed it, deprived of thechief of the troops, still remained two hours, yelling and screaminguntil the effect of their wine was gone, and the cold had extinguishedat once the fire of their blood and that of their enthusiasm. At thewindows of the houses, on the quay of the city, and along the walls, thethoughtful and genuine people of Paris watched with a sorrowful air andin mournful silence these preludes of disorder; while the various bodiesof merchants, dressed in black and preceded by their provosts, walkedslowly and courageously through the populace toward the Palais dejustice, where the parliament was to assemble, to make complaint ofthese terrible nocturnal scenes. 

The apartments of Gaston d'Orleans were in great confusion. This Princeoccupied the wing of the Louvre parallel with the Tuileries; and hiswindows looked into the court on one side, and on the other over a massof little houses and narrow streets which almost entirely covered theplace. He had risen precipitately, awakened suddenly by the report ofthe firearms, had thrust his feet into large square-toed slippers withhigh heels, and, wrapped in a large silk dressing-gown, covered withgolden ornaments embroidered in relief, walked to and fro in hisbedroom, sending every minute a fresh lackey to see what was going on, and ordering them immediately to go for the Abbe de la Riviere, hisgeneral counsellor; but he was unfortunately out of Paris. At everypistol-shot this timid Prince rushed to the windows, without seeinganything but some flambeaux, which were carried quickly along. It was invain he was told that the cries he heard were in his favor; he did notcease to walk up and down the apartments, in the greatest disorder-hislong black hair dishevelled, and his blue eyes open and enlarged bydisquiet and terror. He was still thus when Montresor and Fontraillesat length arrived and found him beating his breast, and repeating athousand times, "Mea culpa, mea culpa!"

"You have come at last!" he exclaimed from a distance, running to meetthem. "Come! quick! What is going on? What are they doing there? Who arethese assassins? What are these cries?"

"They cry, 'Long live Monsieur!'"

Gaston, without appearing to hear, and holding the door of his chamberopen for an instant, that his voice might reach the galleries inwhich were the people of his household, continued to cry with all hisstrength, gesticulating violently:

"I know nothing of all this, and I have authorized nothing. I will nothear anything! I will not know anything! I will never enter into anyproject! These are rioters who make all this noise; do not speak to meof them, if you wish to be well received here. I am the enemy of no man;I detest such scenes!"

Fontrailles, who knew the man with whom he had to deal, said nothing, but entered with his friend, that Monsieur might have time to dischargehis first fury; and when all was said, and the door carefully shut, hebegan to speak:

"Monseigneur, " said he, "we come to ask you a thousand pardons for theimpertinence of these people, who will persist in crying out that theydesire the death of your enemy, and that they would even wish to makeyou regent should we have the misfortune to lose his Majesty. Yes, thepeople are always frank in their discourse; but they are so numerousthat all our efforts could not restrain them. It was truly a cry fromthe heart--an explosion of love, which reason could not restrain, andwhich escaped all bounds. "

"But what has happened, then?" interrupted Gaston, somewhat calmed. "What have they been doing these four hours that I have heard them?"

"That love, " said Montresor, coldly, "as Monsieur de Fontrailles had thehonor of telling you, so escaped all rule and bounds that we ourselveswere carried away by it, and felt seized with that enthusiasm whichalways transports us at the mere name of Monsieur, and which leads us onto things which we had not premeditated. "

"But what, then, have you done?" said the Prince. 

"Those things, " replied Fontrailles, "of which Monsieur de Montresor hadthe honor to speak to Monsieur are precisely those which I foresaw hereyesterday evening, when I had the honor of conversing with you. "

"That is not the question, " interrupted Gaston. "You cannot say thatI have ordered or authorized anything. I meddle with nothing; I knownothing of government. "

"I admit, " continued Fontrailles, "that your Highness ordered nothing, but you permitted me to tell you that I foresaw that this night wouldbe a troubled one about two o'clock, and I hoped that your astonishmentwould not have been too great. "

The Prince, recovering himself little by little, and seeing that he didnot alarm the two champions, having also upon his conscience and readingin their eyes the recollection of the consent which he had given themthe evening before, sat down upon the side of his bed, crossed his arms, and, looking at them with the air of a judge, again said in a commandingtone:

"But what, then, have you done?"

"Why, hardly anything, Monseigneur, " said Fontrailles. "Chance led us tomeet in the crowd some of our friends who had a quarrel with Monsieur deChavigny's coachman, who was driving over them. A few hot words ensuedand rough gestures, and a few scratches, which kept Monsieur de Chavignywaiting, and that is all. "

"Absolutely all, " repeated Montresor. 

"What, all?" exclaimed Gaston, much moved, and tramping about thechamber. "And is it, then, nothing to stop the carriage of a friend ofthe Cardinal-Duke? I do not like such scenes. I have already told youso. I do not hate the Cardinal; he is certainly a great politician, avery great politician. You have compromised me horribly; it is knownthat Montresor is with me. If he has been recognized, they will say thatI sent him. "

"Chance, " said Montresor, "threw in my way this peasant's dress, whichMonsieur may see under my cloak, and which, for that reason, I preferredto any other. "

Gaston breathed again. 

"You are sure, then, that you have not been recognized. You understand, my dear friend, how painful it would be to me. You must admityourself--"

"Sure of it!" exclaimed the Prince's gentleman. "I would stake my headand my share in Paradise that no one has seen my features or called myby my name. "

"Well, " continued Gaston, again seating himself on his bed, and assuminga calmer air, in which even a slight satisfaction was visible, "tell me, then, what has happened. "

Fontrailles took upon himself the recital, in which, as we may suppose, the populace played a great part and Monsieur's people none, and in hisperoration he said:

"From our windows even, Monseigneur, respectable mothers of familiesmight have been seen, driven by despair, throwing their children intothe Seine, cursing Richelieu. "

"Ah, it is dreadful!" exclaimed the Prince, indignant, or feigning to beso, and to believe in these excesses. "Is it, then, true that he is sogenerally detested? But we must allow that he deserves it. What! hisambition and avarice have, then, reduced to this extremity the goodinhabitants of Paris, whom I love so much. "

"Yes, Monseigneur, " replied the orator. "And it is not Paris alone, itis all France, which, with us, entreats you to decide upon deliveringher from this tyrant. All is ready; nothing is wanting but a sign fromyour august head to annihilate this pygmy, who has attempted to assaultthe royal house itself. "

"Alas! Heaven is my witness that I myself forgive him!" answered Gaston, raising up his eyes. "But I can no longer bear the cries of the people. Yes, I will help them; that is to say, " continued the Prince, "so thatmy dignity is not compromised, and that my name does not appear in thematter. "

"Well, but it is precisely that which we want, " exclaimed Fontrailles, alittle more at his ease. 

"See, Monseigneur, there are already some names to put after yours, whowill not fear to sign. I will tell you them immediately, if you wishit. "

"But--but, " said the Duc d'Orleans, timidly, "do you know that it is aconspiracy which you propose to me so coolly?"

"Fie, Monseigneur, men of honor like us! a conspiracy! Oh! not at all;a league at the utmost, a slight combination to give a direction to theunanimous wish of the nation and the court--that is all. "

"But that is not so clear, for, after all, this affair will be neithergeneral nor public; therefore, it is a conspiracy. You will not avowthat you are concerned in it. "

"I, Monseigneur! Excuse me to all the world, since the kingdom isalready in it, and I am of the kingdom. And who would not sign his nameafter that of Messieurs de Bouillon and Cinq-Mars?"

"After, perhaps, not before, " said Gaston, fixing his eyes uponFontrailles more keenly than he had expected. 

The latter hesitated a moment. 

"Well, then, what would Monseigneur do should I tell him the names afterwhich he could sign his?"

"Ha! ha! this is amusing, " answered the Prince, laughing; "know you notthat above mine there are not many? I see but one. "

"And if there be one, will Monseigneur promise to sign that of Gastonbeneath it?"

"Ah, parbleu! with all my heart. I risk nothing there, for I see nonebut that of the King, who surely is not of the party. "

"Well, from this moment permit us, " said Montresor, "to take you atyour word, and deign at present to consent to two things only: to seeMonsieur de Bouillon in the Queen's apartments, and Monsieur the masterof the horse at the King's palace. "

"Agreed!" said Monsieur, gayly, tapping Montresor on the shoulder. "Iwill to-day wait on my sister-in-law at her toilette, and I will invitemy brother to hunt the stag with me at Chambord. "

The two friends asked nothing further, and were themselves surprisedat their work. They never had seen so much resolution in their chief. Accordingly, fearing to lead him to a topic which might divert him fromthe path he had adopted, they hastened to turn the conversation uponother subjects, and retired in delight, leaving as their last words inhis ear that they relied upon his keeping his promise. 

CHAPTER XV. THE ALCOVE

While a prince was thus reassured with difficulty by those whosurrounded him, and allowed them to see a terror which might have provedcontagious, a princess more exposed to accidents, more isolated by theindifference of her husband, weaker by nature and by the timidity whichis the result of the absence of happiness, on her side set the exampleof the calmest courage and the most pious resignation, and tranquillizedher terrified suite; this was the Queen. Having slept hardly an hour, she heard shrill cries behind the doors and the thick tapestries of herchamber. She ordered her women to open the door, and the Duchesse deChevreuse, in her night attire, and wrapped in a great cloak, fell, nearly fainting, at the foot of her bed, followed by four of herladies-in-waiting and three of the women of the bed-chamber. Herdelicate feet were bare, and bleeding from a wound she had received inrunning. 

She cried, weeping like a child, that a pistol-shot had broken hershutters and her window-panes, and had wounded her; she entreated theQueen to send her into exile, where she would be more tranquil than in acountry where they wished to assassinate her because she was the friendof her Majesty. 

Her hair was in great disorder, and fell to her feet. It was her chiefbeauty; and the young Queen thought that this toilette was less theresult of chance than might have been imagined. 

"Well, my dear, what has happened?" she said to her with sang-froid. "You look like a Magdalen, but in her youth, and before she repented. It is probable that if they wish to harm any one here it is I; calmyourself. "

"No, Madame! save me, protect me! it is Richelieu who pursues me, I amsure!"

The sound of pistols, which was then heard more distinctly, convincedthe Queen that the terrors of Madame de Chevreuse were not vain. 

"Come and dress me, Madame de Motteville!" cried she. But that lady hadcompletely lost her self-possession, and, opening one of those immenseebony coffers which then answered the purpose of wardrobes, took fromit a casket of the Princess's diamonds to save it, and did not listento her. The other women had seen on a window the reflection of torches, and, imagining that the palace was on fire, threw jewels, laces, goldenvases, and even the china, into sheets which they intended to lower intothe street. At this moment Madame de Guemenee arrived, a little moredressed than the Duchesse de Chevreuse, but taking events still moretragically. Her terror inspired the Queen with a slight degree offear, because of the ceremonious and placid character she was known topossess. She entered without curtseying, pale as a spectre, and saidwith volubility:

"Madame, it is time to make our confession. The Louvre is attacked, andall the populace are arriving from the city, I have been told. "

Terror silenced and rendered motionless all the persons present. 

"We shall die!" exclaimed the Duchesse de Chevreuse, still on her knees. "Ah, my God! why did I leave England? Yes, let us confess. I confessaloud. I have loved--I have been loved by--"

"Well, " said the Queen, "I do not undertake to hear your confession tothe end. That would not perhaps be the least of my dangers, of which, however, you think little. "

The coolness of Anne of Austria, and this last severe observation, however, restored a little calm to this beautiful personage, who rosein confusion, and perceiving the disordered state of her toilet, went torepair it as she best could in a closet near by. 

"Dona Stefania, " said the Queen to one of her women, the only Spaniardwhom she had retained, "go seek the captain of the guards. It is timethat I should see men at last, and hear something reasonable. "

She said this in Spanish, and the mystery of this order, spoken ina tongue which the ladies did not understand, restored those in thechamber to their senses. 

The waiting-woman was telling her beads, but she rose from the cornerof the alcove in which she had sought refuge, and hastened to obey hermistress. 

The signs of revolt and the evidences of terror became meantime moredistinct. In the great court of the Louvre was heard the trampling ofthe horses of the guards, the orders of the chiefs, the rolling of theQueen's carriages, which were being prepared, should it be necessary tofly. The rattling of the iron chains dragged along the pavement to formbarricades in case of an attack, hurried steps in the corridor, theclash of arms, the confused cries of the people, which rose and fell, went and came again, like the noise of the waves and the winds. The dooronce more opened, and this time it was to admit a very charming person. 

"I expected you, dear Marie, " said the Queen, extending her arms to theDuchesse de Mantua. "You have been more courageous than any of us; youare attired fit to be seen by all the court. "

"I was not in bed, fortunately, " replied the young Princesse de Gonzaga, casting down her eyes. "I saw all these people from the windows. OMadame, Madame, fly! I implore you to escape by the secret stairway, andlet us remain in your place. They might take one of us for the Queen. "And she added, with tears, "I have heard cries of death. Fly, Madame! Ihave no throne to lose. You are the daughter, the wife, and the motherof kings. Save yourself, and leave us here!"

"You have more to lose than I, 'm'amaie', in beauty, youth, and, I hope, in happiness, " said the Queen, with a gracious smile, giving the Duchessher beautiful hands to kiss. "Remain in my alcove and welcome; but wewill both remain there. The only service I accept from you, my sweetchild, is to bring to my bed that little golden casket which my poorMotteville has left on the ground, and which contains all that I holdmost precious. "

Then, as she took it, she whispered in Marie's ear:

"Should any misfortune happen to me, swear that you will throw it intothe Seine. "

"I will obey you, Madame, as my benefactress and my second mother, "Marie answered, weeping. 

The sound of the conflict redoubled on the quays, and the windowsreflected the flash of the firearms, of which they heard the explosion. The captain of the guards and the captain of the Swiss sent for ordersfrom the Queen through Dona Stefania. 

"I permit them to enter, " said the Queen. "Stand aside, ladies. I ama man in a moment like this; and I ought to be so. " Then, raising thebed-curtains, she continued, addressing the two officers:

"Gentlemen, first remember that you answer with your heads for the lifeof the princes, my children. You know that, Monsieur de Guitaut?"

"I sleep across their doorway, Madame; but this disturbance does notthreaten either them or your Majesty. "

"Very well; do not think of me until after them, " interrupted the Queen, "and protect indiscriminately all who are threatened. You also hear me, Monsieur de Bassompierre; you are a gentleman. Forget that your uncle isyet in the Bastille, and do your duty by the grandsons of the dead King, his friend. "

He was a young man, with a frank, open countenance. 

"Your Majesty, " said he, with a slight German accent, "may see that Ihave forgotten my family, and not yours. " And he displayed his left handdespoiled of two fingers, which had just been cut off. "I have stillanother hand, " said he, bowing and withdrawing with Guitaut. 

The Queen, much moved, rose immediately, and, despite the prayers of thePrincesse de Guemenee, the tears of Marie de Gonzaga, and the cries ofMadame de Chevreuse, insisted upon placing herself at the window, andhalf opened it, leaning upon the shoulder of the Duchesse de Mantua. 

"What do I hear?" she said. "They are crying, 'Long live the King! Longlive the Queen!'"

The people, imagining they recognized her, redoubled their cries at thismoment, and shouted louder than ever, "Down with the Cardinal! Long liveMonsieur le Grand!"

Marie shuddered. 

"What is the matter with you?" said the Queen, observing her. But asshe did not answer, and trembled in every limb, this good and gentlePrincess appeared not to perceive it; and, paying the greatest attentionto the cries and movements of the populace, she even exaggerated aninquietude which she had not felt since the first name had reachedher ear. An hour later, when they came to tell her that the crowd onlyawaited a sign from her hand to withdraw, she waved it graciously, andwith an air of satisfaction. But this joy was far from being complete, for her heart was still troubled by many things, and, above all, bythe presentiment of the regency. The more she leaned forward to showherself, the more she beheld the revolting scenes which the increasinglight revealed. Terror took possession of her soul as it becamenecessary to appear calm and confiding; and her heart was saddened atthe very gayety of her words and countenance. Exposed to all eyes, shefelt herself a mere woman, and shuddered in looking at that people whomshe would soon perhaps be called upon to govern, and who already tookupon themselves to demand the death of ministers, and to call upon theirQueen to appear before them. 

She saluted them. 

A hundred and fifty years later that salute was repeated by anotherprincess, like herself of Austrian blood, and Queen of France. Themonarchy without foundation, such as Richelieu made it, was born anddied between these two salutes. 

The Princess at last closed her windows, and hastened to dismiss hertimid suite. The thick curtains fell again over the barred windows; andthe room was no longer lighted by a day which was odious to her. Largewhite wax flambeaux burned in candelabra, in the form of golden arms, which stand out from the framed and flowered tapestries with which thewalls were hung. She remained alone with Marie de Mantua; and reenteringwith her the enclosure which was formed by the royal balustrade, shefell upon her bed, fatigued by her courage and her smiles, and burstinto tears, leaning her head upon her pillow. Marie, on her knees upon avelvet footstool, held one of her hands in both hers, and without daringto speak first, leaned her head tremblingly upon it; for until thatmoment, tears never had been seen in the Queen's eyes. 

They remained thus for some minutes. The Princess, then raising herselfup by a painful effort, spoke:

"Do not afflict yourself, my child; let me weep. It is such a reliefto one who reigns! If you pray to God for me, ask Him to grant mesufficient strength not to hate the enemy who pursues me everywhere, and who will destroy the royal family of France and the monarchy by hisboundless ambition. I recognize him in all that has taken place; I seehim in this tumultuous revolt. "

"What, Madame! is he not at Narbonne?--for it is the Cardinal of whomyou speak, no doubt; and have you not heard that these cries were foryou, and against him?"

"Yes, 'm'amie', he is three hundred leagues away from us, but his fatalgenius keeps guard at the door. If these cries have been heard, it isbecause he has allowed them; if these men were assembled, it is becausethey have not yet reached the hour which he has destined for theirdestruction. Believe me, I know him; and I have dearly paid for theknowledge of that dark soul. It has cost me all the power of my rank, the pleasures of my age, the affection of my family and even the heartof my husband. He has isolated me from the whole world. He now confinesme within a barrier of honors and respect; and formerly he dared, tothe scandal of all France, to bring an accusation against myself. Theyexamined my papers, they interrogated me, they made me sign myselfguilty, and ask the King's pardon for a fault of which I was ignorant;and I owed to the devotion, and the perhaps eternal imprisonment of afaithful servant, the preservation of this casket which you have savedfor me. I read in your looks that you think me too fearful; but do notdeceive yourself, as all the court now does. Be sure, my dear child, that this man is everywhere, and that he knows even our thoughts. "

 [His name was Laporte. Neither the fear of torture nor the hope of the Cardinal's reward could draw from him one word of the Queen's secrets. ]

"What, Madame! does he know all that these men have cried under yourwindows, and the names of those who sent them?"

"Yes; no doubt he knows it, or has foreseen it. He permits it; heauthorizes it, to compromise me in the King's eyes, and keep him foreverseparated from me. He would complete my humiliation. "

"But the King has not loved him for two years; he loves another. "

The Queen smiled; she gazed some time in silence upon the pure and openfeatures of the beautiful Marie, and her look, full of candor, whichwas languidly raised toward her. She smoothed back the black curls whichshaded her noble forehead, and seemed to rest her eyes and her soul inlooking at the charming innocence displayed upon so lovely a face. Shekissed her cheek, and resumed:

"You do not suspect, my poor child, a sad truth. It is that the Kingloves no one, and that those who appear the most in favor will be thesoonest abandoned by him, and thrown to him who engulfs and devoursall. "

"Ah, mon Dieu! what is this you tell me?"

"Do you know how many he has destroyed?" continued the Queen, in a lowvoice, and looking into her eyes as if to read in them all her thoughts, and to make her own penetrate there. "Do you know the end of hisfavorites? Have you been told of the exile of Baradas; of that ofSaint-Simon; of the convent of Mademoiselle de la Fayette, the shame ofMadame d'Hautfort, the death of Chalais? All have fallen before an orderfrom Richelieu to his master. Without this favor, which you mistakefor friendship, their lives would have been peaceful. But this favor ismortal; it is a poison. Look at this tapestry, which represents Semele. The favorites of Louis XIII resemble that woman; his attachment devourslike this fire, which dazzles and consumes her. "

But the young Duchess was no longer in a condition to listen to theQueen. She continued to fix her large, dark eyes upon her, dimmed by aveil of tears; her hands trembled in those of Anne of Austria, and herlips quivered with convulsive agitation. 

"I am very cruel, am I not, Marie?" continued the Queen, in an extremelysweet voice, and caressing her like a child from whom one would draw anavowal. "Oh, yes; no doubt I am very wicked! Your heart is full; you cannot bear it, my child. Come, tell me; how do matters stand with you andMonsieur de Cinq-Mars?"

At this word grief found a vent, and, still on her knees at the Queen'sfeet, Marie in her turn shed upon the bosom of the good Princess adeluge of tears, with childish sobs and so violent an agitation of herhead and her beautiful shoulders that it seemed as if her heart wouldbreak. The Queen waited a long time for the end of this first emotion, rocking her in her arms as if to appease her grief, frequentlyrepeating, "My child, my child, do not afflict yourself thus!"

"Ah, Madame!" she exclaimed, "I have been guilty toward you; but I didnot reckon upon that heart. I have done wrong, and I shall perhaps bepunished severely for it. But, alas! how shall I venture to confessto you, Madame? It was not so much to open my heart to you that wasdifficult; it was to avow to you that I had need to read there myself. "

The Queen reflected a moment, laying her finger upon her lips. "You areright, " she then replied; "you are quite right. Marie, it is always thefirst word which is the most difficult to say; and that difficulty oftendestroys us. But it must be so; and without this rule one would be oftenwanting in dignity. Ah, how difficult it is to reign! To-day I woulddescend into your heart, but I come too late to do you good. "

Marie de Mantua hung her head without making any reply. 

"Must I encourage you to speak?" said the Queen. "Must I remind you thatI have almost adopted you for my eldest daughter? that after seekingto unite you with the King's brother, I prepared for you the throne ofPoland? Must I do more, Marie? Yes, I must, I will. If afterward you donot open your whole heart to me, I have misjudged you. Open this goldencasket; here is the key. Open it fearlessly; do not tremble as I do. "

The Duchesse de Mantua obeyed with hesitation, and beheld in this littlechased coffer a knife of rude form, the handle of which was of iron, andthe blade very rusty. It lay upon some letters carefully folded, uponwhich was the name of Buckingham. She would have lifted them; Anne ofAustria stopped her. 

"Seek nothing further, " she said; "that is all the treasure of theQueen. And it is a treasure; for it is the blood of a man who lives nolonger, but who lived for me. He was the most beautiful, the bravest, the most illustrious of the nobles of Europe. He covered himself withthe diamonds of the English crown to please me. He raised up a fiercewar and armed fleets, which he himself commanded, that he might have thehappiness of once fighting him who was my husband. He traversed the seasto gather a flower upon which I had trodden, and ran the risk of deathto kiss and bathe with his tears the foot of this bed in the presenceof two of my ladies-in-waiting. Shall I say more? Yes, I will say it toyou--I loved him! I love him still in the past more than I could lovehim in the present. He never knew it, never divined it. This face, theseeyes, were marble toward him, while my heart burned and was breakingwith grief; but I was the Queen of France!" Here Anne of Austriaforcibly grasped Marie's arm. "Dare now to complain, " she continued, "ifyou have not yet ventured to speak to me of your love, and dare now tobe silent when I have told you these things!"

"Ah, yes, Madame, I shall dare to confide my grief to you, since you areto me--"

"A friend, a woman!" interrupted the Queen. "I was a woman in my terror, which put you in possession of a secret unknown to the whole world. I ama woman by a love which survives the man I loved. Speak; tell me! It isnow time. "

"It is too late, on the contrary, " replied Marie, with a forced smile. "Monsieur de Cinq-Mars and I are united forever. "

"Forever!" exclaimed the Queen. "Can you mean it? And your rank, yourname, your future--is all lost? Do you reserve this despair for yourbrother, the Duc de Bethel, and all the Gonzagas?"

"For more than four years I have thought of it. I am resolved; and forten days we have been affianced. "

"Affianced!" exclaimed the Queen, clasping her hands. "You have beendeceived, Marie. Who would have dared this without the King's order? Itis an intrigue which I will know. I am sure that you have been misledand deceived. "

Marie hesitated a moment, and then said:

"Nothing is more simple, Madame, than our attachment. I inhabited, youknow, the old chateau of Chaumont, with the Marechale d'Effiat, themother of Monsieur de Cinq-Mars. I had retired there to mourn the deathof my father; and it soon happened that Monsieur de Cinq-Mars had todeplore the loss of his. In this numerous afflicted family, I saw hisgrief only, which was as profound as mine. All that he said, I hadalready thought, and when we spoke of our afflictions we found themwholly alike. As I had been the first to suffer, I was better acquaintedwith sorrow than he; and I endeavored to console him by telling him allthat I had suffered, so that in pitying me he forgot himself. This wasthe beginning of our love, which, as you see, had its birth, as it were, between two tombs. "

"God grant, my sweet, that it may have a happy termination!" said theQueen. 

"I hope so, Madame, since you pray for me, " continued Marie. "Besides, everything now smiles upon me; but at that time I was very miserable. The news arrived one day at the chateau that the Cardinal had calledMonsieur de Cinq-Mars to the army. It seemed to me that I was againdeprived of one of my relatives; and yet we were strangers. But Monsieurde Bassompierre spoke without ceasing of battles and death. I retiredevery evening in grief, and I wept during the night. I thought at firstthat my tears flowed for the past, but I soon perceived that it was forthe future; and I felt that they could not be the same tears, sinceI wished to conceal them. Some time passed in the expectation of hisdeparture. I saw him every day; and I pitied him for having to depart, because he repeated to me every instant that he would have wished tolive eternally as he then did, in his own country and with us. He wasthus without ambition until the day of his departure, because he knewnot whether he was--whether he was--I dare not say it to your Majesty--"

Marie blushed, cast down her humid eyes, and smiled. 

"Well!" said the Queen, "whether he was beloved, --is it not so?"

"And in the evening, Madame, he left, ambitious. "

"That is evident, certainly. He left, " said Anne of Austria, somewhatrelieved; "but he has been back two years, and you have seen him?"

"Seldom, Madame, " said the young Duchess, proudly; "and always in thepresence of the priest, before whom I have promised to be the wife of noother than Cinq-Mars. "

"Is it really, then, a marriage? Have you dared to do it? I shallinquire. But, Heaven, what faults! how many faults in the few words Ihave heard! Let me reflect upon them. "

And, speaking aloud to herself, the Queen continued, her eyes and headbent in the attitude of reflection:

"Reproaches are useless and cruel if the evil is done. The past is nolonger ours; let us think of the future. Cinq-Mars is brave, able, andeven profound in his ideas. I have observed that he has done much in twoyears, and I now see that it was for Marie. He comports himself well; heis worthy of her in my eyes, but not so in the eyes of Europe. He mustrise yet higher. The Princesse de Mantua can not, may not, marry lessthan a prince. He must become one. By myself I can do nothing; I amnot the Queen, I am the neglected wife of the King. There is only theCardinal, the eternal Cardinal, and he is his enemy; and perhaps thisdisturbance--"

"Alas! it is the beginning of war between them. I saw it at once. "

"He is lost then!" exclaimed the Queen, embracing Marie. "Pardon me, mychild, for thus afflicting you; but in times like these we must seeall and say all. Yes, he is lost if he does not himself overthrow thiswicked man--for the King will not renounce him; force alone--"

"He will overthrow him, Madame. He will do it, if you will assist him. You are the divinity of France. Oh, I conjure you, protect the angelagainst the demon! It is your cause, that of your royal family, that ofall your nation. "

The Queen smiled. 

"It is, above all, your cause, my child; and it is as such that I willembrace it to the utmost extent of my power. That is not great, as Ihave told you; but such as it is, I lend it to you entirely, provided, however, that this angel does not stoop to commit mortal sins, " addedshe, with a meaning look. "I heard his name pronounced this night byvoices most unworthy of him. "

"Oh, Madame, I would swear that he knows nothing of it!"

"Ah, my child, do not speak of State affairs. You are not yet learnedenough in them. Let me sleep, if I can, before the hour of my toilette. My eyes are burning, and yours also, perhaps. "

Saying these words, the amiable Queen laid her head upon the pillowwhich covered the casket, and soon Marie saw her fall asleep throughsheer fatigue. She then rose, and, seating herself in a great, tapestried, square armchair, clasped her hands upon her knees, and beganto reflect upon her painful situation. Consoled by the aspect of hergentle protectress, she often raised her eyes to watch her slumber, andsent her in secret all the blessings which love showers upon those whoprotect it, sometimes kissing the curls of her blond hair, as if by thiskiss she could convey to her soul all the ideas favorable to the thoughtever present to her mind. 

The Queen's slumber was prolonged, while Marie thought and wept. However, she remembered that at ten o'clock she must appear at the royaltoilette before all the court. She resolved to cast aside reflection, to dry her tears, and she took a thick folio volume placed upon a tableinlaid with enamel and medallions; it was the 'Astree' of M. D'Urfe--awork 'de belle galanterie' adored by the fair prudes of the court. Theunsophisticated and straightforward mind of Marie could not enter intothese pastoral loves. She was too simple to understand the 'bergeresdu Lignon', too clever to be pleased at their discourse, and tooimpassioned to feel their tenderness. However, the great popularity ofthe romance so far influenced her that she sought to compel herself totake an interest in it; and, accusing herself internally every time thatshe felt the ennui which exhaled from the pages of the book, she ranthrough it with impatience to find something to please and transporther. An engraving arrested her attention. It represented the shepherdessAstree with high-heeled shoes, a corset, and an immense farthingale, standing on tiptoe to watch floating down the river the tender Celadon, drowning himself in despair at having, been somewhat coldly received inthe morning. Without explaining to herself the reason of the taste andaccumulated fallacies of this picture, she sought, in turning overthe pages, something which could fix her attention; she saw the word"Druid. "

"Ah! here is a great character, " said she. "I shall no doubt read ofone of those mysterious sacrificers of whom Britain, I am told, stillpreserves the monuments; but I shall see him sacrificing men. That wouldbe a spectacle of horror; however, let us read it. "

Saying this, Marie read with repugnance, knitting her brows, and nearlytrembling, the following:

 "The Druid Adamas delicately called the shepherds Pimandre, Ligdamont, and Clidamant, newly arrived from Calais. 'This adventure can not terminate, ' said he, 'but by the extremity of love. The soul, when it loves, transforms itself into the object beloved; it is to represent this that my agreeable enchantments will show you in this fountain the nymph Sylvia, whom you all three love. The high-priest Amasis is about to come from Montbrison, and will explain to you the delicacy of this idea. Go, then, gentle shepherds! If your desires are well regulated, they will not cause you any torments; and if they are not so, you will be punished by swoonings similar to those of Celadon, and the shepherdess Galatea, whom the inconstant Hercules abandoned in the mountains of Auvergne, and who gave her name to the tender country of the Gauls; or you will be stoned by the shepherdesses of Lignon, as was the ferocious Amidor. The great nymph of this cave has made an enchantment. '"

The enchantment of the great nymph was complete on the Princess, who hadhardly sufficient strength to find out with a trembling hand, towardthe end of the book, that the Druid Adamas was an ingenious allegory, representing the Lieutenant-General of Montbrison, of the family of thePapons. Her weary eyes closed, and the great book slipped from her lapto the cushion of velvet upon which her feet were placed, and wherethe beautiful Astree and the gallant Celadon reposed luxuriously, lessimmovable than Marie de Mantua, vanquished by them and by profoundslumber. 

CHAPTER XVI. THE CONFUSION

This same morning, the various events of which we have seen in theapartments of Gaston d'Orleans and of the Queen, the calm and silenceof study reigned in a modest cabinet of a large house near the Palaisde justice. A bronze lamp, of a gothic shape, struggling with the comingday, threw its red light upon a mass of papers and books which covereda large table; it lighted the bust of L'Hopital, that of Montaigne theessayist, the President de Thou, and of King Louis XIII. 

A fireplace sufficiently large for a man to enter and sit there wasoccupied by a large fire burning upon enormous andirons. Upon one ofthese was placed the foot of the studious De Thou, who, already risen, examined with attention the new works of Descartes and Grotius. Hewas writing upon his knee his notes upon these books of philosophy andpolitics, which were then the general subjects of conversation; but atthis moment the 'Meditations Metaphysiques' absorbed all his attention. The philosopher of Touraine enchanted the young counsellor. Often, inhis enthusiasm, he struck the book, uttering exclamations of admiration;sometimes he took a sphere placed near him, and, turning it with hisfingers, abandoned himself to the most profound reveries of science;then, led by them to a still greater elevation of mind, he wouldsuddenly throw himself upon his knees before a crucifix, placed upon thechimney-piece, because at the limits of the human mind he had foundGod. At other times he buried himself in his great armchair, so as to benearly sitting upon his shoulders, and, placing his two hands upon hiseyes, followed in his head the trace of the reasoning of Rene Descartes, from this idea of the first meditation:

 "Suppose that we are asleep, and that all these particularities-- that is, that we open our eyes, move our heads, spread our arms--are nothing but false illusions. "

to this sublime conclusion of the third:

 "Only one thing remains to be said; it is that like the idea of myself, that of God is born and produced with me from the time I was created. And certainly it should not be thought strange that God, in creating me, should have implanted in me this idea, to be, as it were, the mark of the workman impressed upon his work. "

These thoughts entirely occupied the mind of the young counsellor, whena loud noise was heard under the windows. He thought that some house onfire excited these prolonged cries, and hastened to look toward the wingof the building occupied by his mother and sisters; but all appearedto sleep there, and the chimneys did not even send forth any smoke, toattest that its inhabitants were even awake. He blessed Heaven for it;and, running to another window, he saw the people, whose exploits wehave witnessed, hastening toward the narrow streets which led to thequay. 

After examining this rabble of women and children, the ridiculous flagwhich led them, and the rude disguises of the men: "It is some popularfete or some carnival comedy, " said he; and again returning to thecorner of the fire, he placed a large almanac upon the table, andcarefully sought in it what saint was honored that day. He looked in thecolumn of the month of December; and, finding at the fourth day of thismonth the name of Ste. -Barbe, he remembered that he had seen severalsmall cannons and barrels pass, and, perfectly satisfied with theexplanation which he had given himself, he hastened to drive away theinterruption which had called off his attention, and resumed his quietstudies, rising only to take a book from the shelves of his library, and, after reading in it a phrase, a line, or only a word, he threw itfrom him upon his table or on the floor, covered in this way with booksor papers which he would not trouble himself to return to their places, lest he should break the thread of his reveries. 

Suddenly the door was hastily opened, and a name was announced whichhe had distinguished among those at the bar--a man whom his connectionswith the magistracy had made personally known to him. 

"And by what chance, at five o'clock in the morning, do I see MonsieurFournier?" he cried. "Are there some unfortunates to defend, somefamilies to be supported by the fruits of his talent, some error todissipate in us, some virtue to awaken in our hearts? for these areof his accustomed works. You come, perhaps, to inform me of some freshhumiliation of our parliament. Alas! the secret chambers of the Arsenalare more powerful than the ancient magistracy of Clovis. The parliamentis on its knees; all is lost, unless it is soon filled with men likeyourself. "

"Monsieur, I do not merit your praise, " said the Advocate, entering, accompanied by a grave and aged man, enveloped like himself in a largecloak. "I deserve, on the contrary, your censure; and I am almost apenitent, as is Monsieur le Comte du Lude, whom you see here. We come toask an asylum for the day. "

"An asylum! and against whom?" said De Thou, making them sit down. 

"Against the lowest people in Paris, who wish to have us for chiefs, andfrom whom we fly. It is odious; the sight, the smell, the ear, and thetouch, above all, are too severely wounded by it, " said M. Du Lude, witha comical gravity. "It is too much!"

"Ah! too much, you say?" said De Thou, very much astonished, but notwilling to show it. 

"Yes, " answered the Advocate; "really, between ourselves, Monsieur leGrand goes too far. "

"Yes, he pushes things too fast. He will render all our projectsabortive, " added his companion. 

"Ah! and you say he goes too far?" replied M. De Thou, rubbing his chin, more and more surprised. 

Three months had passed since his friend Cinq-Mars had been to see him;and he, without feeling much disquieted about it--knowing that he was atSt. -Germain in high favor, and never quitting the King--was far removedfrom the news of the court. Absorbed in his grave studies, he neverheard of public events till they were forced upon his attention. Heknew nothing of current life until the last moment, and often amusedhis intimate friends by his naive astonishment--the more so that from alittle worldly vanity he desired to have it appear as if he were fullyacquainted with the course of events, and tried to conceal thesurprise he experienced at every fresh intelligence. He was now in thissituation, and to this vanity was added the feeling of friendship; hewould not have it supposed that Cinq-Mars had been negligent towardhim, and, for his friend's honor even, would appear to be aware of hisprojects. 

"You know very well how we stand now, " continued the Advocate. 

"Yes, of course. Well?"

"Intimate as you are with him, you can not be ignorant that all has beenorganizing for a year past. "

"Certainly, all has been organizing; but proceed. "

"You will admit with us that Monsieur le Grand is wrong?"

"Ah, that is as it may be; but explain yourself. I shall see. "

"Well, you know upon what we had agreed at the last conference of whichhe informed you?"

"Ah! that is to say--pardon me, I perceive it almost; but set me alittle upon the track. "

"It is useless; you no doubt remember what he himself recommended us todo at Marion de Lorme's?"

"To add no one to our list, " said M. Du Lude. 

"Ah, yes, yes! I understand, " said De Thou; "that appears reasonable, very reasonable, truly. "

"Well, " continued Fournier, "he himself has infringed this agreement;for this morning, besides the ragamuffins whom that ferret the Abbe deGondi brought to us, there was some vagabond captain, who during thenight struck with sword and poniard gentlemen of both parties, cryingout at the top of his voice, 'A moi, D'Aubijoux! You gained threethousand ducats from me; here are three sword-thrusts for you. 'A moi', La Chapelle! I will have ten drops of your blood in exchange for my tenpistoles!' and I myself saw him attack these gentlemen and many more ofboth sides, loyally enough, it is true--for he struck them only in frontand on their guard--but with great success, and with a most revoltingimpartiality. "

"Yes, Monsieur, and I was about to tell him my opinion, " interposed DeLude, "when I saw him escape through the crowd like a squirrel, laughinggreatly with some suspicious looking men with dark, swarthy faces; Ido not doubt, however, that Monsieur de Cinq-Mars sent him, for he gaveorders to that Ambrosio whom you must know--that Spanish prisoner, thatrascal whom he has taken for a servant. In faith, I am disgusted withall this; and I was not born to mingle with this canaille. "

"This, Monsieur, " replied Fournier, "is very different from the affairat Loudun. There the people only rose, without actually revolting; itwas the sensible and estimable part of the populace, indignant at anassassination, and not heated by wine and money. It was a cry raisedagainst an executioner--a cry of which one could honorably be theorgan--and not these howlings of factious hypocrisy, of a mass ofunknown people, the dregs of the mud and sewers of Paris. I confess thatI am very tired of what I see; and I have come to entreat you to speakabout it to Monsieur le Grand. "

De Thou was very much embarrassed during this conversation, and soughtin vain to understand what Cinq-Mars could have to do with the people, who appeared to him merely merrymaking; on the other hand, he persistedin not owning his ignorance. It was, however, complete; for the lasttime he had seen his friend, he had spoken only of the King's horses andstables, of hawking, and of the importance of the King's huntsmen in theaffairs of the State, which did not seem to announce vast projects inwhich the people could take a part. He at last timidly ventured to say:

"Messieurs, I promise to do your commission; meanwhile, I offer youmy table and beds as long as you please. But to give my advice inthis matter is very difficult. By the way, it was not the fete ofSainte-Barbe I saw this morning?"

"The Sainte-Barbe!" said Fournier. 

"The Sainte-Barbe!" echoed Du Lude. "They burned powder. "

"Oh, yes, yes! that is what Monsieur de Thou means, " said Fournier, laughing; "very good, very good indeed! Yes, I think to-day isSainte-Barbe. "

De Thou was now altogether confused and reduced to silence; as for theothers, seeing that they did not understand him, nor he them, they hadrecourse to silence. 

They were sitting thus mute, when the door opened to admit the old tutorof Cinq-Mars, the Abbe Quillet, who entered, limping slightly. He lookedvery gloomy, retaining none of his former gayety in his air or language;but his look was still animated, and his speech energetic. 

"Pardon me, my dear De Thou, that I so early disturb you in youroccupations; it is strange, is it not, in a gouty invalid? Ah, timeadvances; two years ago I did not limp. I was, on the contrary, nimbleenough at the time of my journey to Italy; but then fear gives legs aswell as wings. "

Then, retiring into the recess of a window, he signed De Thou to come tohim. 

"I need hardly remind you, my friend, who are in their secrets, that Iaffianced them a fortnight ago, as they have told you. "

"Ah, indeed! Whom?" exclaimed poor De Thou, fallen from the Charybdisinto the Scylla of astonishment. 

"Come, come, don't affect surprise; you know very well whom, " continuedthe Abbe. "But, faith, I fear I have been too complaisant with them, though these two children are really interesting in their love. I fearfor him more than for her; I doubt not he is acting very foolishly, judging from the disturbance this morning. We must consult togetherabout it. "

"But, " said De Thou, very gravely, "upon my honor, I do not know whatyou mean. Who is acting foolishly?"

"Now, my dear Monsieur, will you still play the mysterious with me? Itis really insulting, " said the worthy man, beginning to be angry. 

"No, indeed, I mean it not; whom have you affianced?"

"Again! fie, Monsieur!"

"And what was the disturbance this morning?"

"You are laughing at me! I take my leave, " said the Abbe, rising. 

"I vow that I understand not a word of all that has been told me to-day. Do you mean Monsieur de Cinq-Mars?"

"Very well, Monsieur, very well! you treat me as a Cardinalist; verywell, we part, " said the Abbe Quillet, now altogether furious. And hesnatched up his crutch and quitted the room hastily, without listeningto De Thou, who followed him to his carriage, seeking to pacify him, but without effect, because he did not wish to name his friend upon thestairs in the hearing of his servants, and could not explain the matterotherwise. He had the annoyance of seeing the old Abbe depart, still ina passion; he called out to him amicably, "Tomorrow, " as the coachmandrove off, but got no answer. 

It was, however, not uselessly that he had descended to the foot of thestairs, for he saw thence hideous groups of the mob returning from theLouvre, and was thus better able to judge of the importance of theirmovements in the morning; he heard rude voices exclaiming, as intriumph:

"She showed herself, however, the little Queen!" "Long live the goodDuc de Bouillon, who is coming to us! He has a hundred thousand men withhim, all on rafts on the Seine. The old Cardinal de la Rochelle is dead!Long live the King! Long live Monsieur le Grand!"

The cries redoubled at the arrival of a carriage and four, with theroyal livery, which stopped at the counsellor's door, and in which DeThou recognized the equipage of Cinq-Mars; Ambrosio alighted to open theample curtains, which the carriages of that period had for doors. Thepeople threw themselves between the carriage-steps and the door of thehouse, so that Cinq-Mars had an absolute struggle ere he could get outand disengage himself from the market-women, who sought to embrace him, crying:

"Here you are, then, my sweet, my dear! Here you are, my pet! Ah, howhandsome he is, the love, with his big collar! Isn't he worth more thanthe other fellow with the white moustache? Come, my son, bring us outsome good wine this morning. "

Henri d'Effiat pressed, blushing deeply the while, his friend'shand, --who hastened to have his doors closed. 

"This popular favor is a cup one must drink, " said he, as they ascendedthe stairs. 

"It appears to me, " replied De Thou, gravely, "that you drink it even tothe very dregs. "

"I will explain all this clamorous affair to you, " answered Cinq-Mars, somewhat embarrassed. "At present, if you love me, dress yourself toaccompany me to the Queen's toilette. "

"I promised you blind adherence, " said the counsellor; "but truly I cannot keep my eyes shut much longer if--"

"Once again, I will give you a full explanation as we return from theQueen. But make haste; it is nearly ten o'clock. "

"Well, I will go with you, " replied De Thou, conducting him into hiscabinet, where were the Comte du Lude and Fournier, while he himselfpassed into his dressing-room. 

CHAPTER XVII. TOILETTE

The carriage of the Grand Equerry was rolling rapidly toward the Louvre, when, closing the curtain, he took his friend's hand, and said to himwith emotion:

"Dear De Thou, I have kept great secrets in my heart, and, believeme, they have weighed heavily there; but two fears impelled me tosilence--that of your danger, and--shall I say it?--that of yourcounsels. "

"Yet well you know, " replied De Thou, "that I despise the first; and Ideemed that you did not despise the second. "

"No, but I feared, and still fear them. I would not be stopped. Do notspeak, my friend; not a word, I conjure you, before you have heard andseen all that is about to take place. I will return with you to yourhouse on quitting the Louvre; there I will listen to you, and thence Ishall depart to continue my work, for nothing will shake my resolve, Iwarn you. I have just said so to the gentlemen at your house. "

In his accent Cinq-Mars had nothing of the brusqueness which clothedhis words. His voice was conciliatory, his look gentle, amiable, affectionate, his air as tranquil as it was determined. There was noindication of the slightest effort at control. De Thou remarked it, andsighed. 

Alighting from the carriage with him, De Thou followed him up thegreat staircase of the Louvre. When they entered the Queen's apartment, announced by two ushers dressed in black and bearing ebony rods, shewas seated at her toilette. This was a table of black wood, inlaid withtortoiseshell, mother-of-pearl, and brass, in an infinity of designs ofvery bad taste, but which give to all furniture an air of grandeur whichwe still admire in it. A mirror, rounded at the top, which the ladies ofour time would consider small and insignificant, stood in the middle ofthe table, whereon were scattered jewels and necklaces. 

Anne of Austria, seated before it in a large armchair of crimson velvet, with long gold fringe, was as motionless and grave as on her throne, while Dona Stefania and Madame de Motteville, on either side, lightlytouched her beautiful blond hair with a comb, as if finishing theQueen's coiffure, which, however, was already perfectly arranged anddecorated with pearls. Her long tresses, though light, were exquisitelyglossy, manifesting that to the touch they must be fine and soft assilk. The daylight fell without a shade upon her forehead, which had noreason to dread the test, itself reflecting an almost equal light fromits surpassing fairness, which the Queen was pleased thus to display. Her blue eyes, blended with green, were large and regular, and hervermilion mouth had that underlip of the princesses of Austria, somewhatprominent and slightly cleft, in the form of a cherry, which may stillbe marked in all the female portraits of this time, whose paintersseemed to have aimed at imitating the Queen's mouth, in order to pleasethe women of her suite, whose desire was, no doubt, to resemble her. 

The black dress then adopted by the court, and of which the form waseven fixed by an edict, set off the ivory of her arms, bare to theelbow, and ornamented with a profusion of lace, which flowed from herloose sleeves. Large pearls hung in her ears and from her girdle. Suchwas the appearance of the Queen at this moment. At her feet, upon twovelvet cushions, a boy of four years old was playing with a littlecannon, which he was assiduously breaking in pieces. This was theDauphin, afterward Louis XIV. The Duchesse Marie de Mantua was seated onher right hand upon a stool. The Princesse de Guemenee, the Duchesse deChevreuse, and Mademoiselle de Montbazon, Mesdemoiselles de Guise, deRohan, and de Vendome, all beautiful and brilliant with youth, werebehind her, standing. In the recess of a window, Monsieur, his hat underhis arm, was talking in a low voice with a man, stout, with a red faceand a steady and daring eye. This was the Duc de Bouillon. An officerabout twenty-five years of age, well-formed, and of agreeable presence, had just given several papers to the Prince, which the Duc de Bouillonappeared to be explaining to him. 

De Thou, after having saluted the Queen, who said a few words to him, approached the Princesse de Guemenee, and conversed with her in anundertone, with an air of affectionate intimacy, but all the whileintent upon his friend's interest. Secretly trembling lest he shouldhave confided his destiny to a being less worthy of him than he wished, he examined the Princess Marie with the scrupulous attention, thescrutinizing eye of a mother examining the woman whom her son hasselected for his bride--for he thought that Marie could not bealtogether a stranger to the enterprise of Cinq-Mars. He saw withdissatisfaction that her dress, which was extremely elegant, appearedto inspire her with more vanity than became her on such an occasion. Shewas incessantly rearranging upon her forehead and her hair the rubieswhich ornamented her head, and which scarcely equalled the brilliancyand animated color of her complexion. She looked frequently atCinq-Mars; but it was rather the look of coquetry than that of love, andher eyes often glanced toward the mirror on the toilette, in which shewatched the symmetry of her beauty. These observations of the counsellorbegan to persuade him that he was mistaken in suspecting her to bethe aim of Cinq-Mars, especially when he saw that she seemed to havea pleasure in sitting at the Queen's side, while the duchesses stoodbehind her, and that she often looked haughtily at them. 

"In that heart of nineteen, " said he, "love, were there love, wouldreign alone and above all to-day. It is not she!"

The Queen made an almost imperceptible movement of the head to Madamede Guemenee. After the two friends had spoken a moment with each personpresent, and at this sign, all the ladies, except Marie de Mantua, making profound courtesies, quitted the apartment without speaking, asif by previous arrangement. The Queen, then herself turning her chair, said to Monsieur:

"My brother, I beg you will come and sit down by me. We will consultupon what I have already told you. The Princesse Marie will not be inthe way. I begged her to remain. We have no interruption to fear. "

The Queen seemed more at ease in her manner and language; and no longerpreserving her severe and ceremonious immobility, she signed to theother persons present to approach her. 

Gaston d'Orleans, somewhat alarmed at this solemn opening, camecarelessly, sat down on her right hand, and said with a half-smile anda negligent air, playing with his ruff and the chain of the Saint Espritwhich hung from his neck:

"I think, Madame, that we shall fatigue the ears of so young a personageby a long conference. She would rather hear us speak of dances, and ofmarriage, of an elector, or of the King of Poland, for example. "

Marie assumed a disdainful air; Cinq-Mars frowned. 

"Pardon me, " replied the Queen, looking at her; "I assure you thepolitics of the present time interest her much. Do not seek to escapeus, my brother, " added she, smiling. "I have you to-day! It is the leastwe can do to listen to Monsieur de Bouillon. "

The latter approached, holding by the hand the young officer of whom wehave spoken. 

"I must first, " said he, "present to your Majesty the Baron de Beauvau, who has just arrived from Spain. "

"From Spain?" said the Queen, with emotion. "There is courage in that;you have seen my family?"

"He will speak to you of them, and of the Count-Duke of Olivares. Asto courage, it is not the first time he has shown it. He commanded thecuirassiers of the Comte de Soissons. "

"How? so young, sir! You must be fond of political wars. "

"On the contrary, your Majesty will pardon me, " replied he, "for Iserved with the princes of the peace. "

Anne of Austria smiled at this jeu-de-mot. The Duc de Bouillon, seizingthe moment to bring forward the grand question he had in view, quittedCinq-Mars, to whom he had just given his hand with an air of themost zealous friendship, and approaching the Queen with him, "It ismiraculous, Madame, " said he, "that this period still contains in itsbosom some noble characters, such as these;" and he pointed to themaster of the horse, to young Beauvau, and to De Thou. "It is only inthem that we can place our hope for the future. Such men are indeed veryrare now, for the great leveller has swung a long scythe over France. "

"Is it of Time you speak, " said the Queen, "or of a real personage?"

"Too real, too living, too long living, Madame!" replied the Duke, becoming more animated; "but his measureless ambition, his colossalselfishness can no longer be endured. All those who have noble heartsare indignant at this yoke; and at this moment, more than ever, we seemisfortunes threatening us in the future. It must be said, Madame--yes, it is no longer time to blind ourselves to the truth, or to concealit--the King's illness is serious. The moment for thinking and resolvinghas arrived, for the time to act is not far distant. "

The severe and abrupt tone of M. De Bouillon did not surprise Anne ofAustria; but she had always seen him more calm, and was, therefore, somewhat alarmed by the disquietude he betrayed. Quitting accordinglythe tone of pleasantry which she had at first adopted, she said:

"How! what fear you, and what would you do?"

"I fear nothing for myself, Madame, for the army of Italy or Sedanwill always secure my safety; but I fear for you, and perhaps for theprinces, your sons. "

"For my children, Monsieur le Duc, for the sons of France? Do you hearhim, my brother, and do you not appear astonished?"

The Queen was deeply agitated. 

"No, Madame, " said Gaston d'Orleans, calmly; "you know that I amaccustomed to persecution. I am prepared to expect anything from thatman. He is master; we must be resigned. "

"He master!" exclaimed the Queen. "And from whom does he derive hispowers, if not from the King? And after the King, what hand will sustainhim? Can you tell me? Who will prevent him from again returning tonothing? Will it be you or I?"

"It will be himself, " interrupted M. De Bouillon, "for he seeks to benamed regent; and I know that at this moment he contemplates taking yourchildren from you, and requiring the King to confide them to his care. "

"Take them from me!" cried the mother, involuntarily seizing theDauphin, and taking him in her arms. 

The child, standing between the Queen's knees, looked at the men whosurrounded him with a gravity very singular for his age, and, seeing hismother in tears, placed his hand upon the little sword he wore. 

"Ah, Monseigneur, " said the Duc de Bouillon, bending half down toaddress to him what he intended for the Princess, "it is not against usthat you must draw your sword, but against him who is underminingyour throne. He prepares an empire for you, no doubt. You will have anabsolute sceptre; but he has scattered the fasces which indicated it. Those fasces were your ancient nobility, whom he has decimated. Whenyou are king, you will be a great king. I foresee it; but you willhave subjects only, and no friends, for friendship exists only inindependence and a kind of equality which takes its rise in force. Yourancestors had their peers; you will not have yours. May God aid youthen, Monseigneur, for man may not do it without institutions! Be great;but above all, around you, a great man, let there be others as strong, so that if the one stumbles, the whole monarchy may not fall. "

The Duc de Bouillon had a warmth of expression and a confidence ofmanner which captivated those who heard him. His valor, his keenperception in the field, the profundity of his political views, his knowledge of the affairs of Europe, his reflective and decidedcharacter, all rendered him one of the most capable and imposing men ofhis time-the only one, indeed, whom the Cardinal-Duc really feared. TheQueen always listened to him with confidence, and allowed him to acquirea sort of empire over her. She was now more deeply moved than ever. 

"Ah, would to God, " she exclaimed, "that my son's mind was ripe for yourcounsels, and his arm strong enough to profit by them! Until that time, however, I will listen, I will act for him. It is I who should be, andit is I who shall be, regent. I will not resign this right save withlife. If we must make war, we will make it; for I will do everything butsubmit to the shame and terror of yielding up the future Louis XIV tothis crowned subject. Yes, " she went on, coloring and closely pressingthe young Dauphin's arm, "yes, my brother, and you gentlemen, counselme! Speak! how do we stand? Must I depart? Speak openly. As a woman, asa wife, I could have wept over so mournful a position; but now see, asa mother, I do not weep. I am ready to give you orders if it isnecessary. "

Never had Anne of Austria looked so beautiful as at this moment; and theenthusiasm she manifested electrified all those present, who needed buta word from her mouth to speak. The Duc de Bouillon cast a glance atMonsieur, which decided him. 

"Ma foi!" said he, with deliberation, "if you give orders, my sister, Iwill be the captain of your guards, on my honor, for I too am weary ofthe vexations occasioned me by this knave. He continues to persecuteme, seeks to break off my marriage, and still keeps my friends in theBastille, or has them assassinated from time to time; and besides, Iam indignant, " said he, recollecting himself and assuming a more solemnair, "I am indignant at the misery of the people. "

"My brother, " returned the Princess, energetically, "I take you at yourword, for with you, one must do so; and I hope that together we shall bestrong enough for the purpose. Do only as Monsieur le Comte de Soissonsdid, but survive your victory. Side with me, as you did with Monsieur deMontmorency, but leap the ditch. "

Gaston felt the point of this. He called to mind the well-known incidentwhen the unfortunate rebel of Castelnaudary leaped almost alone a largeditch, and found on the other side seventeen wounds, a prison, and deathin the sight of Monsieur, who remained motionless with his army. In therapidity of the Queen's enunciation he had not time to examinewhether she had employed this expression proverbially or with a directreference; but at all events, he decided not to notice it, and wasindeed prevented from doing so by the Queen, who continued, looking atCinq-Mars:

"But, above all, no panic-terror! Let us know exactly where we are, Monsieur le Grand. You have just left the King. Is there fear with you?"

D'Effiat had not ceased to observe Marie de Mantua, whose expressivecountenance exhibited to him all her ideas far more rapidly and moresurely than words. He read there the desire that he should speak--thedesire that he should confirm the Prince and the Queen. An impatientmovement of her foot conveyed to him her will that the thing should beaccomplished, the conspiracy arranged. His face became pale and morepensive; he pondered for a moment, realizing that his destiny wascontained in that hour. De Thou looked at him and trembled, for he knewhim well. He would fain have said one word to him, only one word; butCinq-Mars had already raised his head. He spoke:

"I do not think, Madame, that the King is so ill as you suppose. Godwill long preserve to us this Prince. I hope so; I am even sure of it. He suffers, it is true, suffers much; but it is his soul more peculiarlythat is sick, and of an evil which nothing can cure--of an evil whichone would not wish to one's greatest enemy, and which would gain him thepity of the whole world if it were known. The end of his misery--thatis to say, of his life--will not be granted him for a long time. Hislanguor is entirely moral. There is in his heart a great revolutiongoing on; he would accomplish it, and can not. 

"The King has felt for many long years growing within him the seeds of ajust hatred against a man to whom he thinks he owes gratitude, and itis this internal combat between his natural goodness and his anger thatdevours him. Every year that has passed has deposited at his feet, onone side, the great works of this man, and on the other, his crimes. Itis the last which now weigh down the balance. The King sees them and isindignant; he would punish, but all at once he stops and weeps. If youcould witness him thus, Madame, you would pity him. I have seen himseize the pen which was to sign his exile, dip it into the ink with abold hand, and use it--for what?--to congratulate him on some recentsuccess. He at once applauds himself for his goodness as a Christian, curses himself for his weakness as a sovereign judge, despises himselfas a king. He seeks refuge in prayer, and plunges into meditation uponthe future; then he rises terrified because he has seen in thought thetortures which this man merits, and how deeply no one knows better thanhe. You should hear him in these moments accuse himself of criminalweakness, and exclaim that he himself should be punished for not havingknown how to punish. One would say that there are spirits which orderhim to strike, for his arms are raised as he sleeps. In a word, Madame, the storm murmurs in his heart, but burns none but himself. Thethunderbolts are chained. "

"Well, then, let us loose them!" exclaimed the Duc de Bouillon. 

"He who touches them may die of the contact, " said Monsieur. 

"But what a noble devotion!" cried the Queen. 

"How I should admire the hero!" said Marie, in a half-whisper. 

"I will do it, " answered Cinq-Mars. 

"We will do it, " said M. De Thou, in his ear. 

Young Beauvau had approached the Duc de Bouillon. 

"Monsieur, " said he, "do you forget what follows?"

"No, 'pardieu'! I do not forget it, " replied the latter, in a low voice;then, addressing the Queen, "Madame, " said he, "accept the offer ofMonsieur le Grand. He is more in a position to sway the King than eitheryou or I; but hold yourself prepared, for the Cardinal is too wary to becaught sleeping. I do not believe in his illness. I have no faith in thesilence and immobility of which he has sought to persuade us these twoyears past. I would not believe in his death even, unless I had myselfthrown his head into the sea, like that of the giant in Ariosto. Holdyourself ready to meet all contingencies, and let us, meanwhile, hastenour operations. I have shown my plans to Monsieur just now; I will giveyou a summary of them. I offer you Sedan, Madame, for yourself, and forMesseigneurs, your sons. The army of Italy is mine; I will recall it ifnecessary. Monsieur le Grand is master of half the camp of Perpignan. All the old Huguenots of La Rochelle and the South are ready to cometo him at the first nod. All has been organized for a year past, by mycare, to meet events. "

"I should not hesitate, " said the Queen, "to place myself in your hands, to save my children, if any misfortune should happen to the King. But inthis general plan you forget Paris. "

"It is ours on every side; the people by the archbishop, without hissuspecting it, and by Monsieur de Beaufort, who is its king; the troopsby your guards and those of Monsieur, who shall be chief in command, ifhe please. "

"I! I! oh, that positively can not be! I have not enough people, and Imust have a retreat stronger than Sedan, " said Gaston. 

"It suffices for the Queen, " replied M. De Bouillon. 

"Ah, that may be! but my sister does not risk so much as a man who drawsthe sword. Do you know that these are bold measures you propose?"

"What, even if we have the King on our side?" asked Anne of Austria. 

"Yes, Madame, yes; we do not know how long that may last. We must makeourselves sure; and I do nothing without the treaty with Spain. "

"Do nothing, then, " said the Queen, coloring deeply; "for certainly Iwill never hear that spoken of. "

"And yet, Madame, it were more prudent, and Monsieur is right, " said theDuc de Bouillon; "for the Count-Duke of San Lucra offers us seventeenthousand men, tried troops, and five hundred thousand crowns in readymoney. "

"What!" exclaimed the Queen, with astonishment, "have you dared toproceed so far without my consent? already treaties with foreigners!"

"Foreigners, my sister! could we imagine that a princess of Spain woulduse that word?" said Gaston. 

Anne of Austria rose, taking the Dauphin by the hand; and, leaningupon Marie: "Yes, sir, " she said, "I am a Spaniard; but I am thegrand-daughter of Charles V, and I know that a queen's country iswhere her throne is. I leave you, gentlemen; proceed without me. I knownothing of the matter for the future. "

She advanced some steps, but seeing Marie pale and bathed in tears, shereturned. 

"I will, however, solemnly promise you inviolable secrecy; but nothingmore. "

All were mentally disconcerted, except the Duc de Bouillon, who, notwilling to lose the advantages he had gained, said to the Queen, bowingrespectfully:

"We are grateful for this promise, Madame, and we ask no more, persuadedthat after the first success you will be entirely with us. "

Not wishing to engage in a war of words, the Queen courtesied somewhatless coldly, and quitted the apartment with Marie, who cast uponCinq-Mars one of those looks which comprehend at once all the emotionsof the soul. He seemed to read in her beautiful eyes the eternal andmournful devotion of a woman who has given herself up forever; and hefelt that if he had once thought of withdrawing from his enterprise, heshould now have considered himself the basest of men. 

As soon as the two princesses had disappeared, "There, there! I told youso, Bouillon, you offended the Queen, " said Monsieur; "you went too far. You can not certainly accuse me of having been hesitating this morning. I have, on the contrary, shown more resolution than I ought to havedone. "

"I am full of joy and gratitude toward her Majesty, " said M. DeBouillon, with a triumphant air; "we are sure of the future. What willyou do now, Monsieur de Cinq-Mars?"

"I have told you, Monsieur; I draw not back, whatever the consequences. I will see the King; I will run every risk to obtain his assent. "

"And the treaty with Spain?"

"Yes, I--"

De Thou seized Cinq-Mars by the arm, and, advancing suddenly, said, witha solemn air:

"We have decided that it shall be only signed after the interview withthe King; for should his Majesty's just severity toward the Cardinaldispense with it, we have thought it better not to expose ourselves tothe discovery of so dangerous a treaty. "

M. De Bouillon frowned. 

"If I did not know Monsieur de Thou, " said he, "I should have regardedthis as a defection; but from him--"

"Monsieur, " replied the counsellor, "I think I may engage myself, on myhonor, to do all that Monsieur le Grand does; we are inseparable. "

Cinq-Mars looked at his friend, and was astonished to see upon his mildcountenance the expression of sombre despair; he was so struck with itthat he had not the courage to gainsay him. 

"He is right, gentlemen, " he said with a cold but kindly smile; "theKing will perhaps spare us much trouble. We may do good things withhim. For the rest, Monseigneur, and you, Monsieur le Duc, " he added withimmovable firmness, "fear not that I shall ever draw back. I have burnedall the bridges behind me. I must advance; the Cardinal's power shallfall, or my head. "

"It is strange, very strange!" said Monsieur; "I see that every one hereis farther advanced in the conspiracy than I imagined. "

"Not so, Monsieur, " said the Duc de Bouillon; "we prepared only thatwhich you might please to accept. Observe that there is nothing inwriting. You have but to speak, and nothing exists or ever has existed;according to your order, the whole thing shall be a dream or a volcano. "

"Well, well, I am content, if it must be so, " said Gaston; "let usoccupy ourselves with more agreeable topics. Thank God, we have a littletime before us! I confess I wish that it were all over. I am not fittedfor violent emotions; they affect my health, " he added, taking M. DeBeauvau's arm. "Tell us if the Spanish women are still pretty, youngman. It is said you are a great gallant among them. 'Tudieu'! I'msure you've got yourself talked of there. They tell me the women wearenormous petticoats. Well, I am not at all against that; they make thefoot look smaller and prettier. I'm sure the wife of Don Louis de Harois not handsomer than Madame de Guemenee, is she? Come, be frank; I'mtold she looks like a nun. Ah! you do not answer; you are embarrassed. She has then taken your fancy; or you fear to offend our friend Monsieurde Thou in comparing her with the beautiful Guemenee. Well, let's talkof the customs; the King has a charming dwarf I'm told, and they puthim in a pie. He is a fortunate man, that King of Spain! I don't knowanother equally so. And the Queen, she is still served on bended knee, is she not? Ah! that is a good custom; we have lost it. It is veryunfortunate--more unfortunate than may be supposed. "

And Gaston d'Orleans had the confidence to speak in this tone nearlyhalf an hour, with a young man whose serious character was not atall adapted to such conversation, and who, still occupied with theimportance of the scene he had just witnessed and the great interestswhich had been discussed, made no answer to this torrent of idle words. He looked at the Duc de Bouillon with an astonished air, as if to askhim whether this was really the man whom they were going to place at thehead of the most audacious enterprise that had ever been launched; whilethe Prince, without appearing to perceive that he remained unanswered, replied to himself, speaking with volubility, as he drew him graduallyout of the room. He feared that one of the gentlemen present mightrecommence the terrible conversation about the treaty; but none desiredto do so, unless it were the Duc de Bouillon, who, however, preserved anangry silence. As for Cinq-Mars, he had been led away by De Thou, undercover of the chattering of Monsieur, who took care not to appear tonotice their departure. 

BOOK 5. 

CHAPTER XVIII. THE SECRET

De Thou had reached home with his friend; his doors were carefully shut, and orders given to admit no one, and to excuse him to the refugees forallowing them to depart without seeing them again; and as yet the twofriends had not spoken to each other. 

The counsellor had thrown himself into his armchair in deep meditation. Cinq-Mars, leaning against the lofty chimneypiece, awaited with aserious and sorrowful air the termination of this silence. At length DeThou, looking fixedly at him and crossing his arms, said in a hollow andmelancholy voice:

"This, then, is the goal you have reached! These, the consequences ofyour ambition! You are are about to banish, perhaps slay, a man, andto bring then, a foreign army into France; I am, then, to see you anassassin and a traitor to your country! By what tortuous paths have youarrived thus far? By what stages have you descended so low?"

"Any other than yourself would not speak thus to me twice, " saidCinq-Mars, coldly; "but I know you, and I like this explanation. Idesired it, and sought it. You shall see my entire soul. I had at firstanother thought, a better one perhaps, more worthy of our friendship, more worthy of friendship--friendship, the second thing upon earth. "

He raised his eyes to heaven as he spoke, as if he there sought thedivinity. 

"Yes, it would have been better. I intended to have said nothing to youon the subject. It was a painful task to keep silence; but hitherto Ihave succeeded. I wished to have conducted the whole enterprise withoutyou; to show you only the finished work. I wished to keep you beyond thecircle of my danger; but shall I confess my weakness? I feared to die, if I have to die, misjudged by you. I can well sustain the idea of theworld's malediction, but not of yours; but this has decided me uponavowing all to you. "

"What! and but for this thought, you would have had the courage toconceal yourself forever from me? Ah, dear Henri, what have I done thatyou should take this care of my life? By what fault have I deserved tosurvive you, if you die? You have had the strength of mind to hoodwinkme for two whole years; you have never shown me aught of your lifebut its flowers; you have never entered my solitude but with a joyouscountenance, and each time with a fresh favor. Ah, you must be veryguilty or very virtuous!"

"Do not seek in my soul more than therein lies. Yes, I have deceivedyou; and that fact was the only peace and joy I had in the world. Forgive me for having stolen these moments from my destiny, sobrilliant, alas! I was happy in the happiness you supposed me to enjoy;I made you happy in that dream, and I am only guilty in that I am nowabout to destroy it, and to show myself as I was and am. Listen: I shallnot detain you long; the story of an impassioned heart is ever simple. Once before, I remember, in my tent when I was wounded, my secret nearlyescaped me; it would have been happy, perhaps, had it done so. Yet whatwould counsel have availed me? I should not have followed it. In a word, 'tis Marie de Mantua whom I love. "

"How! she who is to be Queen of Poland?"

"If she is ever queen, it can only be after my death. But listen: forher I became a courtier; for her I have almost reigned in France; forher I am about to fall--perhaps to die. "

"Die! fall! when I have been reproaching your triumph! when I have weptover the sadness of your victory!"

"Ah! you know me but ill, if you suppose that I shall be the dupe ofFortune, when she smiles upon me; if you suppose that I have notpierced to the bottom of my destiny! I struggle against it, but 'tis thestronger I feel it. I have undertaken a task beyond human power; and Ishall fail in it. "

"Why, then, not stop? What is the use of intellect in the business ofthe world?"

"None; unless, indeed, it be to tell us the cause of our fall, andto enable us to foresee the day on which we shall fall. I can not nowrecede. When a man is confronted with such an enemy as Richelieu, hemust overcome him or be crushed by him. Tomorrow I shall strike the lastblow; did I not just now, in your presence, engage to do so?"

"And it is that very engagement that I would oppose. What confidencehave you in those to whom you thus abandon your life? Have you not readtheir secret thoughts?"

"I know them all; I have read their hopes through their feigned rage;I know that they tremble while they threaten. I know that even now theyare ready to make their peace by giving me up; but it is my part tosustain them and to decide the King. I must do it, for Marie is mybetrothed, and my death is written at Narbonne. It is voluntarily, it iswith full knowledge of my fate, that I have thus placed myself betweenthe block and supreme happiness. That happiness I must tear from thehands of Fortune, or die on that scaffold. At this instant I experiencethe joy of having broken down all doubt. What! blush you not at havingthought me ambitious from a base egoism, like this Cardinal--ambitiousfrom a puerile desire for a power which is never satisfied? I amambitious, but it is because I love. Yes, I love; in that word all iscomprised. But I accuse you unjustly. You have embellished my secretintentions; you have imparted to me noble designs (I remember them), high political conceptions. They are brilliant, they are grand, doubtless; but--shall I say it to you?--such vague projects for theperfecting of corrupt societies seem to me to crawl far below thedevotion of love. When the whole soul vibrates with that one thought, ithas no room for the nice calculation of general interests; the topmostheights of earth are far beneath heaven. "

De Thou shook his head. 

"What can I answer?" he said. "I do not understand you; your reasoningunreasons you. You hunt a shadow. "

"Nay, " continued Cinq-Mars; "far from destroying my strength, thisinward fire has developed it. I have calculated everything. Slow stepshave led me to the end which I am about to attain. Marie drew me by thehand; could I retreat? I would not have done it though a world faced me. Hitherto, all has gone well; but an invisible barrier arrests me. Thisbarrier must be broken; it is Richelieu. But now in your presence Iundertook to do this; but perhaps I was too hasty. I now think I was so. Let him rejoice; he expected me. Doubtless he foresaw that it wouldbe the youngest whose patience would first fail. If he played on thiscalculation, he played well. Yet but for the love that has urged me on, I should have been stronger than he, and by just means. "

Then a sudden change came over the face of Cinq-Mars. He turned pale andred twice; and the veins of his forehead rose like blue lines drawn byan invisible hand. 

"Yes, " he added, rising, and clasping together his hands with a forcewhich indicated the violent despair concentred in his heart, "all thetorments with which love can tear its victims I have felt in my breast. This timid girl, for whom I would shake empires, for whom I havesuffered all, even the favor of a prince, who perhaps has not felt all Ihave done for her, can not yet be mine. She is mine before God, yet I amestranged from her; nay, I must hear daily discussed before me which ofthe thrones of Europe will best suit her, in conversations wherein I maynot even raise my voice to give an opinion, and in which they scorn asmate for her princes of the blood royal, who yet have precedence farbefore me. I must conceal myself like a culprit to hear through agrating the voice of her who is my wife; in public I must bow beforeher--her husband, yet her servant! 'Tis too much; I can not live thus. Imust take the last step, whether it elevate me or hurl me down. "

"And for your personal happiness you would overthrow a State?"

"The happiness of the State is one with mine. I secure that undoubtedlyin destroying the tyrant of the King. The horror with which this maninspires me has passed into my very blood. When I was first on my way tohim, I encountered in my journey his greatest crime. He is the genius ofevil for the unhappy King! I will exorcise him. I might have become thegenius of good for Louis XIII. It was one of the thoughts of Marie, hermost cherished thought. But I do not think I shall triumph in the uneasysoul of the Prince. "

"Upon what do you rely, then?" said De Thou. 

"Upon the cast of a die. If his will can but once last for a few hours, I have gained. 'Tis a last calculation on which my destiny hangs. "

"And that of your Marie!"

"Could you suppose it?" said Cinq-Mars, impetuously. "No, no! If heabandons me, I sign the treaty with Spain, and then-war!"

"Ah, horror!" exclaimed the counsellor. "What, a war! a civil war, and aforeign alliance!"

"Ay, 'tis a crime, " said Cinq-Mars, coldly; "but have I asked you toparticipate in it?"

"Cruel, ungrateful man!" replied his friend; "can you speak to me thus?Know you not, have I not proved to you, that friendship holds theplace of every passion in my heart? Can I survive the least of yourmisfortunes, far less your death. Still, let me influence you not tostrike France. Oh, my friend! my only friend! I implore you on my knees, let us not thus be parricides; let us not assassinate our country! I sayus, because I will never separate myself from your actions. Preserve tome my self-esteem, for which I have labored so long; sully not my lifeand my death, which are both yours. "

De Thou had fallen at the feet of his friend, who, unable to preservehis affected coldness, threw himself into his arms, as he raised him, and, pressing him to his heart, said in a stifled voice:

"Why love me thus? What have you done, friend? Why love me? You whoare wise, pure, and virtuous; you who are not led away by an insensatepassion and the desire for vengeance; you whose soul is nourished onlyby religion and science--why love me? What has my friendship given youbut anxiety and pain? Must it now heap dangers on you? Separate yourselffrom me; we are no longer of the same nature. You see courts havecorrupted me. I have no longer openness, no longer goodness. I meditatethe ruin of a man; I can deceive a friend. Forget me, scorn me. I am notworthy of one of your thoughts; how should I be worthy of your perils?"

"By swearing to me not to betray the King and France, " answered De Thou. "Know you that the preservation of your country is at stake; that ifyou yield to Spain our fortifications, she will never return them to us;that your name will be a byword with posterity; that French mothers willcurse it when they shall be forced to teach their children a foreignlanguage--know you all this? Come. "

And he drew him toward the bust of Louis XIII. 

"Swear before him (he is your friend also), swear never to sign thisinfamous treaty. "

Cinq-Mars lowered his eyes, but with dogged tenacity answered, althoughblushing as he did so:

"I have said it; if they force me to it, I will sign. "

De Thou turned pale, and let fall his hand. He took two turns in hisroom, his arms crossed, in inexpressible anguish. At last he advancedsolemnly toward the bust of his father, and opened a large book standingat its foot; he turned to a page already marked, and read aloud:

"I think, therefore, that M. De Ligneboeuf was justly condemned to deathby the Parliament of Rouen, for not having revealed the conspiracy ofCatteville against the State. "

Then keeping the book respectfully opened in his hand, and contemplatingthe image of the President de Thou, whose Memoirs he held, he continued:

"Yes, my father, you thought well.... I shall be a criminal, I shallmerit death; but can I do otherwise? I will not denounce this traitor, because that also would be treason; and he is my friend, and he isunhappy. "

Then, advancing toward Cinq-Mars, and again taking his hand, he said:

"I do much for you in acting thus; but expect nothing further from me, Monsieur, if you sign this treaty. "

Cinq-Mars was moved to the heart's core by this scene, for he felt allthat his friend must suffer in casting him off. Checking, however, thetears which were rising to his smarting lids, and embracing De Thoutenderly, he exclaimed:

"Ah, De Thou, I find you still perfect. Yes, you do me a service inalienating yourself from me, for if your lot had been linked to mine, Ishould not have dared to dispose of my life. I should have hesitatedto sacrifice it in case of need; but now I shall assuredly do so. And Irepeat to you, if they force me, I shall sign the treaty with Spain. "

CHAPTER XIX. THE HUNTING PARTY

Meanwhile the illness of Louis XIII threw France into the apprehensionwhich unsettled States ever feel on the approach of the death ofprinces. Although Richelieu was the hub of the monarchy, he reigned onlyin the name of Louis, though enveloped with the splendor of the namewhich he had assumed. Absolute as he was over his master, Richelieustill feared him; and this fear reassured the nation against hisambitious desires, to which the King himself was the fixed barrier. Butthis prince dead, what would the imperious minister do? Where would aman stop who had already dared so much? Accustomed to wield the sceptre, who would prevent him from still holding it, and from subscribing hisname alone to laws which he alone would dictate? These fears agitatedall minds. The people in vain looked throughout the kingdom for thosepillars of the nobility, at the feet of whom they had been wont tofind shelter in political storms. They now only saw their recent tombs. Parliament was dumb; and men felt that nothing could be opposed to themonstrous growth of the Cardinal's usurping power. No one was entirelydeceived by the affected sufferings of the minister. None was touchedwith that feigned agony which had too often deceived the public hope;and distance nowhere prevented the weight of the dreaded 'parvenu' frombeing felt. 

The love of the people soon revived toward the son of Henri IV. Theyhastened to the churches; they prayed, and even wept. Unfortunateprinces are always loved. The melancholy of Louis, and his mysterioussorrow interested all France; still living, they already regrettedhim, as if each man desired to be the depositary of his troubles erehe carried away with him the grand mystery of what is suffered by menplaced so high that they can see nothing before them but their tomb. 

The King, wishing to reassure the whole nation, announced the temporaryreestablishment of his health, and ordered the court to prepare for agrand hunting party to be given at Chambord--a royal domain, whither hisbrother, the Duc d'Orleans, prayed him to return. 

This beautiful abode was the favorite retreat of Louis, doubtlessbecause, in harmony with his feelings, it combined grandeur withsadness. He often passed whole months there, without seeing any onewhatsoever, incessantly reading and re-reading mysterious papers, writing unknown documents, which he locked up in an iron coffer, ofwhich he alone had the key. He sometimes delighted in being served bya single domestic, and thus so to forget himself by the absence of hissuite as to live for many days together like a poor man or an exiledcitizen, loving to figure to himself misery or persecution, in order thebetter to enjoy royalty afterward. Another time he would be in a moreentire solitude; and having forbidden any human creature to approachhim, clothed in the habit of a monk, he would shut himself up in thevaulted chapel. There, reading the life of Charles V, he would imaginehimself at St. Just, and chant over himself that mass for the dead whichbrought death upon the head of the Spanish monarch. 

But in the midst of these very chants and meditations his feeble mindwas pursued and distracted by contrary images. Never did life and theworld appear to him more fair than in such times of solitude among thetombs. Between his eyes and the page which he endeavored to read passedbrilliant processions, victorious armies, or nations transported withlove. He saw himself powerful, combating, triumphant, adored; and if aray of the sun through the large windows fell upon him, suddenly risingfrom the foot of the altar, he felt himself carried away by a thirst fordaylight and the open air, which led him from his gloomy retreat. Butreturned to real life, he found there once more disgust and ennui, forthe first men he met recalled his power to his recollection by theirhomage. 

It was then that he believed in friendship, and summoned it to hisside; but scarcely was he certain of its possession than unconquerablescruples suddenly seized upon his soul-scruples concerning a toopowerful attachment to the creature, turning him from the Creator, andfrequently inward reproaches for removing himself too much from theaffairs of the State. The object of his momentary affection then seemedto him a despotic being, whose power drew him from his duties; but, unfortunately for his favorites, he had not the strength of mindoutwardly to manifest toward them the resentment he felt, and thus towarn them of their danger, but, continuing to caress them, he added bythis constraint fuel to the secret fire of his heart, and was impelledto an absolute hatred of them. There were moments when he was capable oftaking any measures against them. 

Cinq-Mars knew perfectly the weakness of that mind, which could notkeep firmly in any path, and the weakness of a heart which could neitherwholly love nor wholly hate. Thus, the position of favorite, the envyof all France, the object of jealousy even on the part of the greatminister, was so precarious and so painful that, but for his love, hewould have burst his golden chains with greater joy than a galley-slavefeels when he sees the last ring that for two long years he has beenfiling with a steel spring concealed in his mouth, fall to the earth. This impatience to meet the fate he saw so near hastened the explosionof that patiently prepared mine, as he had declared to his friend; buthis situation was that of a man who, placed by the side of the bookof life, should see hovering over it the hand which is to indite hisdamnation or his salvation. He set out with Louis to Chambord, resolvedto take the first opportunity favorable to his design. It soon presenteditself. 

The very morning of the day appointed for the chase, the King sent wordto him that he was waiting for him on the Escalier du Lys. It may not, perhaps, be out of place to speak of this astonishing construction. 

Four leagues from Blois, and one league from the Loire, in a small anddeep valley, between marshy swamps and a forest of large holm-oaks, farfrom any highroad, the traveller suddenly comes upon a royal, nay, amagic castle. It might be said that, compelled by some wonderful lamp, agenie of the East had carried it off during one of the "thousand and onenights, " and had brought it from the country of the sun to hide itin the land of fogs and mist, for the dwelling of the mistress of ahandsome prince. 

Hidden like a treasure; with its blue domes, its elegant minarets risingfrom thick walls or shooting into the air, its long terraces overlookingthe wood, its light spires bending with the wind, its terraceseverywhere rising over its colonnades, one might there imagine one'sself in the kingdom of Bagdad or of Cashmir, did not the blackenedwalls, with their covering of moss and ivy, and the pallid andmelancholy hue of the sky, denote a rainy climate. It was indeed agenius who raised this building; but he came from Italy, and his namewas Primaticcio. It was indeed a handsome prince whose amours wereconcealed in it; but he was a king, and he bore the name of Francois I. His salamander still spouts fire everywhere about it. It sparkles ina thousand places on the arched roofs, and multiplies the flames therelike the stars of heaven; it supports the capitals with burning crowns;it colors the windows with its fires; it meanders up and down the secretstaircases, and everywhere seems to devour with its flaming glances thetriple crescent of a mysterious Diane--that Diane de Poitiers, twice agoddess and twice adored in these voluptuous woods. 

The base of this strange monument is like the monument itself, full ofelegance and mystery; there is a double staircase, which rises in twointerwoven spirals from the most remote foundations of the edifice up tothe highest points, and ends in a lantern or small lattice-work cabinet, surmounted by a colossal fleur-de-lys, visible from a great distance. Two men may ascend it at the same moment, without seeing each other. 

This staircase alone seems like a little isolated temple. Like ourchurches, it is sustained and protected by the arcades of its thin, light, transparent, openwork wings. One would think the docile stonehad given itself to the finger of the architect; it seems, so to speak, kneaded according to the slightest caprice of his imagination. One canhardly conceive how the plans were traced, in what terms the orders wereexplained to the workmen. The whole thing appears a transient thought, a brilliant revery that at once assumed a durable form---the realizationof a dream. 

Cinq-Mars was slowly ascending the broad stairs which led him to theKing's presence, and stopping longer at each step, in proportion as heapproached him, either from disgust at the idea of seeing the Princewhose daily complaints he had to hear, or thinking of what he was aboutto do, when the sound of a guitar struck his ear. He recognized thebeloved instrument of Louis and his sad, feeble, and trembling voicefaintly reechoing from the vaulted ceiling. Louis seemed trying one ofthose romances which he was wont to compose, and several times repeatedan incomplete strain with a trembling hand. The words could scarcelybe distinguished; all that Cinq-Mars heard were a few such as 'Abandon, ennui de monde, et belle flamme. 

The young favorite shrugged his shoulders as he listened. 

"What new chagrin moves thee?" he said. "Come, let me again attempt toread that chilled heart which thinks it needs something. "

He entered the narrow cabinet. 

Clothed in black, half reclining on a couch, his elbows resting uponpillows, the Prince was languidly touching the chords of his guitar; heceased this when he saw the grand ecuyer enter, and, raising his largeeyes to him with an air of reproach, swayed his head to and fro for along time without speaking. Then in a plaintive but emphatic tone, hesaid:

"What do I hear, Cinq-Mars? What do I hear of your conduct? How muchyou do pain me by forgetting all my counsels! You have formed a guiltyintrigue; was it from you I was to expect such things--you whom I soloved for your piety and virtue?"

Full of his political projects, Cinq-Mars thought himself discovered, and could not help a momentary anxiety; but, perfectly master ofhimself, he answered without hesitation:

"Yes, Sire; and I was about to declare it to you, for I am accustomed toopen my soul to you. "

"Declare it to me!" exclaimed the King, turning red and white, as underthe shivering of a fever; "and you dare to contaminate my ears withthese horrible avowals, Monsieur, and to speak so calmly of yourdisorder! Go! you deserve to be condemned to the galley, like Rondin;it is a crime of high treason you have committed in your want of faithtoward me. I had rather you were a coiner, like the Marquis de Coucy, or at the head of the Croquants, than do as you have done; you dishonoryour family, and the memory of the marechal your father. "

Cinq-Mars, deeming himself wholly lost, put the best face he could uponthe matter, and said with an air of resignation:

"Well, then, Sire, send me to be judged and put to death; but spare meyour reproaches. "

"Do you insult me, you petty country-squire?" answered Louis. "I knowvery well that you have not incurred the penalty of death in the eyesof men; but it is at the tribunal of God, Monsieur, that you will bejudged. "

"Heavens, Sire!" replied the impetuous young man, whom the insultingphrase of the King had offended, "why do you not allow me to returnto the province you so much despise, as I have sought to do a hundredtimes? I will go there. I can not support the life I lead with you; anangel could not bear it. Once more, let me be judged if I am guilty, or allow me to return to Touraine. It is you who have ruined me inattaching me to your person. If you have caused me to conceive loftyhopes, which you afterward overthrew, is that my fault? Wherefore haveyou made me grand ecuyer, if I was not to rise higher? In a word, am Iyour friend or not? and, if I am, why may I not be duke, peer, or evenconstable, as well as Monsieur de Luynes, whom you loved so much becausehe trained falcons for you? Why am I not admitted to the council? Icould speak as well as any of the old ruffs there; I have new ideas, and a better arm to serve you. It is your Cardinal who has prevented youfrom summoning me there. And it is because he keeps you from me that Idetest him, " continued Cinq-Mars, clinching his fist, as if Richelieustood before him; "yes, I would kill him with my own hand, if needwere. "

D'Effiat's eyes were inflamed with anger; he stamped his foot as hespoke, and turned his back to the King, like a sulky child, leaningagainst one of the columns of the cupola. 

Louis, who recoiled before all resolution, and who was always terrifiedby the irreparable, took his hand. 

O weakness of power! O caprices of the human heart! it was by thischildish impetuosity, these very defects of his age, that this young mangoverned the King of France as effectually as did the first politicianof the time. This Prince believed, and with some show of reason, thata character so hasty must be sincere; and even his fiery rage did notanger him. It did not apply to the real subject of his reproaches, andhe could well pardon him for hating the Cardinal. The very idea of hisfavorite's jealousy of the minister pleased him, because it indicatedattachment; and all he dreaded was his indifference. Cinq-Mars knewthis, and had desired to make it a means of escape, preparing the Kingto regard all that he had done as child's play, as the consequence ofhis friendship for him; but the danger was not so great, and he breathedfreely when the Prince said to him:

"The Cardinal is not in question here. I love him no more than you do;but it is with your scandalous conduct I reproach you, and which I shallhave much difficulty to pardon in you. What, Monsieur! I learn thatinstead of devoting yourself to the pious exercises to which I haveaccustomed you, when I fancy you are at your Salut or your Angelus--youare off from Saint Germain, and go to pass a portion of the night--withwhom? Dare I speak of it without sin? With a woman lost in reputation, who can have no relations with you but such as are pernicious to thesafety of your soul, and who receives free-thinkers at her house--in aword, Marion de Lorme. What have you to say? Speak. "

Leaving his hand in that of the King, but still leaning against thecolumn, Cinq-Mars answered:

"Is it then so culpable to leave grave occupations for others moreserious still? If I go to the house of Marion de Lorme, it is to hearthe conversation of the learned men who assemble there. Nothing is moreharmless than these meetings. Readings are given there which, it istrue, sometimes extend far into the night, but which commonly tendto exalt the soul, so far from corrupting it. Besides, you have nevercommanded me to account to you for all that I do; I should have informedyou of this long ago if you had desired it. "

"Ah, Cinq-Mars, Cinq-Mars! where is your confidence? Do you feel no needof it? It is the first condition of a perfect friendship, such as oursought to be, such as my heart requires. "

The voice of Louis became more affectionate, and the favorite, lookingat him over his shoulder, assumed an air less angry, but still simplyennuye, and resigned to listening to him. 

"How often have you deceived me!" continued the King; "can I trustmyself to you? Are they not fops and gallants whom you meet at the houseof this woman? Do not courtesans go there?"

"Heavens! no, Sire; I often go there with one of my friends--a gentlemanof Touraine, named Rene Descartes. "

"Descartes! I know that name! Yes, he is an officer who distinguishedhimself at the siege of Rochelle, and who dabbles in writing; he has agood reputation for piety, but he is connected with Desbarreaux, who isa free-thinker. I am sure that you must mix with many persons who arenot fit company for you, many young men without family, without birth. Come, tell me whom saw you last there?"

"Truly, I can scarcely remember their names, " said Cinq-Mars, looking atthe ceiling; "sometimes I do not even ask them. There was, in the firstplace, a certain Monsieur--Monsieur Groot, or Grotius, a Hollander. "

"I know him, a friend of Barnevelt; I pay him a pension. I liked himwell enough; but the Card--but I was told that he was a high Calvinist. "

"I also saw an Englishman, named John Milton; he is a young man justcome from Italy, and is returning to London. He scarcely speaks at all. "

"I don't know him--not at all; but I'm sure he's some other Calvinist. And the Frenchmen, who were they?"

"The young man who wrote Cinna, and who has been thrice rejected at theAcademie Francaise; he was angry that Du Royer occupied his place there. He is called Corneille. "

"Well, " said the King, folding his arms, and looking at him with an airof triumph and reproach, "I ask you who are these people? Is it in sucha circle that you ought to be seen?"

Cinq-Mars was confounded at this observation, which hurt his self-pride, and, approaching the King, he said:

"You are right, Sire; but there can be no harm in passing an hour ortwo in listening to good conversation. Besides, many courtiers go there, such as the Duc de Bouillon, Monsieur d'Aubijoux, the Comte de Brion, the Cardinal de la Vallette, Messieurs de Montresor, Fontrailles; menillustrious in the sciences, as Mairet, Colletet, Desmarets, authorof Araine; Faret, Doujat, Charpentier, who wrote the Cyropedie; Giry, Besons, and Baro, the continuer of Astree--all academicians. "

"Ah! now, indeed, here are men of real merit, " said Louis; "thereis nothing to be said against them. One can not but gain from theirsociety. Theirs are settled reputations; they're men of weight. Come, let us make up; shake hands, child. I permit you to go there sometimes, but do not deceive me any more; you see I know all. Look at this. "

So saying, the King took from a great iron chest set against the wallenormous packets of paper scribbled over with very fine writing. Uponone was written, Baradas, upon another, D'Hautefort, upon a third, La Fayette, and finally, Cinq-Mars. He stopped at the latter, andcontinued:

"See how many times you have deceived me! These are the continual faultsof which I have myself kept a register during the two years I have knownyou; I have written out our conversations day by day. Sit down. "

Cinq-Mars obeyed with a sigh, and had the patience for two long hoursto listen to a summary of what his master had had the patience to writeduring the course of two years. He yawned many times during the reading, as no doubt we should all do, were it needful to report this dialogue, which was found in perfect order, with his will, at the death of theKing. We shall only say that he finished thus:

"In fine, hear what you did on the seventh of December, three days ago. I was speaking to you of the flight of the hawk, and of the knowledge ofhunting, in which you are deficient. I said to you, on the authority ofLa Chasse Royale, a work of King Charles IX, that after the hunter hasaccustomed his dog to follow a beast, he must consider him as of himselfdesirous of returning to the wood, and the dog must not be rebuked orstruck in order to make him follow the track well; and that in order toteach a dog to set well, creatures that are not game must not be allowedto pass or run, nor must any scents be missed, without putting his noseto them. 

"Hear what you replied to me (and in a tone of ill-humor--mind that!)'Ma foi! Sire, give me rather regiments to conduct than birds and dogs. I am sure that people would laugh at you and me if they knew how weoccupy ourselves. ' And on the eighth--wait, yes, on the eighth--whilewe were singing vespers together in my chambers, you threw your bookangrily into the fire, which was an impiety; and afterward you toldme that you had let it drop--a sin, a mortal sin. See, I have writtenbelow, lie, underlined. People never deceive me, I assure you. "

"But, Sire--"

"Wait a moment! wait a moment! In the evening you told me the Cardinalhad burned a man unjustly, and out of personal hatred. "

"And I repeat it, and maintain it, and will prove it, Sire. It is thegreatest crime of all of that man whom you hesitate to disgrace, andwho renders you unhappy. I myself saw all, heard, all, at Loudun. UrbainGrandier was assassinated, rather than tried. Hold, Sire, since you havethere all those memoranda in your own hand, merely reperuse the proofswhich I then gave you of it. "

Louis, seeking the page indicated, and going back to the journey fromPerpignan to Paris, read the whole narrative with attention, exclaiming:

"What horrors! How is it that I have forgotten all this? This manfascinates me; that's certain. You are my true friend, Cinq-Mars. What horrors! My reign will be stained by them. What! he prevented theletters of all the nobility and notables of the district from reachingme! Burn, burn alive! without proofs! for revenge! A man, a people haveinvoked my name in vain; a family curses me! Oh, how unhappy are kings!"

And the Prince, as he concluded, threw aside his papers and wept. 

"Ah, Sire, those are blessed tears that you weep!" exclaimed Cinq-Mars, with sincere admiration. "Would that all France were here with me! Shewould be astonished at this spectacle, and would scarcely believe it. "

"Astonished! France, then, does not know me?"

"No, Sire, " said D'Effiat, frankly; "no one knows you. And I myself, with the rest of the world, at times accuse you of coldness andindifference. "

"Of coldness, when I am dying with sorrow! Of coldness, when Ihave immolated myself to their interests! Ungrateful nation! I havesacrificed all to it, even pride, even the happiness of guiding itmyself, because I feared on its account for my fluctuating life. I havegiven my sceptre to be borne by a man I hate, because I believed hishand to be stronger than my own. I have endured the ill he has done tomyself, thinking that he did good to my people. I have hidden my owntears to dry theirs; and I see that my sacrifice has been even greaterthan I thought it, for they have not perceived it. They have believed meincapable because I was kind, and without power because I mistrusted myown. But, no matter! God sees and knows me!"

"Ah, Sire, show yourself to France such as you are; reassume yourusurped power. France will do for your love what she would never do fromfear. Return to life, and reascend the throne. "

"No, no; my life is well-nigh finished, my dear friend. I am no longercapable of the labor of supreme command. '"

"Ah, Sire, this persuasion alone destroys your vigor. It is time thatmen should cease to confound power with crime, and call this uniongenius. Let your voice be heard proclaiming to the world that the reignof virtue is about to begin with your own; and hence forth those enemieswhom vice has so much difficulty in suppressing will fall before a worduttered from your heart. No one has as yet calculated all that the goodfaith of a king of France may do for his people--that people who aredrawn so instantaneously to ward all that is good and beautiful, bytheir imagination and warmth of soul, and who are always ready withevery kind of devotion. The King, your father, led us with a smile. Whatwould not one of your tears do?"

During this address the King, very much surprised, frequently reddened, hemmed, and gave signs of great embarrassment, as always happenedwhen any attempt was made to bring him to a decision. He also felt theapproach of a conversation of too high an order, which the timidity ofhis soul forbade him to venture upon; and repeatedly putting his handto his chest, knitting his brows as if suffering violent pain, heendeavored to relieve himself by the apparent attack of illness fromthe embarrassment of answering. But, either from passion, or from aresolution to strike the crowning blow, Cinq-Mars went on calmlyand with a solemnity that awed Louis, who, forced into his lastintrenchments, at length said:

"But, Cinq-Mars, how can I rid myself of a minister who for eighteenyears past has surrounded me with his creatures?"

"He is not so very powerful, " replied the grand ecuyer; "and his friendswill be his most sure enemies if you but make a sign of your head. Theancient league of the princes of peace still exists, Sire, and it isonly the respect due to the choice of your Majesty that prevents it frommanifesting itself. "

"Ah, mon Dieu! thou mayst tell them not to stop on my account. I wouldnot restrain them; they surely do not accuse me of being a Cardinalist. If my brother will give me the means of replacing Richelieu, I willadopt them with all my heart. "

"I believe, Sire, that he will to-day speak to you of Monsieur le Duc deBouillon. All the Royalists demand him. "

"I don't dislike him, " said the King, arranging his pillows; "I don'tdislike him at all, although he is somewhat factious. We are relatives. Knowest thou, chez ami"--and he placed on this favorite expression moreemphasis than usual--"knowest thou that he is descended in directline from Saint Louis, by Charlotte de Bourbon, daughter of the Duc deMontpensier? Knowest thou that seven princes of the blood royal havebeen united to his house; and eight daughters of his family, one ofwhom was a queen, have been married to princes of the blood royal? Oh, Idon't at all dislike him! I have never said so, never!"

"Well, Sire, " said Cinq-Mars, with confidence, "Monsieur and he willexplain to you during the hunt how all is prepared, who are the men thatmay be put in the place of his creatures, who the field-marshals and thecolonels who may be depended upon against Fabert and the Cardinalists ofPerpignan. You will see that the minister has very few for him. 

"The Queen, Monsieur, the nobility, and the parliaments are on our side;and the thing is done from the moment that your Majesty is not opposedto it. It has been proposed to get rid of the Cardinal as the Marechald'Ancre was got rid of, who deserved it less than he. "

"As Concini?" said the King. "Oh, no, it must not be. I positivelycan not consent to it. He is a priest and a cardinal. We shall beexcommunicated. But if there be any other means, I am very willing. Thoumayest speak of it to thy friends; and I on my side will think of thematter. "

The word once spoken, the King gave himself up to his resentment, as ifhe had satisfied it, as if the blow were already struck. Cinq-Mars wasvexed to see this, for he feared that his anger thus vented might notbe of long duration. However, he put faith in his last words, especiallywhen, after numberless complaints, Louis added:

"And would you believe that though now for two years I have mourned mymother, ever since that day when he so cruelly mocked me before my wholecourt by asking for her recall when he knew she was dead--ever sincethat day I have been trying in vain to get them to bury her in Francewith my fathers? He has exiled even her ashes. "

At this moment Cinq-Mars thought he heard a sound on the staircase; theKing reddened. 

"Go, " he said; "go! Make haste and prepare for the hunt! Thou wilt ridenext to my carriage. Go quickly! I desire it; go!"

And he himself pushed Cinq-Mars toward the entrance by which he hadcome. 

The favorite went out; but his master's anxiety had not escaped him. 

He slowly descended, and tried to divine the cause of it in hismind, when he thought he heard the sound of feet ascending the otherstaircase. He stopped; they stopped. He re-ascended; they seemed to himto descend. He knew that nothing could be seen between the intersticesof the architecture; and he quitted the place, impatient and veryuneasy, and determined to remain at the door of the entrance to see whoshould come out. But he had scarcely raised the tapestry which veiledthe entrance to the guardroom than he was surrounded by a crowd ofcourtiers who had been awaiting him, and was fain to proceed to the workof issuing the orders connected with his post, or to receive respects, communications, solicitations, presentations, recommendations, embraces--to observe that infinitude of relations which surround afavorite, and which require constant and sustained attention, for anyabsence of mind might cause great misfortunes. He thus almost forgot thetrifling circumstance which had made him uneasy, and which he thoughtmight after all have only been a freak of the imagination. Givinghimself up to the sweets of a kind of continual apotheosis, hemounted his horse in the great courtyard, attended by noble pages, andsurrounded by brilliant gentlemen. 

Monsieur soon arrived, followed by his people; and in an hour the Kingappeared, pale, languishing, and supported by four men. Cinq-Mars, dismounting, assisted him into a kind of small and very low carriage, called a brouette, and the horses of which, very docile and quiet ones, the King himself drove. The prickers on foot at the doors held the dogsin leash; and at the sound of the horn scores of young nobles mounted, and all set out to the place of meeting. 

It was a farm called L'Ormage that the King had fixed upon; and thecourt, accustomed to his ways, followed the many roads of the park, while the King slowly followed an isolated path, having at his side thegrand ecuyer and four persons whom he had signed to approach him. 

The aspect of this pleasure party was sinister. The approach of winterhad stripped well-nigh all the leaves from the great oaks in the park, whose dark branches now stood up against a gray sky, like branches offunereal candelabra. A light fog seemed to indicate rain; through themelancholy boughs of the thinned wood the heavy carriages of the courtwere seen slowly passing on, filled with women, uniformly dressed inblack, and obliged to await the result of a chase which they did notwitness. The distant hounds gave tongue, and the horn was sometimesfaintly heard like a sigh. A cold, cutting wind compelled every man todon cloaks, and some of the women, putting over their faces a veil ormask of black velvet to keep themselves from the air which the curtainsof their carriages did not intercept (for there were no glasses at thattime), seemed to wear what is called a domino. All was languishing andsad. The only relief was that ever and anon groups of young men in theexcitement of the chase flew down the avenue like the wind, cheering onthe dogs or sounding their horns. Then all again became silent, as afterthe discharge of fireworks the sky appears darker than before. 

In a path, parallel with that followed by the King, were severalcourtiers enveloped in their cloaks. Appearing little intent upon thestag, they rode step for step with the King's brouette, and never lostsight of him. They conversed in low tones. 

"Excellent! Fontrailles, excellent! victory! The King takes his armevery moment. See how he smiles upon him! See! Monsieur le Granddismounts and gets into the brouette by his side. Come, come, the oldfox is done at last!"

"Ah, that's nothing! Did you not see how the King shook hands withMonsieur? He's made a sign to you, Montresor. Look, Gondi!"

"Look, indeed! That's very easy to say; but I don't see with my owneyes. I have only those of faith, and yours. Well, what are they doingnow? I wish to Heaven I were not so near-sighted! Tell me, what are theydoing?"

Montresor answered, "The King bends his ear toward the Duc de Bouillon, who is speaking to him; he speaks again! he gesticulates! he does notcease! Oh, he'll be minister!"

"He will be minister!" said Fontrailles. 

"He will be minister!" echoed the Comte du Lude. 

"Oh, no doubt of it!" said Montresor. 

"I hope he'll give me a regiment, and I'll marry my cousin, " criedOlivier d'Entraigues, with boyish vivacity. 

The Abbe de Gondi sneered, and, looking up at the sky, began to sing toa hunting tune. 

 "Les etourneaux ont le vent bon, Ton ton, ton ton, ton taine, ton ton--"

"I think, gentlemen, you are more short-sighted than I, or else miracleswill come to pass in the year of grace 1642; for Monsieur de Bouillon isno nearer being Prime-Minister, though the King do embrace him, than I. He has good qualities, but he will not do; his qualities are not variousenough. However, I have much respect for his great and singularlyfoolish town of Sedan, which is a fine shelter in case of need. "

Montresor and the rest were too attentive to every gesture of the Princeto answer him; and they continued:

"See, Monsieur le Grand takes the reins, and is driving. "

The Abbe replied with the same air:

 "Si vous conduisez ma brouette, Ne versez pas, beau postillon, Ton ton, ton ton, ton taine, ton ton. "

"Ah, Abbe, your songs will drive me mad!" said Fontrailles. "You've gotairs ready for every event in life. "

"I will also find you events which shall go to all the airs, " answeredGondi. 

"Faith, the air of these pleases me!" said Fontrailles, in an undervoice. "I shall not be obliged by Monsieur to carry his confoundedtreaty to Madrid, and I am not sorry for it; it is a somewhat touchycommission. The Pyrenees are not so easily passed as may be supposed;the Cardinal is on the road. "

"Ha! Ha!" cried Montresor. 

"Ha! Ha!" said Olivier. 

"Well, what is the matter with you? ah, ah!" asked Gondi. "What have youdiscovered that is so great?"

"Why, the King has again shaken hands with Monsieur. Thank Heaven, gentlemen, we're rid of the Cardinal! The old boar is hunted down. Whowill stick the knife into him? He must be thrown into the sea. "

"That's too good for him, " said Olivier; "he must be tried. "

"Certainly, " said the Abbe; "and we sha'n't want for charges againstan insolent fellow who has dared to discharge a page, shall we?" Then, curbing his horse, and letting Olivier and Montresor pass on, he leanedtoward M. Du Lude, who was talking with two other serious personages, and said:

"In truth, I am tempted to let my valet-de-chambre into the secret;never was a conspiracy treated so lightly. Great enterprises requiremystery. This would be an admirable one if some trouble were taken withit. 'Tis in itself a finer one than I have ever read of in history. There is stuff enough in it to upset three kingdoms, if necessary, andthe blockheads will spoil all. It is really a pity. I should be verysorry. I've a taste for affairs of this kind; and in this one inparticular I feel a special interest. There is grandeur about it, as cannot be denied. Do you not think so, D'Aubijoux, Montmort?"

While he was speaking, several large and heavy carriages, with six andfour horses, followed the same path at two hundred paces behind thesegentlemen; the curtains were open on the left side through which to seethe King. In the first was the Queen; she was alone at the back, clothedin black and veiled. On the box was the Marechale d'Effiat; and atthe feet of the Queen was the Princesse Marie. Seated on one side ona stool, her robe and her feet hung out of the carriage, and weresupported by a gilt step--for, as we have already observed, there werethen no doors to the coaches. She also tried to see through the treesthe movements of the King, and often leaned back, annoyed by the passingof the Prince-Palatine and his suite. 

This northern Prince was sent by the King of Poland, apparently on apolitical negotiation, but in reality, to induce the Duchesse de Mantuato espouse the old King Uladislas VI; and he displayed at the court ofFrance all the luxury of his own, then called at Paris "barbarian andScythian, " and so far justified these names by strange eastern costumes. The Palatine of Posnania was very handsome, and wore, in common with thepeople of his suite, a long, thick beard. His head, shaved like thatof a Turk, was covered with a furred cap. He had a short vest, enrichedwith diamonds and rubies; his horse was painted red, and amply plumed. He was attended by a company of Polish guards in red and yellowuniforms, wearing large cloaks with long sleeves, which hung negligentlyfrom the shoulder. The Polish lords who escorted him were dressed ingold and silver brocade; and behind their shaved heads floated a singlelock of hair, which gave them an Asiatic and Tartar aspect, as unknownat the court of Louis XIII as that of the Moscovites. The women thoughtall this rather savage and alarming. 

Marie de Mantua was importuned with the profound salutations andOriental elegancies of this foreigner and his suite. Whenever he passedbefore her, he thought himself called upon to address a compliment toher in broken French, awkwardly made up of a few words about hopeand royalty. She found no other means to rid herself of him than byrepeatedly putting her handkerchief to her nose, and saying aloud to theQueen:

"In truth, Madame, these gentlemen have an odor about them that makesone quite ill. "

"It will be desirable to strengthen your nerves and accustom yourself toit, " answered Anne of Austria, somewhat dryly. 

Then, fearing she had hurt her feelings, she continued gayly:

"You will become used to them, as we have done; and you know that inrespect to odors I am rather fastidious. Monsieur Mazarin told me, theother day, that my punishment in purgatory will consist in breathing illscents and sleeping in Russian cloth. "

Yet the Queen was very grave, and soon subsided into silence. Buryingherself in her carriage, enveloped in her mantle, and apparently takingno interest in what was passing around her, she yielded to the motion ofthe carriage. Marie, still occupied with the King, talked in a low voicewith the Marechale d'Effiat; each sought to give the other hopes whichneither felt, and sought to deceive each other out of love. 

"Madame, I congratulate you; Monsieur le Grand is seated with the King. Never has he been so highly distinguished, " said Marie. 

Then she was silent for a long time, and the carriage rolled mournfullyover the dead, dry leaves. 

"Yes, I see it with joy; the King is so good!" answered the Marechale. 

And she sighed deeply. 

A long and sad silence again followed; each looked at the other andmutually found their eyes full of tears. They dared not speak again;and Marie, drooping her head, saw nothing but the brown, damp earthscattered by the wheels. A melancholy revery occupied her mind; andalthough she had before her the spectacle of the first court of Europeat the feet of him she loved, everything inspired her with fear, anddark presentiments involuntarily agitated her. 

Suddenly a horse passed by her like the wind; she raised her eyes, andhad just time to see the features of Cinq-Mars. He did not look at her;he was pale as a corpse, and his eyes were hidden under his knittedbrows and the shadows of his lowered hat. She followed him withtrembling eyes; she saw him stop in the midst of the group of cavalierswho preceded the carriages, and who received him with their hats off. 

A moment after he went into the wood with one of them, looking at herfrom the distance, and following her with his eyes until the carriagehad passed; then he seemed to give the man a roll of papers, anddisappeared. The mist which was falling prevented her from seeing himany more. It was, indeed, one of those fogs so frequent on the banks ofthe Loire. 

The sun looked at first like a small blood-red moon, enveloped in atattered shroud, and within half an hour was concealed under so thick acloud that Marie could scarcely distinguish the foremost horses of thecarriage, while the men who passed at the distance of a few paces lookedlike grizzly shadows. This icy vapor turned to a penetrating rain andat the same time a cloud of fetid odor. The Queen made the beautifulPrincess sit beside her; and they turned toward Chambord quickly and insilence. They soon heard the horns recalling the scattered hounds; thehuntsmen passed rapidly by the carriage, seeking their way through thefog, and calling to each other. Marie saw only now and then the head ofa horse, or a dark body half issuing from the gloomy vapor of the woods, and tried in vain to distinguish any words. At length her heart beat;there was a call for M. De Cinq-Mars. 

"The King asks for Monsieur le Grand, " was repeated about; "where canMonsieur le Grand Ecuyer be gone to?"

A voice, passing near, said, "He has just lost himself. "

These simple words made her shudder, for her afflicted spirit gavethem the most sinister meaning. The terrible thought pursued her to thechateau and into her apartments, wherein she hastened to shut herself. She soon heard the noise of the entry of the King and of Monsieur, then, in the forest, some shots whose flash was unseen. She in vain lookedat the narrow windows; they seemed covered on the outside with a whitecloth that shut out the light. 

Meanwhile, at the extremity of the forest, toward Montfrault, therehad lost themselves two cavaliers, wearied with seeking the way to thechateau in the monotonous similarity of the trees and paths; they wereabout to stop near a pond, when eight or nine men, springing from thethickets, rushed upon them, and before they had time to draw, hung totheir legs and arms and to the bridles of their horses in such a manneras to hold them fixed. At the same time a hoarse voice cried in the fog:

"Are you Royalists or Cardinalists? Cry, 'Vive le Grand!' or you aredead men!"

"Scoundrels, " answered the first cavalier, trying to open the holstersof his pistols, "I will have you hanged for abusing my name. "

"Dios es el Senor!" cried the same voice. 

All the men immediately released their hold, and ran into the wood; aburst of savage laughter was heard, and a man approached Cinq-Mars. 

"Amigo, do you not recognize me? 'Tis but a joke of Jacques, the Spanishcaptain. "

Fontrailles approached, and said in a low voice to the grand ecuyer:

"Monsieur, this is an enterprising fellow; I would advise you to employhim. We must neglect no chance. "

"Listen to me, " said Jacques de Laubardemont, "and answer at once. I amnot a phrase-maker, like my father. I bear in mind that you have done mesome good offices; and lately again, you have been useful to me, as youalways are, without knowing it, for I have somewhat repaired my fortunein your little insurrections. If you will, I can render you an importantservice; I command a few brave men. "

"What service?" asked Cinq-Mars. "We will see. "

"I commence by a piece of information. This morning while you descendedthe King's staircase on one side, Father Joseph ascended the other. "

"Ha! this, then, is the secret of his sudden and inexplicable change!Can it be? A king of France! and to allow us to confide all our secretsto him. "

"Well! is that all? Do you say nothing? You know I have an old accountto settle with the Capuchin. "

"What's that to me?" and he hung down his head, absorbed in a profoundrevery. 

"It matters a great deal to you, since you have only to speak the word, and I will rid you of him before thirty-six hours from this time, thoughhe is now very near Paris. We might even add the Cardinal, if you wish. "

"Leave me; I will use no poniards, " said Cinq-Mars. 

"Ah! I understand you, " replied Jacques. "You are right; you wouldprefer our despatching him with the sword. This is just. He is worthit; 'tis a distinction due to him. It were undoubtedly more suitable forgreat lords to take charge of the Cardinal; and that he who despatcheshis Eminence should be in a fair way to be a marechal. For myself, Iam not proud; one must not be proud, whatever one's merit in one'sprofession. I must not touch the Cardinal; he's a morsel for a king!"

"Nor any others, " said the grand ecuyer. 

"Oh, let us have the Capuchin!" said Captain Jacques, urgently. 

"You are wrong if you refuse this office, " said Fontrailles; "suchthings occur every day. Vitry began with Concini; and he was made amarechal. You see men extremely well at court who have killed theirenemies with their own hands in the streets of Paris, and you hesitateto rid yourself of a villain! Richelieu has his agents; you must haveyours. I can not understand your scruples. "

"Do not torment him, " said Jacques, abruptly; "I understand it. Ithought as he does when I was a boy, before reason came. I would nothave killed even a monk; but let me speak to him. " Then, turning towardCinq-Mars, "Listen: when men conspire, they seek the death or at leastthe downfall of some one, eh?"

And he paused. 

"Now in that case, we are out with God, and in with the Devil, eh?"

"Secundo, as they say at the Sorbonne; it's no worse when one is damned, to be so for much than for little, eh?"

"Ergo, it is indifferent whether a thousand or one be killed. I defy youto answer that. "

"Nothing could be better argued, Doctor-dagger, " said Fontrailles, half-laughing, "I see you will be a good travelling-companion. You shallgo with me to Spain if you like. "

"I know you are going to take the treaty there, " answered Jacques; "andI will guide you through the Pyrenees by roads unknown to man. But Ishall be horribly vexed to go away without having wrung the neck of thatold he-goat, whom we leave behind, like a knight in the midst of agame of chess. Once more Monsieur, " he continued with an air of piousearnestness, "if you have any religion in you, refuse no longer;recollect the words of our theological fathers, Hurtado de Mendoza andSanchez, who have proved that a man may secretly kill his enemies, sinceby this means he avoids two sins--that of exposing his life, and thatof fighting a duel. It is in accordance with this grand consolatoryprinciple that I have always acted. "

"Go, go!" said Cinq-Mars, in a voice thick with rage; "I have otherthings to think of. "

"Of what more important?" said Fontrailles; "this might be a greatweight in the balance of our destinies. "

"I am thinking how much the heart of a king weighs in it, " saidCinq-Mars. 

"You terrify me, " replied the gentleman; "we can not go so far as that!"

"Nor do I think what you suppose, Monsieur, " continued D'Effiat, in asevere tone. "I was merely reflecting how kings complain when a subjectbetrays them. Well, war! war! civil war, foreign war, let your fires bekindled! since I hold the match, I will apply it to the mine. Perishthe State! perish twenty kingdoms, if necessary! No ordinary calamitiessuffice when the King betrays the subject. Listen to me. "

And he took Fontrailles a few steps aside. 

"I only charged you to prepare our retreat and succors, in case ofabandonment on the part of the King. Just now I foresaw this abandonmentin his forced manifestation of friendship; and I decided upon yoursetting out when he finished his conversation by announcing hisdeparture for Perpignan. I feared Narbonne; I now see that he is goingthere to deliver himself up a prisoner to the Cardinal. Go at once. Iadd to the letters I have given you the treaty here; it is in fictitiousnames, but here is the counterpart, signed by Monsieur, by the Duc deBouillon, and by me. The Count-Duke of Olivares desires nothing further. There are blanks for the Duc d'Orleans, which you will fill up as youplease. Go; in a month I shall expect you at Perpignan. I will haveSedan opened to the seventeen thousand Spaniards from Flanders. "

Then, advancing toward the adventurer, who awaited him, he said:

"For you, brave fellow, since you desire to aid me, I charge you withescorting this gentleman to Madrid; you will be largely recompensed. "

Jacques, twisting his moustache, replied:

"Ah, you do not then scorn to employ me! you exhibit your judgment andtaste. Do you know that the great Queen Christina of Sweden has askedfor me, and wished to have me with her as her confidential man. Shewas brought up to the sound of the cannon by the 'Lion of the North, 'Gustavus Adolphus, her father. She loves the smell of powder and bravemen; but I would not serve her, because she is a Huguenot, and I havefixed principles, from which I never swerve. 'Par exemple', I swearto you by Saint Jacques to guide Monsieur through the passes of thePyrenees to Oleron as surely as through these woods, and to defend himagainst the Devil, if need be, as well as your papers, which we willbring you back without blot or tear. As for recompense, I want none. Ialways find it in the action itself. Besides, I do not receive money, for I am a gentleman. The Laubardemonts are a very ancient and very goodfamily. "

"Adieu, then, noble Monsieur, " said Cinq-Mars; "go!"

After having pressed the hand of Fontrailles, he sighed and disappearedin the wood, on his return to the chateau of Chambord. 

CHAPTER XX. THE READING

Shortly after the events just narrated, at the corner of thePalais-Royal, at a small and pretty house, numerous carriages were seento draw up, and a door, reached by three steps, frequently to open. Theneighbors often came to their windows to complain of the noise madeat so late an hour of the night, despite the fear of robbers; and thepatrol often stopped in surprise, and passed on only when they saw ateach carriage ten or twelve footmen, armed with staves and carryingtorches. A young gentleman, followed by three lackeys, entered and askedfor Mademoiselle de Lorme. He wore a long rapier, ornamented with pinkribbon. Enormous bows of the same color on his high-heeled shoes almostentirely concealed his feet, which after the fashion of the day heturned very much out. He frequently twisted a small curling moustache, and before entering combed his small pointed beard. There was but oneexclamation when he was announced. 

"Here he is at last!" cried a young and rich voice. "He has made uswait long enough for him, the dear Desbarreaux. Come, take a seat! placeyourself at this table and read. "

The speaker was a woman of about four-and-twenty, tall and handsome, notwithstanding her somewhat woolly black hair and her dark olivecomplexion. There was something masculine in her manner, which sheseemed to derive from her circle, composed entirely of men. She tooktheir arm unceremoniously, as she spoke to them, with a freedom whichshe communicated to them. Her conversation was animated rather thanjoyous. It often excited laughter around her; but it was by dint ofintellect that she created gayety (if we may so express it), for hercountenance, impassioned as it was, seemed incapable of bending into asmile, and her large blue eyes, under her jet-black hair, gave her atfirst rather a strange appearance. 

Desbarreaux kissed her hand with a gallant and chivalrous air. He then, talking to her all the time, walked round the large room, where wereassembled nearly thirty persons-some seated in the large arm chairs, others standing in the vast chimney-place, others conversing in theembrasures of the windows under the heavy curtains. Some of them wereobscure men, now illustrious; others illustrious men, now obscure forposterity. Thus, among the latter, he profoundly saluted MM. D'Aubijoux, de Brion, de Montmort, and other very brilliant gentlemen, who werethere as judges; tenderly, and with an air of esteem, pressed the handsof MM. Monteruel, de Sirmond, de Malleville, Baro, Gombauld, and otherlearned men, almost all called great men in the annals of the Academy ofwhich they were the founders--itself called sometimes the Academic desBeaux Esprits, but really the Academic Francaise. But M. Desbarreauxgave but a mere patronizing nod to young Corneille, who was talking ina corner with a foreigner, and with a young man whom he presented tothe mistress of the house by the name of M. Poquelin, son of the'valet-de-chambre tapissier du roi'. The foreigner was Milton; the youngman was Moliere. 

Before the reading expected from the young Sybarite, a great contestarose between him and other poets and prose writers of the time. Theyspoke to each other with great volubility and animation a languageincomprehensible to any one who should suddenly have come among themwithout being initiated, eagerly pressing each other's hands withaffectionate compliments and infinite allusions to their works. 

"Ah, here you are, illustrious Baro!" cried the newcomer. "I have readyour last sixain. Ah, what a sixain! how full of the gallant and thetendre?"

"What is that you say of the tendre?" interrupted Marion de Lorme; "haveyou ever seen that country? You stopped at the village of Grand-Esprit, and at that of Jolis-Vers, but you have been no farther. If Monsieurle Gouverneur de Notre Dame de la Garde will please to show us his newchart, I will tell you where you are. "

Scudery arose with a vainglorious and pedantic air; and, unrollingupon the table a sort of geographical chart tied with blue ribbons, hehimself showed the lines of red ink which he had traced upon it. 

"This is the finest piece of Clelie, " he said. "This chart is generallyfound very gallant; but 'tis merely a slight ebullition of playful wit, to please our little literary cabale. However, as there are strangepeople in the world, it is possible that all who see it may not haveminds sufficiently well turned to understand it. This is the road whichmust be followed to go from Nouvelle-Amitie to Tendre; andobserve, gentlemen, that as we say Cumae-on-the-Ionian-Sea, Cumae-on-the-Tyrrhean-Sea, we shall say Tendre-sur-Inclination, Tendre-sur-Estime, and Tendre-sur-Reconnaissance. We must begin byinhabiting the village of Grand-Coeur, Generosity, Exactitude, andPetits-Soins. "

"Ah! how very pretty!" interposed Desbarreaux. "See the villages markedout; here is Petits-Soins, Billet-Galant, then Billet-Doux!"

"Oh! 'tis ingenious in the highest degree!" cried Vaugelas, Colletet, and the rest. 

"And observe, " continued the author, inflated with this success, "thatit is necessary to pass through Complaisance and Sensibility; andthat if we do not take this road, we run the risk of losing our way toTiedeur, Oubli, and of falling into the Lake of Indifference. "

"Delicious! delicious! 'gallant au supreme!'" cried the auditors; "neverwas greater genius!"

"Well, Madame, " resumed Scudery, "I now declare it in your house:this work, printed under my name, is by my sister--she who translated'Sappho' so agreeably. " And without being asked, he recited in adeclamatory tone verses ending thus:

 L'Amour est un mal agreable Don't mon coeur ne saurait guerir; Mais quand il serait guerissable, Il est bien plus doux d'en mourir. 

"How! had that Greek so much wit? I can not believe it, " exclaimedMarion de Lorme; "how superior Mademoiselle de Scudery is to her! Thatidea is wholly hers; she must unquestionably put these charming versesinto 'Clelie'. They will figure well in that Roman history. "

"Admirable, perfect!" cried all the savans; "Horatius, Aruns, and theamiable Porsenna are such gallant lovers. "

They were all bending over the "carte de Tendre, " and their fingerscrossed in following the windings of the amorous rivers. The youngPoquelin ventured to raise a timid voice and his melancholy but acuteglance, and said:

"What purpose does this serve? Is it to give happiness or pleasure?Monsieur seems to me not singularly happy, and I do not feel very gay. "

The only reply he got was a general look of contempt; he consoledhimself by meditating, 'Les Precieuses Ridicules'. 

Desbarreaux prepared to read a pious sonnet, which he was penitent forhaving composed in an illness; he seemed to be ashamed of having thoughtfor a moment upon God at the sight of his lightning, and blushed at theweakness. The mistress of the house stopped him. 

"It is not yet time to read your beautiful verses; you would beinterrupted. We expect Monsieur le Grand Ecuyer and other gentlemen; itwould be actual murder to allow a great mind to speak during this noiseand confusion. But here is a young Englishman who has just come fromItaly, and is on his return to London. They tell me he has composed apoem--I don't know what; but he'll repeat some verses of it. Many of yougentlemen of the Academy know English; and for the rest he has had thepassages he is going to read translated by an ex-secretary of the Dukeof Buckingham, and here are copies in French on this table. "

So saying, she took them and distributed them among her eruditevisitors. The company seated themselves, and were silent. It took sometime to persuade the young foreigner to speak or to quit the recess ofthe window, where he seemed to have come to a very good understandingwith Corneille. He at last advanced to an armchair placed near thetable; he seemed of feeble health, and fell into, rather than seatedhimself in, the chair. He rested his elbow on the table, and with hishand covered his large and beautiful eyes, which were half closed, andreddened with nightwatches or tears. He repeated his fragments frommemory. His doubting auditors looked at him haughtily, or at leastpatronizingly; others carelessly glanced over the translation of hisverses. 

His voice, at first suppressed, grew clearer by the very flow of hisharmonious recital; the breath of poetic inspiration soon elevated himto himself; and his look, raised to heaven, became sublime as that ofthe young evangelist, conceived by Raffaello, for the light still shoneon it. He narrated in his verses the first disobedience of man, andinvoked the Holy Spirit, who prefers before all other temples a pure andsimple heart, who knows all, and who was present at the birth of time. 

This opening was received with a profound silence; and a slight murmurarose after the enunciation of the last idea. He heard not; he saw onlythrough a cloud; he was in the world of his own creation. He continued. 

He spoke of the infernal spirit, bound in avenging fire by adamantinechains, lying vanquished nine times the space that measures night andday to mortal men; of the darkness visible of the eternal prisons andthe burning ocean where the fallen angels float. Then, his voice, nowpowerful, began the address of the fallen angel. "Art thou, " hesaid, "he who in the happy realms of light, clothed with transcendentbrightness, didst outshine myriads? From what height fallen? What thoughthe field be lost, all is not lost! Unconquerable will and study ofrevenge, immortal hate and courage never to submit nor yield-what iselse not to be overcome. "

Here a lackey in a loud voice announced MM. De Montresor andd'Entraigues. They saluted, exchanged a few words, deranged thechairs, and then settled down. The auditors availed themselves ofthe interruption to institute a dozen private conversations; scarcelyanything was heard but expressions of censure, and imputations of badtaste. Even some men of merit, dulled by a particular habit of thinking, cried out that they did not understand it; that it was above theircomprehension (not thinking how truly they spoke); and from this feignedhumility gained themselves a compliment, and for the poet an impertinentremark--a double advantage. Some voices even pronounced the word"profanation. "

The poet, interrupted, put his head between his hands and his elbows onthe table, that he might not hear the noise either of praise or censure. Three men only approached him, an officer, Poquelin, and Corneille; thelatter whispered to Milton:

"I would advise you to change the picture; your hearers are not on alevel with this. "

The officer pressed the hand of the English poet and said to him:

"I admire you with all my soul. "

The astonished Englishman looked at him, and saw an intellectual, impassioned, and sickly countenance. 

He bowed, and collected himself, in order to proceed. His voice took agentle tone and a soft accent; he spoke of the chaste happiness of thetwo first of human beings. He described their majestic nakedness, theingenuous command of their looks, their walk among lions and tigers, which gambolled at their feet; he spoke of the purity of their morningprayer, of their enchanting smile, the playful tenderness of theiryouth, and their enamored conversation, so painful to the Prince ofDarkness. 

Gentle tears quite involuntarily made humid the eyes of the beautifulMarion de Lorme. Nature had taken possession of her heart, despite herhead; poetry filled it with grave and religious thoughts, from whichthe intoxication of pleasure had ever diverted her. The idea of virtuouslove appeared to her for the first time in all its beauty; and sheseemed as if struck with a magic wand, and changed into a pale andbeautiful statue. 

Corneille, his young friend, and the officer, were full of a silentadmiration which they dared not express, for raised voices drowned thatof the surprised poet. 

"I can't stand this!" cried Desbarreaux. "It is of an insipidity to makeone sick. "

"And what absence of grace, gallantry, and the belle flamme!" saidScudery, coldly. 

"Ah, how different from our immortal D'Urfe!" said Baro, thecontinuator. 

"Where is the 'Ariane, ' where the 'Astrea?'" cried, with a groan, Godeau, the annotator. 

The whole assembly well-nigh made these obliging remarks, though utteredso as only to be heard by the poet as a murmur of uncertain import. He understood, however, that he produced no enthusiasm, and collectedhimself to touch another chord of his lyre. 

At this moment the Counsellor de Thou was announced, who, modestlysaluting the company, glided silently behind the author near Corneille, Poquelin, and the young officer. Milton resumed his strain. 

He recounted the arrival of a celestial guest in the garden of Eden, like a second Aurora in mid-day, shaking the plumes of his divine wings, that filled the air with heavenly fragrance, who recounted to manthe history of heaven, the revolt of Lucifer, clothed in an armor ofdiamonds, raised on a car brilliant as the sun, guarded by glitteringcherubim, and marching against the Eternal. But Emmanuel appears on theliving chariot of the Lord; and his two thousand thunderbolts hurleddown to hell, with awful noise, the accursed army confounded. 

At this the company arose; and all was interrupted, for religiousscruples became leagued with false taste. Nothing was heard butexclamations which obliged the mistress of the house to rise also, andendeavor to conceal them from the author. This was not difficult, forhe was entirely absorbed in the elevation of his thoughts. His genius atthis moment had nothing in common with the earth; and when he oncemore opened his eyes on those who surrounded him, he saw near him fouradmirers, whose voices were better heard than those of the assembly. 

Corneille said to him:

"Listen. If you aim at present glory, do not expect it from so fine awork. Pure poetry is appreciated by but few souls. For the common run ofmen, it must be closely allied with the almost physical interest of thedrama. I had been tempted to make a poem of 'Polyeuctes'; but I shallcut down this subject, abridge it of the heavens, and it shall be only atragedy. "

"What matters to me the glory of the moment?" answered Milton. "Ithink not of success. I sing because I feel myself a poet. I go whitherinspiration leads me. Its path is ever the right one. If these verseswere not to be read till a century after my death, I should write themjust the same. "

"I admire them before they are written, " said the young officer. "I seein them the God whose innate image I have found in my heart. "

"Who is it speaks thus kindly to me?" asked the poet. 

"I am Rene Descartes, " replied the soldier, gently. 

"How, sir!" cried De Thou. "Are you so happy as to be related to theauthor of the Princeps?"

"I am the author of that work, " replied Rene. 

"You, sir!--but--still--pardon me--but--are you not a military man?"stammered out the counsellor, in amazement. 

"Well, what has the habit of the body to do with the thought? Yes, Iwear the sword. I was at the siege of Rochelle. I love the professionof arms because it keeps the soul in a region of noble ideas by thecontinual feeling of the sacrifice of life; yet it does not occupy thewhole man. He can not always apply his thoughts to it. Peace lulls them. Moreover, one has also to fear seeing them suddenly interrupted by anobscure blow or an absurd and untimely accident. And if a man be killedin the execution of his plan, posterity preserves an idea of the planwhich he himself had not, and which may be wholly preposterous; and thisis the evil side of the profession for a man of letters. "

De Thou smiled with pleasure at the simple language of this superiorman--this man whom he so admired, and in his admiration loved. Hepressed the hand of the young sage of Touraine, and drew him into anadjoining cabinet with Corneille, Milton, and Moliere, and with themenjoyed one of those conversations which make us regard as lost the timewhich precedes them and the time which is to follow them. 

For two hours they had enchanted one another with their discourse, whenthe sound of music, of guitars and flutes playing minuets, sarabands, allemandes, and the Spanish dances which the young Queen had broughtinto fashion, the continual passing of groups of young ladies and theirjoyous laughter, all announced that the ball had commenced. A very youngand beautiful person, holding a large fan as it were a sceptre, andsurrounded by ten young men, entered their retired chamber with herbrilliant court, which she ruled like a queen, and entirely put to therout the studious conversers. 

"Adieu, gentlemen!" said De Thou. "I make way for Mademoiselle del'Enclos and her musketeers. "

"Really, gentlemen, " said the youthful Ninon, "we seem to frighten you. Have I disturbed you? You have all the air of conspirators. "

"We are perhaps more so than these gentlemen, although we dance, " saidOlivier d'Entraigues, who led her. 

"Ah! your conspiracy is against me, Monsieur le Page!" said Ninon, looking the while at another light-horseman, and abandoning herremaining arm to a third, the other gallants seeking to place themselvesin the way of her flying ceillades, for she distributed her glancesbrilliant as the rays of the sun dancing over the moving waters. 

De Thou stole away without any one thinking of stopping him, and wasdescending the great staircase, when he met the little Abbe de Gondi, red, hot, and out of breath, who stopped him with an animated and joyousair. 

"How now! whither go you? Let the foreigners and savans go. You are oneof us. I am somewhat late; but our beautiful Aspasia will pardon me. Whyare you going? Is it all over?"

"Why, it seems so. When the dancing begins, the reading is done. "

"The reading, yes; but the oaths?" said the Abbe, in a low voice. 

"What oaths?" asked De Thou. 

"Is not Monsieur le Grand come?"

"I expected to see him; but I suppose he has not come, or else he hasgone. "

"No, no! come with me, " said the bare-brained Abbe. "You are one of us. Parbleu! it is impossible to do without you; come!"

De Thou, unwilling to refuse, and thus appear to disown his friends, even for parties of pleasure which annoyed him, followed De Gondi, whopassed through two cabinets, and descended a small private staircase. Ateach step he took, he heard more distinctly the voices of an assemblageof men. Gondi opened the door. An unexpected spectacle met his view. 

The chamber he was entering, lighted by a mysterious glimmer, seemed theasylum of the most voluptuous rendezvous. On one side was a gilt bed, with a canopy of tapestry ornamented with feathers, and covered withlace and ornaments. The furniture, shining with gold, was of grayishsilk, richly embroidered. Velvet cushions were at the foot of eacharmchair, upon a thick carpet. Small mirrors, connected with one anotherby ornaments of silver, seemed an entire glass, itself a perfection thenunknown, and everywhere multiplied their glittering faces. No soundfrom without could penetrate this throne of delight; but the personsassembled there seemed far remote from the thoughts which it wascalculated to give rise to. A number of men, whom he recognized ascourtiers, or soldiers of rank, crowded the entrance of this chamber andan adjoining apartment of larger dimensions. All were intent upon thatwhich was passing in the centre of the first room. Here, ten young men, standing, and holding in their hands their drawn swords, the points ofwhich were lowered toward the ground, were ranged round a table. Theirfaces, turned to Cinq-Mars, announced that they had just taken an oathto him. The grand ecuyer stood by himself before the fireplace, hisarms folded with an air of all-absorbing reflection. Standing near him, Marion de Lorme, grave and collected, seemed to have presented thesegentlemen to him. 

When Cinq-Mars perceived his friend, he rushed toward the door, castinga terrible glance at Gondi, and seizing De Thou by both arms, stoppedhim on the last step. 

"What do you here?" he said, in a stifled voice. 

"Who brought you here? What would you with me? You are lost if youenter. "

"What do you yourself here? What do I see in this house?"

"The consequences of that you wot of. Go; this air is poisoned for allwho are here. "

"It is too late; they have seen me. What would they say if I were towithdraw? I should discourage them; you would be lost. "

This dialogue had passed in low and hurried tones; at the last word, DeThou, pushing aside his friend, entered, and with a firm step crossedthe apartment to the fireplace. 

Cinq-Mars, trembling with rage, resumed his place, hung his head, collected himself, and soon raising a more calm countenance, continued adiscourse which the entrance of his friend had interrupted:

"Be then with us, gentlemen; there is no longer any need for so muchmystery. Remember that when a strong mind embraces an idea, it mustfollow it to all its consequences. Your courage will have a wider fieldthan that of a court intrigue. Thank me; instead of a conspiracy, I giveyou a war. Monsieur de Bouillon has departed to place himself at thehead of his army of Italy; in two days, and before the king, I quitParis for Perpignan. Come all of you thither; the Royalists of the armyawait us. "

Here he threw around him calm and confident looks; he saw gleams of joyand enthusiasm in the eyes of all who surrounded him. Before allowinghis own heart to be possessed by the contagious emotion which precedesgreat enterprises, he desired still more firmly to assure himself ofthem, and said with a grave air:

"Yes, war, gentlemen; think of it, open war. Rochelle and Navarre arearousing their Protestants; the army of Italy will enter on one side;the king's brother will join us on the other. The man we combat will besurrounded, vanquished, crushed. The parliaments will march in our rear, bearing their petitions to the King, a weapon as powerful as our swords;and after the victory we will throw ourselves at the feet of Louis XIII, our master, that he may pardon us for having delivered him from a crueland ambitious man, and hastened his own resolution. "

Here, again glancing around him, he saw increasing confidence in thelooks and attitudes of his accomplices. 

"How!" he continued, crossing his arms, and yet restraining with aneffort his own emotion; "you do not recoil before this resolution, whichwould appear a revolt to any other men! Do you not think that I haveabused the powers you have vested in me? I have carried matters veryfar; but there are times when kings would be served, as it were in spiteof themselves. All is arranged, as you know. Sedan will open its gatesto us; and we are sure of Spain. Twelve thousand veteran troopswill enter Paris with us. No place, however, will be given up to theforeigner; they will all have a French garrison, and be taken in thename of the King. "

"Long live the King! long live the Union! the new Union, the HolyLeague!" cried the assembly. 

"It has come, then!" cried Cinq-Mars, with enthusiasm; "it has come--themost glorious day of my life. Oh, youth, youth, from century to centurycalled frivolous and improvident! of what will men now accuse thee, whenthey behold conceived, ripened, and ready for execution, under a chiefof twenty-two, the most vast, the most just, the most beneficial ofenterprises? My friends, what is a great life but a thought of youthexecuted by mature age? Youth looks fixedly into the future with itseagle glance, traces there a broad plan, lays the foundation stone; andall that our entire existence afterward can do is to approximate to thatfirst design. Oh, when can great projects arise, if not when the heartbeats vigorously in the breast? The mind is not sufficient; it is but aninstrument. "

A fresh outburst of joy had followed these words, when an old man with awhite beard stood forward from the throng. 

"Bah!" said Gondi, in a low voice, "here's the old Chevalier de Guisegoing to dote, and damp us. "

And truly enough, the old man, pressing the hand of Cinq-Mars, saidslowly and with difficulty, having placed himself near him:

"Yes, my son, and you, my children, I see with joy that my old friendBassompierre is about to be delivered by you, and that you are aboutto avenge the Comte de Soissons and the young Montmorency. But it isexpedient for youth, all ardent as it is, to listen to those who haveseen much. I have witnessed the League, my children, and I tell you thatyou can not now, as then, take the title of the Holy League, the HolyUnion, the Protectors of Saint Peter, or Pillars of the Church, becauseI see that you reckon on the support of the Huguenots; nor can you putupon your great seal of green wax an empty throne, since it is occupiedby a king. "

"You may say by two, " interrupted Gondi, laughing. 

"It is, however, of great importance, " continued old Guise, amid thetumultuous young men, "to take a name to which the people may attachthemselves; that of War for the Public Welfare has been made use of;Princes of Peace only lately. It is necessary to find one. "

"Well, the War of the King, " said Cinq-Mars. 

"Ay, the War of the King!" cried Gondi and all the young men. 

"Moreover, " continued the old seigneur, "it is essential to gain theapproval of the theological faculty of the Sorbonne, which heretoforesanctioned even the 'hautgourdiers' and the 'sorgueurs', --[Names ofthe leaguers. ]--and to put in force its second proposition--that it ispermitted to the people to disobey the magistrates, and to hang them. "

"Eh, Chevalier!" exclaimed Gondi; "this is not the question. LetMonsieur le Grand speak; we are thinking no more of the Sorbonne atpresent than of your Saint Jacques Clement. "

There was a laugh, and Cinq-Mars went on:

"I wished, gentlemen, to conceal nothing from you as to the projects ofMonsieur, those of the Duke de Bouillon, or my own, for it is just thata man who stakes his life should know at what game; but I have placedbefore you the least fortunate chances, and I have not detailed ourstrength, for there is not one of you but knows the secret of it. Isit to you, Messieurs de Montresor and de Saint-Thibal, I need tell thetreasures that Monsieur places at our disposal? Is it to you, Monsieurd'Aignou, Monsieur de Mouy, that I need tell how many gentlemen areeager to join your companies of men-at-arms and light-horse, to fightthe Cardinalists; how many in Touraine and in Auvergne, where lay thelands of the House of D'Effiat, and whence will march two thousandseigneurs, with their vassals?

"Baron de Beauvau, shall I recall the zeal and valor of the cuirassierswhom you brought to the unhappy Comte de Soissons, whose cause was ours, and whom you saw assassinated in the midst of his triumph by him whomwith you he had defeated? Shall I tell these gentlemen of the joy of theCount-Duke of Olivares at the news of our intentions, and the letters ofthe Cardinal-Infanta to the Duke de Bouillon? Shall I speak of Paris tothe Abbe de Gondi, to D'Entraigues, and to you, gentlemen, who are dailywitnesses of her misery, of her indignation, and her desire to breakforth? While all foreign nations demand peace, which the Cardinalde Richelieu still destroys by his want of faith (as he has done inviolating the treaty of Ratisbon), all orders of the State groan underhis violence, and dread that colossal ambition which aspires to no lessthan the temporal and even spiritual throne of France. "

A murmur of approbation interrupted Cinq-Mars. There was then silencefor a moment; and they heard the sound of wind instruments, and themeasured tread of the dancers. 

This noise caused a momentary diversion and a smile in the youngerportion of the assembly. 

Cinq-Mars profited by this; and raising his eyes, "Pleasures of youth, "he cried--"love, music, joyous dances--why do you not alone occupy ourleisure hours? Why are not you our sole ambition? What resentment maywe not justly feel that we have to make our cries of indignation heardabove our bursts of joy, our formidable secrets in the asylum of love, and our oaths of war and death amid the intoxication of and of life!"

"Curses on him who saddens the youth of a people! When wrinkles furrowthe brow of the young men, we may confidently say that the finger ofa tyrant has hollowed them out. The other troubles of youth give itdespair and not consternation. Watch those sad and mournful studentspass day after day with pale foreheads, slow steps, and half-suppressedvoices. One would think they fear to live or to advance a step towardthe future. What is there then in France? A man too many. "

"Yes, " he continued; "for two years I have watched the insidious andprofound progress of his ambition. His strange practices, his secretcommissions, his judicial assassinations are known to you. Princes, peers, marechals--all have been crushed by him. There is not a family inFrance but can show some sad trace of his passage. If he regards us allas enemies to his authority, it is because he would have in France nonebut his own house, which twenty years ago held only one of the smallestfiefs of Poitou. 

"The humiliated parliament has no longer any voice. The presidents ofNismes, Novion, and Bellievre have revealed to you their courageousbut fruitless resistance to the condemnation to death of the Duke de laVallette. 

"The presidents and councils of sovereign courts have been imprisoned, banished, suspended--a thing before unheard of--because they have raisedtheir voices for the king or for the public. 

"The highest offices of justice, who fill them? Infamous and corruptmen, who suck the blood and gold of the country. Paris and the maritimetowns taxed; the rural districts ruined and laid waste by the soldiersand other agents of the Cardinal; the peasants reduced to feed onanimals killed by the plague or famine, or saving themselves byself-banishment--such is the work of this new justice. His worthy agentshave even coined money with the effigy of the Cardinal-Duke. Here aresome of his royal pieces. "

The grand ecuyey threw upon the table a score of gold doubloons whereonRichelieu was represented. A fresh murmur of hatred toward the Cardinalarose in the apartment. 

"And think you the clergy are less trampled on and less discontented?No. Bishops have been tried against the laws of the State and incontempt of the respect due to their sacred persons. We have seen, inconsequence, Algerine corsairs commanded by an archbishop. Men of thelowest condition have been elevated to the cardinalate. The ministerhimself, devouring the most sacred things, has had himself electedgeneral of the orders of Citeaux, Cluny, and Premontre, throwing intoprison the monks who refused him their votes. Jesuits, Carmelites, Cordeliers, Augustins, Dominicans, have been forced to elect generalvicars in France, in order no longer to communicate at Rome with theirtrue superiors, because he would be patriarch in France, and head of theGallican Church. "

"He's a schismatic! a monster!" cried several voices. 

"His progress, then, is apparent, gentlemen. He is ready to seize bothtemporal and spiritual power. He has little by little fortified himselfagainst the King in the strongest towns of France--seized the mouths ofthe principal rivers, the best ports of the ocean, the salt-pits, andall the securities of the kingdom. It is the King, then, whom we mustdeliver from this oppression. 'Le roi et la paix!' shall be our cry. Therest must be left to Providence. "

Cinq-Mars greatly astonished the assembly, and De Thou himself, by thisaddress. No one had ever before heard him speak so long together, noteven in fireside conversation; and he had never by a single word shownthe least aptitude for understanding public affairs. He had, on thecontrary, affected the greatest indifference on the subject, even in theeyes of those whom he was molding to his projects, merely manifesting avirtuous indignation at the violence of the minister, but affecting notto put forward any of his own ideas, in order not to suggest personalambition as the aim of his labors. The confidence given to him restedon his favor with the king and his personal bravery. The surprise of allpresent was therefore such as to cause a momentary silence. It was soonbroken by all the transports of Frenchmen, young or old, when fightingof whatever kind is held out to them. 

Among those who came forward to press the hand of the young partyleader, the Abbe de Gondi jumped about like a kid. 

"I have already enrolled my regiment!" he cried. "I have some superbfellows!" Then, addressing Marion de Lorme, "Parbleu! Mademoiselle, I will wear your colors--your gray ribbon, and your order of theAllumette. The device is charming--

 'Nous ne brullons que pour bruller les autres. '

And I wish you could see all the fine things we shall do if we arefortunate enough to come to blows. "

The fair Marion, who did not like him, began to talk over his head to M. De Thou--a mortification which always exasperated the little Abbe, whoabruptly left her, walking as tall as he could, and scornfully twistinghis moustache. 

All at once a sudden silence took possession of the assembly. A rolledpaper had struck the ceiling and fallen at the feet of Cinq-Mars. Hepicked it up and unrolled it, after having looked eagerly around him. Hesought in vain to divine whence it came; all those who advanced had onlyastonishment and intense curiosity depicted in their faces. 

"Here is my name wrongly written, " he said coldly. 

 "A CINQ MARCS, CENTURIE DE NOSTRADAMUS. 

 Quand bonnet rouge passera par la fenetre, A quarante onces on coupera tete, Et tout finira. "

 [This punning prediction was made public three months before the, conspiracy. ]

"There is a traitor among us, gentlemen, " he said, throwing away thepaper. "But no matter. We are not men to be frightened by his sanguinaryjests. "

"We must find the traitor out, and throw him through the window, " saidthe young men. 

Still, a disagreeable sensation had come over the assembly. They nowonly spoke in whispers, and each regarded his neighbor with distrust. Some withdrew; the meeting grew thinner. Marion de Lorme repeatedto every one that she would dismiss her servants, who alone couldbe suspected. Despite her efforts a coldness reigned throughout theapartment. The first sentences of Cinq-Mars' address, too, had left someuncertainty as to the intentions of the King; and this untimely candorhad somewhat shaken a few of the less determined conspirators. 

Gondi pointed this out to Cinq-Mars. 

"Hark ye!" he said in a low voice. "Believe me, I have carefully studiedconspiracies and assemblages; there are certain purely mechanical meanswhich it is necessary to adopt. Follow my advice here; I know a gooddeal of this sort of thing. They want something more. Give them a littlecontradiction; that always succeeds in France. You will quite make themalive again. Seem not to wish to retain them against their will, andthey will remain. "

The grand ecuyer approved of the suggestion, and advancing toward thosewhom he knew to be most deeply compromised, said:

"For the rest, gentlemen, I do not wish to force any one to follow me. Plenty of brave men await us at Perpignan, and all France is with us. Ifany one desires to secure himself a retreat, let him speak. We will givehim the means of placing himself in safety at once. "

Not one would hear of this proposition; and the movement it occasionedproduced a renewal of the oaths of hatred against the minister. 

Cinq-Mars, however, proceeded to put the question individually to someof the persons present, in the election of whom he showed much judgment;for he ended with Montresor, who cried that he would pass his swordthrough his body if he had for a moment entertained such an idea, andwith Gondi, who, rising fiercely on his heels, exclaimed:

"Monsieur le Grand Ecuyer, my retreat is the archbishopric of Paris andL'Ile Notre-Dame. I'll make it a place strong enough to keep me frombeing taken. "

"And yours?" he said to De Thou. 

"At your side, " murmured De Thou, lowering his eyes, unwilling to giveimportance to his resolution by the directness of his look. 

"You will have it so? Well, I accept, " said Cinq-Mars; "and my sacrificeherein, dear friend, is greater than yours. " Then turning toward theassembly:

"Gentlemen, I see in you the last men of France, for after theMontmorencys and the Soissons, you alone dare lift a head free andworthy of our old liberty. If Richelieu triumph, the ancient bases ofthe monarchy will crumble with us. The court will reign alone, in theplace of the parliaments, the old barriers, and at the same time thepowerful supports of the royal authority. Let us be conquerors, andFrance will owe to us the preservation of her ancient manners and hertime-honored guarantees. And now, gentlemen, it were a pity to spoil theball on this account. You hear the music. The ladies await you. Let usgo and dance. "

"The Cardinal shall pay the fiddlers, " added Gondi. 

The young men applauded with a laugh; and all reascended to the ballroomas lightly as they would have gone to the battlefield. 

CHAPTER XXI. THE CONFESSIONAL

It was on the day following the assembly that had taken place in thehouse of Marion de Lorme. A thick snow covered the roofs of Paris andsettled in its large gutters and streets, where it arose in gray heaps, furrowed by the wheels of carriages. 

It was eight o'clock, and the night was dark. The tumult of the city wassilent on account of the thick carpet the winter had spread for it, andwhich deadened the sound of the wheels over the stones, and of the feetof men and horses. In a narrow street that winds round the old church ofSt. Eustache, a man, enveloped in his cloak, slowly walked up and down, constantly watching for the appearance of some one. He often seatedhimself upon one of the posts of the church, sheltering himself from thefalling snow under one of the statues of saints which jutted out fromthe roof of the building, stretching over the narrow path like birds ofprey, which, about to make a stoop, have folded their wings. Often, too, the old man, opening his cloak, beat his arms against his breast to warmhimself, or blew upon his fingers, ill protected from the cold by a pairof buff gloves reaching nearly to the elbow. At last he saw a slightshadow gliding along the wall. 

"Ah, Santa Maria! what villainous countries are these of the North!"said a woman's voice, trembling. "Ah, the duchy of Mantua! would I wereback there again, Grandchamp!"

"Pshaw! don't speak so loud, " said the old domestic, abruptly. "Thewalls of Paris have Cardinalist ears, and more especially the walls ofthe churches. Has your mistress entered? My master awaits her at thedoor. "

"Yes, yes; she has gone in. "

"Be silent, " said Grandchamp. "The sound of the clock is cracked. That'sa bad sign. "

"That clock has sounded the hour of a rendezvous. "

"For me, it sounds like a passing-bell. But be silent, Laure; here arethree cloaks passing. "

They allowed three men to pass. Grandchamp followed them, made sure ofthe road they took, and returned to his seat, sighing deeply. 

"The snow is cold, Laure, and I am old. Monsieur le Grand might havechosen another of his men to keep watch for him while he's makinglove. It's all very well for you to carry love-letters and ribbons andportraits and such trash, but for me, I ought to be treated withmore consideration. Monsieur le Marechal would not have done so. Olddomestics give respectability to a house, and should be themselvesrespected. "

"Has your master arrived long, 'caro amico'?"

"Eh, cara, cayo! leave me in peace. We had both been freezing for anhour when you came. I should have had time to smoke three Turkish pipes. Attend to your business, and go and look to the other doors of thechurch, and see that no suspicious person is prowling about. Since thereare but two vedettes, they must beat about well. "

"Ah, what a thing it is to have no one to whom to say a friendly wordwhen it is so cold! and my poor mistress! to come on foot all the wayfrom the Hotel de Nevers. Ah, amore! qui regna amore!"

"Come, Italian, wheel about, I tell thee. Let me hear no more of thymusical tongue. "

"Ah, Santa Maria! What a harsh voice, dear Grandchamp! You were muchmore amiable at Chaumont, in Turena, when you talked to me of 'mieiocchi neri. "

"Hold thy tongue, prattler! Once more, thy Italian is only good forbuffoons and rope-dancers, or to accompany the learned dogs. "

"Ah, Italia mia! Grandchamp, listen to me, and you shall hear thelanguage of the gods. If you were a gallant man, like him who wrote thisfor a Laure like me!"

And she began to hum:

 Lieti fiori a felici, e ben nate erbe Che Madonna pensando premer sole; Piaggia ch'ascolti su dolci parole E del bel piede alcun vestigio serbe. 

The old soldier was but little used to the voice of a young girl; andin general when a woman spoke to him, the tone he assumed in answeringalways fluctuated between an awkward compliment and an ebullition oftemper. But on this occasion he appeared moved by the Italian song, andtwisted his moustache, which was always with him a sign of embarrassmentand distress. He even omitted a rough sound something like a laugh, andsaid:

"Pretty enough, 'mordieu!' that recalls to my mind the siege of Casal;but be silent, little one. I have not yet heard the Abbe Quillet come. This troubles me. He ought to have been here before our two youngpeople; and for some time past--"

Laure, who was afraid of being sent alone to the Place St. Eustache, answered that she was quite sure he had gone in, and continued:

 "Ombrose selve, ove'percote il sole Che vi fa co'suoi raggi alte a superbe. "

"Hum!" said the worthy old soldier, grumbling. "I have my feet in thesnow, and a gutter runs down on my head, and there's death at my heart;and you sing to me of violets, of the sun, and of grass, and of love. Besilent!"

And, retiring farther in the recess of the church, he leaned his grayhead upon his hands, pensive and motionless. Laure dared not again speakto him. 

While her waiting-woman had gone to find Grandchamp, the young andtrembling Marie with a timid hand had pushed open the folding-door ofthe church. 

She there found Cinq-Mars standing, disguised, and anxiously awaitingher. As soon as she recognized him, she advanced with rapid steps intothe church, holding her velvet mask over her face, and hastened to takerefuge in a confessional, while Henri carefully closed the door ofthe church by which she had entered. He made sure that it could not beopened on the outside, and then followed his betrothed to kneel withinthe place of penitence. Arrived an hour before her, with his old valet, he had found this open--a certain and understood sign that the AbbeQuillet, his tutor, awaited him at the accustomed place. His care toprevent any surprise had made him remain himself to guard the entranceuntil the arrival of Marie. Delighted as he was at the punctuality ofthe good Abbe, he would still scarcely leave his post to thank him. Hewas a second father to him in all but authority; and he acted toward thegood priest without much ceremony. 

The old parish church of St. Eustache was dark. Besides the perpetuallamp, there were only four flambeaux of yellow wax, which, attachedabove the fonts against the principal pillars, cast a red glimmerupon the blue and black marble of the empty church. The light scarcelypenetrated the deep niches of the aisles of the sacred building. In oneof the chapels--the darkest of them--was the confessional, of which wehave before spoken, whose high iron grating and thick double planks leftvisible only the small dome and the wooden cross. Here, on either side, knelt Cinq-Mars and Marie de Mantua. They could scarcely see each other, but found that the Abbe Quillet, seated between them, was there awaitingthem. They could see through the little grating the shadow of his hood. Henri d'Effiat approached slowly; he was regulating, as it were, theremainder of his destiny. It was not before his king that he was aboutto appear, but before a more powerful sovereign, before her for whom hehad undertaken his immense work. He was about to test her faith; and hetrembled. 

He trembled still more when his young betrothed knelt opposite tohim; he trembled, because at the sight of this angel he could not helpfeeling all the happiness he might lose. He dared not speak first, andremained for an instant contemplating her head in the shade, that younghead upon which rested all his hopes. Despite his love, whenever helooked upon her he could not refrain from a kind of dread at havingundertaken so much for a girl, whose passion was but a feeble reflectionof his own, and who perhaps would not appreciate all the sacrificeshe had made for her--bending the firm character of his mind to thecompliances of a courtier, condemning it to the intrigues and sufferingsof ambition, abandoning it to profound combinations, to criminalmeditations, to the gloomy labors of a conspirator. 

Hitherto, in their secret interviews, she had always received each freshintelligence of his progress with the transports of pleasure of a child, but without appreciating the labors of each of these so arduous stepsthat lead to honors, and always asking him with naivete when he would beConstable, and when they should marry, as if she were asking him when hewould come to the Caroussel, or whether the weather was fine. Hitherto, he had smiled at these questions and this ignorance, pardonable ateighteen, in a girl born to a throne and accustomed to a grandeurnatural to her, which she found around her on her entrance into life;but now he made more serious reflections upon this character. And when, but just quitting the imposing assembly of conspirators, representativesof all the orders of the kingdom, his ear, wherein still resounded themasculine voices that had sworn to undertake a vast war, was struck withthe first words of her for whom that war was commenced, he feared forthe first time lest this naivete should be in reality simple levity, notcoming from the heart. He resolved to sound it. 

"Oh, heavens! how I tremble, Henri!" she said as she entered theconfessional; "you make me come without guards, without a coach. Ialways tremble lest I should be seen by my people coming out of theHotel de Nevers. How much longer must I yet conceal myself like acriminal? The Queen was very angry when I avowed the matter to her; andwhenever she speaks to me of it, 'tis with her severe air that you know, and which always makes me weep. Oh, I am terribly afraid!"

She was silent; Cinq-Mars replied only with a deep sigh. 

"How! you do not speak to me!" she said. 

"Are these, then, all your terrors?" asked Cinq-Mars, bitterly. 

"Can I have greater? Oh, 'mon ami', in what a tone, with what a voice, do you address me! Are you angry because I came too late?"

"Too soon, Madame, much too soon, for the things you are to hear--for Isee you are far from prepared for them. "

Marie, affected at the gloomy and bitter tone of his voice, began toweep. 

"Alas, what have I done, " she said, "that you should call me Madame, andtreat me thus harshly?"

"Be tranquil, " replied Cinq-Mars, but with irony in his tone. "'Tisnot, indeed, you who are guilty; but I--I alone; not toward you, but foryou. "

"Have you done wrong, then? Have you ordered the death of any one? Oh, no, I am sure you have not, you are so good!"

"What!" said Cinq-Mars, "are you as nothing in my designs? Did Imisconstrue your thoughts when you looked at me in the Queen's boudoir?Can I no longer read in your eyes? Was the fire which animated them thatof a love for Richelieu? That admiration which you promised to him whoshould dare to say all to the King, where is it? Is it all a falsehood?"

Marie burst into tears. 

"You still speak to me with bitterness, " she said; "I have not deservedit. Do you suppose, because I speak not of this fearful conspiracy, thatI have forgotten it? Do you not see me miserable at the thought? Mustyou see my tears? Behold them; I shed enough in secret. Henri, believethat if I have avoided this terrible subject in our last interviews, it is from the fear of learning too much. Have I any other thought thatthat of your dangers? Do I not know that it is for me you incur them?Alas! if you fight for me, have I not also to sustain attacks no lesscruel? Happier than I, you have only to combat hatred, while I struggleagainst friendship. The Cardinal will oppose to you men and weapons;but the Queen, the gentle Anne of Austria, employs only tender advice, caresses, sometimes tears. "

"Touching and invincible constraint to make you accept a throne, " saidCinq-Mars, bitterly. "I well conceive you must need some efforts toresist such seductions; but first, Madame, I must release you from yourvows. "

"Alas, great Heaven! what is there, then, against us?"

"There is God above us, and against us, " replied Henri, in a severetone; "the King has deceived me. "

There was an agitated movement on the part of the Abbe. 

Marie exclaimed, "I foresaw it; this is the misfortune I dreamed anddreamed of! It is I who caused it?"

"He deceived me, as he pressed my hand, " continued Cinq-Mars; "hebetrayed me by the villain Joseph, whom an offer has been made to me toponiard. "

The Abbe gave a start of horror which half opened the door of theconfessional. 

"O father, fear nothing, " said Henri d'Effiat; "your pupil will neverstrike such blows. Those I prepare will be heard from afar, and thebroad day will light them up; but there remains a duty--a sacredduty--for me to fulfil. Behold your son sacrifice himself before you!Alas! I have not lived long in the sight of happiness, and I am about, perhaps, to destroy it by your hand, that consecrated it. "

As he spoke, he opened the light grating which separated him from hisold tutor; the latter, still observing an extraordinary silence, passedhis hood over his forehead. 

"Restore this nuptial ring to the Duchesse de Mantua, " said Cinq-Mars, in a tone less firm; "I can not keep it unless she give it me a secondtime, for I am not the same whom she promised to espouse. "

The priest hastily seized the ring, and passed it through the oppositegrating; this mark of indifference astonished Cinq-Mars. 

"What! Father, " he said, "are you also changed?"

Marie wept no longer; but, raising her angelic voice, which awakened afaint echo along the aisles of the church, as the softest sigh of theorgan, she said, returning the ring to Cinq-Mars:

"O dearest, be not angry! I comprehend you not. Can we break asunderwhat God has just united, and can I leave you, when I know you areunhappy? If the King no longer loves you, at least you may be assured hewill not harm you, since he has not harmed the Cardinal, whom he neverloved. Do you think yourself undone, because he is perhaps unwillingto separate from his old servant? Well, let us await the return of hisfriendship; forget these conspirators, who affright me. If they give uphope, I shall thank Heaven, for then I shall no longer tremble for you. Why needlessly afflict ourselves? The Queen loves us, and we are bothvery young; let us wait. The future is beautiful, since we are unitedand sure of ourselves. Tell me what the King said to you at Chambord. Ifollowed you long with my eyes. Heavens! how sad to me was that huntingparty!"

"He has betrayed me, I tell you, " answered Cinq-Mars. "Yet who couldhave believed it, that saw him press our hands, turning from his brotherto me, and to the Duc de Bouillon, making himself acquainted with theminutest details of the conspiracy, of the very day on which Richelieuwas to be arrested at Lyons, fixing himself the place of his exile (ourparty desired his death, but the recollection of my father made me askhis life). The King said that he himself would direct the whole affairat Perpignan; yet just before, Joseph, that foul spy, had issued fromout of the cabinet du Lys. O Marie! shall I own it? at the moment Iheard this, my very soul was tossed. I doubted everything; it seemed tome that the centre of the world was unhinged when I found truth quitthe heart of the King. I saw our whole edifice crumble to the ground;another hour, and the conspiracy would vanish away, and I should loseyou forever. One means remained; I employed it. "

"What means?" said Marie. 

"The treaty with Spain was in my hand; I signed it. "

"Ah, heavens! destroy it. "

"It is gone. "

"Who bears it?"

"Fontrailles. "

"Recall him. "

"He will, ere this, have passed the defiles of Oleron, " said Cinq-Mars, rising up. "All is ready at Madrid, all at Sedan. Armies await me, Marie--armies! Richelieu is in the midst of them. He totters; it needsbut one blow to overthrow him, and you are mine forever--forever thewife of the triumphant Cinq-Mars. "

"Of Cinq-Mars the rebel, " she said, sighing. 

"Well, have it so, the rebel; but no longer the favorite. Rebel, criminal, worthy of the scaffold, I know it, " cried the impassionedyouth, falling on his knees; "but a rebel for love, a rebel for you, whom my sword will at last achieve for me. "

"Alas, a sword imbrued in the blood of your country! Is it not aponiard?"

"Pause! for pity, pause, Marie! Let kings abandon me, let warriorsforsake me, I shall only be the more firm; but a word from you willvanquish me, and once again the time for reflection will be passed fromme. Yes, I am a criminal; and that is why I still hesitate to thinkmyself worthy of you. Abandon me, Marie; take back the ring. "

"I can not, " she said; "for I am your wife, whatever you be. "

"You hear her, father!" exclaimed Cinq-Mars, transported with happiness;"bless this second union, the work of devotion, even more beautiful thanthat of love. Let her be mine while I live. "

Without answering, the Abbe opened the door of the confessional and hadquitted the church ere Cinq-Mars had time to rise and follow him. 

"Where are you going? What is the matter?" he cried. 

But no one answered. 

"Do not call out, in the name of Heaven!" said Marie, "or I am lost; hehas doubtless heard some one in the church. "

But D'Effiat, agitated, and without answering her, rushed forth, andsought his late tutor through the church, but in vain. Drawing hissword, he proceeded to the entrance which Grandchamp had to guard; hecalled him and listened. 

"Now let him go, " said a voice at the corner of the street; and at thesame moment was heard the galloping of horses. 

"Grandchamp, wilt thou answer?" cried Cinq-Mars. 

"Help, Henri, my dear boy!" exclaimed the voice of the Abbe Quillet. 

"Whence come you? You endanger me, " said the grand ecuyer, approachinghim. 

But he saw that his poor tutor, without a hat in the falling snow, wasin a most deplorable condition. 

"They stopped me, and they robbed me, " he cried. "The villains, theassassins! they prevented me from calling out; they stopped my mouthwith a handkerchief. "

At this noise, Grandchamp at length came, rubbing his eyes, like onejust awakened. Laure, terrified, ran into the church to her mistress;all hastily followed her to reassure Marie, and then surrounded the oldAbbe. 

"The villains! they bound my hands, as you see. There were more thantwenty of them; they took from me the key of the side door of thechurch. "

"How! just now?" said Cinq-Mars; "and why did you quit us?"

"Quit you! why, they have kept me there two hours. "

"Two hours!" cried Henri, terrified. 

"Ah, miserable old man that I am!" said Grandchamp; "I have slept whilemy master was in danger. It is the first time. "

"You were not with us, then, in the confessional?" continued Cinq-Mars, anxiously, while Marie tremblingly pressed against his arm. 

"What!" said the Abbe, "did you not see the rascal to whom they gave mykey?"

"No! whom?" cried all at once. 

"Father Joseph, " answered the good priest. 

"Fly! you are lost!" cried Marie. 

BOOK 6

CHAPTER XXII. THE STORM

 'Blow, blow, thou winter wind; Thou art not so unkind As man's ingratitude. Thy tooth is not so keen, Because thou art not seen, Although thy breath be rude. Heigh-ho! sing, heigh-ho! unto the green holly. Most friendship is feigning; most loving mere folly. '

 SHAKESPEARE. 

Amid that long and superb chain of the Pyrenees which forms theembattled isthmus of the peninsula, in the centre of those bluepyramids, covered in gradation with snow, forests, and downs, thereopens a narrow defile, a path cut in the dried-up bed of a perpendiculartorrent; it circulates among rocks, glides under bridges of frozen snow, twines along the edges of inundated precipices to scale the adjacentmountains of Urdoz and Oleron, and at last rising over their unequalridges, turns their nebulous peak into a new country which has also itsmountains and its depths, and, quitting France, descends into Spain. Never has the hoof of the mule left its trace in these windings; manhimself can with difficulty stand upright there, even with the hempenboots which can not slip, and the hook of the pikestaff to force intothe crevices of the rocks. 

In the fine summer months the 'pastour', in his brown cape, and hisblack long-bearded ram lead hither flocks, whose flowing wool sweeps theturf. Nothing is heard in these rugged places but the sound of thelarge bells which the sheep carry, and whose irregular tinklings produceunexpected harmonies, casual gamuts, which astonish the traveller anddelight the savage and silent shepherd. But when the long month ofSeptember comes, a shroud of snow spreads itself from the peak of themountains down to their base, respecting only this deeply excavatedpath, a few gorges open by torrents, and some rocks of granite, whichstretch out their fantastical forms, like the bones of a buried world. 

It is then that light troops of chamois make their appearance, withtheir twisted horns extending over their backs, spring from rock torock as if driven before the wind, and take possession of their aerialdesert. Flights of ravens and crows incessantly wheel round and roundin the gulfs and natural wells which they transform into dark dovecots, while the brown bear, followed by her shaggy family, who sport andtumble around her in the snow, slowly descends from their retreatinvaded by the frost. But these are neither the most savage nor the mostcruel inhabitants that winter brings into these mountains; the daringsmuggler raises for himself a dwelling of wood on the very boundary ofnature and of politics. There unknown treaties, secret exchanges, aremade between the two Navarres, amid fogs and winds. 

It was in this narrow path on the frontiers of France that, about twomonths after the scenes we have witnessed in Paris, two travellers, coming from Spain, stopped at midnight, fatigued and dismayed. Theyheard musket-shots in the mountain. 

"The scoundrels! how they have pursued us!" said one of them. "I can gono farther; but for you I should have been taken. "

"And you will be taken still, as well as that infernal paper, if youlose your time in words; there is another volley on the rock of SaintPierre-de-L'Aigle. Up there, they suppose we have gone in the directionof the Limacon; but, below, they will see the contrary. Descend; it isdoubtless a patrol hunting smugglers. Descend. "

"But how? I can not see. "

"Never mind, descend. Take my arm. "

"Hold me; my boots slip, " said the first traveller, stamping on the edgeof the rock to make sure of the solidity of the ground before trustinghimself upon it. 

"Go on; go on!" said the other, pushing him. "There's one of the rascalspassing over our heads. "

And, in fact, the shadow of a man, armed with a long gun, was reflectedon the snow. The two adventurers stood motionless. The man passed on. They continued their descent. 

"They will take us, " said the one who was supporting the other. "Theyhave turned us. Give me your confounded parchment. I wear the dress ofa smuggler, and I can pass for one seeking an asylum among them; but youwould have no resource with your laced dress. "

"You are right, " said his companion; and, resting his foot against theedge of the rock, and reclining on the slope, he gave him a roll ofhollow wood. 

A gun was fired, and a ball buried itself, hissing, in the snow at theirfeet. 

"Marked!" said the first. "Roll down. If you are not dead when you getto the bottom, take the road you see before you. On the left of thehollow is Santa Maria. But turn to the right; cross Oleron; and you areon the road to Pau and are saved. Go; roll down. "

As he spoke, he pushed his comrade, and without condescending to lookafter him, and himself neither ascending nor descending, followed theflank of the mountain horizontally, hanging on by rocks, branches, andeven by plants, with the strength and energy of a wild-cat, and soonfound himself on firm ground before a small wooden hut, through which alight was visible. The adventurer went all around it, like a hungrywolf round a sheepfold, and, applying his eye to one of the openings, apparently saw what determined him, for without further hesitation hepushed the tottering door, which was not even fastened by a latch. Thewhole but shook with the blow he had given it. He then saw that it wasdivided into two cabins by a partition. A large flambeau of yellow waxlighted the first. There, a young girl, pale and fearfully thin, wascrouched in a corner on the damp floor, just where the melted snow ranunder the planks of the cottage. Very long black hair, entangled andcovered with dust, fell in disorder over her coarse brown dress; the redhood of the Pyrenees covered her head and shoulders. Her eyes were castdown; and she was spinning with a small distaff attached to her waist. The entry of a man did not appear to move her in the least. 

"Ha! La moza, --[girl]--get up and give me something to drink. I am tiredand thirsty. "

The young girl did not answer, and, without raising her eyes, continuedto spin assiduously. 

"Dost hear?" said the stranger, thrusting her with his foot. "Go andtell thy master that a friend wishes to see him; but first give me somedrink. I shall sleep here. "

She answered, in a hoarse voice, still spinning:

"I drink the snow that melts on the rock, or the green scum that floatson the water of the swamp. But when I have spun well, they give me waterfrom the iron spring. When I sleep, the cold lizards crawl over my face;but when I have well cleaned a mule, they throw me hay. The hay is warm;the hay is good and warm. I put it under my marble feet. "

"What tale art thou telling me?" said Jacques. "I spoke not of thee. "

She continued:

"They make me hold a man while they kill him. Oh, what blood I have hadon my hands! God forgive them!--if that be possible. They make me holdhis head, and the bucket filled with crimson water. O Heaven!--I, whowas the bride of God! They throw their bodies into the abyss of snow;but the vulture finds them; he lines his nest with their hair. I now seethee full of life; I shall see thee bloody, pale, and dead. "

The adventurer, shrugging his shoulders, began to whistle as he passedthe second door. Within he found the man he had seen through the chinksof the cabin. He wore the blue berret cap of the Basques on one side, and, enveloped in an ample cloak, seated on the pack-saddle of a mule, and bending over a large brazier, smoked a cigar, and from time to timedrank from a leather bottle at his side. The light of the brazier showedhis full yellow face, as well as the chamber, in which mule-saddles wereranged round the byasero as seats. He raised his head without alteringhis position. 

"Oh, oh! is it thou, Jacques?" he said. "Is it thou? Although 'tis fouryears since I saw thee, I recognize thee. Thou art not changed, brigand!There 'tis still, thy great knave's face. Sit down there, and take adrink. "

"Yes, here I am. But how the devil camest thou here? I thought thou werta judge, Houmain!"

"And I thought thou wert a Spanish captain, Jacques!"

"Ah! I was so for a time, and then a prisoner. But I got out of thething very snugly, and have taken again to the old trade, the free life, the good smuggling work. "

"Viva! viva! Jaleo!"--[A common Spanish oath. ]--cried Houmain. "Webrave fellows can turn our hands to everything. Thou camest by the otherpasses, I suppose, for I have not seen thee since I returned to thetrade. "

"Yes, yes; I have passed where thou wilt never pass, " said Jacques. 

"And what hast got?"

"A new merchandise. My mules will come tomorrow. "

"Silk sashes, cigars, or linen?"

"Thou wilt know in time, amigo, " said the ruffian. "Give me the skin. I'm thirsty. "

"Here, drink. It's true Valdepenas! We're so jolly here, we bandoleros!Ay! jaleo! jaleo! come, drink; our friends are coming. "

"What friends?" said Jacques, dropping the horn. 

"Don't be uneasy, but drink. I'll tell thee all about it presently, andthen we'll sing the Andalusian Tirana. "--[A kind of ballad. ]

The adventurer took the horn, and assumed an appearance of ease. 

"And who's that great she-devil I saw out there?" he said. "She seemshalf dead. "

"Oh, no! she's only mad. Drink; I'll tell thee all about her. "

And taking from his red sash a long poniard denticulated on each sidelike a saw, Houmain used it to stir up the fire, and said with vastgravity:

"Thou must know first, if thou dost not know it already, that down belowthere [he pointed toward France] the old wolf Richelieu carries allbefore him. "

"Ah, ah!" said Jacques. 

"Yes; they call him the king of the King. Thou knowest? There is, however, a young man almost as strong as he, and whom they call Monsieurle Grand. This young fellow commands almost the whole army of Perpignanat this moment. He arrived there a month ago; but the old fox is stillat Narbonne--a very cunning fox, indeed. As to the King, he is sometimesthis, sometimes that [as he spoke, Houmain turned his hand outward andinward], between zist and zest; but while he is determining, I am forzist--that is to say, I'm a Cardinalist. I've been regularly doingbusiness for my lord since the first job he gave me, three years ago. I'll tell thee about it. He wanted some men of firmness and spirit for alittle expedition, and sent for me to be judge-Advocate. "

"Ah! a very pretty post, I've heard. "

"Yes, 'tis a trade like ours, where they sell cord instead of thread;but it is less honest, for they kill men oftener. But 'tis also moreprofitable; everything has its price. "

"Very properly so, " said Jacques. 

"Behold me, then, in a red robe. I helped to give a yellow one andbrimstone to a fine fellow, who was cure at Loudun, and who had got intoa convent of nuns, like a wolf in a fold; and a fine thing he made ofit. "

"Ha, ha, ha! That's very droll!" laughed Jacques. "Drink, " said Houmain. "Yes, Jago, I saw him after the affair, reduced to a little black heaplike this charcoal. See, this charcoal at the end of my poniard. Whatthings we are! That's just what we shall all come to when we go to theDevil. "

"Oh, none of these pleasantries!" said the other, very gravely. "Youknow that I am religious. "

"Well, I don't say no; it may be so, " said Houmain, in the same tone. "There's Richelieu, a Cardinal! But, no matter. Thou must know, then, asI was Advocate-General, I advocated--"

"Ah, thou art quite a wit!"

"Yes, a little. But, as I was saying, I advocated into my own pocketfive hundred piastres, for Armand Duplessis pays his people well, andthere's nothing to be said against that, except that the money's not hisown; but that's the way with us all. I determined to invest this moneyin our old trade; and I returned here. Business goes on well. There issentence of death out against us; and our goods, of course, sell forhalf as much again as before. "

"What's that?" exclaimed Jacques; "lightning at this time of year?"

"Yes, the storms are beginning; we've had two already. We are in theclouds. Dost hear the roll of the thunder? But this is nothing; come, drink. 'Tis almost one in the morning; we'll finish the skin and thenight together. As I was telling thee, I made acquaintance with ourpresident--a great scoundrel called Laubardemont. Dost know him?"

"Yes, a little, " said Jacques; "he's a regular miser. But never mindthat; go on. "

"Well, as we had nothing to conceal from one another, I told him of mylittle commercial plans, and asked him, when any good jobs presentedthemselves, to think of his judicial comrade; and I've had no cause tocomplain of him. "

"Ah!" said Jacques, "and what has he done?"

"Why, first, two years ago, he himself brought, me, on horseback behindhim, his niece that thou'st seen out there. "

"His niece!" cried Jacques, rising; "and thou treat'st her like a slave!Demonio!"

"Drink, " said Houmain, quietly stirring the brazier with his poniard;"he himself desired it should be so. Sit down. "

Jacques did so. 

"I don't think, " continued the smuggler, "that he'd even be sorry toknow that she was--dost understand?--to hear she was under the snowrather than above it; but he would not put her there himself, becausehe's a good relative, as he himself said. "

"And as I know, " said Jacques; "but go on. "

"Thou mayst suppose that a man like him, who lives at court, does notlike to have a mad niece in his house. The thing is self-evident; if I'dcontinued to play my part of the man of the robe, I should have done thesame in a similar case. But here, as you perceive, we don't care muchfor appearances; and I've taken her for a servant. She has shown moregood sense than I expected, although she has rarely ever spoken morethan a single word, and at first came the delicate over us. Now she rubsdown a mule like a groom. She has had a slight fever for the last fewdays; but 'twill pass off one way or the other. But, I say, don't tellLaubardemont that she still lives; he'd think 'twas for the sake ofeconomy I've kept her for a servant. "

"How! is he here?" cried Jacques. 

"Drink!" replied the phlegmatic Houmain, who himself set the examplemost assiduously, and began to half shut his eyes with a languishingair. "'Tis the second transaction I've had with this Laubardemont--ordemon, or whatever the name is; but 'tis a good devil of a demon, at allevents. I love him as I do my eyes; and I will drink his health out ofthis bottle of Jurangon here. 'Tis the wine of a jolly fellow, the lateKing Henry. How happy we are here!--Spain on the right hand, Franceon the left; the wine-skin on one side, the bottle on the other! Thebottle! I've left all for the bottle!"

As he spoke, he knocked off the neck of a bottle of white wine. Aftertaking a long draught, he continued, while the stranger closely watchedhim:

"Yes, he's here; and his feet must be rather cold, for he's been waitingabout the mountains ever since sunset, with his guards and our comrades. Thou knowest our bandoleros, the true contrabandistas?"

"Ah! and what do they hunt?" said Jacques. 

"Ah, that's the joke!" answered the drunkard. "'Tis to arrest tworascals, who want to bring here sixty thousand Spanish soldiers in paperin their pocket. You don't, perhaps, quite understand me, 'croquant'. Well, 'tis as I tell thee--in their own pockets. "

"Ay, ay! I understand, " said Jacques, loosening his poniard in his sash, and looking at the door. 

"Very well, devil's-skin, let's sing the Tirana. Take the bottle, throwaway the cigar, and sing. "

With these words the drunken host began to sing in Spanish, interruptinghis song with bumpers, which he threw down his throat, leaning back forthe greater ease, while Jacques, still seated, looked at him gloomily bythe light of the brazier, and meditated what he should do. 

A flash of lightning entered the small window, and filled the room witha sulphurous odor. A fearful clap immediately followed; the cabin shook;and a beam fell outside. 

"Hallo, the house!" cried the drunken man; "the Devil's among us; andour friends are not come!"

"Sing!" said Jacques, drawing the pack upon which he was close to thatof Houmain. 

The latter drank to encourage himself, and then continued to sing. 

As he ended, he felt his seat totter, and fell backward; Jacques, thusfreed from him, sprang toward the door, when it opened, and his headstruck against the cold, pale face of the mad-woman. He recoiled. 

"The judge!" she said, as she entered; and she fell prostrate on thecold ground. 

Jacques had already passed one foot over her; but another face appeared, livid and surprised-that of a very tall man, enveloped in a cloakcovered with snow. He again recoiled, and laughed a laugh of terror andrage. It was Laubardemont, followed by armed men; they looked at oneanother. 

"Ah, com-r-a-d-e, yo-a ra-a-scal!" hiccuped Houmain, rising withdifficulty; "thou'rt a Royalist. "

But when he saw these two men, who seemed petrified by each other, hebecame silent, as conscious of his intoxication; and he reeled forwardto raise up the madwoman, who was still lying between the judge and theCaptain. The former spoke first. 

"Are you not he we have been pursuing?"

"It is he!" said the armed men, with one voice; "the other has escaped. "

Jacques receded to the split planks that formed the tottering wall ofthe hut; enveloping himself in his cloak, like a bear forced againsta tree by the hounds, and, wishing to gain a moment's respite forreflection, he said, firmly:

"The first who passes that brazier and the body of that girl is a deadman. "

And he drew a long poniard from his cloak. At this moment Houmain, kneeling, turned the head of the girl. Her eyes were closed; he drew hertoward the brazier, which lighted up her face. 

"Ah, heavens!" cried Laubardemont, forgetting himself in his fright;"Jeanne again!"

"Be calm, my lo-lord, " said Houmain, trying to open the eyelids, whichclosed again, and to raise her head, which fell back again like wetlinen; "be, be--calm! Do-n't ex-cite yourself; she's dead, decidedly. "

Jacques put his foot on the body as on a barrier, and, looking with aferocious laugh in the face of Laubardemont, said to him in a low voice:

"Let me pass, and I will not compromise thee, courtier; I will not tellthat she was thy niece, and that I am thy son. "

Laubardemont collected himself, looked at his men, who pressed aroundhim with advanced carabines; and, signing them to retire a few steps, heanswered in a very low voice:

"Give me the treaty, and thou shalt pass. "

"Here it is, in my girdle; touch it, and I will call you my fatheraloud. What will thy master say?"

"Give it me, and I will spare thy life. "

"Let me pass, and I will pardon thy having given me that life. "

"Still the same, brigand?"

"Ay, assassin. "

"What matters to thee that boy conspirator?" asked the judge. 

"What matters to thee that old man who reigns?" answered the other. 

"Give me that paper; I've sworn to have it. "

"Leave it with me; I've sworn to carry it back. "

"What can be thy oath and thy God?" demanded Laubardemont. 

"And thine?" replied Jacques. "Is't the crucifix of red-hot iron?"

Here Houmain, rising between them, laughing and staggering, said to thejudge, slapping him on the shoulder. 

"You are a long time coming to an understanding, friend; do-on't youknow him of old? He's a very good fellow. "

"I? no!" cried Laubardemont, aloud; "I never saw him before. "

At this moment, Jacques, who was protected by the drunkard and thesmallness of the crowded chamber, sprang violently against the weakplanks that formed the wall, and by a blow of his heel knocked two ofthem out, and passed through the space thus created. The whole side ofthe cabin was broken; it tottered, and the wind rushed in. 

"Hallo! Demonio! Santo Demonio! where art going?" cried the smuggler;"thou art breaking my house down, and on the side of the ravine, too. "

All cautiously approached, tore away the planks that remained, andleaned over the abyss. They contemplated a strange spectacle. The stormraged in all its fury; and it was a storm of the Pyrenees. Enormousflashes of lightning came all at once from all parts of the horizon, and their fires succeeded so quickly that there seemed no interval; theyappeared to be a continuous flash. It was but rarely the flaming vaultwould suddenly become obscure; and it then instantly resumed itsglare. It was not the light that seemed strange on this night, but thedarkness. 

The tall thin peaks and whitened rocks stood out from the red backgroundlike blocks of marble on a cupola of burning brass, and resembled, amidthe snows, the wonders of a volcano; the waters gushed from them likeflames; the snow poured down like dazzling lava. 

In this moving mass a man was seen struggling, whose efforts onlyinvolved him deeper and deeper in the whirling and liquid gulf; hisknees were already buried. In vain he clasped his arms round an enormouspyramidal and transparent icicle, which reflected the lightning like arock of crystal; the icicle itself was melting at its base, and slowlybending over the declivity of the rock. Under the covering of snow, masses of granite were heard striking against each other, as theydescended into the vast depths below. Yet they could still save him; aspace of scarcely four feet separated him from Laubardemont. 

"I sink!" he cried; "hold out to me something, and thou shalt have thetreaty. "

"Give it me, and I will reach thee this musket, " said the judge. 

"There it is, " replied the ruffian, "since the Devil is for Richelieu!"and taking one hand from the hold of his slippery support, he threw aroll of wood into the cabin. Laubardemont rushed back upon the treatylike a wolf on his prey. Jacques in vain held out his arm; he slowlyglided away with the enormous thawing block turned upon him, and wassilently buried in the snow. 

"Ah, villain, " were his last words, "thou hast deceived me! but thoudidst not take the treaty from me. I gave it thee, Father!" and hedisappeared wholly under the thick white bed of snow. Nothing was seenin his place but the glittering flakes which the lightning had ploughedup, as it became extinguished in them; nothing was--heard but therolling of the thunder and the dash of the water against the rocks, forthe men in the half-ruined cabin, grouped round a corpse and a villain, were silent, tongue-tied with horror, and fearing lest God himselfshould send a thunderbolt upon them. 

CHAPTER XXIII. ABSENCE

 L'absence est le plus grand des maux, Non pas pour vous, cruelle!

 LA FONTAINE. 

Who has not found a charm in watching the clouds of heaven as they floatalong? Who has not envied them the freedom of their journeyings throughthe air, whether rolled in great masses by the wind, and colored by thesun, they advance peacefully, like fleets of dark ships with gilt prows, or sprinkled in light groups, they glide quickly on, airy and elongated, like birds of passage, transparent as vast opals detached from thetreasury of the heavens, or glittering with whiteness, like snows fromthe mountains carried on the wings of the winds? Man is a slow travellerwho envies those rapid journeyers; less rapid than his imagination, theyhave yet seen in a single day all the places he loves, in remembranceor in hope, --those that have witnessed his happiness or his misery, and those so beautiful countries unknown to us, where we expect to findeverything at once. Doubtless there is not a spot on the whole earth, awild rock, an arid plain, over which we pass with indifference, that hasnot been consecrated in the life of some man, and is not painted inhis remembrance; for, like battered vessels, before meeting inevitablewreck, we leave some fragment of ourselves on every rock. 

Whither go the dark-blue clouds of that storm of the Pyrenees? It isthe wind of Africa which drives them before it with a fiery breath. They fly; they roll over one another, growlingly throwing out lightningbefore them, as their torches, and leaving suspended behind them a longtrain of rain, like a vaporous robe. Freed by an effort from the rockydefiles that for a moment had arrested their course, they irrigate, inBearn, the picturesque patrimony of Henri IV; in Guienne, the conquestsof Charles VII; in Saintogne, Poitou, and Touraine, those of Charles Vand of Philip Augustus; and at last, slackening their pace above the olddomain of Hugh Capet, halt murmuring on the towers of St. Germain. 

"O Madame!" exclaimed Marie de Mantua to the Queen, "do you see thisstorm coming up from the south?"

"You often look in that direction, 'ma chere', " answered Anne ofAustria, leaning on the balcony. 

"It is the direction of the sun, Madame. "

"And of tempests, you see, " said the Queen. "Trust in my friendship, mychild; these clouds can bring no happiness to you. I would rathersee you turn your eyes toward Poland. See the fine people you mightcommand. "

At this moment, to avoid the rain, which began to fall, thePrince-Palatine passed rapidly under the windows of the Queen, with anumerous suite of young Poles on horseback. Their Turkish vests, withbuttons of diamonds, emeralds, and rubies; their green and gray cloaks;the lofty plumes of their horses, and their adventurous air-gave thema singular eclat to which the court had easily become accustomed. Theypaused for a moment, and the Prince made two salutes, while the lightanimal he rode passed gracefully sideways, keeping his front towardthe princesses; prancing and snorting, he shook his mane, and seemed tosalute by putting his head between his legs. The whole suite repeatedthe evolution as they passed. The Princesse Marie had at first shrunkback, lest they should see her tears; but the brilliant and flatteringspectacle made her return to the balcony, and she could not helpexclaiming:

"How gracefully the Palatine rides that beautiful horse! he seems scarceconscious of it. "

The Queen smiled, and said:

"He is conscious about her who might be his queen tomorrow, if she wouldbut make a sign of the head, and let but one glance from her great blackalmond-shaped eyes be turned on that throne, instead of always receivingthese poor foreigners with poutings, as now. "

And Anne of Austria kissed the cheek of Marie, who could not refrainfrom smiling also; but she instantly sunk her head, reproaching herself, and resumed her sadness, which seemed gliding from her. She even neededonce more to contemplate the great clouds that hung over the chateau. 

"Poor child, " continued the Queen, "thou dost all thou canst to be veryfaithful, and to keep thyself in the melancholy of thy romance. Thou artmaking thyself ill with weeping when thou shouldst be asleep, and withnot eating. Thou passest the night in revery and in writing; but I warnthee, thou wilt get nothing by it, except making thyself thin and lessbeautiful, and the not being a queen. Thy Cinq-Mars is an ambitiousyouth, who has lost himself. "

Seeing Marie conceal her head in her handkerchief to weep, Anne ofAustria for a moment reentered her chamber, leaving Marie in thebalcony, and feigned to be looking for some jewels at her toilet-table;she soon returned, slowly and gravely, to the window. Marie was morecalm, and was gazing sorrowfully at the landscape before her, the hillsin the distance, and the storm gradually spreading itself. 

The Queen resumed in a more serious tone:

"God has been more merciful to you than your imprudence perhapsdeserved, Marie. He has saved you from great danger. You were willing tomake great sacrifices, but fortunately they have not been accomplishedas you expected. Innocence has saved you from love. You are as one who, thinking she has swallowed a deadly poison, has in reality drunk onlypure and harmless water. "

"Ah, Madame, what mean you? Am I not unhappy enough already?"

"Do not interrupt me, " said the Queen; "you will, ere long, seeyour present position with different eyes. I will not accuse you ofingratitude toward the Cardinal; I have too many reasons for not likinghim. I myself witnessed the rise of the conspiracy. Still, you shouldremember, 'ma chere', that he was the only person in France who, againstthe opinion of the Queen-mother and of the court, insisted upon war withthe duchy of Mantua, which he recovered from the empire and from Spain, and returned to the Duc de Nevers, your father. Here, in this verychateau of Saint-Germain, was signed the treaty which deposed the Dukeof Guastalla. --[The 19th of May, 1632. ]--You were then very young; theymust, however, have told you of it. Yet here, through love alone (Iam willing to believe, with yourself, that it is so), a young man oftwo-and-twenty is ready to get him assassinated. "

"O Madame, he is incapable of such a deed. I swear to you that he hasrefused to adopt it. "

"I have begged you, Marie, to let me speak. I know that he is generousand loyal. I am willing to believe that, contrary to the custom ofour times, he would not go so far as to kill an old man, as did theChevalier de Guise. But can he prevent his assassination, if his troopsmake him prisoner? This we can not say, any more than he. God aloneknows the future. It is, at all events, certain that it is for youhe attacks him, and, to overthrow him, is preparing civil war, whichperhaps is bursting forth at the very moment that we speak--a warwithout success. Whichever way it turns, it can only effect evil, forMonsieur is going to abandon the conspiracy. "

"How, Madame?"

"Listen to me. I tell you I am certain of it; I need not explainmyself further. What will the grand ecuyer do? The King, as he rightlyanticipated, has gone to consult the Cardinal. To consult him is toyield to him; but the treaty of Spain is signed. If it be discovered, what can Monsieur de Cinq-Mars do? Do not tremble thus. We will savehim; we will save his life, I promise you. There is yet time, I hope. "

"Ah, Madame, you hope! I am lost!" cried Marie, half fainting. 

"Let us sit down, " said the Queen; and, placing herself near Marie, atthe entrance to the chamber, she continued:

"Doubtless Monsieur will treat for all the conspirators in treatingfor himself; but exile will be the least punishment, perpetual exile. Behold, then, the Duchesse de Nevers and Mantua, the Princesse Mariede Gonzaga, the wife of Monsieur Henri d'Effiat, Marquis de Cinq-Mars, exiled!"

"Well, Madame, I will follow him into exile. It is my duty; I amhis wife!" exclaimed Marie, sobbing. "I would I knew he were alreadybanished and in safety. "

"Dreams of eighteen!" said the Queen, supporting Marie. "Awake, child, awake! you must. I deny not the good qualities of Monsieur de Cinq-Mars. He has a lofty character, a vast mind, and great courage; but he may nolonger be aught for you, and, fortunately, you are not his wife, or evenhis betrothed. "

"I am his, Madame-his alone. "

"But without the benediction, " replied Anne of Austria; "in a word, without marriage. No priest would have dared--not even your own; he toldme so. Be silent!" she added, putting her two beautiful hands on Marie'slips. "Be silent! You would say that God heard your vow; that you cannot live without him; that your destinies are inseparable from his; thatdeath alone can break your union? The phrases of your age, deliciouschimeras of a moment, at which one day you will smile, happy at nothaving to lament them all your life. Of the many and brilliant womenyou see around me at court, there is not one but at your age had somebeautiful dream of love, like this of yours, who did not form thoseties, which they believed indissoluble, and who did not in secret takeeternal oaths. Well, these dreams are vanished, these knots broken, these oaths forgotten; and yet you see them happy women and mothers. Surrounded by the honors of their rank, they laugh and dance everynight. I again divine what you would say--they loved not as you love, eh? You deceive yourself, my dear child; they loved as much, and wept noless. 

"And here I must make you acquainted with that great mystery whichconstitutes your despair, since you are ignorant of the malady thatdevours you. We have a twofold existence, 'm'amie': our internal life, that of our feelings powerfully works within us, while the externallife dominates despite ourselves. We are never independent of men, more especially in an elevated condition. Alone, we think ourselvesmistresses of our destiny; but the entrance of two or three peoplefastens on all our chains, by recalling our rank and our retinue. Nay; shut yourself up and abandon yourself to all the daring andextraordinary resolutions that the passions may raise up in you, tothe marvellous sacrifices they may suggest to you. A lackey coming andasking your orders will at once break the charm and bring you backto your real life. It is this contest between your projects and yourposition which destroys you. You are invariably angry with yourself; youbitterly reproach yourself. "

Marie turned away her head. 

"Yes, you believe yourself criminal. Pardon yourself, Marie; all menare beings so relative and so dependent one upon another that I know notwhether the great retreats of the world that we sometimes see are notmade for the world itself. Despair has its pursuits, and solitude itscoquetry. It is said that the gloomiest hermits can not refrainfrom inquiring what men say of them. This need of public opinion isbeneficial, in that it combats, almost always victoriously, that whichis irregular in our imagination, and comes to the aid of duties whichwe too easily forget. One experiences (you will feel it, I hope) inreturning to one's proper lot, after the sacrifice of that which haddiverted the reason, the satisfaction of an exile returning to hisfamily, of a sick person at sight of the sun after a night afflictedwith frightful dreams. 

"It is this feeling of a being returned, as it were, to its naturalstate that creates the calm which you see in many eyes that have alsohad their tears-for there are few women who have not known tears such asyours. You would think yourself perjured if you renounced Cinq-Mars! Butnothing binds you; you have more than acquitted yourself toward him byrefusing for more than two years past the royal hands offered you. And, after all, what has he done, this impassioned lover? He has elevatedhimself to reach you; but may not the ambition which here seems to youto have aided love have made use of that love? This young man seems tome too profound, too calm in his political stratagems, too independentin his vast resolutions, in his colossal enterprises, for me to believehim solely occupied by his tenderness. If you have been but a meansinstead of an end, what would you say?"

"I would still love him, " answered Marie. "While he lives, I am his. "

"And while I live, " said the Queen, with firmness, "I will oppose thealliance. "

At these last words the rain and hail fell violently on the balcony. TheQueen took advantage of the circumstance abruptly to leave the roomand pass into that where the Duchesse de Chevreuse, Mazarin, Madamede Guemenee, and the Prince-Palatine had been awaiting her for a shorttime. The Queen walked up to them. Marie placed herself in the shade ofa curtain in order to conceal the redness of her eyes. She was at firstunwilling to take part in the sprightly conversation; but some words ofit attracted her attention. The Queen was showing to the Princesse deGuemenee diamonds she had just received from Paris. 

"As for this crown, it does not belong to me. The King had it preparedfor the future Queen of Poland. Who that is to be, we know not. " Thenturning toward the Prince-Palatine, "We saw you pass, Prince. Whom wereyou going to visit?"

"Mademoiselle la Duchesse de Rohan, " answered the Pole. 

The insinuating Mazarin, who availed himself of every opportunity toworm out secrets, and to make himself necessary by forced confidences, said, approaching the Queen:

"That comes very apropos, just as we were speaking of the crown ofPoland. "

Marie, who was listening, could not hear this, and said to Madame deGuemenee, who was at her side:

"Is Monsieur de Chabot, then, King of Poland?"

The Queen heard that, and was delighted at this touch of pride. Inorder to develop its germ, she affected an approving attention to theconversation that ensued. 

The Princesse de Guemenee exclaimed:

"Can you conceive such a marriage? We really can't get it out of ourheads. This same Mademoiselle de Rohan, whom we have seen so haughty, after having refused the Comte de Soissons, the Duc de Weimar, and theDuc de Nemours, to marry Monsieur de Chabot, a simple gentleman! 'Tisreally a sad pity! What are we coming to? 'Tis impossible to say what itwill all end in. "

"What! can it be true? Love at court! a real love affair! Can it bebelieved?"

All this time the Queen continued opening and shutting and playing withthe new crown. 

"Diamonds suit only black hair, " she said. "Let us see. Let me put it onyou, Marie. Why, it suits her to admiration!"

"One would suppose it had been made for Madame la Princesse, " said theCardinal. 

"I would give the last drop of my blood for it to remain on that brow, "said the Prince-Palatine. 

Marie, through the tears that were still on her cheek, gave an infantineand involuntary smile, like a ray of sunshine through rain. Then, suddenly blushing deeply, she hastily took refuge in her apartments. 

All present laughed. The Queen followed her with her eyes, smiled, presented her hand for the Polish ambassador to kiss, and retired towrite a letter. 

CHAPTER XXIV. THE WORK

One night, before Perpignan, a very unusual event took place. It was teno'clock; and all were asleep. The slow and almost suspended operationsof the siege had rendered the camp and the town inactive. The Spaniardstroubled themselves little about the French, all communication towardCatalonia being open as in time of peace; and in the French army men'sminds were agitated with that secret anxiety which precedes greatevents. 

Yet all was calm; no sound was heard but that of the measured tread ofthe sentries. Nothing was seen in the dark night but the red light ofthe matches of their guns, always smoking, when suddenly the trumpetsof the musketeers, of the light-horse, and of the men-at-arms soundedalmost simultaneously, "boot and saddle, " and "to horse. " All thesentinels cried to arms; and the sergeants, with flambeaux, went fromtent to tent, along pike in their hands, to waken the soldiers, rangethem in lines, and count them. Some files marched in gloomy silencealong the streets of the camp, and took their position in battle array. The sound of the mounted squadrons announced that the heavy cavalry weremaking the same dispositions. After half an hour of movement the noiseceased, the torches were extinguished, and all again became calm, butthe army was on foot. 

One of the last tents of the camp shone within as a star with flambeaux. On approaching this little white and transparent pyramid, we might havedistinguished the shadows of two men reflected on the canvas as theywalked to and fro within. Outside several men on horseback were inattendance; inside were De Thou and Cinq-Mars. 

To see the pious and wise De Thou thus up and armed at this hour, youmight have taken him for one of the chiefs of the revolt. But acloser examination of his serious countenance and mournful expressionimmediately showed that he blamed it, and allowed himself to be led intoit and endangered by it from an extraordinary resolution which aidedhim to surmount the horror he had of the enterprise itself. From the daywhen Henri d'Effiat had opened his heart and confided to him its wholesecret, he had seen clearly that all remonstrance was vain with a youngman so powerfully resolved. 

De Thou had even understood what M. De Cinq-Mars had not told him, andhad seen in the secret union of his friend with the Princesse Marie, oneof those ties of love whose mysterious and frequent faults, voluptuousand involuntary derelictions, could not be too soon purified by publicbenediction. He had comprehended that punishment, impossible to besupported long by a lover, the adored master of that young girl, andwho was condemned daily to appear before her as a stranger, to receivepolitical disclosures of marriages they were preparing for her. The daywhen he received his entire confession, he had done all in his power toprevent Cinq-Mars going so far in his projects as the foreign alliance. He had evoked the gravest recollections and the best feelings, withoutany other result than rendering the invincible resolution of his friendmore rude toward him. Cinq-Mars, it will be recollected, had said to himharshly, "Well, did I ask you to take part in this conspiracy?" And hehad desired only to promise not to denounce it; and he had collected allhis power against friendship to say, "Expect nothing further from me ifyou sign this treaty. " Yet Cinq-Mars had signed the treaty; and De Thouwas still there with him. 

The habit of familiarly discussing the projects of his friend hadperhaps rendered them less odious to him. His contempt for the vices ofthe Prime-Minister; his indignation at the servitude of the parliamentsto which his family belonged, and at the corruption of justice; thepowerful names, and more especially the noble characters of the men whodirected the enterprise--all had contributed to soften down his firstpainful impression. Having once promised secrecy to M. De Cinq-Mars, he considered himself as in a position to accept in detail all thesecondary disclosures; and since the fortuitous event which hadcompromised him with the conspirators at the house of Marion de Lorme, he considered himself united to them by honor, and engaged to aninviolable secrecy. Since that time he had seen Monsieur, the Duc deBouillon, and Fontrailles; they had become accustomed to speak beforehim without constraint, and he to hear them. 

The dangers which threatened his friend now drew him into their vortexlike an invincible magnet. His conscience accused him; but he followedCinq-Mars wherever he went without even, from excess of delicacy, hazarding a single expression which might resemble a personal fear. Hehad tacitly given up his life, and would have deemed it unworthy of bothto manifest a desire to regain it. 

The master of the horse was in his cuirass; he was armed, and wore largeboots. An enormous pistol, with a lighted match, was placed upon histable between two flambeaux. A heavy watch in a brass case lay near thepistol. De Thou, wrapped in a black cloak, sat motionless with foldedarms. Cinq-Mars paced backward and forward, his arms crossed behind hisback, from time to time looking at the hand of the watch, too sluggishin his eyes. He opened the tent, looked up to the heavens, and returned. 

"I do not see my star there, " said he; "but no matter. She is here in myheart. "

"The night is dark, " said De Thou. 

"Say rather that the time draws nigh. It advances, my friend; itadvances. Twenty minutes more, and all will be accomplished. The armyonly waits the report of this pistol to begin. "

De Thou held in his hand an ivory crucifix, and looking first at thecross, and then toward heaven, "Now, " said he, "is the hour to completethe sacrifice. I repent not; but oh, how bitter is the cup of sin to mylips! I had vowed my days to innocence and to the works of the soul, andhere I am about to commit a crime, and to draw the sword. "

But forcibly seizing the hand of Cinq-Mars, "It is for you, for you!" headded with the enthusiasm of a blindly devoted heart. "I rejoice in myerrors if they turn to your glory. I see but your happiness in my fault. Forgive me if I have returned for a moment to the habitual thought of mywhole life. "

Cinq-Mars looked steadfastly at him; and a tear stole slowly down hischeek. 

"Virtuous friend, " said he, "may your fault fall only on my head! Butlet us hope that God, who pardons those who love, will be for us; for weare criminal--I through love, you through friendship. "

Then suddenly looking at the watch, he took the long pistol in his hand, and gazed at the smoking match with a fierce air. His long hair fellover his face like the mane of a young lion. 

"Do not consume, " said he; "burn slowly. Thou art about to light a flamewhich the waves of ocean can not extinguish. The flame will soon lighthalf Europe; it may perhaps reach the wood of thrones. Burn slowly, precious flame! The winds which fan thee are violent and fearful; theyare love and hatred. Reserve thyself! Thy explosion will be heard afar, and will find echoes in the peasant's but and the king's palace. 

"Burn, burn, poor flame! Thou art to me a sceptre and a thunderbolt!"

De Thou, still holding his ivory crucifix in his hand, said in a lowvoice:

"Lord, pardon us the blood that will be shed! We combat the wicked andthe impious. " Then, raising his voice, "My friend, the cause of virtuewill triumph, " he said; "it alone will triumph. God has ordained thatthe guilty treaty should not reach us; that which constituted thecrime is no doubt destroyed. We shall fight without the foreigners, and perhaps we shall not fight at all. God will change the heart of theking. "

"'Tis the hour! 'tis the hour!" exclaimed Cinq-Mars, his eyes fixedupon the watch with a kind of savage joy; "four minutes more, and theCardinalists in the camp will be crushed! We shall march upon Narbonne!He is there! Give me the pistol!"

At these words he hastily opened the tent, and took up the match. 

"A courier from Paris! an express from court!" cried a voice outside, asa man, heated with hard riding and overcome with fatigue, threw himselffrom his horse, entered, and presented a letter to Cinq-Mars. 

"From the Queen, Monseigneur, " he said. Cinq-Mars turned pale, and readas follows:

 M. DE CINQ-MARS: I write this letter to entreat and conjure you to restore to her duties our well-beloved adopted daughter and friend, the Princesse Marie de Gonzaga, whom your affection alone turns from the throne of Poland, which has been offered to her. I have sounded her heart. She is very young, and I have good reason to believe that she would accept the crown with less effort and less grief than you may perhaps imagine. 

 It is for her you have undertaken a war which will put to fire and sword my beautiful and beloved France. I supplicate and implore you to act as a gentleman, and nobly to release the Duchesse de Mantua from the promises she may have made you. Thus restore repose to her soul, and peace to our beloved country. 

 The Queen, who will throw herself at your feet if need be, ANNE. 

Cinq-Mars calmly replaced the pistol upon the table; his first impulsehad been to turn its muzzle upon himself. However, he laid it down, andsnatching a pencil, wrote on the back of the letter;

 MADAME: Marie de Gonzaga, being my wife, can not be Queen of Poland until after my death. I die. 

 CINQ-MARS. 

Then, as if he would not allow himself time for a moment's reflection, he forced the letter into the hands of the courier. 

"To horse! to horse!" cried he, in a furious tone. "If you remainanother instant, you are a dead man!"

He saw him gallop off, and reentered the tent. Alone with his friend, heremained an instant standing, but pale, his eyes fixed, and looking onthe ground like a madman. He felt himself totter. 

"De Thou!" he cried. 

"What would you, my friend, my dear friend? I am with you. You haveacted grandly, most grandly, sublimely!"

"De Thou!" he cried again, in a hollow voice, and fell with his face tothe ground, like an uprooted tree. 

Violent tempests assume different aspects, according to the climates inwhich they take place. Those which have spread over a terrible spacein northern countries assemble into one single cloud under the torridzone--the more formidable, that they leave the horizon in all itspurity, and that the furious waves still reflect the azure of heavenwhile tinged with the blood of man. It is the same with great passions. They assume strange aspects according to our characters; but howterrible are they in vigorous hearts, which have preserved their forceunder the veil of social forms? When youth and despair embrace, we knownot to what fury they may rise, or what may be their sudden resignation;we know not whether the volcano will burst the mountain or becomesuddenly extinguished within its entrails. 

De Thou, in alarm, raised his friend. The blood gushed from his nostrilsand ears; he would have thought him dead, but for the torrents of tearswhich flowed from his eyes. They were the only sign of life. Suddenlyhe opened his lids, looked around him, and by an extraordinary energyresumed his senses and the power of his will. 

"I am in the presence of men, " said he; "I must finish with them. Myfriend, it is half-past eleven; the hour for the signal has passed. Give, in my name, the order to return to quarters. It was a false alarm, which I will myself explain this evening. "

De Thou had already perceived the importance of this order; he went outand returned immediately. 

He found Cinq-Mars seated, calm, and endeavoring to cleanse the bloodfrom his face. 

"De Thou, " said he, looking fixedly at him, "retire; you disturb me. "

"I leave you not, " answered the latter. 

"Fly, I tell you! the Pyrenees are not far distant. I can not speak muchlonger, even to you; but if you remain with me, you will die. I give youwarning. "

"I remain, " repeated De Thou. 

"May God preserve you, then!" answered Cinq-Mars, "for I can do nothingmore; the moment has passed. I leave you here. Call Fontrailles and allthe confederates: distribute these passports among them. Let them flyimmediately; tell them all has failed, but that I thank them. For you, once again I say, fly with them, I entreat you; but whatever you do, follow me not--follow me not, for your life! I swear to you not to doviolence to myself!"

With these words, shaking his friend's hand without looking at him, herushed from the tent. 

Meantime, some leagues thence another conversation was taking place. At Narbonne, in the same cabinet in which we formerly beheld Richelieuregulating with Joseph the interests of the State, were still seated thesame men, nearly as we have described them. The minister, however, hadgrown much older in three years of suffering; and the Capuchin was asmuch terrified with the result of his expedition as his master appearedtranquil. 

The Cardinal, seated in his armchair, his legs bound and encasedwith furs and warm clothing, had upon his knees three kittens, whichgambolled upon his scarlet robe. Every now and then he took one of themand placed it upon the others, to continue their sport. He smiled ashe watched them. On his feet lay their mother, looking like an enormousanimated muff. 

Joseph, seated near him, was going over the account of all he had heardin the confessional. Pale even now, at the danger he had run of beingdiscovered, or of being murdered by Jacques, he concluded thus:

"In short, your Eminence, I can not help feeling agitated to my heart'score when I reflect upon the dangers which have, and still do, threatenyou. Assassins offer themselves to poniard you. I beheld in Francethe whole court against you, one half of the army, and two provinces. Abroad, Spain and Portugal are ready to furnish troops. Everywhere thereare snares or battles, poniards or cannon. "

The Cardinal yawned three times, without discontinuing his amusement, and then said:

"A cat is a very fine animal. It is a drawing-room tiger. Whatsuppleness, what extraordinary finesse! Here is this little yellow onepretending to sleep, in order that the tortoise-shell one may not noticeit, but fall upon its brother; and this one, how it tears the other! Seehow it sticks its claws into its side! It would kill and eat it, Ifully believe, if it were the stronger. It is very amusing. What prettyanimals!"

He coughed and sneezed for some time; then he continued:

"Messire Joseph, I sent word to you not to speak to me of business untilafter my supper... I have an appetite now, and it is not yet my hour. Chicot, my doctor, recommends regularity, and I feel my usual pain in myside. This is how I shall spend the evening, " he added, looking at theclock. "At nine, we will settle the affairs of Monsieur le Grand. Atten, I shall be carried round the garden to take the air by moonlight. Then I shall sleep for an hour or two. At midnight the King will behere; and at four o'clock you may return to receive the various ordersfor arrests, condemnations, or any others I may have to give you, forthe provinces, Paris, or the armies of his Majesty. "

Richelieu said all this in the same tone of voice, with a uniformenunciation, affected only by the weakness of his chest and the loss ofseveral teeth. 

It was seven in the evening. The Capuchin withdrew. The Cardinal suppedwith the greatest tranquillity; and when the clock struck half-pasteight, he sent for Joseph, and said to him, when he was seated:

"This, then, is all they have been able to do against me during morethan two years. They are poor creatures, truly! The Duc de Bouillon, whom I thought possessed some ability, has forfeited all claim to myopinion. I have watched him closely; and I ask you, has he taken onestep worthy of a true statesman? The King, Monsieur, and the rest, have only shown their teeth against me, and without depriving me of onesingle man. The young Cinq-Mars is the only man among them who hasany consecutiveness of ideas. All that he has done has been donesurprisingly well. I must do him justice; he had good qualities. I should have made him my pupil, had it not been for his obstinatecharacter. But he has here charged me 'a l'outrance, and must take theconsequences. I am sorry for him. I have left them to float about inopen water for the last two years. I shall now draw the net. "

"It is time, Monseigneur, " said Joseph, who often trembled involuntarilyas he spoke. "Do you bear in mind that from Perpignan to Narbonne theway is short? Do you know that if your army here is powerful, your owntroops are weak and uncertain; that the young nobles are furious; andthat the King is not sure?"

The Cardinal looked at the clock. 

"It is only half-past eight, Joseph. I have already told you that Iwill not talk about this affair until nine. Meantime, as justice must bedone, you will write what I shall dictate, for my memory serves me well. There are still some objectionable persons left, I see by my notes--fourof the judges of Urbain Grandier. He was a rare genius, that UrbainGrandier, " he added, with a malicious expression. Joseph bit his lips. "All the other judges have died miserably. As to Houmain, he shall behanged as a smuggler by and by. We may leave him alone for the present. But there is that horrible Lactantius, who lives peacefully, Barre, andMignon. Take a pen, and write to the Bishop of Poitiers, "MONSEIGNEUR: It is his Majesty's pleasure that Fathers Mignon and Barre be superseded in their cures, and sent with the shortest possible delay to the town of Lyons, with Father Lactantius, Capuchin, to be tried before a special tribunal, charged with criminal intentions against the State. "

Joseph wrote as coolly as a Turk strikes off a head at a sign from hismaster. The Cardinal said to him, while signing the letter:

"I will let you know how I wish them to disappear, for it is importantto efface all traces of that affair. Providence has served me well. In removing these men, I complete its work. That is all that posterityshall know of the affair. "

And he read to the Capuchin that page of his memoirs in which herecounts the possession and sorceries of the magician. --[Collect. DesMemoires xxviii. 189. ]--During this slow process, Joseph could not helplooking at the clock. 

"You are anxious to come to Monsieur le Grand, " said the Cardinal atlast. "Well, then, to please you, let us begin. "

"Do you think I have not my reasons for being tranquil? You think thatI have allowed these poor conspirators to go too far. No, no! Here aresome little papers that would reassure you, did you know their contents. First, in this hollow stick is the treaty with Spain, seized at Oleron. I am well satisfied with Laubardemont; he is an able man. "

The fire of ferocious jealousy sparkled under the thick eyebrows of themonk. 

"Ah, Monseigneur, " said he, "you know not from whom he seized it. Hecertainly suffered him to die, and in that respect we can not complain, for he was the agent of the conspiracy; but it was his son. "

"Say you the truth?" cried the Cardinal, in a severe tone. "Yes, for youdare not lie to me. How knew you this?"

"From his attendants, Monsiegneur. Here are their reports. They willtestify to them. "

The Cardinal having examined these papers, said:

"We will employ him once more to try our conspirators, and then youshall do as you like with him. I give him to you. "

Joseph joyfully pocketed his precious denunciations, and continued:

"Your Eminence speaks of trying men who are still armed and onhorseback. "

"They are not all so. Read this letter from Monsieur to Chavigny. Heasks for pardon. He dared not address me the first day, and his prayersrose no higher than the knees of one of my servants. 

 To M. De Chavigny:

 M. DE CHAVIGNY: Although I believe that you are little satisfied with me (and in truth you have reason to be dissatisfied), I do not the less entreat you to endeavor my reconciliation with his Eminence, and rely for this upon the true love you bear me, and which, I believe, is greater than your anger. You know how much I require to be relieved from the danger I am in. You have already twice stood my friend with his Eminence. I swear to you this shall be the last time I give you such an employment. GASTON D'ORLEANS. 

"But the next day he took courage, and sent this to myself, To his Excellency the Cardinal-Duc:

 MY COUSIN: This ungrateful M. Le Grand is the most guilty man in the world to have displeased you. The favors he received from his Majesty have always made me doubtful of him and his artifices. For you, my cousin, I retain my whole esteem. I am truly repentant at having again been wanting in the fidelity I owe to my Lord the King, and I call God to witness the sincerity with which I shall be for the rest of my life your most faithful friend, with the same devotion that I am, my cousin, your affectionate cousin, GASTON. 

and the third to the King. His project choked him; he could not keepit down. But I am not so easily satisfied. I must have a free and fullconfession, or I will expel him from the kingdom. I have written to himthis morning. 

 [MONSIEUR: Since God wills that men should have recourse to a frank and entire confession to be absolved of their faults in this world, I indicate to you the steps you must take to be delivered from this danger. Your Highness has commenced well; you must continue. This is all I can say to you. ]

"As to the magnificent and powerful Due de Bouillon, sovereign lordof Sedan and general-in-chief of the armies in Italy, he has just beenarrested by his officers in the midst of his soldiers, concealed in atruss of straw. There remain, therefore, only our two young neighbors. They imagine they have the camp wholly at their orders, while theyreally have only the red troops. All the rest, being Monsieur's men, will not act, and my troops will arrest them. However, I have permittedthem to appear to obey. If they give the signal at half-past eleven, they will be arrested at the first step. If not, the King will give themup to me this evening. Do not open your eyes so wide. He will give themup to me, I repeat, this night, between midnight and one o'clock. Yousee that all has been done without you, Joseph. We can dispense with youvery well; and truly, all this time, I do not see that we have receivedany great service from you. You grow negligent. "

"Ah, Monseigneur! did you but know the trouble I have had to discoverthe route of the bearers of the treaty! I only learned it by risking mylife between these young people. "

The Cardinal laughed contemptuously, leaning back in his chair. 

"Thou must have been very ridiculous and very fearful in that box, Joseph; I dare say it was the first time in thy life thou ever heardstlove spoken of. Dost thou like the language, Father Joseph? Tell me, dost thou clearly understand it? I doubt whether thou hast formed a veryrefined idea of it. "

Richelieu, his arms crossed, looked at his discomfited Capuchin withinfinite delight, and continued in the scornfully familiar tone ofa grand seigneur, which he sometimes assumed, pleasing himself withputting forth the noblest expressions through the most impure lips:

"Come, now, Joseph, give me a definition of love according to thy idea. What can it be--for thou seest it exists out of romances. This worthyyoungster undertook these little conspiracies through love. Thou heardstit thyself with throe unworthy ears. Come, what is love? For my part, Iknow nothing about it. "

The monk was astounded, and looked upon the ground with the stupid eyeof some base animal. After long consideration, he replied in a drawlingand nasal voice:

"It must be a kind of malignant fever which leads the brain astray; butin truth, Monseigneur, I have never reflected on it until this moment. Ihave always been embarrassed in speaking to a woman. I wish women couldbe omitted from society altogether; for I do not see what use they are, unless it be to disclose secrets, like the little Duchess or Marionde Lorme, whom I can not too strongly recommend to your Eminence. Shethought of everything, and herself threw our little prophecy among theconspirators with great address. We have not been without the marvellousthis time. As in the siege of Hesdin, all we have to do is to find awindow through which you may pass on the day of the execution. "

 [In 1638, Prince Thomas having raised the siege of Hesdin, the Cardinal was much vexed at it. A nun of the convent of Mount Calvary had said that the victory would be to the King and Father Joseph, thus wishing it to be believed that Heaven protected the minister. --Memoires pour l'histoire du Cardinal de Richelieu. ]

"This is another of your absurdities, sir, " said the Cardinal; "you willmake me as ridiculous as yourself, if you go on so; I am too powerfulto need the assistance of Heaven. Do not let that happen again. Occupyyourself only with the people I consign to you. I traced your partbefore. When the master of the horse is taken, you will see him triedand executed at Lyons. I will not be known in this. This affair isbeneath me; it is a stone under my feet, upon which I ought not to havebestowed so much attention. "

Joseph was silent; he could not understand this man, who, surrounded onevery side by armed enemies, spoke of the future as of a present overwhich he had the entire control, and of the present as a past which heno longer feared. He knew not whether to look upon him as a madman or aprophet, above or below the standard of human nature. 

His astonishment was redoubled when Chavigny hastily entered, and nearlyfalling, in his heavy boots, over the Cardinal's footstool, exclaimed ingreat agitation:

"Sir, one of your servants has just arrived from Perpignan; and he hasbeheld the camp in an uproar, and your enemies in the saddle. "

"They will soon dismount, sir, " replied Richelieu, replacing hisfootstool. "You appear to have lost your equanimity. "

"But--but, Monseigneur, must we not warn Monsieur de Fabert?"

"Let him sleep, and go to bed yourself; and you also, Joseph. "

"Monseigneur, another strange event has occurred--the King has arrived. "

"Indeed, that is extraordinary, " said the minister, looking at hiswatch. "I did not expect him these two hours. Retire, both of you. "

A heavy trampling and the clattering of arms announced the arrivalof the Prince; the folding-doors were thrown open; the guards in theCardinal's service struck the ground thrice with their pikes; and theKing appeared. 

He entered, supporting himself with a cane on one side, and on theother leaning upon the shoulder of his confessor, Father Sirmond, who withdrew, and left him with the Cardinal; the latter rose withdifficulty, but could not advance a step to meet the King, because hislegs were bandaged and enveloped. He made a sign that they should assistthe King to a seat near the fire, facing himself. Louis XIII fell intoan armchair furnished with pillows, asked for and drank a glass ofcordial, prepared to strengthen him against the frequent fainting-fitscaused by his malady of languor, signed to all to leave the room, and, alone with Richelieu, he said in a languid voice:

"I am departing, my dear Cardinal; I feel that I shall soon returnto God. I become weaker from day to day; neither the summer nor thesouthern air has restored my strength. "

"I shall precede your Majesty, " replied the minister. "You see thatdeath has already conquered my limbs; but while I have a head to thinkand a hand to write, I shall be at the service of your Majesty. "

"And I am sure it was your intention to add, 'a heart to love me. '"

"Can your Majesty doubt it?" answered the Cardinal, frowning, and bitinghis lips impatiently at this speech. 

"Sometimes I doubt it, " replied the King. "Listen: I wish to speakopenly to you, and to complain of you to yourself. There are two thingswhich have been upon my conscience these three years. I have nevermentioned them to you; but I reproached you secretly; and could anythinghave induced me to consent to any proposals contrary to your interest, it would be this recollection. "

There was in this speech that frankness natural to weak minds, who seekby thus making their ruler uneasy, to compensate for the harm they darenot do him, and revenge their subjection by a childish controversy. 

Richelieu perceived by these words that he had run a great risk; but hesaw at the same time the necessity of venting all his spleen, and, tofacilitate the explosion of these important avowals, he accumulated allthe professions he thought most calculated to provoke the King. 

"No, no!" his Majesty at length exclaimed, "I shall believe nothinguntil you have explained those two things, which are always in mythoughts, which were lately mentioned to me, and which I can justify byno reasoning. I mean the trial of Urbain Grandier, of which I was neverwell informed, and the reason for the hatred you bore to my unfortunatemother, even to her very ashes. "

"Is this all, Sire?" said Richelieu. "Are these my only faults? Theyare easily explained. The first it was necessary to conceal from yourMajesty because of its horrible and disgusting details of scandal. Therewas certainly an art employed, which can not be looked upon as guilty, in concealing, under the title of 'magic, ' crimes the very names ofwhich are revolting to modesty, the recital of which would have revealeddangerous mysteries to the innocent; this was a holy deceit practised tohide these impurities from the eyes of the people. "

"Enough, enough, Cardinal, " said Louis XIII, turning away his head, andlooking downward, while a blush covered his face; "I can not hear more. I understand you; these explanations would disgust me. I approve yourmotives; 'tis well. I had not been told that; they had concealed thesedreadful vices from me. Are you assured of the proofs of these crimes?"

"I have them all in my possession, Sire; and as to the glorious Queen, Marie de Medicis, I am surprised that your Majesty can forget how much Iwas attached to her. Yes, I do not fear to acknowledge it; it is to herI owe my elevation. She was the first who deigned to notice the Bishopof Luton, then only twenty-two years of age, to place me near her. What have I not suffered when she compelled me to oppose her in yourMajesty's interest! But this sacrifice was made for you. I never had, and never shall have, to regret it. "

"'Tis well for you, but for me!" said the King, bitterly. 

"Ah, Sire, " exclaimed the Cardinal, "did not the Son of God himself setyou an example? It is by the model of every perfection that we regulateour counsels; and if the monument due to the precious remains of yourmother is not yet raised, Heaven is my witness that the works wereretarded through the fear of afflicting your heart by bringing back therecollection of her death. But blessed be the day in which I have beenpermitted to speak to you on the subject! I myself shall say thefirst mass at Saint-Denis, when we shall see her deposited there, ifProvidence allows me the strength. "

The countenance of the King assumed a more affable yet still coldexpression; and the Cardinal, thinking that he could go no farther thatevening in persuasion, suddenly resolved to make a more powerful move, and to attack the enemy in front. Still keeping his eyes firmly fixedupon the King, he said, coldly:

"And was it for this you consented to my death?"

"Me!" said the King. "You have been deceived; I have indeed heard of aconspiracy, and I wished to speak to you about it; but I have commandednothing against you. "

"'The conspirators do not say so, Sire; but I am bound to believe yourMajesty, and I am glad for your sake that men were deceived. But whatadvice were you about to condescend to give me?"

"I--I wished to tell you frankly, and between ourselves, that you willdo well to beware of Monsieur--"

"Ah, Sire, I can not now heed it; for here is a letter which he hasjust sent to me for you. He seems to have been guilty even toward yourMajesty. "

The King read in astonishment:

 MONSEIGNEUR: I am much grieved at having once more failed in the fidelity which I owe to your Majesty. I humbly entreat you to allow me to ask a thousand pardons, with the assurances of my submission and repentance. Your very humble servant, GASTON. 

"What does this mean?" cried Louis; "dare they arm against me also?"

"Also!" muttered the Cardinal, biting his lips; "yes, Sire, also;and this makes me believe, to a certain degree, this little packet ofpapers. "

While speaking, he drew a roll of parchment from a piece of hollowedelder, and opened it before the eyes of the King. 

"This is simply a treaty with Spain, which I think does not bear thesignature of your Majesty. You may see the twenty articles all in dueform. Everything is here arranged--the place of safety, the number oftroops, the supplies of men and money. "

"The traitors!" cried the King, in great agitation; "they must beseized. My brother renounces them and repents; but do not fail to arrestthe Duc de Bouillon. "

"It shall be done, Sire. "

"That will be difficult, in the middle of the army in Italy. "

"I will answer with my head for his arrest, Sire; but is there notanother name to be added?"

"Who--what--Cinq-Mars?" inquired the King, hesitating. 

"Exactly so, Sire, " answered the Cardinal. 

"I see--but--I think--we might--"

"Hear me!" exclaimed Richelieu, in a voice of thunder; "all must besettled to-day. Your favorite is mounted at the head of his party;choose between him and me. Yield up the boy to the man, or the man tothe boy; there is no alternative. "

"And what will you do if I consent?" said the King. 

"I will have his head and that of his friend. "

"Never! it is impossible!" replied the King, with horror, as he relapsedinto the same state of irresolution he evinced when with Cinq-Marsagainst Richelieu. "He is my friend as well as you; my heart bleeds atthe idea of his death. Why can you not both agree? Why this division?It is that which has led him to this. You have between you brought me tothe brink of despair; you have made me the most miserable of men. "

Louis hid his head in his hands while speaking, and perhaps he shedtears; but the inflexible minister kept his eyes upon him as ifwatching his prey, and without remorse, without giving the King timefor reflection--on the contrary, profiting by this emotion to speak yetlonger. 

"And is it thus, " he continued, in a harsh and cold voice, "that youremember the commandments of God communicated to you by the mouth ofyour confessor? You told me one day that the Church expressly commandedyou to reveal to your prime minister all that you might hear againsthim; yet I have never heard from you of my intended death! It wasnecessary that more faithful friends should apprise me of thisconspiracy; that the guilty themselves through the mercy of Providenceshould themselves make the avowal of their fault. One only, the mostguilty, yet the least of all, still resists, and it is he who hasconducted the whole; it is he who would deliver France into the power ofthe foreigner, who would overthrow in one single day my labors of twentyyears. He would call up the Huguenots of the south, invite to arms allorders of the State, revive crushed pretensions, and, in fact, renewthe League which was put down by your father. It is that--do not deceiveyourself--it is that which raises so many heads against you. Are youprepared for the combat? If so, where are your arms?"

The King, quite overwhelmed, made no reply; he still covered hisface with his hands. The stony-hearted Cardinal crossed his arms andcontinued:

"I fear that you imagine it is for myself I speak. Do you really thinkthat I do not know my own powers, and that I fear such an adversary?Really, I know not what prevents me from letting you act foryourself--from transferring the immense burden of State affairs to theshoulders of this youth. You may imagine that during the twenty yearsI have been acquainted with your court, I have not forgotten to assuremyself a retreat where, in spite of you, I could now go to live thesix months which perhaps remain to me of life. It would be a curiousemployment for me to watch the progress of such a reign. What answerwould you return, for instance, when all the inferior potentates, regaining their station, no longer kept in subjection by me, shall comein your brother's name to say to you, as they dared to say to HenriIV on his throne: 'Divide with us all the hereditary governmentsand sovereignties, and we shall be content. '--[Memoires de Sully, 1595. ]--You will doubtless accede to their request; and it is the leastyou can do for those who will have delivered you from Richelieu. Itwill, perhaps, be fortunate, for to govern the Ile-de-France, which theywill no doubt allow you as the original domain, your new minister willnot require many secretaries. "

While speaking thus, he furiously pushed the huge table, which nearlyfilled the room, and was laden with papers and numerous portfolios. 

Louis was aroused from his apathetic meditation by the excessiveaudacity of this discourse. He raised his head, and seemed to haveinstantly formed one resolution for fear he should adopt another. 

"Well, sir, " said he, "my answer is that I will reign alone. "

"Be it so!" replied Richelieu. "But I ought to give you notice thataffairs are at present somewhat complicated. This is the hour when Igenerally commence my ordinary avocations. "

"I will act in your place, " said Louis. "I will open the portfolios andissue my commands. "

"Try, then, " said Richelieu. "I shall retire; and if anything causes youto hesitate, you can send for me. "

He rang a bell. In the same instant, and as if they had awaited thesignal, four vigorous footmen entered, and carried him and his chairinto another apartment, for we have before remarked that he was unableto walk. While passing through the chambers where the secretaries wereat work, he called out in a loud voice:

"You will receive his Majesty's commands. "

The King remained alone, strong in his new resolution, and, proud inhaving once resisted, he became anxious immediately to plunge intopolitical business. He walked around the immense table, and beheld asmany portfolios as they then counted empires, kingdoms, and States inEurope. He opened one and found it divided into sections equalling innumber the subdivisions of the country to which it related. All was inorder, but in alarming order for him, because each note only referred tothe very essence of the business it alluded to, and related only tothe exact point of its then relations with France. These laconic notesproved as enigmatic to Louis, as did the letters in cipher whichcovered the table. Here all was confusion. An edict of banishment andexpropriation of the Huguenots of La Rochelle was mingled with treatieswith Gustavus Adolphus and the Huguenots of the north against theempire. Notes on General Bannier and Wallenstein, the Duc de Weimar, and Jean de Witt were mingled with extracts from letters taken fromthe casket of the Queen, the list of the necklaces and jewels theycontained, and the double interpretation which might be put uponevery phrase of her notes. Upon the margin of one of these letters waswritten: "For four lines in a man's handwriting he might be criminallytried. " Farther on were scattered denunciations against the Huguenots;the republican plans they had drawn up; the division of France intodepartments under the annual dictatorship of a chief. The seal of thisprojected State was affixed to it, representing an angel leaning upon across, and holding in his hand a Bible, which he raised to his forehead. By the side was a document which contained a list of those cardinalsthe pope had selected the same day as the Bishop of Lurgon (Richelieu). Among them was to be found the Marquis de Bedemar, ambassador andconspirator at Venice. 

Louis XIII exhausted his powers in vain over the details of anotherperiod, seeking unsuccessfully for any documents which might allude tothe present conspiracy, to enable him to perceive its true meaning, andall that had been attempted against him, when a diminutive man, of anolive complexion, who stooped much, entered the cabinet with a measuredstep. This was a Secretary of State named Desnoyers. He advanced, bowing. 

"May I be permitted to address your Majesty on the affairs of Portugal?"said he. 

"And consequently of Spain?" said Louis. "Portugal is a province ofSpain. "

"Of Portugal, " reiterated Desnoyers. "Here is the manifesto we have thismoment received. " And he read, "Don John, by the grace of God, King ofPortugal and of Algarves, kingdoms on this side of Africa, lord overGuinea, by conquest, navigation, and trade with Arabia, Persia, and theIndies--"

"What is all that?" said the King. "Who talks in this manner?"

"The Duke of Braganza, King of Portugal, crowned already some time bya man whom they call Pinto. Scarcely has he ascended the throne than heoffers assistance to the revolted Catalonians. "

"Has Catalonia also revolted? The King, Philip IV, no longer has theCount-Duke for his Prime-Minister?"

"Just the contrary, Sire. It is on this very account. Here is thedeclaration of the States-General of Catalonia to his Catholic Majesty, signifying that the whole country will take up arms against hissacrilegious and excommunicated troops. The King of Portugal--"

"Say the Duke of Braganza!" replied Louis. "I recognize no rebels. "

"The Duke of Braganza, then, " coldly repeated the Secretary of State, "sends his nephew, Don Ignacio de Mascarenas, to the principality ofCatalonia, to seize the protection (and it may be the sovereignty) ofthat country, which he would add to that he has just reconquered. YourMajesty's troops are before Perpignan--"

"Well, and what of that?" said Louis. 

"The Catalonians are more disposed toward France than toward Portugal, and there is still time to deprive the King of-the Duke of Portugal, Ishould say--of this protectorship. "

"What! I assist rebels! You dare--"

"Such was the intention of his Eminence, " continued the Secretary ofState. "Spain and France are nearly at open war, and Monsieur d'Olivareshas not hesitated to offer the assistance of his Catholic Majesty to theHuguenots. "

"Very good. I will consider it, " said the King. "Leave me. "

"Sire, the States-General of Catalonia are in a dilemma. The troops fromAragon march against them. "

"We shall see. I will come to a decision in a quarter of an hour, "answered Louis XIII. 

The little Secretary of State left the apartment discontented anddiscouraged. In his place Chavigny immediately appeared, holding aportfolio, on which were emblazoned the arms of England. "Sire, " saidhe, "I have to request your Majesty's commands upon the affairs ofEngland. The Parliamentarians, commanded by the Earl of Essex, haveraised the siege of Gloucester. Prince Rupert has at Newbury fought adisastrous battle, and of little profit to his Britannic Majesty. TheParliament is prolonged. All the principal cities take part with it, together with all the seaports and the Presbyterian population. KingCharles I implores assistance, which the Queen can no longer obtain fromHolland. "

"Troops must be sent to my brother of England, " said Louis; but hewanted to look over the preceding papers, and casting his eyes over thenotes of the Cardinal, he found that under a former request of the Kingof England he had written with his own hand:

"We must consider some time and wait. The Commons are strong. KingCharles reckons upon the Scots; they will sell him. 

"We must be cautious. A warlike man has been over to see Vincennes, and he has said that 'princes ought never to be struck, except on thehead. '"

The Cardinal had added "remarkable, " but he had erased this word andsubstituted "formidable. " Again, beneath:

"This man rules Fairfax. He plays an inspired part. He will be a greatman--assistance refused--money lost. "

The King then said, "No, no! do nothing hastily. I shall wait. "

"But, Sire, " said Chavigny, "events pass rapidly. If the courier bedelayed, the King's destruction may happen a year sooner. "

"Have they advanced so far?" asked Louis. 

"In the camp of the Independents they preach up the republic withthe Bible in their hands. In that of the Royalists, they dispute forprecedency, and amuse themselves. "

"But one turn of good fortune may save everything?"

"The Stuarts are not fortunate, Sire, " answered Chavigny, respectfully, but in a tone which left ample room for consideration. 

"Leave me, " said the King, with some displeasure. 

The State-Secretary slowly retired. 

It was then that Louis XIII beheld himself as he really was, and wasterrified at the nothingness he found in himself. He at first stared atthe mass of papers which surrounded him, passing from one to the other, finding dangers on every side, and finding them still greater with theremedies he invented. He rose; and changing his place, he bent over, orrather threw himself upon, a geographical map of Europe. There he foundall his fears concentrated. In the north, the south, the very centreof the kingdom, revolutions appeared to him like so many Eumenides. In every country he thought he saw a volcano ready to burst forth. Heimagined he heard cries of distress from kings, who appealed to him forhelp, and the furious shouts of the populace. He fancied he felt theterritory of France trembling and crumbling beneath his feet. His feebleand fatigued sight failed him. His weak head was attacked by vertigo, which threw all his blood back upon his heart. 

"Richelieu!" he cried, in a stifled voice, while he rang a bell; "summonthe Cardinal immediately. "

And he swooned in an armchair. 

When the King opened his eyes, revived by salts and potent essenceswhich had been applied to his lips and temples, he for one instantbeheld himself surrounded by pages, who withdrew as soon as he openedhis eyes, and he was once more left alone with the Cardinal. Theimpassible minister had had his chair placed by that of the King, as aphysician would seat himself by the bedside of his patient, and fixedhis sparkling and scrutinizing eyes upon the pale countenance of Louis. As soon as his victim could hear him, he renewed his fearful discoursein a hollow voice:

"You have recalled me. What would you with me?"

Louis, who was reclining on the pillow, half opened his eyes, fixed themupon Richelieu, and hastily closed them again. That bony head, armedwith two flaming eyes, and terminating in a pointed and grizzly beard, the cap and vestments of the color of blood and flames, --all appeared tohim like an infernal spirit. 

"You must reign, " he said, in a languid voice. 

"But will you give me up Cinq-Mars and De Thou?" again urged theimplacable minister, bending forward to read in the dull eyes of thePrince, as an avaricious heir follows up, even to the tomb, the lastglimpses of the will of a dying relative. 

"You must reign, " repeated the King, turning away his head. 

"Sign then, " said Richelieu; "the contents of this are, 'This is mycommand--to take them, dead or alive. '"

Louis, whose head still reclined on the raised back of the chair, suffered his hand to fall upon the fatal paper, and signed it. "Forpity's sake, leave me; I am dying!" he said. 

"That is not yet all, " continued he whom men call the great politician. "I place no reliance on you; I must first have some guarantee andassurance. Sign this paper, and I will leave you:

 "When the King shall go to visit the Cardinal, the guards of the latter shall remain under arms; and when the Cardinal shall visit the King, the guards of the Cardinal shall share the same post with those of his Majesty. 

"Again:

 "His Majesty undertakes to place the two princes, his sons, in the Cardinal's hands, as hostages of the good faith of his attachment. "

"My children!" exclaimed Louis, raising his head, "dare you?"

"Would you rather that I should retire?" said Richelieu. 

The King again signed. 

"Is all finished now?" he inquired, with a deep sigh. 

All was not finished; one other grief was still in reserve for him. Thedoor was suddenly opened, and Cinq-Mars entered. It was the Cardinal whotrembled now. 

"What would you here, sir?" said he, seizing the bell to ring forassistance. 

The master of the horse was as pale as the King, and withoutcondescending to answer Richelieu, he advanced steadily toward LouisXIII, who looked at him with the air of a man who has just received asentence of death. 

"You would, Sire, find it difficult to have me arrested, for I havetwenty thousand men under my command, " said Henri d'Effiat, in a sweetand subdued voice. 

"Alas, Cinq-Mars!" replied the King, sadly; "is it thou who hast beenguilty of these crimes?"

"Yes, Sire; and I also bring you my sword, for no doubt you came here tosurrender me, " said he, unbuckling his sword, and laying it at the feetof the King, who fixed his eyes upon the floor without making any reply. 

Cinq-Mars smiled sadly, but not bitterly, for he no longer belongedto this earth. Then, looking contemptuously at Richelieu, "I surrenderbecause I wish to die, but I am not conquered. "

The Cardinal clenched his fist with passion; but he restrained his fury. "Who are your accomplices?" he demanded. Cinq-Mars looked steadfastly atLouis, and half opened his lips to speak. The King bent down his head, and felt at that moment a torture unknown to all other men. 

"I have none, " said Cinq-Mars, pitying the King; and he slowly left theapartment. He stopped in the first gallery. Fabert and all the gentlemenrose on seeing him. He walked up to the commander, and said:

"Sir, order these gentlemen to arrest me!"

They looked at each other, without daring to approach him. 

"Yes, sir, I am your prisoner; yes, gentlemen, I am without my sword, and I repeat to you that I am the King's prisoner. "

"I do not understand what I see, " said the General; "there are two ofyou who surrender, and I have no instruction to arrest any one. "

"Two!" said Cinq-Mars; "the other is doubtless De Thou. Alas! Irecognize him by this devotion. "

"And had I not also guessed your intention?" exclaimed the latter, coming forward, and throwing himself into his arms. 

CHAPTER XXV. THE PRISONERS

Amoung those old chateaux of which France is every year deprivedregretfully, as of flowers from her, crown, there was one of a grim andsavage appearance upon the left bank of the Saline. It looked like aformidable sentinel placed at one of the gates of Lyons, and derived itsname from an enormous rock, known as Pierre-Encise, which terminates ina peak--a sort of natural pyramid, the summit of which overhanging theriver in former times, they say, joined the rocks which may still beseen on the opposite bank, forming the natural arch of a bridge; buttime, the waters, and the hand of man have left nothing standing but theancient mass of granite which formed the pedestal of the now destroyedfortress. 

The archbishops of Lyons, as the temporal lords of the city, had builtand formerly resided in this castle. It afterward became a fortress, andduring the reign of Louis XIII a State prison. One colossal tower, where the daylight could only penetrate through three long loopholes, commanded the edifice, and some irregular buildings surrounded it withtheir massive walls, whose lines and angles followed the form of theimmense and perpendicular rock. 

It was here that the Cardinal, jealous of his prey, determined toimprison his young enemies, and to conduct them himself. 

Allowing Louis to precede him to Paris, he removed his captives fromNarbonne, dragging them in his train to ornament his last triumph, andembarking on the Rhone at Tarascon, nearly, at the mouth of the river, as if to prolong the pleasure of revenge which men have dared to callthat of the gods, displayed to the eyes of the spectators on both sidesof the river the luxury of his hatred; he slowly proceeded on his courseup the river in barges with gilded oars and emblazoned with his armorialbearings, reclining in the first and followed by his two victims in thesecond, which was fastened to his own by a long chain. 

Often in the evening, when the heat of the day was passed, the awningsof the two boats were removed, and in the one Richelieu might be seen, pale, and seated in the stern; in that which followed, the two youngprisoners, calm and collected, supported each other, watching thepassage of the rapid stream. Formerly the soldiers of Caesar, whoencamped on the same shores, would have thought they beheld theinflexible boatman of the infernal regions conducting the friendlyshades of Castor and Pollux. Christians dared not even reflect, or seea priest leading his two enemies to the scaffold; it was the firstminister who passed. 

Thus he went on his way until he left his victims under guard at theidentical city in which the late conspirators had doomed him to perish. Thus he loved to defy Fate herself, and to plant a trophy on the veryspot which had been selected for his tomb. 

 "He was borne, " says an ancient manuscript journal of this year, "along the river Rhone in a boat in which a wooden chamber had been constructed, lined with crimson fluted velvet, the flooring of which was of gold. The same boat contained an antechamber decorated in the same manner. The prow and stern of the boat were occupied by soldiers and guards, wearing scarlet coats embroidered with gold, silver, and silk; and many lords of note. His Eminence occupied a bed hung with purple taffetas. Monseigneur the Cardinal Bigni, and Messeigneurs the Bishops of Nantes and Chartres, were there, with many abbes and gentlemen in other boats. Preceding his vessel, a boat sounded the passages, and another boat followed, filled with arquebusiers and officers to command them. When they approached any isle, they sent soldiers to inspect it, to discover whether it was occupied by any suspicious persons; and, not meeting any, they guarded the shore until two boats which followed had passed. They were filled with the nobility and well-armed soldiers. 

 "Afterward came the boat of his Eminence, to the stern of which was attached a little boat, which conveyed MM. De Thou and Cinq-Mars, guarded by an officer of the King's guard and twelve guards from the regiment of his Eminence. Three vessels, containing the clothes and plate of his Eminence, with several gentlemen and soldiers, followed the boats. 

 "Two companies of light-horsemen followed the banks of the Rhone in Dauphin, and as many on the Languedoc and Vivarais side, and a noble regiment of foot, who preceded his Eminence in the towns which he was to enter, or in which he was to sleep. It was pleasant to listen to the trumpets, which, played in Dauphine, were answered by those in Vivarais, and repeated by the echoes of our rocks. It seemed as if all were trying which could play best. "--[See Notes. ]

In the middle of a night of the month of September, while everythingappeared to slumber in the impregnable tower which contained theprisoners, the door of their outer chamber turned noiselessly on itshinges, and a man appeared on the threshold, clad in a brown robeconfined round his waist by a cord. His feet were encased in sandals, and his hand grasped a large bunch of keys; it was Joseph. He lookedcautiously round without advancing, and contemplated in silence theapartment occupied by the master of the horse. Thick carpets coveredthe floor, and large and splendid hangings concealed the walls of theprison; a bed hung with red damask was prepared, but it was unoccupied. Seated near a high chimney in a large armchair, attired in a long grayrobe, similar in form to that of a priest, his head bent down, and hiseyes fixed upon a little cross of gold by the flickering light of alamp, he was absorbed in so deep a meditation that the Capuchin hadleisure to approach him closely, and confront the prisoner beforehe perceived him. Suddenly, however, Cinq-Mars raised his head andexclaimed, "Wretch, what do you here?"

"Young man, you are violent, " answered the mysterious intruder, in a lowvoice. "Two months' imprisonment ought to have been enough to calm you. I come to tell you things of great importance. Listen to me! I havethought much of you; and I do not hate you so much as you imagine. Themoments are precious. I will tell you all in a few words: in two hoursyou will be interrogated, tried, and condemned to death with yourfriend. It can not be otherwise, for all will be finished the same day. "

"I know it, " answered Cinq-Mars; "and I am prepared. "

"Well, then, I can still release you from this affair. I have reflecteddeeply, as I told you; and I am here to make a proposal which can butgive you satisfaction. The Cardinal has but six months to live. Let usnot be mysterious; we must speak openly. You see where I have broughtyou to serve him; and you can judge by that the point to which I wouldconduct him to serve you. If you wish it, we can cut short the sixmonths of his life which still remain. The King loves you, and willrecall you with joy when he finds you still live. You may long live, andbe powerful and happy, if you will protect me, and make me cardinal. "

Astonishment deprived the young prisoner of speech. He could notunderstand such language, and seemed to be unable to descend to it fromhis higher meditations. All that he could say was:

"Your benefactor, Richelieu?"

The Capuchin smiled, and, drawing nearer, continued in an undertone:

"Policy admits of no benefits; it contains nothing but interest. A manemployed by a minister is no more bound to be grateful than a horsewhose rider prefers him to others. My pace has been convenient to him;so much the better. Now it is my interest to throw him from the saddle. Yes, this man loves none but himself. I now see that he has deceivedme by continually retarding my elevation; but once again, I possessthe sure means for your escape in silence. I am the master here. I willremove the men in whom he trusts, and replace them by others whom hehas condemned to die, and who are near at hand confined in the northerntower--the Tour des Oubliettes, which overhangs the river. His creatureswill occupy their places. I will recommend a physician--an empyric whois devoted to me--to the illustrious Cardinal, who has been given overby the most scientific in Paris. If you will unite with me, he shallconvey to him a universal and eternal remedy. "

"Away!" exclaimed Cinq-Mars. "Leave me, thou infernal monk! No, thouart like no other man! Thou glidest with a noiseless and furtive stepthrough the darkness; thou traversest the walls to preside at secretcrimes; thou placest thyself between the hearts of lovers to separatethem eternally. Who art thou? Thou resemblest a tormented spirit of thedamned!"

"Romantic boy!" answered Joseph; "you would have possessed highattainments had it not been for your false notions. There is perhapsneither damnation nor soul. If the dead returned to complain of theirfate, I should have a thousand around me; and I have never seen any, even in my dreams. "

"Monster!" muttered Cinq-Mars. 

"Words again!" said Joseph; "there is neither monster nor virtuous man. You and De Thou, who pride yourselves on what you call virtue--you havefailed in causing the death of perhaps a hundred thousand men--at onceand in the broad daylight--for no end, while Richelieu and I have causedthe death of far fewer, one by one, and by night, to found a greatpower. Would you remain pure and virtuous, you must not interfere withother men; or, rather, it is more reasonable to see that which is, andto say with me, it is possible that there is no such thing as a soul. We are the sons of chance; but relative to other men, we have passionswhich we must satisfy. "

"I breathe again!" exclaimed Cinq-Mars; "he believes not in God!"

Joseph continued:

"Richelieu, you, and I were born ambitious; it followed, then, thateverything must be sacrificed to this idea. "

"Wretched man, do not compare me to thyself!"

"It is the plain truth, nevertheless, " replied the Capuchin'; "only younow see that our system was better than yours. "

"Miserable wretch, it was for love--"

"No, no! it was not that; here are mere words again. You have perhapsimagined it was so; but it was for your own advancement. I have heardyou speak to the young girl. You thought but of yourselves; you do notlove each other. She thought but of her rank, and you of your ambition. One loves in order to hear one's self called perfect, and to be adored;it is still the same egoism. "

"Cruel serpent!" cried Cinq-Mars; "is it not enough that thou hastcaused our deaths? Why dost thou come here to cast thy venom upon thelife thou hast taken from us? What demon has suggested to thee thyhorrible analysis of hearts?"

"Hatred of everything which is superior to myself, " replied Joseph, witha low and hollow laugh, "and the desire to crush those I hate under myfeet, have made me ambitious and ingenious in finding the weakness ofyour dreams. "

"Just Heaven, dost thou hear him?" exclaimed Cinq-Mars, rising andextending his arms upward. 

The solitude of his prison; the pious conversations of his friend; and, above all, the presence of death, which, like the light of an unknownstar, paints in other colors the objects we are accustomed to see;meditations on eternity; and (shall we say it?) the great efforts hehad made to change his heartrending regrets into immortal hopes, andto direct to God all that power of love which had led him astray uponearth-all this combined had worked a strange revolution in him; and likethose ears of corn which ripen suddenly on receiving one ray from thesun, his soul had acquired light, exalted by the mysterious influence ofdeath. 

"Just Heaven!" he repeated, "if this wretch and his master are human, can I also be a man? Behold, O God, behold two distinct ambitions--theone egoistical and bloody, the other devoted and unstained; theirsroused by hatred, and ours inspired by love. Look down, O Lord, judge, and pardon! Pardon, for we have greatly erred in walking but for asingle day in the same paths which, on earth, possess but one name towhatever end it may tend!"

Joseph interrupted him harshly, stamping his foot on the ground:

"When you have finished your prayer, " said he, "you will perhaps informme whether you will assist me; and I will instantly--"

"Never, impure wretch, never!" said Henri d'Effiat. "I will never unitewith you in an assassination. I refused to do so when powerful, and uponyourself. "

"You were wrong; you would have been master now. "

"And what happiness should I find in my power when shared as it must beby a woman who does not understand me; who loved me feebly, and prefersa crown?"

"Inconceivable folly!" said the Capuchin, laughing. 

"All with her; nothing without her--that was my desire. "

"It is from obstinacy and vanity that you persist; it is impossible, "replied Joseph. "It is not in nature. "

"Thou who wouldst deny the spirit of self-sacrifice, " answeredCinq-Mars; "dost thou understand that of my friend?"

"It does not exist; he follows you because--"

Here the Capuchin, slightly embarrassed, reflected an instant. 

"Because--because--he has formed you; you are his work; he is attachedto you by the self-love of an author. He was accustomed to lecture you;and he felt that he should not find another pupil so docile to listento and applaud him. Constant habit has persuaded him that his life wasbound to yours; it is something of that kind. He will accompany youmechanically. Besides, all is not yet finished; we shall see the endand the examination. He will certainly deny all knowledge of theconspiracy. "

"He will not deny it!" exclaimed Cinq-Mars, impetuously. 

"He knew it, then? You confess it, " said Joseph, triumphantly; "you havenot said as much before. "

"O Heaven, what have I done!" gasped Cinq-Mars, hiding his face. 

"Calm yourself; he is saved, notwithstanding this avowal, if you acceptmy offer. "

D'Effiat remained silent for a short time. 

The Capuchin continued:

"Save your friend. The King's favor awaits you, and perhaps the lovewhich has erred for a moment. "

"Man, or whatever else thou art, if thou hast in thee anythingresembling a heart, " answered the prisoner, "save him! He is the purestof created beings; but convey him far away while yet he sleeps, forshould he awake, thy endeavors would be vain. "

"What good will that do me?" said the Capuchin, laughing. "It is you andyour favor that I want. "

The impetuous Cinq-Mars rose, and, seizing Joseph by the arm, eying himwith a terrible look, said:

"I degraded him in interceding with thee for him. " He continued, raisingthe tapestry which separated his apartment from that of his friend, "Come, and doubt, if thou canst, devotion and the immortality of thesoul. Compare the uneasiness and misery of thy triumph with the calmnessof our defeat, the meanness of thy reign with the grandeur of ourcaptivity, thy sanguinary vigils to the slumbers of the just. "

A solitary lamp threw its light on De Thou. The young man was kneelingon a cushion, surmounted by a large ebony crucifix. He seemed to havefallen asleep while praying. His head, inclining backward, was stillraised toward the cross. His pale lips wore a calm and divine smile. 

"Holy Father, how he sleeps!" exclaimed the astonished Capuchin, thoughtlessly uniting to his frightful discourse the sacred name heevery day pronounced. He suddenly retired some paces, as if dazzled by aheavenly vision. 

"Nonsense, nonsense!" he said, shaking his head, and passing his handrapidly over his face. "All this is childishness. It would overcome meif I reflected on it. These ideas may serve as opium to produce a calm. But that is not the question; say yes or no. "

"No, " said Cinq-Mars, pushing him to the door by the shoulder. "I willnot accept life; and I do not regret having compromised De Thou, forhe would not have bought his life at the price of an assassination. Andwhen he yielded at Narbonne, it was not that he might escape at Lyons. "

"Then wake him, for here come the judges, " said the furious Capuchin, ina sharp, piercing voice. 

Lighted by flambeaux, and preceded by a detachment of the Scotch guards, fourteen judges entered, wrapped in long robes, and whose features werenot easily distinguished. They seated themselves in silence on the rightand left of the huge chamber. They were the judges delegated by theCardinal to judge this sad and solemn affair--all true men to theCardinal Richelieu, and in his confidence, who from Tarascon had chosenand instructed them. He had the Chancellor Seguier brought to Lyons, toavoid, as he stated in the instructions he sent by Chavigny to the KingLouis XIII--"to avoid all the delays which would take place if he werenot present. M. De Mayillac, " he adds, "was at Nantes for the trial ofChulais, M. De Chateau-Neuf at Toulouse, superintending the death of M. De Montmorency, and M. De Bellievre at Paris, conducting the trial of M. De Biron. The authority and intelligence of these gentlemen in forms ofjustice are indispensable. "

The Chancellor arrived with all speed. But at this moment he wasinformed that he was not to appear, for fear that he might be influencedby the memory of his ancient friendship for the prisoner, whom heonly saw tete-a-tete. The commissioners and himself had previouslyand rapidly received the cowardly depositions of the Duc d'Orleans, atVillefranche, in Beaujolais, and then at Vivey, --[House which belongedto an Abbe d'Esnay, brother of M. De Villeroy, called Montresor. ] twomiles from Lyons, where this wretched prince had received orders togo, begging forgiveness, and trembling, although surrounded by hisfollowers, whom from very pity he had been allowed to retain, carefullywatched, however, by the French and Swiss guards. The Cardinal haddictated to him his part and answers word for word; and in considerationof this docility, they had exempted him in form from the painful taskof confronting MM. De Cinq-Mars and De Thou. The chancellor andcommissioners had also prepared M. De Bouillon, and, strong with theirpreliminary work, they visited in all their strength the two youngcriminals whom they had determined not to save. 

History has only handed down to us the names of the State counsellorswho accompanied Pierre Seguier, but not those of the othercommissioners, of whom it is only mentioned that there were six from theparliament of Grenoble, and two presidents. The counsellor, or reporterof the State, Laubardemont, who had directed them in all, was at theirhead. Joseph often whispered to them with the most studied politeness, glancing at Laubardemont with a ferocious sneer. 

It was arranged that an armchair should serve as a bar; and all weresilent in expectation of the prisoner's answer. 

He spoke in a soft and clear voice:

"Say to Monsieur le Chancelier that I have the right of appeal to theparliament of Paris, and to object to my judges, because two of them aremy declared enemies, and at their head one of my friends, Monsieur deSeguier himself, whom I maintained in his charge. 

"But I will spare you much trouble, gentlemen, by pleading guilty to thewhole charge of conspiracy, arranged and conducted by myself alone. Itis my wish to die. I have nothing to add for myself; but if you would bejust, you will not harm the life of him whom the King has pronounced tobe the most honest man in France, and who dies for my sake alone. "

"Summon him, " said Laubardemont. 

Two guards entered the apartment of De Thou, and led him forth. Headvanced, and bowed gravely, while an angelical smile played upon hislips. Embracing Cinq-Mars, "Here at last is our day of glory, " said he. "We are about to gain heaven and eternal happiness. "

"We understand, " said Laubardemont, "we have been given to understandby Monsieur de Cinq-Mars himself, that you were acquainted with thisconspiracy?"

De Thou answered instantly, and without hesitation. A half-smile wasstill on his lips, and his eyes cast down. 

"Gentlemen, I have passed my life in studying human laws, and I knowthat the testimony of one accused person can not condemn another. I canalso repeat what I said before, that I should not have been believed hadI denounced the King's brother without proof. You perceive, then, thatmy life and death entirely rest with myself. I have, however, wellweighed the one and the other. I have clearly foreseen that whateverlife I may hereafter lead, it could not but be most unhappy after theloss of Monsieur de Cinq-Mars. I therefore acknowledge and confess thatI was aware of his conspiracy. I did my utmost to prevent it, to deterhim from it. He believed me to be his only and faithful friend, and Iwould not betray him. Therefore, I condemn myself by the very laws whichwere set forth by my father, who, I hope, forgives me. "

At these words, the two friends precipitated themselves into eachother's arms. 

Cinq-Mars exclaimed:

"My friend, my friend, how bitterly I regret that I have caused yourdeath! Twice I have betrayed you; but you shall know in what manner. "

But De Thou, embracing and consoling his friend, answered, raising hiseyes from the ground:

"Ah, happy are we to end our days in this manner! Humanly speaking, Imight complain of you; but God knows how much I love you. What havewe done to merit the grace of martyrdom, and the happiness of dyingtogether?"

The judges were not prepared for this mildness, and looked at each otherwith surprise. 

"If they would only give me a good partisan, " muttered a hoarse voice(it was Grandchamp, who had crept into the room, and whose eyes werered with fury), "I would soon rid Monseigneur of all these black-lookingfellows. " Two men with halberds immediately placed themselves silentlyat his side. He said no more, and to compose himself retired to a windowwhich overlooked the river, whose tranquil waters the sun had not yetlighted with its beams, and appeared to pay no attention to what waspassing in the room. 

However, Laubardemont, fearing that the judges might be touched withcompassion, said in a loud voice:

"In pursuance of the order of Monseigneur the Cardinal, these twomen will be put to the rack; that is to say, to the ordinary andextraordinary question. "

Indignation forced Cinq-Mars again to assume his natural character;crossing his arms, he made two steps toward Laubardemont and Joseph, which alarmed them. The former involuntarily placed his hand to hisforehead. 

"Are we at Loudun?" exclaimed the prisoner; but De Thou, advancing, tookhis hand and held it. Cinq-Mars was silent, then continued in a calmvoice, looking steadfastly at the judges:

"Messieurs, this measure appears to me rather harsh; a man of my age andrank ought not to be subjected to these formalities. I have confessedall, and I will confess it all again. I willingly and gladly acceptdeath; it is not from souls like ours that secrets can be wrung bybodily suffering. We are prisoners by our own free will, and at the timechosen by us. We have confessed enough for you to condemn us to death;you shall know nothing more. We have obtained what we wanted. "

"What are you doing, my friend?" interrupted De Thou. "He is mistaken, gentlemen, we do not refuse this martyrdom which God offers us; wedemand it. "

"But, " said Cinq-Mars, "do you need such infamous tortures to obtainsalvation--you who are already a martyr, a voluntary martyr tofriendship? Gentlemen, it is I alone who possess important secrets; itis the chief of a conspiracy who knows all. Put me alone to the tortureif we must be treated like the worst of malefactors. "

"For the sake of charity, " added De Thou, "deprive me not of equalsuffering with my friend; I have not followed him so far, to abandon himat this dreadful moment, and not to use every effort to accompany him toheaven. "

During this debate, another was going forward between Laubardemont andJoseph. The latter, fearing that torments would induce him to disclosethe secret of his recent proposition, advised that they should notbe resorted to; the other, not thinking his triumph complete by deathalone, absolutely insisted on their being applied. The judges surroundedand listened to these secret agents of the Prime-Minister; however, manycircumstances having caused them to suspect that the influence of theCapuchin was more powerful than that of the judge, they took part withhim, and decided for mercy, when he finished by these words uttered in alow voice:

"I know their secrets. There is no necessity to force them from theirlips, because they are useless, and relate to too high circumstances. Monsieur le Grand has no one to denounce but the King, and the other theQueen. It is better that we should remain ignorant. Besides, they willnot confess. I know them; they will be silent--the one from pride, theother through piety. Let them alone. The torture will wound them;they will be disfigured and unable to walk. That will spoil the wholeceremony; they must be kept to appear. "

This last observation prevailed. The judges retired to deliberate withthe chancellor. While departing, Joseph whispered to Laubardemont:

"I have provided you with enough pleasure here; you will still have thatof deliberating, and then you shall go and examine three men who areconfined in the northern tower. "

These were the three judges who had condemned Urbain Grandier. 

As he spoke, he laughed heartily, and was the last to leave the room, pushing the astonished master of requests before him. 

The sombre tribunal had scarcely disappeared when Grandchamp, relievedfrom his two guards, hastened toward his master, and, seizing his hand, said:

"In the name of Heaven, come to the terrace, Monseigneur! I havesomething to show you; in the name of your mother, come!"

But at that moment the chamber door was opened, and the old Abbe Quilletappeared. 

"My children! my dear children!" exclaimed the old man, weepingbitterly. "Alas! why was I only permitted to enter to-day? Dear Henri, your mother, your brother, your sister, are concealed here. "

"Be quiet, Monsieur l'Abbe!" said Grandchamp; "do come to the terrace, Monseigneur. "

But the old priest still detained and embraced his pupil. 

"We hope, " said he; "we hope for mercy. "

"I shall refuse it, " said Cinq-Mars. 

"We hope for nothing but the mercy of God, " added De Thou. 

"Silence!" said Grandchamp, "the judges are returning. "

And the door opened again to admit the dismal procession, from whichJoseph and Laubardemont were missing. 

"Gentlemen, " exclaimed the good Abbe, addressing the commissioners, "Iam happy to tell you that I have just arrived from Paris, and that noone doubts but that all the conspirators will be pardoned. I have had aninterview at her Majesty's apartments with Monsieur himself; and as tothe Duc de Bouillon, his examination is not unfav--"

"Silence!" cried M. De Seyton, the lieutenant of the Scotch guards;and the commissioners entered and again arranged themselves in theapartment. 

M. De Thou, hearing them summon the criminal recorder of the presidialof Lyons to pronounce the sentence, involuntarily launched out in one ofthose transports of religious joy which are never displayed but by themartyrs and saints at the approach of death; and, advancing toward thisman, he exclaimed:

"Quam speciosi pedes evangelizantium pacem, evangelizantium bona!"

Then, taking the hand of Cinq-Mars, he knelt down bareheaded to receivethe sentence, as was the custom. D'Effiat remained standing; and theydared not compel him to kneel. The sentence was pronounced in thesewords:

 "The Attorney-General, prosecutor on the part of the State, on a charge of high treason; and Messire Henri d'Effiat de Cinq-Mars, master of the horse, aged twenty-two, and Francois Auguste de Thou, aged thirty-five, of the King's privy council, prisoners in the chateau of Pierre-Encise, at Lyons, accused and defendants on the other part:

 "Considered, the special trial commenced by the aforesaid attorney- general against the said D'Efiiat and De Thou; informations, interrogations, confessions, denegations, and confrontations, and authenticated copies of the treaty with Spain, it is considered in the delegated chamber:

 "That he who conspires against the person of the ministers of princes is considered by the ancient laws and constitutions of the emperors to be guilty of high treason; (2) that the third ordinance of the King Louis XI renders any one liable to the punishment of death who does not reveal a conspiracy against the State. 

 "The commissioners deputed by his Majesty have declared the said D'Effiat and De Thou guilty and convicted of the crime of high treason:

 "The said D'Effiat, for the conspiracies and enterprises, league, and treaties, formed by him with the foreigner against the State;

 "And the said De Thou, for having a thorough knowledge of this conspiracy. 

 "In reparation of which crimes they have deprived them of all honors and dignities, and condemned them to be deprived of their heads on a scaffold, which is for this purpose erected in the Place des Terreaux, in this city. 

 "It is further declared that all and each of their possessions, real and personal, be confiscated to the King, and that those which they hold from the crown do pass immediately to it again of the aforesaid goods, sixty thousand livres being devoted to pious uses. "

After the sentence was pronounced, M. De Thou exclaimed in a loud voice:

"God be blessed! God be praised!"

"I have never feared death, " said Cinq-Mars, coldly. 

Then, according to the forms prescribed, M. Seyton, the lieutenant ofthe Scotch guards, an old man upward of sixty years of age, declaredwith emotion that he placed the prisoners in the hands of the SieurThome, provost of the merchants of Lyons; he then took leave of them, followed by the whole of the body-guard, silently, and in tears. 

"Weep not, " said Cinq-Mars; "tears are useless. Rather pray for us; andbe assured that I do not fear death. "

He shook them by the hand, and De Thou embraced them; after which theyleft the apartment, their eyes filled with tears, and hiding their facesin their cloaks. 

"Barbarians!" exclaimed the Abbe Quillet; "to find arms against them, one must search the whole arsenal of tyrants. Why did they admit me atthis moment?"

"As a confessor, Monsieur, " whispered one of the commissioners; "for nostranger has entered this place these two months. "

As soon as the huge gates of the prison were closed, and the outsidegratings lowered, "To the terrace, in the name of Heaven!" againexclaimed Grandchamp. And he drew his master and De Thou thither. 

The old preceptor followed them, weeping. 

"What do you want with us in a moment like this?" said Cinq-Mars, withindulgent gravity. 

"Look at the chains of the town, " said the faithful servant. 

The rising sun had hardly tinged the sky. In the horizon a line of vividyellow was visible, upon which the mountain's rough blue outlines wereboldly traced; the waves of the Saline, and the chains of the townhanging from one bank to the other, were still veiled by a light vapor, which also rose from Lyons and concealed the roofs of the houses fromthe eye of the spectator. The first tints of the morning light had asyet colored only the most elevated points of the magnificent landscape. In the city the steeples of the Hotel de Ville and St. Nizier, and onthe surrounding hills the monasteries of the Carmelites and Ste. -Marie, and the entire fortress of Pierre-Encise were gilded with the firesof the coming day. The joyful peals from the churches were heard, thepeaceful matins from the convent and village bells. The walls of theprison were alone silent. 

"Well, " said Cinq-Mars, "what are we to see the beauty of the plains, the richness of the city, or the calm peacefulness of these villages?Ah, my friend, in every place there are to be found passions and griefs, like those which have brought us here. "

The old Abbe and Grandchamp leaned over the parapet, watching the bankof the river. 

"The fog is so thick, we can see nothing yet, " said the Abbe. 

"How slowly our last sun appears!" said De Thou. 

"Do you not see low down there, at the foot of the rocks, on theopposite bank, a small white house, between the Halincourt gate and theBoulevard Saint Jean?" asked the Abbe. 

"I see nothing, " answered Cinq-Mars, "but a mass of dreary wall. "

"Hark!" said the Abbe; "some one speaks near us!"

In fact, a confused, low, and inexplicable murmur was heard in a littleturret, the back of which rested upon the platform of the terrace. As itwas scarcely larger than a pigeon-house, the prisoners had not until nowobserved it. 

"Are they already coming to fetch us?" said Cinq-Mars. 

"Bah! bah!" answered Grandchamp, "do not make yourself uneasy; it is theTour des Oubliettes. I have prowled round the fort for two months, andI have seen men fall from there into the water at least once a week. Letus think of our affair. I see a light down there. "

An invincible curiosity, however, led the two prisoners to look at theturret, in spite of the horror of their own situation. It advanced tothe extremity of the rock, over a gulf of foaming green water of greatdepth. A wheel of a mill long deserted was seen turning with greatrapidity. Three distinct sounds were now heard, like those of adrawbridge suddenly lowered and raised to its former position by arecoil or spring striking against the stone walls; and three times ablack substance was seen to fall into the water with a splash. 

"Mercy! can these be men?" exclaimed the Abbe, crossing himself. 

"I thought I saw brown robes turning in the air, " said Grandchamp; "theyare the Cardinal's friends. "

A horrible cry was heard from the tower, accompanied by an impious oath. The heavy trap groaned for the fourth time. The green water receivedwith a loud noise a burden which cracked the enormous wheel of the mill;one of its large spokes was torn away, and a man entangled in its beamsappeared above the foam, which he colored with his blood. He rose twice, and sank beneath the waters, shrieking violently; it was Laubardemont. 

Cinq-Mars drew back in horror. 

"There is a Providence, " said Grandchamp; "Urbain Grandier summonedhim in three years. But come, come! the time is precious! Do not remainmotionless. Be it he, I am not surprised, for those wretches devour eachother. But let us endeavor to deprive them of their choicest morsel. Vive Dieu! I see the signal! We are saved! All is ready; run to thisside, Monsieur l'Abbe! See the white handkerchief at the window! ourfriends are prepared. "

The Abbe seized the hands of both his friends, and drew them to thatside of the terrace toward which they had at first looked. "Listen tome, both of you, " said he. "You must know that none of the conspiratorshas profited by the retreat you secured for them. They have allhastened to Lyons, disguised, and in great number; they have distributedsufficient gold in the city to secure them from being betrayed; they areresolved to make an attempt to deliver you. The time chosen is that whenthey are conducting you to the scaffold; the signal is your hat, whichyou will place on your head when they are to commence. "

The worthy Abbe, half weeping, half smiling hopefully, related thatupon the arrest of his pupil he had hastened to Paris; that such secrecyenveloped all the Cardinal's actions that none there knew the placein which the master of the horse was detained. Many said that he wasbanished; and when the reconciliation between Monsieur and the Duc deBouillon and the King was known, men no longer doubted that the life ofthe other was assured, and ceased to speak of this affair, which, nothaving been executed, compromised few persons. They had even in somemeasure rejoiced in Paris to see the town of Sedan and its territoryadded to the kingdom in exchange for the letters of abolition grantedto the Duke, acknowledged innocent in common with Monsieur; so thatthe result of all the arrangements had been to excite admiration of theCardinal's ability, and of his clemency toward the conspirators, who, itwas said, had contemplated his death. They even spread the reportthat he had facilitated the escape of Cinq-Mars and De Thou, occupyinghimself generously with their retreat to a foreign land, afterhaving bravely caused them to be arrested in the midst of the camp ofPerpignan. 

At this part of the narrative, Cinq-Mars could not avoid forgetting hisresignation, and clasping his friend's hand, "Arrested!" he exclaimed. "Must we renounce even the honor of having voluntarily surrenderedourselves? Must we sacrifice all, even the opinion of posterity?"

"There is vanity again, " replied De Thou, placing his fingers on hislips. "But hush! let us hear the Abbe to the end. "

The tutor, not doubting that the calmness which these two young menexhibited arose from the joy they felt in finding their escape assured, and seeing that the sun had hardly yet dispersed the morning mists, yielded himself without restraint to the involuntary pleasure which oldmen always feel in recounting new events, even though they afflict thehearers. He related all his fruitless endeavors to discover his pupil'sretreat, unknown to the court and the town, where none, indeed, dared topronounce the name of Cinq-Mars in the most secret asylums. He had onlyheard of the imprisonment at Pierre-Encise from the Queen herself, whohad deigned to send for him, and charge him to inform the Marechaled'Effiat and all the conspirators that they might make a desperateeffort to deliver their young chief. Anne of Austria had even venturedto send many of the gentlemen of Auvergne and Touraine to Lyons toassist in their last attempt. 

"The good Queen!" said he; "she wept greatly when I saw her, and saidthat she would give all she possessed to save you. She reproachedherself deeply for some letter, I know not what. She spoke of thewelfare of France, but did not explain herself. She said that sheadmired you, and conjured you to save yourself, if it were only throughpity for her, whom you would otherwise consign to everlasting remorse. "

"Said she nothing else?" interrupted De Thou, supporting Cinq-Mars, whogrew visibly paler. 

"Nothing more, " said the old man. 

"And no one else spoke of me?" inquired the master of the horse. 

"No one, " said the Abbe. 

"If she had but written to me!" murmured Henri. 

"Remember, my father, that you were sent here as a confessor, " said DeThou. 

Here old Grandchamp, who had been kneeling before Cinq-Mars, anddragging him by his clothes to the other side of the terrace, exclaimedin a broken voice:

"Monseigneur--my master--my good master--do you see them? Lookthere--'tis they! 'tis they--all of them!"

"Who, my old friend?" asked his master. 

"Who? Great Heaven! look at that window! Do you not recognize them? Yourmother, your sisters, and your brother. "

And the day, now fairly broken, showed him in the distance several womenwaving their handkerchiefs; and there, dressed all in black, stretchingout her arms toward the prison, sustained by those about her, Cinq-Marsrecognized his mother, with his family, and his strength failed him fora moment. He leaned his head upon his friend's breast and wept. 

"How many times must I, then, die?" he murmured; then, with a gesture, returning from the top of the tower the salutations of his family, "Letus descend quickly, my father!" he said to the old Abbe. "You will tellme at the tribunal of penitence, and before God, whether the remainderof my life is worth my shedding more blood to preserve it. "

It was there that Cinq-Mars confessed to God what he alone and Mariede Mantua knew of their secret and unfortunate love. "He gave to hisconfessor, " says Father Daniel, "a portrait of a noble lady, set indiamonds, which were to be sold, and the money employed in pious works. "

M. De Thou, after having confessed, wrote a letter;--[See the copy ofthis letter to Madame la Princesse de Guemenee, in the notes at theend of the volume. ]--after which (according to the account given by hisconfessor) he said, "This is the last thought I will bestow upon thisworld; let us depart for heaven!" and walking up and down the room withlong strides, he recited aloud the psalm, 'Miserere mei, Deus', with anincredible ardor of spirit, his whole frame trembling so violently itseemed as if he did not touch the earth, and that the soul was aboutto make its exit from his body. The guards were mute at this spectacle, which made them all shudder with respect and horror. 

Meanwhile, all was calm in the city of Lyons, when to the greatastonishment of its inhabitants, they beheld the entrance throughall its gates of troops of infantry and cavalry, which they knew wereencamped at a great distance. The French and the Swiss guards, the regiment of Pompadours, the men-at-arms of Maurevert, and thecarabineers of La Roque, all defiled in silence. The cavalry, with theirmuskets on the pommel of the saddle, silently drew up round the chateauof Pierre-Encise; the infantry formed a line upon the banks of the Saonefrom the gate of the fortress to the Place des Terreaux. It was theusual spot for execution. 

 "Four companies of the bourgeois of Lyons, called 'pennonage', of which about eleven or twelve hundred men, were ranged [says the journal of Montresor] in the midst of the Place des Terreaux, so as to enclose a space of about eighty paces each way, into which they admitted no one but those who were absolutely necessary. 

 "In the centre of this space was raised a scaffold about seven feet high and nine feet square, in the midst of which, somewhat forward, was placed a stake three feet in height, in front of which was a block half a foot high, so that the principal face of the scaffold looked toward the shambles of the Terreaux, by the side of the Saone. Against the scaffold was placed a short ladder of eight rounds, in the direction of the Dames de St. Pierre. "

Nothing had transpired in the town as to the name of the prisoners. Theinaccessible walls of the fortress let none enter or leave but at night, and the deep dungeons had sometimes confined father and son for yearstogether, four feet apart from each other, without their even beingaware of the vicinity. The surprise was extreme at these strikingpreparations, and the crowd collected, not knowing whether for a fete orfor an execution. 

This same secrecy which the agents of the minister had strictlypreserved was also carefully adhered to by the conspirators, for theirheads depended on it. 

Montresor, Fontrailles, the Baron de Beauvau, Olivier d'Entraigues, Gondi, the Comte du Lude, and the Advocate Fournier, disguised assoldiers, workmen, and morris-dancers, armed with poniards under theirclothes, had dispersed amid the crowd more than five hundred gentlemenand domestics, disguised like themselves. Horses were ready on the roadto Italy, and boats upon the Rhone had been previously engaged. Theyoung Marquis d'Effiat, elder brother of Cinq-Mars, dressed as aCarthusian, traversed the crowd, without ceasing, between the Placedes Terreaux and the little house in which his mother and sister wereconcealed with the Presidente de Pontac, the sister of the unfortunateDe Thou. He reassured them, gave them from time to time a ray of hope, and returned to the conspirators to satisfy himself that each wasprepared for action. 

Each soldier forming the line had at his side a man ready to poniardhim. 

The vast crowd, heaped together behind the line of guards, pushed themforward, passed their lines, and made them lose ground. Ambrosio, the Spanish servant whom Cinq-Mars had saved, had taken charge of thecaptain of the pikemen, and, disguised as a Catalonian musician, hadcommenced a dispute with him, pretending to be determined not to ceaseplaying the hurdy-gurdy. 

Every one was at his post. 

The Abbe de Gondi, Olivier d'Entraigues, and the Marquis d'Effiat werein the midst of a group of fish-women and oyster-wenches, who weredisputing and bawling, abusing one of their number younger and moretimid than her masculine companions. The brother of Cinq-Mars approachedto listen to their quarrel. 

"And why, " said she to the others, "would you have Jean le Roux, whois an honest man, cut off the heads of two Christians, because he isa butcher by trade? So long as I am his wife, I'll not allow it. I'drather--"

"Well, you are wrong!" replied her companions. "What is't to theewhether the meat he cuts is eaten or not eaten? Why, thou'lt have ahundred crowns to dress thy three children all in new clothes. Thou'rtlucky to be the wife of a butcher. Profit, then, 'ma mignonne', by whatGod sends thee by the favor of his Eminence. "

"Let me alone!" answered the first speaker. "I'll not accept it. I'veseen these fine young gentlemen at the windows. They look as mild aslambs. "

"Well! and are not thy lambs and calves killed?" said Femme le Bon. "What fortune falls to this little woman! What a pity! especially whenit is from the reverend Capuchin!"

"How horrible is the gayety of the people!" said Olivier d'Entraigues, unguardedly. All the women heard him, and began to murmur against him. 

"Of the people!" said they; "and whence comes this little bricklayerwith his plastered clothes?"

"Ah!" interrupted another, "dost not see that 'tis some gentleman indisguise? Look at his white hands! He never worked a square; 'tis somelittle dandy conspirator. I've a great mind to go and fetch the captainof the watch to arrest him. "

The Abbe de Gondi felt all the danger of this situation, and throwinghimself with an air of anger upon Olivier, and assuming the manners ofa joiner, whose costume and apron he had adopted, he exclaimed, seizinghim by the collar:

"You're just right. 'Tis a little rascal that never works! These twoyears that my father's apprenticed him, he has done nothing but comb hishair to please the girls. Come, get home with you!"

And, striking him with his rule, he drove him through the crowd, andreturned to place himself on another part of the line. After having wellreprimanded the thoughtless page, he asked him for the letter whichhe said he had to give to M. De Cinq-Mars when he should have escaped. Olivier had carried it in his pocket for two months. He gave it him. "Itis from one prisoner to another, " said he, "for the Chevalier de jars, on leaving the Bastille, sent it me from one of his companions incaptivity. "

"Ma foi!" said Gondi, "there may be some important secret in it for ourfriends. I'll open it. You ought to have thought of it before. Ah, bah!it is from old Bassompierre. Let us read it. 

 MY DEAR CHILD: I learn from the depths of the Bastille, where I still remain, that you are conspiring against the tyrant Richelieu, who does not cease to humiliate our good old nobility and the parliaments, and to sap the foundations of the edifice upon which the State reposes. I hear that the nobles are taxed and condemned by petty judges, contrary to the privileges of their condition, forced to the arriere-ban, despite the ancient customs. "

"Ah! the old dotard!" interrupted the page, laughing immoderately. 

"Not so foolish as you imagine, only he is a little behindhand for ouraffair. "

 "I can not but approve this generous project, and I pray you give me to wot all your proceedings--"

"Ah! the old language of the last reign!" said Olivier. "He can't say'Make me acquainted with your proceedings, ' as we now say. "

"Let me read, for Heaven's sake!" said the Abbe; "a hundred years hencethey'll laugh at our phrases. " He continued:

 "I can counsel you, notwithstanding my great age, in relating to you what happened to me in 1560. "

"Ah, faith! I've not time to waste in reading it all. Let us see theend. 

 "When I remember my dining at the house of Madame la Marechale d'Effiat, your mother, and ask myself what has become of all the guests, I am really afflicted. My poor Puy-Laurens has died at Vincennes, of grief at being forgotten by Monsieur in his prison; De Launay killed in a duel, and I am grieved at it, for although I was little satisfied with my arrest, he did it with courtesy, and I have always thought him a gentleman. As for me, I am under lock and key until the death of M. Le Cardinal. Ah, my child! we were thirteen at table. We must not laugh at old superstitions. Thank God that you are the only one to whom evil has not arrived!"

"There again!" said Olivier, laughing heartily; and this time the Abbede Gondi could not maintain his gravity, despite all his efforts. 

They tore the useless letter to pieces, that it might not prolong thedetention of the old marechal, should it be found, and drew near thePlace des Terreaux and the line of guards, whom they were to attack whenthe signal of the hat should be given by the young prisoner. 

They beheld with satisfaction all their friends at their posts, andready "to play with their knives, " to use their own expression. Thepeople, pressing around them, favored them without being aware of it. There came near the Abbe a troop of young ladies dressed in white andveiled. They were going to church to communicate; and the nuns whoconducted them, thinking, like most of the people, that the preparationswere intended to do honor to some great personage, allowed them to mountupon some large hewn stones, collected behind the soldiers. There theygrouped themselves with the grace natural to their age, like twentybeautiful statues upon a single pedestal. One would have taken themfor those vestals whom antiquity invited to the sanguinary shows of thegladiators. They whispered to each other, looking around them, laughingand blushing together like children. 

The Abbe de Gondi saw with impatience that Olivier was again forgettinghis character of conspirator and his costume of a bricklayer in oglingthese girls, and assuming a mien too elegant, an attitude too refined, for the position in life he was supposed to occupy. He already began toapproach them, turning his hair with his fingers, when Fontrailles andMontresor fortunately arrived in the dress of Swiss soldiers. A group ofgentlemen, disguised as sailors, followed them with iron-shod stavesin their hands. There was a paleness on their faces which announced nogood. 

"Stop here!" said one of them to his suite; "this is the place. "

The sombre air and the silence of these spectators contrasted with thegay and anxious looks of the girls, and their childish exclamations. 

"Ah, the fine procession!" they cried; "there are at least five hundredmen with cuirasses and red uniforms, upon fine horses. They've gotyellow feathers in their large hats. "

"They are strangers--Catalonians, " said a French guard. 

"Whom are they conducting here? Ah, here is a fine gilt coach! butthere's no one in it. "

"Ah! I see three men on foot; where are they going?"

"To death!" said Fontrailles, in a deep, stern voice which silencedall around. Nothing was heard but the slow tramp of the horses, which suddenly stopped, from one of those delays that happen in allprocessions. They then beheld a painful and singular spectacle. An oldman with a tonsured head walked with difficulty, sobbing violently, supported by two young men of interesting and engaging appearance, whoheld one of each other's hands behind his bent shoulders, while withthe other each held one of his arms. The one on the left was dressedin black; he was grave, and his eyes were cast down. The other, muchyounger, was attired in a striking dress. A pourpoint of Holland cloth, adorned with broad gold lace, and with large embroidered sleeves, covered him from the neck to the waist, somewhat in the fashion ofa woman's corset; the rest of his vestments were in black velvet, embroidered with silver palms. Gray boots with red heels, to which wereattached golden spurs; a scarlet cloak with gold buttons--all set off toadvantage his elegant and graceful figure. He bowed right and left witha melancholy smile. 

An old servant, with white moustache, and beard, followed with his headbent down, leading two chargers, richly comparisoned. The young ladieswere silent; but they could not restrain their sobs. 

"It is, then, that poor old man whom they are leading to the scaffold, "they exclaimed; "and his children are supporting him. "

"Upon your knees, ladies, " said a man, "and pray for him!"

"On your knees, " cried Gondi, "and let us pray that God will deliverhim!"

All the conspirators repeated, "On your knees! on your knees!" and setthe example to the people, who imitated them in silence. 

"We can see his movements better now, " said Gondi, in a whisper toMontresor. "Stand up; what is he doing?"

"He has stopped, and is speaking on our side, saluting us; I think hehas recognized us. "

Every house, window, wall, roof, and raised platform that looked uponthe place was filled with persons of every age and condition. 

The most profound silence prevailed throughout the immense multitude. One might have heard the wings of a gnat, the breath of the slightestwind, the passage of the grains of dust which it raised; yet the air wascalm, the sun brilliant, the sky blue. The people listened attentively. They were close to the Place des Terreaux; they heard the blows of thehammer upon the planks, then the voice of Cinq-Mars. 

A young Carthusian thrust his pale face between two guards. All theconspirators rose above the kneeling people. Every one put his hand tohis belt or in his bosom, approaching close to the soldier whom he wasto poniard. 

"What is he doing?" asked the Carthusian. "Has he his hat upon hishead?"

"He throws his hat upon the ground far from him, " calmly answered thearquebusier. 

CHAPTER XXVI. THE FETE

 "Mon Dieu! quest-ce que ce monde!"

 Dernieres paroles de M. Cinq-Mars

The same day that the melancholy procession took place at Lyons, andduring the scenes we have just witnessed, a magnificent fete was givenat Paris with all the luxury and bad taste of the time. The powerfulCardinal had determined to fill the first two towns in France with hispomp. The Cardinal's return was the occasion on which this fete wasannounced, as given to the King and all his court. 

Master of the French empire by force, the Cardinal desired to be masterof French opinion by seduction; and, weary of dominating, hopedto please. The tragedy of "Mirame" was to be represented in a hallconstructed expressly for this great day, which raised the expenses ofthis entertainment, says Pelisson, to three hundred thousand crowns. 

The entire guard of the Prime-Minister were under arms; his fourcompanies of musketeers and gens d'armes were ranged in a line uponthe vast staircases and at the entrance of the long galleries of thePalais-Cardinal. This brilliant pandemonium, where the mortal sins havea temple on each floor, belonged that day to pride alone, which occupiedit from top to bottom. Upon each step was placed one of the arquebusiersof the Cardinal's guard, holding a torch in one hand and a long carbinein the other. The crowd of his gentlemen circulated between theseliving candelabra, while in the large garden, surrounded by hugechestnut-trees, now replaced by a range of archers, two companies ofmounted light-horse, their muskets in their hands, were ready to obeythe first order or the first fear of their master. 

The Cardinal, carried and followed by his thirty-eight pages, took hisseat in his box hung with purple, facing that in which the King was halfreclining behind the green curtains which preserved him from the glareof the flambeaux. The whole court filled the boxes, and rose when theKing appeared. The orchestra commenced a brilliant overture, and the pitwas thrown open to all the men of the town and the army who presentedthemselves. Three impetuous waves of spectators rushed in and filled itin an instant. They were standing, and so thickly pressed together thatthe movement of a single arm sufficed to cause in the crowd a movementsimilar to the waving of a field of corn. There was one man whose headthus described a large circle, as that of a compass, without his feetquitting the spot to which they were fixed; and some young men werecarried out fainting. 

The minister, contrary to custom, advanced his skeleton head out ofhis box, and saluted the assembly with an air which was meant to begracious. This grimace obtained an acknowledgment only from the boxes;the pit was silent. Richelieu had wished to show that he did not fearthe public judgment upon his work, and had given orders to admit withoutdistinction all who should present themselves. He began to repentof this, but too late. The impartial assembly was as cold at thetragedie-pastorale itself. In vain did the theatrical bergeres, coveredwith jewels, raised upon red heels, with crooks ornamented with ribbonsand garlands of flowers upon their robes, which were stuck out withfarthingale's, die of love in tirades of two hundred verses; in vaindid the 'amants parfaits' starve themselves in solitary caves, deploringtheir death in emphatic tones, and fastening to their hair ribbons ofthe favorite color of their mistress; in vain did the ladies of thecourt exhibit signs of perfect ecstasy, leaning over the edges of theirboxes, and even attempt a few fainting-fits--the silent pit gave noother sign of life than the perpetual shaking of black heads with longhair. 

The Cardinal bit his lips and played the abstracted during the firstand second acts; the silence in which the third and fourth passed offso wounded his paternal heart that he had himself raised half out of thebalcony, and in this uncomfortable and ridiculous position signed tothe court to remark the finest passages, and himself gave the signal forapplause. It was acted upon from some of the boxes, but the impassiblepit was more silent than ever; leaving the affair entirely betweenthe stage and the upper regions, they obstinately remained neuter. Themaster of Europe and France then cast a furious look at this handful ofmen who dared not to admire his work, feeling in his heart the wish ofNero, and thought for a moment how happy he should be if all those menhad but one head. 

Suddenly this black and before silent mass became animated, and endlessrounds of applause burst forth, to the great astonishment of the boxes, and above all, of the minister. He bent forward and bowed gratefully, but drew back on perceiving that the clapping of hands interrupted theactors every time they wished to proceed. The King had the curtainsof his box, until then closed, opened, to see what excited so muchenthusiasm. The whole court leaned forward from their boxes, andperceived among the spectators on the stage a young man, humbly dressed, who had just seated himself there with difficulty. Every look was fixedupon him. He appeared utterly embarrassed by this, and sought to coverhimself with his little black cloak-far too short for the purpose. "LeCid! le Cid!" cried the pit, incessantly applauding. 

"Terrified, Corneille escaped behind the scenes, and all was againsilent. The Cardinal, beside himself with fury, had his curtain closed, and was carried into his galleries, where was performed anotherscene, prepared long before by the care of Joseph, who had tutoredthe attendants upon the point before quitting Paris. Cardinal Mazarinexclaimed that it would be quicker to pass his Eminence through a longglazed window, which was only two feet from the ground, and led from hisbox to the apartments; and it opened and the page passed hisarmchair through it. Hereupon a hundred voices rose to proclaim theaccomplishment of the grand prophecy of Nostradamus. They said:

"The bonnet rouge!-that's Monseigneur; 'quarante onces!'--that'sCinq-Mars; 'tout finira!'--that's De Thou. What a providential incident!His Eminence reigns over the future as over the present. "

He advanced thus upon his ambulatory throne through the long andsplendid galleries, listening to this delicious murmur of a newflattery; but insensible to the hum of voices which deified his genius, he would have given all their praises for one word, one single gestureof that immovable and inflexible public, even had that word been acry of hatred; for clamor can be stifled, but how avenge one's self onsilence? The people can be prevented from striking, but who can preventtheir waiting? Pursued by the troublesome phantom of public opinion, the gloomy minister only thought himself in safety when he reached theinterior of his palace amid his flattering courtiers, whose adorationssoon made him forget that a miserable pit had dared not to admire him. He had himself placed like a king in the midst of his vast apartments, and, looking around him, attentively counted the powerful and submissivemen who surrounded him. 

Counting them, he admired himself. The chiefs of the great families, the princes of the Church, the presidents of all the parliaments, thegovernors of the provinces, the marshals and generals-in-chief of thearmies, the nuncio, the ambassadors of all the kingdoms, the deputiesand senators of the republics, were motionless, submissive, and rangedaround him, as if awaiting his orders. There was no longer a look tobrave his look, no longer a word to raise itself against his will, not aproject that men dared to form in the most secret recesses of the heart, not a thought which did not proceed from his. Mute Europe listened tohim by its representatives. From time to time he raise an imperiousvoice, and threw a self-satisfied word to this pompous circle, as aman who throws a copper coin among a crowd of beggars. Then might bedistinguished, by the pride which lit up his looks and the joy visiblein his countenance, the prince who had received such a favor. 

Transformed into another man, he seemed to have made a step in thehierarchy of power, so surrounded with unlooked-for adorations andsudden caresses was the fortunate courtier, whose obscure happinessthe Cardinal did not even perceive. The King's brother and the Ducde Bouillon stood in the crowd, whence the minister did not deign towithdraw them. Only he ostentatiously said that it would be wellto dismantle a few fortresses, spoke at length of the necessity ofpavements and quays at Paris, and said in two words to Turenne thathe might perhaps be sent to the army in Italy, to seek his baton asmarechal from Prince Thomas. 

While Richelieu thus played with the great and small things of Europe, amid his noisy fete, the Queen was informed at the Louvre that the timewas come for her to proceed to the Cardinal's palace, where the Kingawaited her after the tragedy. The serious Anne of Austria did notwitness any play; but she could not refuse her presence at the fete ofthe Prime-Minister. She was in her oratory, ready to depart, and coveredwith pearls, her favorite ornament; standing opposite a large glass withMarie de Mantua, she was arranging more to her satisfaction one or twodetails of the young Duchess's toilette, who, dressed in a long pinkrobe, was herself contemplating with attention, though with somewhat ofennui and a little sullenness, the ensemble of her appearance. 

She saw her own work in Marie, and, more troubled, thought with deepapprehension of the moment when this transient calm would cease, despitethe profound knowledge she had of the feeling but frivolous character ofMarie. Since the conversation at St. -Germain (the fatal letter), she hadnot quitted the young Princess, and had bestowed all her care to leadher mind to the path which she had traced out for her, for the mostdecided feature in the character of Anne of Austria was an invincibleobstinacy in her calculations, to which she would fain have subjectedall events and all passions with a geometrical exactitude. There is nodoubt that to this positive and immovable mind we must attribute all themisfortunes of her regency. The sombre reply of Cinq-Mars; his arrest;his trial--all had been concealed from the Princesse Marie, whose firstfault, it is true, had been a movement of self-love and a momentaryforgetfulness. 

However, the Queen by nature was good-hearted, and had bitterly repentedher precipitation in writing words so decisive, and whose consequenceshad been so serious; and all her endeavors had been applied to mitigatethe results. In reflecting upon her conduct in reference to thehappiness of France, she applauded herself for having thus, at onestroke, stifled the germ of a civil war which would have shaken theState to its very foundations. But when she approached her young friendand gazed on that charming being whose happiness she was thus destroyingin its bloom, and reflected that an old man upon a throne, even, wouldnot recompense her for the eternal loss she was about to sustain; whenshe thought of the entire devotion, the total abnegation of himself, shehad witnessed in a young man of twenty-two, of so lofty a character, and almost master of the kingdom--she pitied Marie, and admired from hervery soul the man whom she had judged so ill. 

She would at least have desired to explain his worth to her whom he hadloved so deeply, and who as yet knew him not; but she still hoped thatthe conspirators assembled at Lyons would be able to save him, andonce knowing him to be in a foreign land she could tell all to her dearMarie. 

As to the latter, she had at first feared war. But surrounded by theQueen's people, who had let nothing reach her ear but news dictated bythis Princess, she knew, or thought she knew, that the conspiracy hadnot taken place; that the King and the Cardinal had returned to Parisnearly at the same time; that Monsieur, relapsed for a while, hadreappeared at court; that the Duc de Bouillon, on ceding Sedan, hadalso been restored to favor; and that if the 'grand ecuyer' had notyet appeared, the reason was the more decided animosity of the Cardinaltoward him, and the greater part he had taken in the conspiracy. Butcommon sense and natural justice clearly said that having acted underthe order of the King's brother, his pardon ought to follow that of thisPrince. 

All then, had calmed the first uneasiness of her heart, while nothinghad softened the kind of proud resentment she felt against Cinq-Mars, soindifferent as not to inform her of the place of his retreat, knownto the Queen and the whole court, while, she said to herself, she hadthought but of him. Besides, for two months the balls and fetes hadso rapidly succeeded each other, and so many mysterious duties hadcommanded her presence, that she had for reflection and regret scarcemore than the time of her toilette, at which she was generally almostalone. Every evening she regularly commenced the general reflection uponthe ingratitude and inconstancy of men--a profound and novel thought, which never fails to occupy the head of a young person in the time offirst love--but sleep never permitted her to finish the reflection; andthe fatigue of dancing closed her large black eyes ere her ideas hadfound time to classify themselves in her memory, or to present her withany distinct images of the past. 

In the morning she was always surrounded by the young princesses of thecourt, and ere she well had time to dress had to present herself inthe Queen's apartment, where awaited her the eternal, but now lessdisagreeable homage of the Prince-Palatine. The Poles had had time tolearn at the court of France that mysterious reserve, that eloquentsilence which so pleases the women, because it enhances the importanceof things always secret, and elevates those whom they respect, so as topreclude the idea of exhibiting suffering in their presence. Marie wasregarded as promised to King Uladislas; and she herself--we must confessit--had so well accustomed herself to this idea that the throne ofPoland occupied by another queen would have appeared to her a monstrousthing. She did not look forward with pleasure to the period of ascendingit, but had, however, taken possession of the homage which was renderedher beforehand. Thus, without avowing it even to herself, she greatlyexaggerated the supposed offences of Cinq-Mars, which the Queen hadexpounded to her at St. Germain. 

"You are as fresh as the roses in this bouquet, " said the Queen. "Come, 'ma chere', are you ready? What means this pouting air? Come, let mefasten this earring. Do you not like these toys, eh? Will you haveanother set of ornaments?"

"Oh, no, Madame. I think that I ought not to decorate myself at all, forno one knows better than yourself how unhappy I am. Men are very crueltoward us!

"I have reflected on what you said, and all is now clear to me. Yes, itis quite true that he did not love me, for had he loved me he would haverenounced an enterprise that gave me so much uneasiness. I told him, Iremember, indeed, which was very decided, " she added, with an importantand even solemn air, "that he would be a rebel--yes, Madame, a rebel. Itold him so at Saint-Eustache. But I see that your Majesty was right. I am very unfortunate! He had more ambition than love. " Here a tear ofpique escaped from her eyes, and rolled quickly down her cheek, as apearl upon a rose. 

"Yes, it is certain, " she continued, fastening her bracelets; "andthe greatest proof is that in the two months he has renounced hisenterprise--you told me that you had saved him--he has not let me knowthe place of his retreat, while I during that time have been weeping, have been imploring all your power in his favor; have sought but a wordthat might inform me of his proceedings. I have thought but of him;and even now I refuse every day the throne of Poland, because I wish toprove to the end that I am constant, that you yourself can not make medisloyal to my attachment, far more serious than his, and that we are ofhigher worth than the men. But, however, I think I may attend this fete, since it is not a ball. "

"Yes, yes, my dear child! come, come!" said the Queen, desirous ofputting an end to this childish talk, which afflicted her all the morethat it was herself who had encouraged it. "Come, you will see the unionthat prevails between the princes and the Cardinal, and we shall perhapshear some good news. " They departed. 

When the two princesses entered the long galleries of thePalais-Cardinal, they were received and coldly saluted by the King andthe minister, who, closely surrounded by silent courtiers, were playingat chess upon a small low table. All the ladies who entered with theQueen or followed her, spread through the apartments; and soon softmusic sounded in one of the saloons--a gentle accompaniment to thethousand private conversations carried on round the play tables. 

Near the Queen passed, saluting her, a young newly married couple--thehappy Chabot and the beautiful Duchesse de Rohan. They seemed toshun the crowd, and to seek apart a moment to speak to each other ofthemselves. Every one received them with a smile and looked after themwith envy. Their happiness was expressed as strongly in the countenancesof others as in their own. 

Marie followed them with her eyes. "Still they are happy, " she whisperedto the Queen, remembering the censure which in her hearing had beenthrown upon the match. 

But without answering, Anne of Austria, fearful that in the crowd someinconsiderate expression might inform her young friend of the mournfulevent so interesting to her, placed herself with Marie behind the King. Monsieur, the Prince-Palatine, and the Duc de Bouillon came to speak toher with a gay and lively air. The second, however, casting upon Marie asevere and scrutinizing glance, said to her:

"Madame la Princesse, you are most surprisingly beautiful and gay thisevening. "

She was confused at these words, and at seeing the speaker walk awaywith a sombre air. She addressed herself to the Duc d'Orleans, who didnot answer, and seemed not to hear her. Marie looked at the Queen, andthought she remarked paleness and disquiet on her features. Meantime, noone ventured to approach the minister, who was deliberately meditatinghis moves. Mazarin alone, leaning over his chair, followed all thestrokes with a servile attention, giving gestures of admiration everytime that the Cardinal played. Application to the game seemed to havedissipated for a moment the cloud that usually shaded the minister'sbrow. He had just advanced a tower, which placed Louis's king in thatfalse position which is called "stalemate, "--a situation in which theebony king, without being personally attacked, can neither advance norretire in any direction. The Cardinal, raising his eyes, looked at hisadversary and smiled with one corner of his mouth, not being ableto avoid a secret analogy. Then, observing the dim eyes and dyingcountenance of the Prince, he whispered to Mazarin:

"Faith, I think he'll go before me. He is greatly changed. "

At the same time he himself was seized with a long and violent cough, accompanied internally with the sharp, deep pain he so often felt in theside. At the sinister warning he put a handkerchief to his mouth, whichhe withdrew covered with blood. To hide it, he threw it under the table, and looked around him with a stern smile, as if to forbid observation. Louis XIII, perfectly insensible, did not make the least movement, beyond arranging his men for another game with a skeleton and tremblinghand. There two dying men seemed to be throwing lots which should departfirst. 

At this moment a clock struck the hour of midnight. The King raised hishead. 

"Ah, ah!" he said; "this morning at twelve Monsieur le Grand had adisagreeable time of it. "

A piercing shriek was uttered behind him. He shuddered, and threwhimself forward, upsetting the table. Marie de Mantua lay senseless inthe arms of the Queen, who, weeping bitterly, said in the King's ear:

"Ah, Sire, your axe has a double edge. "

She then bestowed all her cares and maternal kisses upon the youngPrincess, who, surrounded by all the ladies of the court, only cameto herself to burst into a torrent of tears. As soon as she opened hereyes, "Alas! yes, my child, " said Anne of Austria. "My poor girl, youare Queen of Poland. "

It has often happened that the same event which causes tears to flow inthe palace of kings has spread joy without, for the people ever supposethat happiness reigns at festivals. There were five days' rejoicings forthe return of the minister, and every evening under the windows of thePalais-Cardinal and those of the Louvre pressed the people of Paris. The late disturbances had given them a taste for public movements. Theyrushed from one street to another with a curiosity at times insultingand hostile, sometimes walking in silent procession, sometimes sendingforth loud peals of laughter or prolonged yells, of which no oneunderstood the meaning. Bands of young men fought in the streets anddanced in rounds in the squares, as if manifesting some secret hope ofpleasure and some insensate joy, grievous to the upright heart. 

It was remarkable that profound silence prevailed exactly in thoseplaces where the minister had ordered rejoicings, and that the peoplepassed disdainfully before the illuminated facade of his palace. If somevoices were raised, it was to read aloud in a sneering tone the legendsand inscriptions with which the idiot flattery of some obscure writershad surrounded the portraits of the minister. One of these pictures wasguarded by arquebusiers, who, however, could not preserve it from thestones which were thrown at it from a distance by unseen hands. Itrepresented the Cardinal-Generalissimo wearing a casque surrounded bylaurels. Above it was inscribed:

 "Grand Duc: c'est justement que la France t'honore; Ainsi que le dieu Mars dans Paris on t'adore. "

These fine phrases did not persuade the people that they were happy. They no more adored the Cardinal than they did the god Mars, but theyaccepted his fetes because they served as a covering for disorder. AllParis was in an uproar. Men with long beards, carrying torches, measuresof wine, and two drinking-cups, which they knocked together with a greatnoise, went along, arm in arm, shouting in chorus with rude voices anold round of the League:

 "Reprenons la danse; Allons, c'est assez. Le printemps commence; Les rois sont passes. 

 "Prenons quelque treve; Nous sommes lasses. Les rois de la feve Nous ont harasses. 

 "Allons, Jean du Mayne, Les rois sont passes. 

 "Les rois de la feve Nous ont harasses. Allons, Jean du Mayne, Les rois sont passes. "

The frightful bands who howled forth these words traversed the Quais andthe Pont-Neuf, squeezing against the high houses, which then covered thelatter, the peaceful citizens who were led there by simple curiosity. Two young men, wrapped in cloaks, thus thrown one against the other, recognized each other by the light of a torch placed at the foot of thestatue of Henri IV, which had been lately raised. 

"What! still at Paris?" said Corneille to Milton. "I thought you were inLondon. "

"Hear you the people, Monsieur? Do you hear them? What is this ominouschorus, 'Les rois sont passes'?"

"That is nothing, Monsieur. Listen to their conversation. "

"The parliament is dead, " said one of the men; "the nobles are dead. Let us dance; we are the masters. The old Cardinal is dying. There is nolonger any but the King and ourselves. "

"Do you hear that drunken wretch, Monsieur?" asked Corneille. "All ourepoch is in those words of his. "

"What! is this the work of the minister who is called great among you, and even by other nations? I do not understand him. "

"I will explain the matter to you presently, " answered Corneille. "Butfirst listen to the concluding part of this letter, which I receivedto-day. Draw near this light under the statue of the late King. We arealone. The crowd has passed. Listen!

 "It was by one of those unforeseen circumstances which prevent the accomplishment of the noblest enterprises that we were not able to save MM. De Cinq-Mars and De Thou. We might have foreseen that, prepared for death by long meditation, they would themselves refuse our aid; but this idea did not occur to any of us. In the precipitation of our measures, we also committed the fault of dispersing ourselves too much in the crowd, so that we could not take a sudden resolution. I was unfortunately stationed near the scaffold; and I saw our unfortunate friends advance to the foot of it, supporting the poor Abbe Quillet, who was destined to behold the death of the pupil whose birth he had witnessed. He sobbed aloud, and had strength enough only to kiss the hands of the two friends. We all advanced, ready to throw ourselves upon the guards at the announced signal; but I saw with grief M. De Cinq-Mars cast his hat from him with an air of disdain. Our movement had been observed, and the Catalonian guard was doubled round the scaffold. I could see no more; but I heard much weeping around me. After the three usual blasts of the trumpet, the recorder of Lyons, on horseback at a little distance from the scaffold, read the sentence of death, to which neither of the prisoners listened. M. De Thou said to M. De Cinq-Mars:

 "'Well, dear friend, which shall die first? Do you remember Saint- Gervais and Saint-Protais?'

 "'Which you think best, ' answered Cinq-Mars. 

 "The second confessor, addressing M. De Thou, said, 'You are the elder. '

 "'True, ' said M. De Thou; and, turning to M. Le Grand, 'You are the most generous; you will show me the way to the glory of heaven. '

 "'Alas!' said Cinq-Mars; 'I have opened to you that of the precipice; but let us meet death nobly, and we shall revel in the glory and happiness of heaven!'

 "Hereupon he embraced him, and ascended the scaffold with surprising address and agility. He walked round the scaffold, and contemplated the whole of the great assembly with a calm countenance, which betrayed no sign of fear, and a serious and graceful manner. He then went round once more, saluting the people on every side, without appearing to recognize any of us, with a majestic and charming expression of face; he then knelt down, raising his eyes to heaven, adoring God, and recommending himself to Him. As he embraced the crucifix, the father confessor called to the people to pray for him; and M. Le Grand, opening his arms, still holding his crucifix, made the same request to the people. Then he readily knelt before the block, holding the stake, placed his neck upon it, and asked the confessor, 'Father, is this right?' Then, while they were cutting off his hair, he raised his eyes to heaven, and said, sighing:

 "'My God, what is this world? My God, I offer thee my death as a satisfaction for my sins!'

 "'What are you waiting for? What are you doing there?' he said to the executioner, who had not yet taken his axe from an old bag he had brought with him. His confessor, approaching, gave him a medallion; and he, with an incredible tranquillity of mind, begged the father to hold the crucifix before his eyes, which he would not allow to be bound. I saw the two trembling hands of the Abbe Quillet, who raised the crucifix. At this moment a voice, as clear and pure as that of an angel, commenced the 'Ave, maris stella'. In the universal silence I recognized the voice of M. De Thou, who was at the foot of the scaffold; the people repeated the sacred strain. M. De Cinq-Mars clung more tightly to the stake; and I saw a raised axe, made like the English axes. A terrible cry of the people from the Place, the windows, and the towers told me that it had fallen, and that the head had rolled to the ground. I had happily strength enough left to think of his soul, and to commence a prayer for him. 

 "I mingled it with that which I heard pronounced aloud by our unfortunate and pious friend De Thou. I rose and saw him spring upon the scaffold with such promptitude that he might almost have been said to fly. The father and he recited a psalm; he uttered it with the ardor of a seraphim, as if his soul had borne his body to heaven. Then, kneeling down, he kissed the blood of Cinq-Mars as that of a martyr, and became himself a greater martyr. I do not know whether God was pleased to grant him this last favor; but I saw with horror that the executioner, terrified no doubt at the first blow he had given, struck him upon the top of his head, whither the unfortunate young man raised his hand; the people sent forth a long groan, and advanced against the executioner. The poor wretch, terrified still more, struck him another blow, which only cut the skin and threw him upon the scaffold, where the executioner rolled upon him to despatch him. A strange event terrified the people as much as the horrible spectacle. M. De Cinq-Mars' old servant held his horse as at a military funeral; he had stopped at the foot of the scaffold, and like a man paralyzed, watched his master to the end, then suddenly, as if struck by the same axe, fell dead under the blow which had taken off his master's head. 

 "I write these sad details in haste, on board a Genoese galley, into which Fontrailles, Gondi, Entraigues, Beauvau, Du Lude, myself, and others of the chief conspirators have retired. We are going to England to await until time shall deliver France from the tyrant whom we could not destroy. I abandon forever the service of the base Prince who betrayed us. 

 "MONTRESOR"

"Such, " continued Corneille, "has been the fate of these two young menwhom you lately saw so powerful. Their last sigh was that of the ancientmonarchy. Nothing more than a court can reign here henceforth; thenobles and the senates are destroyed. "

"And this is your pretended great man!" said Milton. "What has hesought to do? He would, then, create republics for future ages, since hedestroys the basis of your monarchy?"

"Look not so far, " answered Corneille; "he only seeks to reign until theend of his life. He has worked for the present and not for the future;he has continued the work of Louis XI; and neither one nor the otherknew what they were doing. "

The Englishman smiled. 

"I thought, " he said, "that true genius followed another path. This manhas shaken all that he ought to have supported, and they admire him! Ipity your nation. "

"Pity it not!" exclaimed Corneille, warmly; "a man passes away, but apeople is renewed. This people, Monsieur, is gifted with an immortalenergy, which nothing can destroy; its imagination often leads itastray, but superior reason will ever ultimately master its disorders. "

The two young and already great men walked, as they conversed, upon thespace which separates the statue of Henri IV from the Place Dauphine;they stopped a moment in the centre of this Place. 

"Yes, Monsieur, " continued Corneille, "I see every evening with whatrapidity a noble thought finds its echo in French hearts; and everyevening I retire happy at the sight. Gratitude prostrates the poorpeople before this statue of a good king! Who knows what other monumentanother passion may raise near this? Who can say how far the love ofglory will lead our people? Who knows that in the place where we noware, there may not be raised a pyramid taken from the East?"

"These are the secrets of the future, " said Milton. "I, like yourself, admire your impassioned nation; but I fear them for themselves. I donot well understand them; and I do not recognize their wisdom when I seethem lavishing their admiration upon men such as he who now rules you. The love of power is very puerile; and this man is devoured by it, without having force enough to seize it wholly. By an utter absurdity, he is a tyrant under a master. Thus has this colossus, never firmlybalanced, been all but overthrown by the finger of a boy. Does thatindicate genius? No, no! when genius condescends to quit the loftyregions of its true home for a human passion, at least, it should graspthat passion in its entirety. Since Richelieu only aimed at power, whydid he not, if he was a genius, make himself absolute master of power?I am going to see a man who is not yet known, and whom I see swayed bythis miserable ambition; but I think that he will go farther. His nameis Cromwell!"

 ETEXT EDITOR'S BOOKMARKS:

 A cat is a very fine animal. It is a drawing-room tiger A queen's country is where her throne is Adopted fact is always better composed than the real one Advantage that a calm temper gives one over men All that he said, I had already thought Always the first word which is the most difficult to say Ambition is the saddest of all hopes Art is the chosen truth Artificialities of style of that period Artistic Truth, more lofty than the True As Homer says, "smiling under tears" Assume with others the mien they wore toward him But how avenge one's self on silence? Dare now to be silent when I have told you these things Daylight is detrimental to them Deny the spirit of self-sacrifice Difference which I find between Truth in art and the True in fac Doubt, the greatest misery of love Friendship exists only in independence and a kind of equality Happy is he who does not outlive his youth Hatred of everything which is superior to myself He did not blush to be a man, and he spoke to men with force Hermits can not refrain from inquiring what men say of them History too was a work of art I have burned all the bridges behind me In pitying me he forgot himself In every age we laugh at the costume of our fathers In times like these we must see all and say all It is not now what it used to be It is too true that virtue also has its blush Lofty ideal of woman and of love Men are weak, and there are things which women must accomplish Money is not a common thing between gentlemen like you and me Monsieur, I know that I have lived too long Neither idealist nor realist Never interfered in what did not concern him No writer had more dislike of mere pedantry Offices will end by rendering great names vile Princes ought never to be struck, except on the head Princesses ceded like a town, and must not even weep Principle that art implied selection Recommended a scrupulous observance of nature Remedy infallible against the plague and against reserve Reproaches are useless and cruel if the evil is done Should be punished for not having known how to punish So strongly does force impose upon men Tears for the future The great leveller has swung a long scythe over France The most in favor will be the soonest abandoned by him The usual remarks prompted by imbecility on such occasions These ideas may serve as opium to produce a calm They tremble while they threaten They have believed me incapable because I was kind They loved not as you love, eh? This popular favor is a cup one must drink This was the Dauphin, afterward Louis XIV True talent paints life rather than the living Truth, I here venture to distinguish from that of the True Urbain Grandier What use is the memory of facts, if not to serve as an example Woman is more bitter than death, and her arms are like chains Yes, we are in the way here