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CINQ-MARS:

A CONSPIRACY UNDER LOUIS XIII.

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CINQ-MARS:

OR,

A Conspiracy Under Louis XIIL

ALFRED DE JVIGNY.

TRANSLATED

By WILLIAM HAZLITT.

WITH DRAWINGS BY A. DAWANT, ETCHED BY GAUJEAN,

IN TWO VOLUMES.

Vol. II. ^

BOSTON:
LITTLE, BROWN, AND COMPANY^/

1889: V: ' ;

PUBLIC LIBRARY

ASTOR LE*îOX AMD
TILDEN FOUNDATIONS

V :* • : ^n" WiLSOK AKD Son, Cambridgs.

CONTENTS TO VOL. IL

OlAFTKR PAOB

XIV. The Ëmeute 1

XV. The Axcove 21

XVI. The Confusion 40 ^

XVIL The Toilet 51 -^

XVni. The Secret ' 69 "

XIX. The Hunting Party 78 u

XX. THF Reading . '. Ill

XXI. The Confessional 187

XXn. The Storm 151

XXin. Absence 168

XXIV. The Work 179 v/'

XXV. The Prisoners 213 •

XXVI. The FAte 250 ^

Notes and Historical Documents 271

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.

Vol. II.

The Reading Franttspieee

Mabie de Gokzaque Page 1

The Alcove 26

The Secret 76

The Confessional 148

The Prisoners 222

The Platform of the Tower 238

THK NEW l^^l

PUBLIC u^. ^-

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CINQ-MARS.

CHAPTER XIV.

THE ÉMEUTE.

Le danger, Sire, est pressant et universel, et au delà de tous les
calculs de la prudence humaine. — Mirabeau, Adresse au Roi.

** Thus with imagined wing our swift scene flies.
In motion of no less celerity
Than that of thought,"

exclaims the immortal Shakspeare 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 Phœbus fanning.

behold,

And follow.**
VOL. II — 1

2 CINQ-MARS.

With this poetic moyement he traverses time and
space, and transports at will the attentive assembly to
the theatre of his sublime scenes.

We shall avail ourselves of the same privilege, though
without the same genius. No more than he will we seat
ourselves upon the tripod of the unities, but merely cast-
ing our eyes upon Paris and the old dark palace of the
Louvre, we will at once pass over the space of two hun-
dred leagues 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, whose long alliances
a single day suffices to destroy, whose wars are ended
by a birth, whose peace is broken by a death! We
ourselves have beheld kings returning to their dwell-
ing on a spring day; that same day a vessel sailed
for a voyage of two years. The navigator returned.
The kings were seated upon their thrones ; nothing
seemed to have taken place in his absence, and yet
God had deprived those kings of a hundred days of
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
the state of the kingdom.

The powerful unity of the monarchy was rendered
still more imposing by the misfortunes of the neighbor-
ing States. The revolutions in England and those in
Spain and Portugal rendered the calm which Prance
enjoyed still more admired. Strafford and Olivarès,

1
I

THE ÉMEUTE. %

mrthrown or defeated, aggrandized the immovable
'tichelieu.

Six formidable armies, reposing upon their triumph-
mt weapons, served as a rampart to the kingdom.
Those of the north, in league with Sweden, had put the
Imperialists to flight, still pursued by the spirit of
Gustavus Adolphus ; those on the frontiers of Italy had
in Piedmont received the keys of the towns which had
been defended by Prince Thomas; and those which
strengthened the chain of the Pyrenees held in check
revolted Catalonia, and chafed before Perpignan, which
they were not allowed to take. The interior was not
happy, but tranquil. An invisible genius seemed 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 yet lived ; and at in-
tervals, men falling as if struck by a poisonous blast
recalled to mind the invisible power.

Saint-Preuil, one of Richelieu's enemies, had just laid
his iron head upon the scaffold without shame or fear,
as he himself said on mounting it.

Meantime France seemed to govern herself, for the
prinee and the minister had been separated a long time ;
and of • these two sick men, who mutually hated each
other, one had never held the reins of the State, the
other no longer showed his power, — he was no longer
named in the public acts ; he appeared no longer in the
government, and seemed effaced everywhere; he slept,
like the spider surrounded by his nets.

If some events and some revolutions had taken place

4 CINQrMARS.

during these two years, it must have been in hearts ; it
must have been some of those occult 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 the unfinished Louvre, and listen to the
conversation of those who inhabited it 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 given by the
court. Their poverty weighed less heavily upon them
while they contemplated the agitations of the rich.
Their tears were less bitter on beholding the struggles
of power ; and the blood of tlie nobles which flowed in
their streets, and seemed the only blood worthy of being
shed, made them bless their obscurity. Already had tu-
multuous scenes and conspicuous assassinations proved
the monarch's weakness, the absence and approaching
end of the minister, and as a kind of prologue to the
bloody comedy of the Fronde, sharpened the malice and
even fired the passions of the Parisians. This confusion
was not displeasing to them. Indifferent to the causes
of the quarrels which were abstruse for tliem, they were
not so with regard to individuals, and already began to
regard the party chiefs with affection or hatred, not on
account of the interest 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

THE ÉMEUTE. 5

heard frequently in the city; the numerous patrols of
the Swiss and the body-guards had even been attacked,
and had met with some barricades in the tortuous
streets of the Isle Notre-Dame; carts chained to the
posts, and laden with barrels, prevented the cavaliers
from advancing, and some musket-shots had wounded
several men and horses. However, the town still slept,
except the quarter whicli surrounded the Louvre, which
was at this time inhabited by the queen and M. le Duc
d'Orléans. There everything announced a nocturnal
expedition of a very serious nature.

It was two o'clock in the morning- It was freezing,
and the darkness was intense, when a numerous as-
semblage stopped upon the quay, which was then hardly
paved, and slowly and by degrees occupied the sandy
ground which sloped down to the Seine. This troop
was composed of about two hundred men; they were
wrapped in large cloaks, raised by tlie long Spanish
swords which they wore. Walking, without preserving
any order, backwards and forwards, they seemed to wait
for events rather than to seek them. Many of them
seated themselves, with their arras folded, upon the
loose stones of the newly commenced parapet; they
preserved entire silence. However, after a few minutes
passed in this manner, a man, who appeared to come
out at one of the vaulted doors of the Louvre, ap-
proached slowly, holding a dark lantern, the light from
which he turned upon the features of each individual,
and which he blew out after having found the man he
sought among them. He spoke to him in a whisper,
taking him by the hand, —

6 ÇINQrMARS,

" Well, Olivier, what did M. le Grand say to you ? ^
Does all go on well ? "

" Yes, yes, I saw him yesterday at St. Grermain. The
old cat is very ill at Narbonne ; he is going 'ad patres.
But we must manage our affairs roundly, for it is not
the first time that he has played the torpid. Have you
people enough for this evening, my dear Pontrailles ? "

" Be easy ; Montrésor is coming with an hundred of
Monsieur's gentlemen. You will recognize him ; he will
be disguised as a master-mason, with a rule in his hand.
But above all, do not forget the passwords. Do you
know them all well, you and your friends?"

" Yes, all except the Abbé de Gondi, who has not yet
arrived ; but Dieu me pardonne^ I think he is there him-
self ! Who the devil would have known him ? "

And here a little man without a cassock, dressed as
a soldier of the French guards, and wearing very black
false mustaches, slipped between them. 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, you don't manage badly. Sire Olivier
d'Entraigues ; and you will be among our illustrious
men if we find a Plutarch. All is well organized ; you
arrive at the very moment, neither too soon nor too late,
like a true party chief. Fontrailles, this young man will
get on, I prophesy. But we must make haste ; in two

^ The master of the horse, Cinq-Mars, was thus named by abbreviation.
This name will often occur in the course of the recital.

THE ÉMEUTE. 7

hours we shall have some of the archbishops of Paris,
my uncle's parishioners. I have lessoned them well;
and they will cry, * Vive Monsieur ! vive la Régente ! et
plus de Cardinal ! ' like madmen. They are good devo-
tees, thanks to me, who have stirred them up. The king
is very bad. Oh, all goes well, very well ! I come from
St. Germain. I have seen our friend Cinq-Mars ; he is
good, very good, still firm as a rock. Âh, that is what
I call a man ! How he has played with them with his
melancholy and careless air ! He is the master of the
court at present. The king, they say, is going to make
him due and peer. It is much talked of ; but he still
hesitates. We must decide that by our movement this
evening. The will of the people ! He must do the will
of the people ; we will make him hear it. It will be the
death of Richelieu, you Ul see. It is, above all, hatred to
him which is to predominate in the cries, for that is the
essential thing. That will at last decide our Gaston,
who is still uncertain, is he not ? "

"And how can he be anything else?" said Fon-
trailles. "If he were to take a resolution to-day in
our favor, it would be unfortunate."

"Why so?"

" Because we should be sure that to-morrow morning
he would be against us."

" Never mind," replied the abbé ; " the queen is firm."

" And she has heart also," said Olivier ; " that gives
me some hope for Cinq-Mars, who, it seems to me, has
sometimes dared to frown when he looked at her."

" Child that you are, how little do you yet know of
the court ! Nothing can sustain him but the king's

8 CINQ-MARS.

hand, who loves him as a son ; and as for the queen, if
her heart beats, it is for the past and not for the future.
But these trifles are not to the purpose. Tell me, mon
cher, are you sure of your young advocate whom I see
roaming about there? Is he all right?"

"Perfectly; he is an excellent Royalist. He would
throw the cardinal into the river in an instant. Besides,
it is Fournier of Loudun ; that is saying everything."

" Well, well, these are the men we like. But take
care of yourselves, Messieurs ; some one comes from the
Rue St. Honoré."

" Who goes there ? " cried the foremost of the troop
to some men who were advancing. "Royalists or
Cardinalists ? "

" Gaston and Le Grand," replied the new-comers, in a
low voice.

"It is Montrésor and Monsieur's people," said Fon-
trailles. " We may soon commence."

" Yes, par la corbleu ! " said the new-comer, " for the
Cardinalists will pass at three o'clock. We were told
so just now."

" Where are they going ?" said Fontrailles.

" There are more than two hundred of them to escort
M. de Chavigny, who is going to see the old cat at
Narbonne, they say. They thought it safer to pass by
the Louvre."

" Well, we will give him a velvet paw ! " said the
abbé.

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 the street. The fore-

THE EMEUTE. 9

most cavalierB passed rapidly through the crowd, pistol
in hand, suspecting that something was going on ; but
the postilion, who drove the horses of the first carriage,
ran upon the stone and fell.

'^ Whose carriage is this which thus crushes foot-
passengers ? " cried the cloakmen, all at once. ^^ It is
tyrannical. It can be no other but a friend of the Car-
dinal de la RocheUe.^^ *

^^ It is one who does not fear tlie friends of the little
Le Grand," exclaimed a voice from the open door, from
which a man threw himself upon a horse.

^' Drive these Gardinalists into the river!" cried a
shrill, piercing voice.

This was a signal for the pistol-shots which were
furiously exchanged on every side, and which lighted
up this tumultuous and sombre scene. The clashing of
swords and trampling of horses did not prevent the
cries from being heard on one side : ^' Down with the
minister ! Loug live the king ! Long live Monsieur and
M. le Grand ! Down with the red-stockings ! " on the
other : ^^ Long live his Eminence ! Long live the great
cardinal ! Death to the factious ! Long live the king ! "
For the name of the king presided over every hatred, as
over every afiFection, at this strange time.

The men on foot had however succeeded in placing
the two carriages across the quay so as to make a ram-
part against Chavigny's horses, and from this, between
the wheels, through the doors and springs, overwhelmed

^ Dorinfip the long siege of this town, the name was given to M. de
Richelieu, to ridicule his obstinacy in commanding as general-in-chief,
and attribntiog to himself the merit of taking La Rochelle.

10 CINQrMARS.

them with pistol-shots, and dismounted many. The
tmnult was frightful, when the gates of the Louvre were
all at once thrown open, and two squadrons of the body-
guard came out at a trot. Most of them carried torches
in their hands to light themselves and those they were
to attack. The scene changed. As the guards reached
each of the men on foot, the latter was seen to stop,
remove his hat, make himself known, and name himself;
and the guards withdrew, sometimes saluting him, and
sometimes shaking him by the hand. This succor to
Chavigny's carriages was then nearly useless, and only
served to augment the confusion. The body-guards, as
if to satisfy their consciences, rushed through the crowd
of duellists, saying, —

" Now, Messieurs, be moderate."

But when two gentlemen had decidedly crossed
swords, and were warmly engaged with each other,
the guard who beheld them stopped to judge the fight,
and sometimes even to favor the one who he thought
was of his opinion, for this body, like all France, had
their Royalists and their Cardinalists.

The windows of the Louvre were one by one lighted
lip, and many women's heads were seen behind the little
lui^enge-shaped panes, attentively watching the combat.

Numerous Swiss patrols came out with flambeaux.
These soldiers were easily distinguished by their singu-
lar uniform. Their right sleeve was striped blue and
red, and the silk stocking of their right leg was red;
(lie left side striped with blue, red, and white, and
the stocking white and red. It had no doubt been
hoped in the royal château that this foreign troop would

THE ÉMEUTE, 11

disperse the assembly, but they were mistaken. These
impassible soldiers coldly and exactly executed, without
going beyond, the orders they had received, circulating
symmetrically between the armed groups, which they
divided for a moment, returning before the gate with
perfect precision, and resuming their ranks as on pa-
rade, without informing themselves whether the enemies
between whom they had passed had rejoined or not.

But the noise, for a moment appeased, became general
by dint of personal disputes. In every direction chal-
lenges, insults, and imprecations were heard. It seemed
as if nothing but the destruction of one 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 Abbé de Gondi, then employed
in dragging a cavalier by his cloak to pull him down,
exclaimed, —

" Here are my people ! Fontrailles, now you will
have something worth seeing ! Look ! look already how
they come on I It is really charming."

And he left his hold, and mounted upon a stone to
contemplate the manœuvres of his troops, crossing his
arms with the importance of a general of an army. The
day was beginning to break, and from the end of the
Isle St. Louis a crowd of men, women, and children
of the lowest dregs of the people were seen rapidly
advancing, casting towards heaven and the Louvre
strange vociferations. Girls carried long swords ; chil-
dren dragged immense halberds and pikes of the time of
the League ; old women in rags dragged after them by
cords carts full of rusty and broken arms ; workmen of

12 CINQrMARS.

every trade, the most of them drunk, followed, armed
with clubs, forks, lances, shovels, torches, stakes, crooks,
levers, sabres, and spits. They sang and howled by
turns, counterfeiting with atrocious yells the cries of a
cat, and carrying for a flag one of these animals sus-
pended from a pole and wrapped in a red rag, thus
representing the cardinal, whose taste for cats was
generally known. Public criers rushed about, all red
and breathless, throwing on the pavement and sticking
on the parapets, the posts, the walls of the houses, and
even on the palace, long satires in short verse, made upon
the personages of the time. Butcher boys and scullions,
carrying large cutlasses, beat the charge upon sauce-
pans, and dragged in the mud a newly slaughtered pig,
with the red cap of a chorister on its head. Young
and vigorous men, dressed as women, and painted with
a coarse vermilion, were yelling at the pitch of their
voices, "We are mothers of families ruined by Riche-
lieu ! Death to the cardinal ! " They carried in their
arms straw children, which they threw into the river.

When this disgusting mob had overrun the quays with
its thousands of imps, it produced a strange effect upon
the combatants, and entirely contrary to that expected
by their patron. The enemies on both sides lowered
their arms and separated. Those of Monsieur and of
Cinq-Mars were revolted at seeing themselves succored
by such auxiliaries, and themselves aiding the cardi-
nal's gentlemen to remount their horses and to gain
their carriages, and their valets to convey the wounded
to them, gave their adversaries personal rendezvous to
terminate their quarrel upon a ground more secret and

THE EMEUTE. 13

more worthy of them. Reddening at the superiority of
numbers and the ignoble troops which they seemed to
command, foreseeing, perhaps, for the first time the
fearful consequences of their political machinations, and
what was the scum they were stirring up, they withdrew,
slouching their large hats over their eyes, throwing their
cloaks over their shoulders, and dreading the daylight.

" You have spoiled all, my dear abbé, with this mob,"
said Fontrailles, stamping his foot, to Goiidi, who was
already sufficiently confounded ; ^^ your good man of an
uncle has fine parishioners."

*^ It is not my fault," replied Gondi, in a sullen tone ;
^^ these idiots came an hour too late. If they had arrived
in the night, they would not have been seen, which spoils
the effect somewhat, to speak the truth (for I admit that
the daylight is detrimental to them), and we should
only have heard the voice of the people : Vox populi^ vox
Dei, Nevertheless, there is not so much harm done.
They will by their multitude give us the means of escap-
ing without being known, and, after all, our task is
ended ; we did not wish the death of the sinner. Cha-
vigny and his men are worthy fellows, whom I love ; if
he is only slightly wounded, so much the better. Adieu ;
I am going to see M. de Bouillon, who has arrived from
Italy."

" Olivier," said Fontrailles, " proceed to St. Germain
with Foumier and Ambrosio ; I will go and give an ac-
count to Monsieur, with Montrésor."

AU separated, and disgust did, with these high-born
men, what force could not do.

Thus ended tliis blunder, calculated to bring forth

14 CINQ-MARS.

great misfortunes. No one was killed in it. The cava-
liers, having gained a few scratches and lost a few
purses, resumed their route by the side of the carriages
along the by-streets; the others escaped, one by one,
through the populace they had raised up. The miser-
able wretches who composed it, deprived of the chief of
the troops, still remained two hours, yelling and scream-
ing until the effects of their wine was gone, and the cold
had extinguished at once the fire of their blood and that
of their enthusiasm. At the windows of the houses, on
the quay of the city, and along the walls, the wise and
genuine people of Paris watched with a sorrowful air
and in mournful silence these preludes of disorder;
while the various bodies of merchants, dressed in black
and preceded by their provosts, walked slowly and cour-
ageously through the populace towards the Palais de
Justice, where the parliament was to assemble, to com-
plain to it of these terrible nocturnal scenes.

The apartments of Gaston d'Orléans were in a great
confusion. Tliis prince then occupied the wing of the
Louvre parallel with the Tuileries ; and his windows
looked into the court on one side, and on the other, over
a mass of little houses and narrow streets which almost
entirely covered the place. He had risen precipitately,
awakened suddenly by the report of the fire-arms, had
thrust his feet into large square-toed slippers with high
heels, and, wrapped in a large silk dressing-gown,
covered with golden ornaments embroidered in relief,
walked backwards and forwards in his bedroom, send-
ing every minute a fresh lackey to see what was going
on, and ordering them immediately to go for the Abbé

THE ÉMEUTE. 15

de la Rivière, his general counsellor ; but he was un-
fortunately out of Paris. At every pistol-shot this timid
prince rushed to the windows, without seeing anything
but some flambeaux^ which were carried quickly along.
It was in vain that he was told that the cries he heard
were in his favor ; he did not cease to walk up and
down the apartments, in the greatest disorder, — his long
black hair dishevelled, and his blue eyes open and en-
larged by disquiet and terror. He was still thus when
Montrésor and Fontrailles at length arrived and found
him beating his breast, and repeating a thousand times,
" Meâ culpa, meâ culpa ! "

" Come ! come ! " he exclaimed from a distance, run-
ning to meet them. " Gome ! quick ! What is going on ?
What are they doing there ? Who are these assassins ?
What are these cries ? "

" They cry, * Long live Monsieur ! ' '*
Gaston, without appearing to hear, and holding the
door of his chamber open for an instant, that his voice
might reach the galleries in which were the people of his
household, continued to cry with all his strength, and
gesticulating violently, —

^^ I know nothing of all this, and I have authorized
nothing. I will not hear anything ! I will not know
anything ! 1 will never enter into any project ! These
are rioters who make all this noise ; do not speak to
me of 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 discharge his first fury ;

16 CINQrMARS.

and when all was said, and the door carefully shut, he
began to speak, —

" Monseigneur," said he, " we come to ask jou a thou-
sand pardons for the impertinence of these people, who
will persist in crying out that they desire the death of
your enemy, and that they would even wish to make you
regent if we had the misfortune to lose his Majesty.
Yes, the people are always frank in their discourse ; but
they were so numerous that all our efforts could not
restrain them. It was truly a cry from the heart, — an
explosion of love, which reason could not restrain, and
which escaped all bounds."

"But what has passed, then?" interrupted Gaston,
somewhat, calmed. " What have they been doing these
four hours that I have heard them?"

" That love," said Montrésor, coldly, " as M. de Fon-
trailles had the honor of telling you, so escaped all rule
and bounds, that we ourselves were carried away by
it, and felt seized with that enthusiasm which always
transports us at the mere name of Monsieur, and which
leads us on to things which we had not premeditated."

" But what, then, have you done ? " said the prince.

" Those things," replied Fontrailles, " of which M. de
Montrésor had the honor to speak to Monsieur are pre-
cisely those which I foresaw here yesterday evening,
when I had the honor of conversing with you."

"That is not the question," interrupted Gaston.
^" You cannot say that I have ordered or authorized any-
thing. I meddle with nothing; I know nothing of
government."

" I admit," continued Fontrailles, " that your Highness

THE ÉMEUTE. 17

commanded nothing, but you permitted me to tell jou
that I foresaw that this night would be a troubled one
about two o'clock, and I hoped that your astonishment
would not have been so great."

The prince, recovering himself little by little, and
seeing that he did not alarm the two champions, having
also upon his conscience and reading in their eyes the
recollection of the consent which he had given them the
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 commanding tone, —

" But what, then, have you done ? "

" Why, scarce anything, Monseigneur," said Pon-
trailles. ^^ Chance led us to meet in the crowd some of
our friends who had a quarrel with M. de Ghavigny's
coachman, who was driving over them. A few ani-
mated words ensued and rough gestures, and a few
scratches, which kept M. de Chavigny waiting, and
that's all."

" Absolutely all," repeated Montrésor.

"How, all?" exclaimed Gaston, much moved, and
stamping about the chamber. " And is it, then, nothing
to stop the carriage of a friend of the cardinal-due ? I
do not like such scenes. I have already told you so. I
do not hate the cardinal ; he is certainly a great politi-
cian, a very great politician. You have compromised
me horribly; it is known that Montrésor is with me.
If he has been recognized, they will say that I sent
him."

" Chance," said Montrésor, " threw in my way this
peasant's dress that Monsieur may see under my

VOL. II. — 2

18 CINQ-MARS.

cloak, and which, for that reason, I preferred to anj
other."

Oaston breathed again.

"You are sure, then, that you have not been recog-
nized. You understand, my dear friend, how painful it
would be to me. You must admit yourself — "

" Sure of it ! " exclaimed the prince's gentleman. " I
would stake my head and my share in paradise that no
one has seen my features or called me by my name."

" Well," continued Gaston, again seating himself on
his bed, and assuming a calmer air, in which even a
slight satisfaction was visible, " tell me, then, what has
passed."

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 his peroration he
said, —

" From our windows even. Monseigneur, respectable
mothers of families might have been seen, driven by
despair, throwing their children into the Seine, cursing
Richelieu."

" Ah, 't is dreadful ! " exclaimed the prince, indignant,
or feigning to be so, and to believe in these excesses.
" Is it, then, true that he is so generally detested ? But
we must allow that he deserves it. What ! his ambition
and avarice have, then, reduced to this extremity the
^ood inhabitants of Paris, whom I love so much."

" Yes, Monseigneur," replied the orator. " And here
it is not Paris alone, it is entire Prance, which, with us,
entreats you to decide upon delivering her from this
tyrant. All is ready ; nothing is wanting but a sign

THE ÉMEUTE. 19

from your august head to annihilate this pygmy, who
has attempted to assault the 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
go to their help ; that is to say," continued the prince,
^' so that my dignity is not compromised, and that my
name is not seen at all in the matter."

" Well, but it is precisely that we want," exclaimed
Fontrailles, a little more at his ease.

'^ See, Monseigneur, there are already some names to
put after yours, who will not fear to sign. I will tell
you them immediately, if you wish it."

«But — but," said the Due d'Orléans, fearfully, "do
you know that it is a conspiracy that you propose to me
so simply?^

« Fie, Monseigneur, men of honor like us ! a conspir-
acy ! Oh ! not at all ; a league at the utmost, a slight
combination to give a direction to the unanimous wish
of the nation and the court, — that's all."

« Bat that is not so clear, for after all this affair will
be neither general nor public ; therefore it is a conspir-
acy. You will not avow that you are concerned in it."

« I, Monseigneur ! Excuse me to all the world, since
the kingdom is already in it, and I am of the kingdom.
And who would not sign his name after that of MM. de
Bouillon and Cinq-Mars?"

" After, perhaps, not before," said Gaston, fixing
his eyes upon Fontrailles more keenly than he had
expected.

The latter hesitated a moment.

20 CINQrMARS.

" Well, then, what would Monseigneur do if I told
him the names after which he could sign his?"

^^ Ah, ah ! this is amusing," answered the prince,
laughing ; '' know vou not that above mine there are not
many ? I see but one."

'^And if there be one, will Monseigneur promise to
sign that of Oastoa beneath it ? "

" Ah, parbleu ! with all my heart. I risk nothing
there, for I see none but the king, who surely is not of
the party."

^' Well, from this moment permit us," said Montrésor,
^' to take you at your word, and deign at present to con-
sent to two things only, — to see M. de Bouillon in the
queen's apartments, and Monsieur the master of the
horse at the king's palace."

" Agreed ! " said Monsieur, gayly tapping Montrésor
on the shoulder. " I will to-day wait on my sister-in-law
at her toilet, and I will invite my brother to hunt the
stag with me at Chambord."

The two friends asked nothing further, and were
themselves surprised at their work. They had never
seen so much resolution in their chief. Accordingly,
fearing to lead him to a topic which might divert him
from the path he had adopted, they hastened to turn
the conversation upon other subjects, and retired in
delight, leaving as their last words in his ear that they
relied upon his keeping his promise.

CHAPITER XV.

THE ALCOVE.

Agitez tous leurs sens d'ane rage insensée,
Tamboars, fifre, trompette, ôtez-lear la pensée.

N. Lkmercjer, Pankjfpocrisiade.

While ;a prince was thus reassured with difficulty by
those who surrounded him, and manifested to them a
terror which might have proved contagious, a princess
more exposed to accidents, more isolated by the indif-
ference of her husband, weakened by nature and by the
timidity which is the result of the absence of happiness,
on her side set the example of the calmest courage
and the most pious resignation, and tranquillized her
terrified suite ; it was the queen. Having hardly slept
an hour, she heard shrill cries behind the doors and the
thick tapestries of her chamber. She ordered her
women to open the door, and the Duchesse de Chevreuse,
en cJiemise, and wrapped in a great cloak, fell, nearly
fainting, at the foot of her bed, followed by four of her
ladiea-in-waiting, and three of the women of the bed-

22 CINQ-MARS.

chamber. Her delicate feet were bare, and bleeding
from a wound she had received in running. She cried,
weeping like a child, that a pistol-shot had broken her
shutters and her window-panes, and had wounded her ;
that she entreated the queen to send her into exile,
where she would be more tranquil than in a country
where they wanted to assassinate her because she was
the friend of her Majesty.

Her hair was in great disorder, and fell to her feet.
It was her principal beauty ; and tlie young queen
thought that this toilet was less the result of chance
than might have been imagined.

" Well, ma chère ! 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 me ; tran-
quillize yourself."

" No, Madame ! save me, protect me ! it is this Riche-
lieu who pursues me, I am sure ! "

The sound of pistols, which was then heard more dis-
tinctly, convinced the queen that the terrors of Madame
de Chevreuse were not vain.

" Come and dress me, Madame de Motteville ! " cried
she. But this lady had completely lost her self-posses-
sion, and opening one of those immense ebony coffers
which then answered the purpose of wardrobes, took
from it a casket of the princess's diamonds to save it,
aud did not listen to her. The other women had seen
on a window the reflection of the torches, and imagining
*Uat the palace was on fire, threw jewels, laces, golden

Mses, and even the china, into sheets which they in-

THE ALCOVE. 23

tended to lower into the street. At this moment Ma-
dame de Guémené arrived, a little more dressed than the
Duchesse de Chevrey^e, but taking the thing still more
tragically. Her terror inspired the queen with a slight
degree of fear, because of the ceremonious and tranquil
character she was known to possess. She entered
without courtesying, pale as a spectre, and said with
volubility, —

*^ Madame, it is time to make our confession. The
Louvre is attacked, and all the populace are arriving
from the city, I have been told."

Terror silenced and rendered motionless all the per-
sons present.

** We shall die ! " exclaimed the Duchesse de Chev-
reuse, still on her knees. " Ah, mon Dieu ! why did I
leave England ? Yes, let us confess. I confess aloud.
I have loved — I have been loved by — "

" Well, well," said the queen, " I do not undertake to
hear it to the end. That would not perhaps be the
least of my dangers, of which, however, you think
little."

The sang-froid of Anne of Austria, and this last se-
vere observation, however, restored a little calm to this
beautiful personage, who rose in confusion, and perceiv-
ing the disordered state of her toilet, went to repair it
as she best could in a contiguous closet.

" Dona Stefania," said the queen to one of her women,
the only Spaniard whom she had retained with her, " go
seek the captain of the guards. It is time that I should
see men at last, and hear something reasonable."

She said this in Spanish, and the mystery of this

24 CINQrAîAKS.

order given in a language which the ladies did not
understand, restored those in the chamber to their
senses.

The waiting-woman was telling her beads, but she
rose from the corner of the alcove in which she had
sought refuge, and hastened to obey her mistress.

The signs of the revolt and the symptoms of terror
became meantime more distinct, vin the great court of
the Louvre was heard the trampling of the horses of
the guards, the orders of the chiefs, the rolling of the
queen's carriages, which were being prepared, should it
be necessary to fly. The rattling of the iron chains
dragged along the pavement to form barricades in case
of an attack, hurried steps in the corridor, the clashing
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 door once more opened, and
this time it was to admit a very charming personage.

" I expected you, dear Marie," said the queen, extend-
ing her arms to the Duchesse de Mantua. ^' You have
been more courageous than any of us ; you are attired
fit to be seen by all the court."

" I was not in bed, fortunately," replied the young
Princesse Gonzaga, casting down her eyes. " I saw all
these people from the windows. Oh, Madame, Ma-
dame, fly ! I beseech you to escape by the secret stairs,
and to let 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. Ply, Madame ! I have
no throne to lose. You are the daughter, the wife, and
mother of kings. Save yourself, and leave us here ! "

THE alcove: 26

*' You have more to lose than I have, mon amie^ in
beauty, youth, and, I hope, in happiness," said the queen,
with a gracious smile, giving her her beautiful hands to
kiss. " Remain in my alcove and welcome ; but we will
both remain there. The only service I accept from
you, belle er^ant^ is to bring me here to my bed that
little golden casket which my poor Motteville has left on
the ground, and which contains all that I have most
precious."

Then, in taking it, she added in Marie's ear, —

^^ If any misfortune should happen to me, swear that
you will throw it into the Seine."

"I will obey you, Madame, as my benefactress and
my second mother," she answered, weeping.

The noise of the combat redoubled on the quays, and
the chamber windows often reflected the flashes of the
fire-arms, of which they heard the explosion. The cap-
tain of the guards and the captain of the Swiss sent for
orders through Dona Stefania.

" I permit them to enter," said the princess. " Stand
aside, ladies. I am a man in a moment like this ; and I
ought to be so." Then raising the bed-curtains, she
continued, addressing the two officers, —

" Grentlemeu, first remember that you answer with
your heads for the life of the princes, my children. You
know that, M. de Guitaut?"

" I sleep across their doorway, Madame; but this move-
ment does not threaten either them or your Majesty."

"'Tis well; do not think of me until after them,"
interrupted the queen, " and protect indiscriminately all
those who are threatened. You also hear me, M. de

26 . CINQ-MARS.

Bassompierre ; yon are a gentleman. Forget that your
uncle is yet 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 ac-
cent, "may see that I have forgotten my family, and
not yours." And he displayed his left hand despoiled
of two fingers, which had just been cut off. "I have
still another hand," said he, bowing, and withdrawing
with Guitaut.

The queen, much moved, rose immediately, and de-
spite the prayers of the Princesse de Guémené, the
tears of Marie de Gonzaga, and the cries of Madame de
Chevreuse, insisted upon placing herself at the window,
and half opened it, leaning upon the shoulder of the
Duchesse de Mantua.

"What do I hear?" she said. "They are crying
* Long live the king ! Long live the queen ! ' "

The people, imagining they recognized her, redoubled
their cries at this moment, and shouted louder than ever,
" Down with the cardinal ! Long live M. le Grand ! "

Marie shuddered.

" What is the matter with you ? " said the queen,
observing her. But as she did not answer, and trembled
in every limb, this good and gentle princess appeared
not to perceive it; and paying the greatest attention
to the cries and movements of the populace, she even
exaggerated an inquietude which she had not felt since
the first name had reached her ear. An hour after,
when they came to tell her that the crowd only awaited
a sign from her hand to withdraw, she waved it gra-

^lip

..I

• ■ • ill'.

■.Ici

iter.

THE ALCOVE

T-'S -.ih'h' YORK
PUBLIC LIBRARY

iSTOH LfMOX

THE ALCOVE. 27

cionslj, and with an air of satisfaction. Bat this joy was
far from being complete, for her heai*t was still troubled
by many things, and, above all, by the presentiment of
the regency. The more she leaned forward to show her-
self, the more she beheld the revolting scenes which
the increasing light exhibited. Terror took possession
of her soul as it became necessary to appear calm and
confiding; and her heart was saddened at the very
gayety of her words and countenance. Exposed to
all eyes, she felt herself a woman, and shuddered in
looking at that people whom she would soon perhaps
have to govern, and who already took upon themselves
to demand the death of ministers, and to call upon
their queen to appear before them.

She saluted them.

A hundred and fifty years after, that salute was re-
peated by another princess, like herself of Austrian
blood, and Queen of Prance. The monarchy without
basis, such as Richelieu made it, was born and died
between these two salutes.

The princess at last closed her windows, and hastened
to dismiss her timid suite. The thick curtains fell
again over the barred windows ; and the chamber was
no longer lighted by a day which was odious to her.
Large white wax flambeaux burned in candelabra, in
the form of golden arms, which stood out from the
framed and flowered tapestries with which the walls
were covered. She remained alone with Marie de
Mantua ; and re-entering with her the enclosure which
was formed by the royal balustrade, she fell in a reclin-
ing posture upon her bed, fatigued by her courage and

28 CINQ-MARS.

her smiles, and burst into tears, her head supported by
her pillow. Marie, on her knees upon a velvet footstool,
held one of her hands in both hers, and without daring
to speak first, leaned her head tremblingly upon it ; for
until that moment, a tear had never been seen in the
queen's eyes.

They remained thus for some minutes. The princess,
then raising herself up by a painful effort, spoke, —

" Do not afflict yourself, my child ; let me weep. T is
such a relief to one who reigns! If you pray to God
for me, ask him to grant me sufficient strength not to
hate the enemy who pursues me everywhere, and who
will destroy the royal family of Prance and the mon-
archy by his measureless ambition. I recognize him in
all that has just taken place ; I see him in this tumult-
uous revolt."

" What, Madame ! is he not at Narbonne ? — for it is
the cardinal of whom you speak, no doubt; and have
you not heard that these cries were for vou, and against
him?"

" Yes, mon amie, he is three hundred leagues away
from us, but his fatal genius watches at the door. If
these cries have been heard, it is because he has allowed
them ; if these men were assembled, it is because they
have not yet reached the hour which he has destined for
their destruction. Believe me, I know him ; and I have
dearly paid for the knowledge of that dark soul. It has
cost me all the power of my rank, the pleasures of my
age, the affections of my family, and even the heart
of my husband. He has isolated me from the whole
world. He now confines me within a barrier of honors

THE ALCOVE. 29

and respect ; and formerly he dared, to the scandal of
all France, to bring an accusation against myself. They
examined my papers, they interrogated me, they made
me sign myself guilty, and ask the king's pardon for a
fault of which I was ignorant ; and I owed to the devo-
tion, and the perhaps eternal imprisonment of a faithful
servant,^ the preservation of this casket which you have
saved for me. I read in your looks that you think me
too fearful ; but do not deceive yourself as all the court
now does. Be sure, my dear child, that this man is
everywhere, and that he knows even our thoughts."

" What, Madame ! does he know all that these men
have cried under your windows, and the names of those
who sent them ? "

" Yes ; no doubt he knows it, or has foreseen it. He
permits it; he authorizes it to compromise me in the
king's eyes, and keep him eternally separated 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 open features of the beautiful Marie,
and her look, full of candor, which was languidly raised
towards her. She smoothed back the black ringlets
which shaded her noble forehead, and seemed to rest
her eyes and her soul in looking at that charming inno-
cence displayed upon so lovely a face. She kissed her
cheek, and resumed, —

1 He was called Laporte. Neither the fear of torture nor the hope
of the cardinars gold coald draw from him one word of the queen's
secrets.

so CINQ-MARS,

" You do not suspect, my poor girl, a sad truth. It is
that the king loves no one, and that those who appear
the most in favor will be the soonest abandoned by him,
and thrown to him who engulfs and devours all."

" Ah, man Dieu ! what is this you tell me ? "

" Know you how many he has destroyed ? " continued
the queen, in a low voice, and looking into her eyes as if
to read in them all her thoughts, and to make her own
penetrate there. " Know you the end of his favorites ?
Have you been told of the exile of Baradas ; of that
of Saint-Simon; of the convent of Mademoiselle de la
Fayette, the shame of Madame d'Hautfort, the death of
Chalais ? All have fallen before an order from Riche-
lieu to his master. Without this favor, which you mis-
take for friendship, their life would have been peaceful.
But this favor is mortal ; it is a poison. Look at this
tapestry which represents Sémélé. The favorites of
Louis Xin. resemble that woman ; his attachment de-
vours like this fire, which dazzles and consumes her."

But the young duchesse was no longer in a condition
to listen to the queen. She continued to fix her large
dark eyes upon her, dimmed by a veil of tears; her
hands trembled in those of Anne of Austria, and her
lips quivered with convulsive agitation.

" I am very cruel, am I not, Marie ? " continued the
queen, in an extremely sweet voice, and caressing her
like a child from whom one would draw an avowal.
'* Oh, yes ; no doubt I am very wicked ! Your heart is
full ; you cannot bear it, my child. Come, tell me ; how
stands it with you and M. de Cinq-Mars?"

At this word grief found a passage, and still on her

THE ALCOVE, 31

knees at the queen's feet, Marie in her turn shed upon
the hosom of the good princess a deluge of tears, with
childish sobs and so violent an agitation of her head and
her fine shoulders that it seemed as though her heart
would break. The queen waited a long time for the
end of this first movement, rocking her in her arms as
if to appease her grief, frequently repeating, "My child,
my child, do not afflict yourself thus ! "

" Ah, Madame ! " she exclaimed, " I have been guilty
towards you; but I did not reckon upon that heart.
I have done wrong, and I shall perhaps be punished
severely for it. But, alas ! how shall I venture to speak
to you, Madame ? It was not so much to open my heart
to you that was difficult ; it was to avow to you that I
had need to read there myself."

The queen considered a moment as if to reflect;
placing her finger upon her lips, "You are right,"
she then replied ; " you are quite right. Marie, it is
always the first word which is the most difficult to
say ; and that difficulty often destroys us. But it must
be so ; and without this tenacity one would be often
wanting in dignity. Ah, how difficult it is to reign !
Here I would descend into your heart, but I come
too late to do you good."

Marie de Mantua hung her head without making any
answer.

"Must I encourage you to speak?" said the queen.
" Must I remind you that I have almost adopted you for
my eldest daughter ; that after having sought to unite
you with the king's brother, I prepared for you the
throne of Poland ? Must I do more, Marie ? Yes, I

32 CINQrMARS.

must, I will. If afterwards you do not bare your whole
heart to me, I have misjudged you. Open this golden
casket ; here is the key. Open it fearlessly ; do not
tremble as I do."

The Duchesse de Mantua obeyed with hesitation, and
beheld in this little chased coffer a knife of rude form,
the handle of which was of iron, and the blade very
rusty. It lay upon some letters carefully folded, upon
which was the name of Buckingham. She would have
lifted them up; Anne of Austria stopped her.

"Seek nothing further," she said; "that is all the
treasure of the queen. And it is one; for it is the
blood of a man who lives no longer, but who lived for
me. He was the most beautiful, the bravest, the most
illustrious of the nobles of Europe. He covered himself
with the diamonds of the English crown to please me.
He raised up a fierce war and armed fleets, which he
himself commanded, that he might have the happiness
of once fighting him who was my husband. He trav-
ersed the seas to gather a flower upon which I had trod,
and ran the risk of death to kiss and bathe with his
tears the foot of this bed in the presence of two of
my ladies-in-waiting. Shall I say more ? Yes, I will
say it to you, — I loved him. I love him still in the
past more than I could love him in the present. He
never knew it, never divined it. This face, these eyes
were marble towards him, while my heart burned and
was breaking with grief ; but I was the Queen of
France ! " Here Anne of Austria forcibly grasped
Marie's arm. " Dare now to complain," she continued,
" if you have not yet ventured to speak to me of your

THE ALCOVE. 83

love, and dare now to be silent when I have told you
these things ! "

^^ Ah, yes, Madame, I shall dare to confide my grief to
yon, since you are to 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 am a woman
by a love which survives the man I loved. Speak ; tell
me ! It Is now time."

*' It is too late, on the contrary," replied Marie, with a
forced smile. '^ M. de Cinq-Mars and myself are imited
forever."

"Forever!" exclaimed the queen. "Can you mean
it? And your rank, your name, your future, — is all
lost? Do you reserve this despair for your brother,
the Due de Bethel, and all the Gonzagas?"

" For more than four years I have thought of it. I
am resolved ; and for ten days we have been affianced."

" Affianced ! " exclaimed the queen, clasping her
hands. " You have been deceived, Marie. Who would
have dared this without the king's order? It is an
intrigue which I will know. I am sure that you have
been misled and deceived."

Marie hesitated a moment, and then said, —

" Nothing was more simple, Madame, than our attach-
ment. I inhabited, you know, the old château of Chau-
mont, with the Maréchale d'Effiat, the mother of M. de
Cinq-Mars. I had retired there to weep for the death of
my father ; and it soon happened that he had to deplore
the loss of his. In this numerous afflicted family, I saw
his grief only, which was as profound as mine. All that
VOL. II. — s

84 CINQ-MARS.

he said, I had already thought, and when we spoke of
our afflictions we found them wholly alike. As I had
been the first to suffer, I was better acquainted with
sorrow than he; and I endeavored to console him by
telling him all that I had suffered, so that in pitying
me he forgot himself. This was the commencement of
our love, which, as you see, took its birth, as it were,
between two tombs."

^^ God grant, ma chère, that it may have a happy ter-
mination!" said the queen.

" I hope so, Madame, since you pray for me," contin-
ued Marie. " Besides, everything now smiles upon me ;
but at that time I was very miserable. The news ar-
rived one day at the château that the cardinal had called
M. de Cinq-Mars to the army. It seemed to me that I was
again deprived of one of my relatives ; and yet we were
strangers. But M. de Bassompierre spoke without ceas-
ing of battles and death. I retired every evening in
grief, and I wept during the night. I at first thought
that my tears flowed for the past, but I soon perceived
that it was for the future ; and I felt that they could not
be the same tears, since I wished to conceal them.
Some time passed in the expectation of his departure.
I saw him every day ; and I pitied him for having to de-
part, because he repeated to me every instant that he
would have wished to live eternally as he then did, in
his country and with us. He was thus without ambi-
tion until the day of his departure, because he knew not
whether he was — whether he was — "

Marie blushed, cast down her humid eyes, and
smiled.

THE ALCOVE. 86

" Well ! " said the queen, " whether he was beloved,
— is it not 80 ? "

*^ And in the evening, Madame, he left, ambitious."

" That is evident, certainly. He left," said Anne of
Austria, somewhat relieved ; " but he has been back two
years, and you have seen him?"

" Seldom, Madame," said the young duchesse, proudly ;
" and always in the presence of the priest, before whom
I have promised to be the wife of no other than Cinq-
Mars."

" Is it really, then, a marriage ? Have they dared to
do it ? I shall inquire. But, Heaven, what faults ! how
many faults in the few words I have heard ! Let me
reflect upon them."

And speaking aloud to herself, the queen continued,
her eyes and head bent down in the attitude of reflection :

^^ Reproaches are useless and cruel if the evil is done.
The past is no longer ours ; let us think of the future.
Cinq-Mars is brave, able, and even profound in his ideas.
I have observed that he has made a great way in two
years, and I now see that it was for Marie. He com-
ports himself well ; he is worthy of her in my eyes, but
not so in the eyes of Europe. He must rise yet higher.
The Princesse de Mantua cannot, may not marry less
than a prince. He must become one. Of myself I can
do nothing; I am not the queen, I am the neglected
wife of the king. There is only the cardinal, the eter-
nal cardinal, and he is his enemy ; and periiaps this
disturbance — "

" Alas ! it is the commencement of the war between
them. I saw it at once."

86 CINQ-MARS.

" He is then lost ! " exclaimed the queen, embracing
Marie. "-Pardon, my child, for thus afflicting you ; but
in times like these we must see all and say all. Yes,
he is lost if he does not himself overthrow this wicked
man, — for the king will not renounce him; force
alone — *'

" He will overthrow him, Madame. He will do it, if
you assist him. You are the divinity of Prance, Oh,
I conjure you, protect the angel against the demon ! It
is your cause, that of your royal family, that of all your
nation."

The queen smiled.

" It is, above all, your cause, my child ; and it is as
such that I will embrace it to the utmost extent of my
power. It is not great, I have 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," added she,
with a meaning look. " I heard his name pronounced
this night by voices 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 learned enough in them. Let me sleep, if I
can, before the hour of my toilet. My eyes are burning,
and yours also, perhaps."

Saying these words, the amiable queen reclined her
head upon the pillow which covered the casket, and soon
Marie saw her fall asleep through utter fatigue. She
then rose, and seating herself in a great tapestried
square armchair, joined her hands upon her knees, and
began to reflect upon her painful situation. Consoled

THE ALCOVE. 87

by the aspect of her gentle protectress, she often raised
her eyes to watch her slumber, and sent her in secret
all the blessings which love ever showers upon those
who protect it* sometimes kissing the tresses of her
blond hair, as if by this kiss she could convey to her
soul all the ideas favorable to the thought ever present
to her mind.

The queen's slumber was prolonged, while Marie
thought and wept. However, she remembered that at
t«n o'clock she must appear at the royal toilet before all
Ae court. She resolved to cast aside reflection, to dry
her tears, and took a thick folio volume placed upon a table
inlaid with enamel and medallions ; it was the ^^ Astrée "
of M. d'Urfé, — a work de belle galanterie adored
by the fair prudes of the court. The unsophisticated
and straightforward mind of Marie could not enter into
these pastoral loves. She was too simple to understand
the " bergers du Lignon," too clever to be pleased at their
discourse, and too impassioned to feel their tenderness.
However, the great vogue of the romance so far influ-
enced her that she sought to compel herself to take an
interest in it ; and accusing herself internally every time
that she felt the ennui which exhaled from the pages of
the book, she ran through it with impatience to And
something to please and transport her. An engraving
arrested her attention. It represented the shepherdess
Astrée with high-heeled shoes, a corset, and an immense
vertugadin, raising herself upon her toe to watch float-
ing down the river the tender Celadon, drowning him-
self in despair at having been somewhat coldly received
in the morning. Without explaining to herself the

88 CINQrMARS.

reason of the taste and aecumulated fallacies of this
picture, she sought, in turning over the pages, a word
which could fix her attention ; she saw that of " Druid."

" Ah ! here is a great character," said she. " I shall
no doubt see one of those mysterious sacrificers of
whom Britain, I am told, still preserves the raised
monuments ; but I shall see him sacrificing men. That
would be a spectacle of horror ; however, let us read it."

Saying this, Marie read with repugnance, knitting her
brows, and nearly trembling, the following : —

^^ The Dmid Adamas delicately called the shepherds
Pimandre, Ligdamont, and Clidamant, newly arrived from
Calais. ^ This adventure cannot terminate/ said he, ^ but
by the extremity of love. The soul, when it loves, trans-
forms itself into the object beloved ; itf is to represent this that
my agreeable enchantments will show 3'ou in this fountain
the nymph Sylvia, whom you all three love. The high-
pnest 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 faintings similar to those of Celadon, and the
shepherdess Galatea, whom the inconstant Hercules aban-
doned iu the mountains of Auvergne, and who gave her
name to the tender country' of the Gauls; or you wOl be
stoned by the shepherdesses of Lignon, as was the fero-
cious Amidor. The great nymph of this cave has made an
enchantment.' "

The enchantment of the great nymph was complete
on the princess, who had scarcely sufficient strength to
find out with a trembling hand, towards the end of the
book, that the Druid Adamas was an inffenious allegort/y

THE ALCOVE.

figuring the lieutenant-general of Montbrison, of the
family of the Papons. Her weary eyes closed, and the
great book slipped from her dress to the cushion of vel-
vet upon which her feet were placed, and where the
beautiful Astrèe and the gallant Celadon reposed luxu-
riously, less immovable than Marie de Mantua, van-
quished by them and by profound sleep.

CHAPTER XVI.

THE CONFUSION.

Saint Jacques Major, Esse point moy ?

Saint Jehan. Ou moy aoBsi ?

Saint Pierre, On moy qui suis icy assis 1

Saint Andre, Esse moy ?

Saint Simon. Suis-je point celay ?

Saint Jude, Esse point moy ?

Saint Thomas. On moi aossi ?

Ancien Mystère,

During this same morning, the various circumstances
of which we have seen in the apartments of Gaston
d'Orléans and of the queen, the calm and silence of
study reigned in a modest cabinet of a large house near
the Palais de Justice. A bronze lamp, of a gothic
shape, struggling with the coming day, threw its red
light upon a mass of papers and books which covered
a large table ; it lighted the bust of L'Hospital, that of
Montaigne, of the historian the President de Thou, and
of King Louis XIII. A chimney sufficiently vast for a
man to enter, and even to sit there, was occupied by a
large fire burning upon enormous andirons. Upon one

THE CONFUSION, 41

of these was placed the foot of the studious De Thou,
who, already risen, examined with attention the new
works of Descartes and Grotius. He was writing upon
his knee his notes upon these books of philosophy and
politics, which were then the general subjects of conver-
sation ; but at this moment, the ^^ Méditations Méta-
physiques " absorbed all his attention. The philosopher
of Touraine enchanted the young counsellor. Often,
in his enthusiasm, he struck upon the book, uttering
exclamations of admiration ; sometimes he took a sphere
placed near him, and turning it some time with his fin-
gers, abandoned himself to the most profound reveries of
science ; then led by them to a still greater elevation of
mind, he would suddenly throw himself upon his knees
before a crucifix, placed upon the chimney-piece, because
at the limits of the human mind he had found God. At
other times he buried himself in his great armchair, so
as to be nearly sitting upon his shoulders, and placing
his two hands upon his eyes, followed in his head the
trace of the reasoning of René Descartes, from this idea
of the first meditation —

^' Suppose that we are asleep, and that all these particu-
larities — namely, that we open our eyes, move our heads,
spread our arms — are nothing but false illusions " —

to this sublime conclusion of the third : —

^^ There remains only one thing 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 placed in me this idea, to be, as it were, the mark of the
workman impressed upon his work."

42 CINQrMARS.

These thoughts entirely occupied the mind of the
young counsellor, when a loud noise was heard, under
the windows. He thought that some house on fire
excited these prolonged cries, and hastened to look to-
wards the wing of the building occupied by his mother
and sisters; but all appeared to sleep there, and the
chimneys did not even send forth any smoke, to attest
that its inhabitants were even awake. He blessed
Heaven for it ; and running to another window, he saw
the people, whose exploits we have witnessed, hasten-
ing towards the narrow streets which led to the quay.
After having examined this rabble rout of women and
children, the ridiculous flag which led them, and the
rude disguises of the men, ^' It is some popular fête
or some carnival comedy," said he ; and again return-
ing to the corner of the fire, he placed a large almanac
upon the table, and carefully sought in it what saint
was feted that day. He looked in the column t)f the
month of December ; and finding at the fourth day of
this month the name of Saint Barbe, he remembered
that he had seen several small cannons and barrels pass,
and perfectly satisfied with the explanation which he
had given himself, hastened to drive away the inter-
ruption which had called off his attention, and resumed
his gentle studies, rising only sometimes to take a book
from the shelves of his library, and, after having read
in it a phrase, a line, or only a word, threw it from him
upon his table or on the floor, covered in this way with
books or papers which he would not occupy himself in
returning to their places, lest he should break the
thread of his reveries.

THE CONFUSION, 48

All at once the door was hastily opened, and a name
was announced which he had distinguished among those
at the bar, — ^a man whom his connections with the
magistracy had made personally known to him.

** And by what chance, at five o'clock in the morning,
do T see M. Fournier?" he cried. "Are there some
unfortunates to defend, some families to be supported
by the fruits of his talent, some error to dissipate in us,
some virtue to awaken in our hearts ? for these are of
his accustomed works. You come, perhaps, to inform
me of some fresh humiliation of our parliament. Alas !
the secret chambers of the Arsenal are more powerful
than the ancient magistracy of Glovis. The parliament
is on its knees ; all is lost, unless it is directly filled with
men like yourself."

" Monsieur, I do not merit your praise," said the
advocate, entering, accompanied by a grave and aged
man, enveloped like himself in a large cloak. "I
deserve, on the contrary, your censure ; and I am
almost a penitent, as is M. le Comte du Lude whom
you see here. We come to ask an asylum for the
day."

" An asylum ! and against whom ? " said De Thou,
making them sit down.

"Against the lowest people in Paris, who will have
us for chiefs, and from whom we fly. 'T is odious ; the
sight, the smell, the ear, and the touch, above all, are
too severely wounded by it," said M. du Lude, with a
comical gravity. " It is too much ! "

" Ah ! too much, you say ? " said De Thou, very much
astonished, but not willing to show it

44 CINQ-MARS.

" Yes," answered the advocate ; " really, between our-
selves, M. le Grand goes too far."

'^ Yes, he advances things too fast. He will render
all our projects abortive," added his companion.

" Ah ! and you say he goes too far ? " replied M. do
Thou, rubbing his chin, more and more surprised.

It was three months since his friend Cinq-Mars had
been to see him ; and he, without feeling much dis-
quieted about it, — knowing that he was at St. Germain
in high favor, and never quitting the king, — was far re-
moved from the news of the court. Given up to his
grave studies, he never heard of public events till they
were forced upon his attention. He knew nothing of
current life until the last moment, and often amused his
intimate friends by his naïve astonishment, — the more
so that from a little worldly vanity he desired to have
it appear as though he were fully acquainted with the
course of events, and tried to conceal the surprise he
experienced at every fresh intelligence. He was now
in this situation, and to this vanity was added the feel-
ing of friendship; he would not have it supposed that
Cinq-Mars had been negligent towards him, and, for
his friend's honor even, would appear to be informed
of his projects.

"You know very well how far we have proceeded,"
continued the advocate.

« Yes, of course. Well ? "

" Intimate as you are with him, you cannot be igno-
rant that all has been organizing for a year past."

" Certainly, all has been organizing ; but proceed."

"You will admit with us that M. le Grand is wrong ?"

THE CONFUSION. 45

^ Ah, 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 which he informed you ? "

*' Ah ! that is to say — pardon me, I perceive it
nearly ; but set me a little upon the track."

" 'T is useless ; you no doubt remember what he him-
self recommended us to do 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 in-
fringed this agreement; for this morning, besides the
ragamuffins whom that ferret the Abbé de Gondi brought
to us, there was some vagabond captain, who during the
night struck with sword and poniard gentlemen of both
parties, crying out at the top of his voice, * A moi,
D' Au bijoux ! Tou gained three thousand ducats from
me ; here are three sword-thrusts for you. À moi, La
Chapelle! I will have ten drops of your blood in ex-
change for my ten pistoles ! ' and I myself saw him
attack these gentlemen and many more of both sides,
loyally enough, it is true, — for he only struck them in
front and on their guard, — but with great success, and
with a most revolting impartiality."

" Yes, Monsieur, and I was going to tell him my opin-
ion," interposed Du Lude, " when I saw him escape
through the crowd like a squirrel, laughing greatly with
some ill-looking men with dark swarthy faces ; I do not
doubt, however, that M. de Cinq-Mars sent him, for he
gave orders to that Ambrosio whom you must know, —

46 CINQ-MARS.

that Spanish prisoner, that rascal whom he has taken
for a servant. In faith, I am disgusted with all this ;
and I was not born to be mixed up with this canaille."

" This, sir," replied Fournier, " is very different from
the affair at Loudun. There the people only rose, with-
out actually revolting ; it was the sensible and estimable
part of the populace, indignant at an assassination, and
not heated by wine and money. It was a cry raised
against an executioner, — a cry of which one could be the
honorable organ, — and not these bowlings of factious
hypocrisy, of a mass of unknown people, the dregs of
the mud and sewers of Paris. I confess that I am very
tired of what I see ; and I have come to entreat you to
speak about it to M. le Grand."

De Thou was very much embarrassed during this con-
versation, and sought in vain to understand what Cinq-
Mars could have to do with the people, who appeared to
him merely merry-making ; on the other hand, he per-
sisted in not owning his ignorance. It was, however,
entire ; for the last time he had seen his friend, he had
spoken only of the king's horses and stables, of hawking,
and of the importance of the king's huntsmen in the
affairs of the State, which did not seem to announce vast
projects in which the people could take a part. He at
last timidly ventured to say, —

" Messieurs, I promise to do your commission ; mean-
while, I offer you my table and beds as long as you
please. But to give my advice in this matter is very
difficult. By the way, it was not the fête of Saint Barbe
I saw this morning ? "

" The Saint Barbe ! " said Fournier.

THE CONFUSION. 47

" The Saint Barbe ! " echoed D u Lude. " They burned
powder."

" Oh, yes, yes ! that is what M. de Thou means," said
Foumier, laughing ; " very good, very good indeed !
Yes, I think to-day is Saint Barbe."

De Thou was now altogether confused and reduced to
silence ; as for the others, seeing that they did not under-
stand him, nor he them, they had recourse to silence.

They were sitting thus mute, when the door opened to
admit the old tutor of Cinq-Mars, the Abbé Quillet, who
entered, limping somewhat. He looked very gloomy,
retaining none of his former gayety in his air or lan-
guage ; but his look was still animated, and his speech
energetic.

^' Pardon me, my dear De Thou, that I so early de-
range you in your occupations ; it is strange, is it not,
in a gouty invalid ? Ah, time advances ; two years ago
I did not limp. I was, on the contrary, nimble enough
at the time of my journey to Italy ; but then fear gives
legs as well as wings."

Then going into the recess of a window, he signed De
Thou to come to him.

" I need hardly remind you, my friend, who are in
their secrets, that I affianced them a fortnight ago, as
they have told you."

" Ah, indeed ! whom ? " exclaimed poor De Thou,
fallen from the Chjirybdis into the Scylla of
astonishment.

" Come, come, don't affect surprise ; you know very
well whom," continued the abbé. " But, faith, I fear I
have been too complying with them, though these two

48 CINQ-MARS.

children are really interesting in their love. I fear for
him more than for her ; I doubt not he is acting very
foolishly, judging from the disturbance this morning.
We must consult together about it."

" But," said De Thou, very gravely, " upon my honor,
I do not know what you mean. Who is acting
foolishly ? "

" Now, my dear sir, will you still play the mysterious
with me ? It is really insulting," said the worthy man,
beginning to be angry.

"No, indeed, I mean it not; whom have you
affianced?"

" Again ! fie, sir ! "

" And what was the disturbance this morning ? "

" You are mocking me ! I take my leave," said the
abbé, rising.

" I vow that I understand not a word of all that has
been told me to-day. Do you mean M. de Cinq-Mars ? "

" Very well, sir, very well ! you treat me as a Cardi-
nalist ; very well, we part," said the Abbé Quillet, now
altogether furious. And he snatched up his crutch and
quitted the room hastily, without listening to 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 the stairs in the hearing of his servants, and
could not explain the matter otherwise. He had the
annoyance of seeing the old abbé depart, still in a pas-
sion ; he called out to him amicably, " To-morrow," as
the coachman drove off, but got no answer.

It was, however, not uselessly that he had descended
to the foot of the stairs, for he saw thence hideous groups

THE CONFUSION, 49

of the mob returning from the Louvre, and was thus
better able to judge of the importance of their move-
ments in the morning ; he heard rude voices exclaiming,
as in triumph, —

" She showed herself, however, the little queen ! " —
" Long live the good Due de Bouillon, who is coming to
us ! He 's got a hundred thousand men with him, all on
rafts on the Seine. The old Cardinal de la Rochelle is
dead ! Long live the king ! Long live M. le Grand ! "

The cries redoubled at the arrival of a carriage and
four, with the royal livery, which stopped at the counsel-
lor's door, and in which De Thou recognized the equi-
page of Cinq-Mars ; Ambrosio alighted to open the ample
curtains, which the carriages of that period had for doors.
The people threw themselves between the carriage-steps
and the door of the house, so that Cinq-Mars had an
absolute struggle ere he could get out and disengage
himself from the market-women, who sought to embrace
him, vociferating, —

" Here you are, then, my duck, my dear ! Here you
are, my pet! Ah, how handsome he is, the love, with
his big collar ! Is n't he worth half a dozen of the other
fellow with the white mustache? Come, my son, bring
us out some good wine this morning."

Henri d'EflSat pressed, blushing deeply the while, his
friend's hand, who hastened to have his doors closed.

" This popular favor is a cup one must drink," said
he, as they ascended the stairs.

" It appears to me," replied De Thou, gravely, " that
you drink it even to the very dregs.".

" I will explain all this clamorous affair to you," an-

VOL. II. — 4

60 UNQrMARS.

Bwered Cinq-Mars, somewhat embarrassed. " At pres-
ent, if you love me, dress yourself to accompany me to
the queen's toilet."

"I promised you blind adherence," said the coun-
sellor; "but truly I cannot keep my eyes shut much
longer, if — "

" Once again, I will give you a full explanation as we
return from the queen. But make haste ; it is nearly
ten o'clock."

" Well, I will go with you," replied De Thou, conduct-
ing him into his cabinet, where were the Comte du Lude
and Foumier, while he himself passed into his dressing-
room.

CHAPTER XVn.

THE TOILET.

Qu'il est doux d 'être belle alors qu'on est aimée.

Delphine Gat.

The grand ëcuyer's carriage rolled rapidly towards the
Louvre, when, closing the curtain, he took his friend's
hand, and said to him with emotion, —

" Dear De Thou, I have kept great secrets in my
heart, and believe me, they have sat heavily there ; but
two fears impelled me to silence, — that of your danger,
and — shall I say it ? — that of your counsels."

" Yet you well know," replied De Thou, " that I de-
spise the first ; and I thought that you did not despise
the second."

" No, but I feared them ; I still fear them. I would
not be stopped. Do not speak, my friend ; not a word,
I conjure you, before you have heard and seen all that
is about to take place. 1 will go back with you to your
house on quitting the Louvre ; there I will listen to you,
and thence I shall go to continue my work, for nothing

52 CINQ-MARS.

will shake my resolution, I warn you. I have just said
so to the gentlemen at your house."

Cinq-Mars had in his accent nothing of the rudeness
which might be implied from his words. His voice was
conciliatory, his look gentle, amiable, affectionate, his
air as tranquil as it was determined. There was no in-
dication of the slightest effort over himself. De Thou
remarked it, and sighed.

As he descended from the carriage with him, he fol-
lowed him up the great staircase of the Louvre. When
they entered the queen's apartment, announced by two
ushers dressed in black and bearing ebony rods, she was
seated at her toilet. This was a sort of table of black
wood, inlaid with tortoise-shell, mother-of-pearl, and
brass, in an infinity of designs of very bad taste, but
which give to all this sort of furniture an air of gran-
deur which we still admire in it. A mirror, rounded at
the top, which the ladies of our time would consider
small and insignificant, stood in the middle of the table,
with 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, lightly touched her beautiful
blond hair with a comb, as if finishing the queen's coif-
fure, which, however, was already perfectly arranged
and decorated with pearls. Her long tresses, though
light, were exquisitely glossy, manifesting that to the
touch they must be fine and soft as silk. The daylight
fell without a shade upon her forehead, which had no
reason to dread the test, itself reflecting an almost equal

THE TOILET. 63

light from its surpassing fairness, which the queen was
pleased thus to display. Her blue eyes, blended with
green, were large and regular, and her vermilion mouth
had that under-lip of the princesses of Austria, some-
what prominent and slightly cleft, in the form of a
cherry, which may still be marked in all the female
portraits of this time, whose painters seemed to have
aimed at imitating the queen's mouth, in order to please
the 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 was even fixed by an edict,
set ofif the ivory of her arms, bare to the elbow, and
ornamented with a profusion of lace, which flowed from
her loose sleeves. Large pearls hung in her ears and
from her girdle. Such was the appearance of the queen
at this moment. At her feet, upon two velvet cushions,
a boy of four years old was playing with a little cannon,
which he was assiduously breaking in pieces. This was
the dauphin, afterwards Louis XIV. The Duchesse
Marie de Gonzaga was seated on her right hand upon a
stool. The Princesse de Gueméné, the Duchesse de
Chevreuse, and Mademoiselle de Montbazon, Mesdemoi-
selles de Guise, de Rohan, and de Vendôme, ail beauti-
ful and brilliant in youth, were behind^ her, standing.
In the recess of a window, Monsieur, his hat under his
arm, was talking in a low voice with a man, stout, with
a red face and a steady and daring eye. This was the
Due de Bouillon. An officer of about twenty-five years
old, well-formed, and of agreeable features, had just
given several papers to the prince, which the Due de
Bouillon appeared to be explaining to him.

54 CINQ-MARS.

De Thou, after having saluted the queen, who said a
few words to him, approached the Princesse de Gueméné,
and conversed with her in an undertone, with an air of
affectionate intimacy, but all the while intent upon his
friend's interest ; and secretly trembling lest he should
have confided his destiny to a being less worthy of him
than he wished, he examined the Princesse Marie with
the scrupulous attention, the scrutinizing eye of a mother
examining the woman whom her son has selected for
his bride, — for he thought that Marie could not be al-
together a stranger to the enterprise of Cinq-Mars. He
saw with dissatisfaction that her dress, which was ex-
tremely elegant, appeared to inspire her with more
vanity than became her on such an occasion. She was
incessantly rearranging upon her forehead and her hair
the rubies which ornamented her head, and which
scarcely equalled the brilliancy and animated color of
her complexion. She looked frequently at Cinq- Mars ;
but it was rather the look of coquetry than that of love,
and her eyes often glanced towards the mirror on the
toilet, in which she watched the symmetry of her beauty.
These observations of the counsellor began to persuade
him that he was mistaken in imagining her to be the bride
of Cinq-Mars, especially when he saw that she seemed
to have a pleasure in sitting at the queen's side, while
the duchesses stood behind her, and that she often looked
haughtily at them.

" In that heart of nineteen," said he, " love, were
there love, would reign alone and above all to-day. It
is not she ! "

The queen made an almost imperceptible movement

THE TOILET. 66

of the head to Madame de Gueméné. After the two
friends had spoken a moment with each person present,
and at this sign, all the ladies except Marie de Gonzaga,
making profound courtesies, quitted the apartment with-
out speaking, as if 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 consult upon what I have already told you.
The Princesse Marie will not be in the way. I begged
her to remain. We have no interruption to apprehend."

The queen seemed more at ease in her manner and
language; and no longer preserving her severe and
ceremonious immobility, she signed to the other persons
present to approach her.

Gaston d'Orléans, somewhat alarmed at this solemn
opening, came carelessly, sat down on her right hand,
and said with a half-smile and a negligent air, playing
with his ruff and the chain of the Saint Esprit which
hung from his neck, —

^' I think, Madame, that we shall fatigue the ears of
so young a personage by a long conference. She would
rather hear us speak of dances, and of marriage, 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 the politics of the present time interest her
much. Do not seek to escape us, my brother," added
she, smiling. ^' I have you to-day ! It is the least we
can do to listen to M. de Bouillon."

The latter approached, holding by the hand the young
officer of whom we have spoken.

56 CINQrMARS.

"I must first," said he, "present to your Majesty
the Baron de Beaavau, 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 Gount-Duke
of Olivarès. As to courage, it is not the first time he
has shown it. He commanded the cuirassiers 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 I served with the princes of the
peace.^*

Anne of Austria smiled at this jevrde-mot. The Due
de Bouillon, seizing the moment to bring forward the
grand question he had in view, quitted Cinq-Mars, to
whom he had just given his hand with an air of the
most zealous friendship, and approaching the queen with
him, "It is miraculous, Madame," said he, "that this
period still contains in its bosom some noble characters,
such as these ; " and he pointed to the master of the
horse, to young Beauvau, and to De Thou. " It is only
in them that we can place our hope for the future.
Such men are indeed very rare now, for the great
leveller has passed a long scythe over Prance."

" Is it of Time you speak," said the queen, " or of a
real personage ? "

" Too real, too living, too long living, Madame ! " re-
plied the due, becoming more animated ; " but his meas-

THE TOILET. 67

nreless ambition, his colossal selfishness can no longer
be endured. All those who have noble hearts are in-
dignant at this yoke; and at this moment, more than
ever, we see misfortunes threatening us in the future.
It must be said, Madame, — yes, it is no longer time
to blind ourselves to the truth, or to conceal it, — the
king's illness is serious. The moment for thinking and
resolving has arrived, for the time to act is not far
distant."

The severe and abrupt tone of M. de Bouillon did not
surprise Anne of Austria ; but she had always seen him
more calm, and was therefore somewhat alarmed by the
disquietude he betrayed. Quitting accordingly the 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 Sedan will always secure my safety ; but I fear
for you, and perhaps for the princes, your sons."

" For my children, M. le Duc, for the sons of France ?.
Do you hear him, my brother, and do you not appear
astonished ? "

The queen was deeply agitated.

" No, Madame," said Gaston d'Orléans, calmly ; " you
know that I am accustomed to persecution. I am pre-
pared to expect anything from that man. He is master;
we must be resigned."

"He master!" exclaimed the queen. "And from
whom does he hold his powers, if not from the king ?
And after the king, what hand will sustain him, so
please you ? Who will prevent him from again return-
ing to nothing? Will it be you or I?"

58 CINQ-MARS,

" It will be hiiQself ," interrupted M. de Bouillon, ** for
he seeks to be named regent ; and I know that at this
moment he contemplates taking your children from you,
and requiring the king to confide them to his care."

"Take them from me !" cried the mother, involuntarily
seizing the dauphin, and taking him in her arms.

The child, standing between the queen's knees, looked
at the men who surrounded him with a gravity very
singular for his age, and seeing his mother in tears,
placed his hand upon the little sword he wore.

" All, Monseigneur," said the Due de Bouillon, bend-
ing half down to address to him what he intended for
the princess, " it is not against us that you must draw
your sword, but against him who is undermining your
throne. He prepares a mighty power for you, no doubt.
You will have an absolute sceptre; but he has broken
the armed fasces which sustained it. That fasces was
your ancient nobility, whom he has decimated. When
you are king, you will be a great king. I foresee it; but
you will only have subjects, and no friends, for friend-
ship exists only in independence and a kind of equality
which takes its rise in force. Your ancestors had their
peers ; you will not have yours. May God aid you then.
Monseigneur, for man may not do it without institu-
tions ! 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 Due de Bouillon had a warmth of expression
and a confidence of manner which captivated those who
heard him. His valor, his keen perception in the field,
the profundity of his political views, his knowledge of

THE TOILET. 59

the affairs of Europe, his reflective and djecided character,
all rendered liim one of the most capable and imposing
men of his time, — the only one, indeed, whom the car-
dinal-due really feared. The queen always listened to
him with confidence, and allowed him to acquire a sort
of empire over her. She was now more deeply moved
tlian ever.

" Ah, would to God," she exclaimed, " that my son's
mind was ripe for your counsels, 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,
and it is I who shall be, regent. I will not. resign this
right but with my life- If we must make war, we will
make it ; for I will do everything but submit to the
shame and terror of yielding up the future Louis XIV.
to this crowned subject. Yes," she went on, coloring
and closely pressing tlie young dauphin's arm, ^' yes, my
brother, and you gentlemen, counsel me ! Speak ! how
do we stand? Must I depart? Speak openly. As a
woman, as a wife, I could have wept my so mournful po-
sition; but now see, as a mother, I do not weep. I am
ready to give you orders if it be necessary."

Never had Anne of Austria looked so beautiful as
at this moment ; and the enthusiasm she manifested
electrified all those present, who needed but a word
from her mouth to speak. The Due de Bouillon cast
a glance upon Monsieur, which decided him.

" JKa /(9t.'" said he, with deliberation, "if you give
orders, my sister, I will be your captain of the guards,
on my honor, for I too am weary of the vexations occa-
sioned me by this knave, who still dares to persecute

60 CINQ-MARS,

me and seeks to break off my marriage and still keeps
mj friends in the Bastille, or has them assassinated
from time to time ; and besides, I am indignant," said
he, recollecting himself and assuming a more solemn
air, — " I am indignant at the misery of the people."

" My brother," returned the princess, energetically, " I
take you at your word, for with you, one must do so ;
and I hope that together we shall be strong enough for
the purpose. Do only as M. le Comte de Soissons did,
but survive your victory. Side with me, as you did with
M. de Montmorency, but leap the ditch."

Gaston felt the point of this. He called to mind
the well-known incident when the unfortuna!:e rebel of
Gastelnaudary leaped almost alone a large ditch, and
found on the other side seventeen wounds, a prison, and
death in the sight of Monsieur, who remained motion-
less with his army. In the rapidity of the queen's enun-
ciation he had not time to examine whether she had
employed this expression proverbially or with a direct
reference ; but at all events, he decided not to notice it,
and was indeed prevented from doing so by the queen,
who continued, looking at Cinq-Mars, —

" But, above all, no panic-terror ! Let us know exactly
where we are, M. le Grand. You have just left the
king. Is there fear with you?"

D'Effiat had not ceased to observe Marie de Gonzaga,
whose expressive countenance exhibited to him all her
ideas far more rapidly and more surely than words. He
read there the desire that he should speak, — the desire
that he should confirm the prince and the queen. An
'impatient movement of her foot conveyed to him her

THE TOILET, 61

will that the thing should be accomplished, the con-
spiracy arranged. His face became pale and more pen-
sive; he collected his thoughts for a moment, for he
felt that his destiny was in that hour. De Thou looked
at him and trembled, for he knew him well. He would
fain have said one word to him, only one word; but
Cinq-Mars had already raised his head. He spoke, —

*' I do not think, Madame, that the king is so ill as
you suppose. God will 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 peculiarly that is
sick, and of an evil which nothing can cure, — of an evil
which one would not wish to one's greatest enemy, and
which would gain him the pity of the whole world if it
were known. The end of his misery — that is to say of
his life — will not be granted Iiim for a long time. His
languor is entirely moral. There is in his heart a great
revolution going on ; he would accomplish it, and cannot.
He has felt for many long years growing within him the
seeds of a just hatred against a man to whom he thinks
he owes gratitude, and it is this internal combat between
his natural goodness and his anger that devours him.
Every year that has passed has deposited at his feet, on
one side, the great works of this man, and on the other,
his crimes. It is the last which now weigh down the
balance. The king sees them and is indignant; he
would punish, but all at once he stops and weeps. If
you could witness him thus, Madame, you would pity
him. I have seen him seize the pen which was to sign
his exile, dip it into the ink with a bold hand, and use
it — for what? — to congratulate him on some recent

62 CINQ-MARS.

success. He at once applauds himself for his goodness
as a Christian, curses himself for his weakness as a
sovereign judge, despises himself as a king. He seeks
a refuge in prayer, and plunges into meditation on the
future ; then he rises terrified because he has seen in his
thought the flames which this man merits, and which no
one knows better than he how deeply he merits. You
should hear him in these moments accuse himself of
a guilty weakness, and exclaim that he shall himself
be punished for not having known how to punish.
One would say that there are spirits which order
him 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. The lightning cannot
escape."

*' Well, then, let us fire it!" exclaimed the Due de
Bouillon.

"He who touches it 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 Due 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 of M. le Grand. He is more
in a position to decide the king than either you or I ;
but hold yourself prepared, for the cardinal is too wary

THE TOILET, 68

to be caught sleeping. I do not believe in his illness.
I have no faith in the Bilence and immobility of which
he has sought to persuade us these two years past. I
would not believe in his death even, unless I had myself
thrown his head into the sea, like that of the giant in
Ariosto. Hold yourself ready to meet all contingencies,
and let us, meanwhile, hasten our operations. 1 have
shown my plans to Monsieur just now; I will give you
a summary of them. I offer you Sedan, Madame, for
yourself, and for Messeigneurs, your sons. The army of
Italy is mine ; I will recall it if necessary. M. le Grand
is master of half the camp of Perpignan. All the old
Huguenots of La Rochelle and the South are ready to
come to him at the first nod. All has been organized
for a year past, by my care, to meet events."

"I should not hesitate," said the queen, "to place
myself in your hands, to save my children, if any mis-
fortune should happen to the king. But in this general
plan you forget Paris."

" It is ours on every side ; the people by the arch-
bishop, without his suspecting it, and by M. de Beaufort,
who is its king ; the troops by your guards and those
of Monsieur, who shall be chief in command, if he
please."

" Me ! me ! oh, that positively cannot be ! I have not
enough people, and I must have a retreat stronger than
Sedan," said Gaston.

" It suffices for the queen," replied M. de Bouillon.

'^ Ah, that may be ! but my sister docs not risk so
much as a man who draws the sword. Do you know
these are bold measures you propose?"

64 CINQ-MARS.

" 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 make ourselves sure; and I do
nothing without the treaty with Spain."

" Do nothing, then," said the queen, coloring deeply ;
" for certainly I will never hear that spoken of."

" And, yet, Madame, it were more prudent, and Mon-
sieur is right," said the Due de Bouillon ; ^' for the
Gount-Duke of San Lucra offers us seventeen thousand
men, tried troops, and five hundred thousand crowns in
ready money."

" What ! " exclaimed the queen, with astonishment,
" have jou dared to proceed so far without my consent ?
already treaties with foreigners ! "

^'Foreigners, my sister! could we imagine that a
princess of Spain would use that word ? " said Gaston.

Anne of Austria rose, taking the dauphin by the
hand ; and leaning upon Marie, '' Tes, sir," she said,
^'I am a Spaniard; but I am the granddaughter of
Charles V., and I know that a queen's country is where
her throne is. I leave you, gentlemen ; proceed without
mo. I know nothing of the matter for the future."

She advanced some steps, but seeing Marie pale and
bathed in tears, she returned.

" I will, however, solemnly promise you inviolable
secrecy ; but nothing more."

All were mentally disconcerted, except the Due de
Bouillon, who, not willing to lose the advantages he
had gained, said to her, bowing respectfully, —

" We are grateful for this promise, Madame, and we

THE TOILET, 65

ask no more, persuaded that after the first success you
will be entirely with us."

Not wishing to engage in a war of words, the queen
coartesied somewhat less coldly, and quitted the apart-
ment with Marie, who cast upon Cinq-Mars one of those
looks which comprehend at once all the emotions of the
soul. He seemed to read in her beautiful eyes the
eternal and mournful devotion of a woman who has
given herself up forever; and he felt that if he had
once thought of withdrawing from his enterprise, he
should now have considered himself the basest of
men.

As soon as the two princesses had disappeared,
" There, there ! I told you so, Bouillon, you ofiFend the
queen," said Monsieur ; "you went too far. You cannot
certainly accuse me of having been hesitating this
morning. I have, on the contrary, shown more resolu-
tion than I ought to have done."

" I am full of joy and gratitude towards her Majesty,"
said M. de Bouillon, with a triumphant air; "we are
sure of the future. What will you do now, M. de Cinq-
Mars?"

" I have told you, sir ; 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,! — "

De Thou seized Cinq-Mars by the arm, and advancing
suddenly, said with a solemn air, —

" We have decided that it shall be only signed after
the interview with the king; for should his Majesty's

VOL. II. — 6

66 CINQ-MARS.

just seventy towards the cardinal dispense with it, we
have thought it better not to expose ourselves to the
discovery of so dangerous a treaty."

M. de Bouillon frowned.

" If I did not know M. de Thou," said he, " I should
have regarded this as a defection ; but from liim — "

" Sir," replied the counsellor, " I tliink I may engage
myself, on my honor, to do all that M. le Grand does ;
we are inseparable."

Cinq-Mars looked at his friend, and was astonished to
see upon his mild countenance the expression of sombre
despair ; he was so struck with it that he had not the
courage to gainsay him.

"He is right, gentlemen," he said with a cold but
kindly smile ; " the king will perhaps spare us much
trouble. We may do good things with him. For the
rest. Monseigneur, and you, M. le Duc," he added with
immovable firmness, "fear not that I shall ever draw
back. I have burned all the bridges behind me. I must
advance ; the cardinal's power shall fall, or my head."

" It is strange, very strange ! " said Monsieur ; " I see
that every one here is farther advanced in the con-
spiracy than I imagined."

"Not so, sir," said the Due de Bouillon; "we pre-
pared only that which you might please to accept.
Observe that there is nothing in writing. You have but
to speak, and nothing exists or ever has existed ; ac-
cording 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 us occupy ourselves with more agreeable

THE TOILET. 67

topics. Thank God we have a little time before us!
I confess I wish that it were all over. I am not fitted
for violent emotions ; they affect my health," he added,
taking M. de Beauvau's arm. ^^ Tell us if the Spanish
women are still pretty, young man. It is said you are
a great gallant among them. Tudieu! I 'm sure you 've
got yourself talked of there. They tell me the women
wear enormous petticoats. Well, I am not at all against
that; they make the foot look smaller and prettier.
I 'm sure the wife of Don Louis de Haro is not hand-
somer than Madame de Gueméné ; is she ? Come, be
frank ; I 'm told 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 M. de Thou
in comparing her with the beautiful Gueméné. Well,
let's talk of the customs; the king has a charming
dwarf I'm told, and they put him in a pie. He is a
fortunate man, that King of Spain ! I don't know
another 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 very unfortunate, — more
unfortimate than may be supposed."

And Gaston d'Orléans had the confidence to speak in
this tone nearly half an hour, with a young man whose
serious character was not at all adapted to such conver-
sation, and who, still occupied with the importance of
the scene he had just witnessed and the great interests
which had been discussed, made no answer to this
torrent of idle words. He looked at the Due de Bouillon
with an astonished air, as if to ask him whether this
was really the man whom they were going to place at

CINQrMARS.

the head of the mosr audacious enterprise that had been
commenced for a long time ; while the prince, without
appearing to perceive that he remained unanswered,
replied to himself, speaking with volubility, as he drew
him gradually out of the room. He feared that one of
the gentlemen present might recommence the terrible
conversation about the treaty ; but none desired to do
so, unless it were ttie Due de Bouillon, who, however,
preserved an angry silence. As for Cinq-Mars, he had
been led away by De Thou, under cover of the chatter-
ing volley of Monsieur, who took care not to appear to
notice their departure.

CHAPTER XVin.

THE SECRET.

Et prononces ensemble, à l'amitié fidële,

Nos deux noms fraternels serviront de modèle.

A. Soumet, Clytemnestre.

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 for allowing them to
depart without seeing them again ; and as yet the two
friends had not spoken to each other.

The counsellor had thrown himself into his armchair
in deep meditation. Cinq-Mars, seated in the tall chim-
ney-place, awaited with a serious and sorrowful air the
termination of this silence. At length De Thou, looking
fixedly at him and crossing his arms, said in a hollow
and melancholy voice, —

" This, then, is what you have come to ! these, then,
are the results of your ambition ! You are about to
banish, perhaps to slay a man, and to bring a foreign
army into France ; I am, then, to see you an assassin
and a traitor to your country ! By what paths have you

70 CINQ-MARS.

arrived thus far ? By what degrees have you descended
so low?"

" Any other than yourself would not speak thus to ma
twice," said Cinq-Mars, coldly ; " but 1 know you, and
I like this explanation. I desired it, and sought it. You
shall see my entire soul. I had at first another 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 this divinity.

" Yes, it would have been better. I intended to have
said nothing to you on this subject. It was a painful
task to keep that silence ; but hitherto I have succeeded.
I wished to have conducted the whole enterprise without
you ; to show you only the finished work. I wished to
keep you out of the circle of my danger ; but shall I con-
fess my weakness ? I feared to die, if I have to die,
misjudged by you. I can well endure the idea of the
world's malediction, but not of yours ; but this has de-
cided me upon avowing all to you."

"What! and but for this thought, you would have
had the courage to conceal yourself forever from me ?
Ah, dear Henri, what had I done that you should take
this care of my life ? By what fault have I merited to
survive you, if you die ? You have had the strength of
mind to deceive me during two whole years ; you have
never presented to me aught of your life but its flowers ;
you have never entered my solitude but with a joyous
countenance, and each time with a fresh favor. Ah, you
must be very guilty or very virtuous!"

THE SECRET. 71

^ Do not seek in my soul more than it contains. Yes,
I have deceived you ; and therein was the only tranquil
joy I had in the world. Forgive me for having stolen
these moments from my destiny, so brilliant, alas ! I
was happy in the happiness you supposed me to enjoy ;
I made you happy in that dream, and I am only guilty
now that I am about to destroy it, and to show myself
as I was. Listen : I shall not 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
had nearly escaped me ; it would have been happy, per-
haps, had it done so. Yet what would counsel have
availed me ? I should not have adopted it. In a word,
*tis Marie de Gonzaga whom I love."

" How ! she who is to be Queen of Poland ? "

^^ U she is queen, it can only be after my death. But
listen : for her I became a courtier ; for her I have al-
most reigned in France ; and for her I am about to fall
— perhaps to die."

" Die ! fall ! when I have been reproaching your tri-
umph ! when I have wept over the sadness of your
victory ! "

'^ Ah ! you but ill know me if you suppose that I
should be the dupe of Fortune, when she smiles upon
me ; if you suppose that I have not seen to the bottom
of my destiny! I struggle against it, but 'tis the
stronger I feel it. I have undertaken a task beyond
human power; and I shall fail in it."

^^ Why, then, not stop ? What is the use of intellect
in the business of the world ? "

^^ None ; unless indeed it be to tell us the cause of our

72 CINQ-MARS.

fall, and to enable us to foresee the day on which we
shall fall. I cannot now recede. When a man is con-
fronted with such an enemy as Richelieu, he must over-
come him or be crushed by him. To-morrow I shall
strike the last blow ; did I not just now, in your pres-
ence, engage to do so?"

^^ And it is that very engagement that I would oppose.
What confidence have you in those to whom you thus
abandon your life ? Have you not read their 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 they are ready to make
their peace by giving me up ; but it is my part to sus-
tain them and to decide the king. I must do it, for
Marie is my betrothed, and my death is written at Nar-
bonne. It is voluntarily, it is with a full knowledge of
my fate, that I have thus placed myself between the
scaffold and supreme happiness. That happiness I must
tear from the hands of Fortune, or die on that scaffold.
At this instant I experience the joy of having broken
through all doubt. What! blush you not at having
thought me ambitious from a base egoism, like this car-
dinal, — ambitious from a puerile desire for a power which
is never satisfied ? I am ambitious, but it is because I
love. Yes, I love ; and in that word all is comprised.
But I accuse you unjustly. You have embellished my
secret intentions ; you have imparted to me noble de-
signs (I remember them), high political conceptions.
They are brilliant, they are grand, doubtless ; but — shall
I say it to you ? — those vague projects for the perfection-

THE SECRET. 73

ating of corrupt societies seem to me to crawl far below
the devotion of love. When the whole soul vibrates full
of that one thought, it has no room for the nice calcula-
tion of general interests ; the topmost heights of the
earth are far beneath heaven."

De Thou shook his head.

" What can I answer ? " he said. " I do not under-
stand you ; your reasoning unreasons you. You hunt a
shadow.*'

"Ay," continued Cinq- Mars; "far from destroying
my strength, this inward fire has developed it. I have
calculated everything. A slow course has led me to
the end which I am about to attain. Marie held me by
the hand ; 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. This barrier must
be broken ; it is Richelieu. I but now in your presence
undertook to do tliis ; but perhaps I was too hasty. I
now think I was so. Let him rejoice ; he expected me.
Doubtless he foresaw that it would be the youngest
whose patience would first fail. If he played on this
calculation, he played well. Yet, but for the love that
has precipitated 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 and red twice ; and the veins
of his forehead rose like blue lines drawn by an invis-
ible hand.

"Yes," he added, rising, and clasping together his
hands with a force which indicated violent despair con-
centred in his heart, " all the torments with which love

74 CINQ-MARS.

can tear its victims I have in my breast. This timid
girl, for whom I would shake empires, for whom I have
suffered all, even the favor of a prince, who perhaps
has not felt all I have done for her, cannot yet be mine.
She is mine before God, yet I am estranged from her ;
nay, I must hear daily discussed before me which of the
thrones of Europe will best suit her, in conversations
wherein I may not even raise my voice to give an opin-
ion, and in which they scorn for her princes of the blood
royal, who yet have precedence far before me. I must
conceal myself like a culprit to hear through a grating
the voice of her who is my wife ; in public I must bow
before her, — her husband, yet her servant ! 'T is too
much ; I cannot live thus. I must take the last step,
whether it raise me or hurl me down."

" And for your personal happiness you would overthrow
a State?"

<^The happiness of the State concurs with mine. I
secure that undoubtedly in destroying the tyrant of the
king. The horror with which this man inspires me has
passed into my very blood. When I was first on my way
to him, I encountered in my journey his greatest crime.
He is the genius of evil for the unhappy king ! I will ex-
orcise him. I might have become the genius of good
for Louis XIII. It was one of the thoughts of Marie,
her most cherished thought. But I do not think I shall
triumph in the uneasy soul of the prince."

" Upon what do you rely, then ? " said De Thou.

" Upon the cast of a die. If his will can this once
last for a few hours, I have gained. 'T is a last calcu-
lation on which my destiny hangs."

THE SECRET. 75

" Aud that of your Marie ! "

"Could you suppose it?" said Cinq-Mars, impetu-
ously. " No, no ! If he abandons me, I sign the treaty
of Spain, and then — war!"

" Ah, horror ! " exclaimed the counsellor. *' What, a
war ! a civil war, and a foreign alliance ! "

" Ay, 't is a crime," said Cinq-Mars, coldly ; " but have
I asked you to participate 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 the place of every
passion in my heart ? Can I survive the least of your
misfortunes, far less your death ? Still, let me inOuence
you not to strike 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 say
i«, because 1 will never separate myself from your ac-
tions. Preserve to me my self-esteem, for which I have
labored so long ; sully not my life and my death, which
I have devoted to you."

De Thou had fallen at the feet of his friend, who,
unable to preserve his affected coldness, threw himself
into his arms, as he raised him, and pressing him to bis
heart, said in a stifled voice, —

" Why love me thus ? What have you done, friend ?
Why love me ? You who are wise, pure, and virtuous ;
you who are not led away by an insensate passion and
the desire for vengeance ; you whose soul is nourislied
only by religion and science, — why love me ? What has
my friendship given you but anxiety and pain ? Must
it now heap dangers on you ? Separate yourself from

76 CINQ-MARS,

me; we are no longer of the same nature. You see
courts have corrupted me. I. have no longer openness,
no longer goodness. I meditate the ruin of a man; I
can deceive a friend. Forget me, scorn me. I am not
worthy of one of your thoughts ; how should I be worthy
of your perils ? "

^^By swearing to me not to betray the king and
Prance," answered De Thou. " Know you that the pres-
ervation of your country is at stake ; that if you yield
to Spain our fortifications, she will never return them to
you ; that your name will be a horror to posterity ; that
French mothers will curse it when they shall be forced
to teach their children a foreign language, — know you
all this? Come."

And he drew him towards the bust of Louis XIII.

"Swear before him (he is your friend also), swear
never to sign this infamous treaty."

Cinq-Mars lowered his eyes, but with inflexible tena-^
city answered, although he blushed 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 his room, his arms crossed, in inexpressible
anguish. At last he advanced solemnly towards the
bust of his father, and opened a large book standing at
its foot ; he turned to a page already marked, and read
aloud : —

**I think, therefore, that M. de Lignebœuf was justly
condemned to death by the parliament of Rouen, for not
having revealed the conspiracy of Catteville against the
State."

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THE SECRET

THE SECRET. 77

Then keeping the book respectfully opened in his
hand, and contemplating the image of the President de
Thou, whose "Memoirs" he held, he continued, —

"Yes, my father, you thought well. I shall be a
criminal, I shall merit 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 is unhappy."

Then advancing towards Cinq-Mars, and again taking
his hand, he said, —

" I do much for you in acting thus ; but expect
nothing further from me, sir, if you sign this treaty."

Cinq-Mars was moved to the heart's core by this
scene, for he felt all that his friend must suffer in cast-
ing him off. Checking, however, the tears which were
rising to his smarting lids, and embracing De Thou
tenderly, he exclaimed, —

" Ah, De Thou, I find you still perfect. Yes, you do
me a service in alienating yourself from me, for if your
lot had been linked to mine, I should not have dared to
dispose of my life. I should have hesitated to sacrifice
it in case of need; but now I shall assuredly do so.
And I repeat to you, if they force me, I will sign the
treaty with Spain."

CHAPTER XIX.

THE HUNTING PARTY.

On a bien de grâces à rendre à son étoile quand on peut quitter
les hommes sans être obligé de leur faire du mal et de se déclarer
leur ennemi — Ch. Nodier, Jean Sbogar.

Meanwhile the illness of the king threw France into
a consternation which unsettled States ever feel on the
approach of the death of princes. Although Richelieu
was the centre of the monarchy, he only reigned in the
name of Louis XIII., and as enveloped with the splendor
of that name which he had aggrandized. Absolute as
he was over his master, he still feared him ; and this
fear reassured the nation against his ambitious desires,
of which the king himself was the fixed barrier. But
this prince dead, what would the imperious minister do ?
Where would that man stop who had already dared so
much ? Accustomed to wield the sceptre, who would
prevent him from still bearing it, and from inscribing
his name alone at the foot of the laws which he alone
should dictate ? These terrors agitated all minds. The

THE HUNTING PARTY. 79

people in vain looked throughout the kingdom for those
colossuses of the nobility, at the feet of whom it had
been wont to find shelter in political storms. It now
only saw their recent tombs. The parliaments were
dumb ; and men felt that nothing could be opposed to
the monstrous growth of this usurping power. No one
was entirely deceived by the affected sufferings of the
minister. None were touched with that feigned agouy
which had too often deceived the public hope ; and dis-
tance nowhere prevented the weight of the finger of the
dreaded parvenu from being felt.

The love of tlie people soon revived towards the son
of Henri IV. They hastened to the churches; they
prayed, and often even wept. Unfortunate princes are
always loved. The melancholy of Louis, and his myste-
rious sorrow, interested all France ; and still living, they
already regretted him, as if each man had wished to
have been the depositary of his troubles ere he carried
away with him the grand secret of what is suffered by
the men placed so high that they can see nothing before
them but their tomb.

The king, wishing to reassure the whole nation, an-
nounced the temporary re-establishment of his health,
and ordered the court to prepare for a grand hunting
party to be given at Chambord, — a royal domain,
whither his brother, the Due d'Orléans, prayed him to
return.

This beautiful abode was the favorite retreat of the
king, doubtless because, in harmony with his feelings,
it combined grandeur with sadness. He often passed
whole months there, without seeing any one whatsoever.

80 CINQ-MARS.

incessantly reading and re-reading mysterious papers,
writing unknown matters, which he locked up in an iron
coffer, of which he alone had the key. He sometimes
delighted in being served by a single domestic, and thus
so forget himself by the absence of his suite as to live
for many days together like a poor man or an exiled
citizen, loving to figure to himself misery or persecution,
in order the better to enjoy royalty afterwards. Another
time he would be in a more entire solitude ; and having
forbidden any human creature to approach him, clothed
in the habit of a monk, he would shut himself up in the
vaulted chapel. There, reading the life of Charles V.,
he would imagine himself at St. Just, and chant over
himself that Mass for the dead which brought death
upon the head of the Spanish monarch. But in the
midst of these very chants and meditations, his feeble
mind was pursued and distracted by contrary images.
Never did life and the world appear to him more fair
than in solitude among the tombs. Between his eyes
and the page which he endeavored to read passed bril-
liant processions, victorious armies, or nations trans-
ported with love. He saw himself powerful, combating,
triumphant, adored ; and if a ray of the sun tlirough the
large windows fell upon him, suddenly rising from the
foot of the altar, he felt himself carried away by a thirst
for daylight and the open air, which led him from his
gloomy retreat. But returned to real life, he found
there once more disgust and ennui, for the first men
he met recalled his power to his recollection by their
homage. It was then that he believed in friendship,
and called it to his side ; but scarcely was he certain of

THE HUNTING PARTY, 81

its possession than an unconquerable scruple suddenly
seized upon his soul. It was that of a too powerful at-
tachment to the creature, turning him from the Creator,
or more frequently an inward reproach for removing
himself too much from the affairs of the State. The
object of his momentary affection then seemed to him
a despotic being, whose power drew him from his
duties ; but unfortunately for his favorites, he had not
the strength of mind outwardly to manifest towards
them the resentment he felt, and thus to warn them of
their danger, but continuing to caress them, added by
this constraint fuel to the secret fire of his heart, and
was impelled to absolute hatred of them. There were
moments when he was capable of going to any lengths
against them.

Cinq-Mars perfectly knew the weakness of that mind,
which eould not keep firmly in any path, and the weak-
ness of that heart, which could neither wholly love nor
wholly hate. Thus the position of favorite, the envy
of all France, the object of jealousy even on the part
of the great minister, was so precarious and so painful
that but for his love, he would have burst his golden
chains with greater joy than a galley-slave feels when
he sees the last ring that for two long years he has been
filing with a steel spring concealed in his mouth, fall to
the earth. This impatience to meet the fate he saw so
near, hastened the explosion of that patiently excavated
mine, as he had declared to his friend ; but his situation
was then that of a man who, placed by the side of the
book of life, should see passing over it the hand which
is to trace out his danmation or his salvation. He set

VOL. II. — 6

82 CINQ-MARS,

out with Louis to Cbambord, resolved to take the first
opportunity favorable to his design. It soon presented
itself.

The very morning of the day appointed for the chase,
the king sent word to him that he was waiting for him
on the Escalier du Lys. It may not, perhaps, be profit-
less to speak of this astonishing construction.

Four leagues from Blois, and one league from the
Loire, in a small and very deep valley, between marshy
swamps and a wood of large oaks, far from any high-
road, the traveller suddenly comes, upon a royal, Tpr
rather magic castle. It might be said" that compelled -t'y
some wonderful lamp, a genie of the East had carried it
off during one of the " thousand and one nights," and
had brought it from the country of the sun to conceal
it in the land of fogs and mist, as the abode of the mis-
tress of a handsome prince. This palace is hidden like
a treasure ; but with its blue domes, its elegant minarets
rising from thick walls or shooting into the air, its long
terraces overlooking the wood, its light spires waving
with the wind, its crescents everywhere rising over its
colonnades, one might imagine one's self in the kingdom
of Bagdad or of Cachmire, did not their blackened walls,
with their covering of moss and ivy, and the pallid and
melancholy hue of the sky, denote a rainy climate. It
was indeed a genius who raised this building ; but he
came from Italy, and his name was Primaticcio. It was
indeed a handsome prince whose amours were concealed
in it ; but he was a king, and he was named François I.
His Salamander still spouts fire everywhere about it.
It sparkles in a thousand places on the arched roofs.

THE HUNTING PARTY. 88

and multiplies the flames there like the stars of heaven ;
it supports the capitals with its burning crown ; it colors
the windows with its fires; it meanders up and down
the secret staircases, and everywhere seems to devour
with its flaming glances the triple crescent of a mysteri-
ous Diane, — that Diane de Poitiers, twice a goddess and
twice adored in these voluptuous woods.

The base of this strange monument is like the monu-
ment itself, full of elegance and mystery; there is a
double staircase, which rises in two intçrwoven spirals
from the most remote foundations of the edifice up to
the highest points, and ends in a lantern or small lattice-
work cabinet, surmounted by a colossal ^wr-rfe-Zw, visi-
ble 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 our churches, it is sustained and protected by the
arcades of its thin, light, transparent, open-work wings.
One would think the docile stone had given itself to the
finger of the architect; it seems, so to speak, kneaded
according to the slightest caprice of his imagination.
One can hardly conceive how the plans were traced, in
what terms the orders were explained to the workmen.
The whole thing appears a transient thought, a brilliant
revery that at once assumed a durable form, — the reali-
zation of a dream.

Cinq-Mars was slowly ascending the broad stairs
which led him to the king's presence, and stopping
longer at each step, in proportion as he approached him,
either from disgust at the idea of seeing the prince
whose daily complaints he had to listen to, or thinking

84 CINQ-MARS.

of what he was about to do. when the sound of a guitar
struck his ear. He recognized the beloved instrument
of Louis and bis sad, feeble, and trembling voice faintly
re-echoing from the vaulted ceiling. Louis seemed trying
one of those romances which he was wont to com-
pose, and several times repeated an incomplete strain
with a trembling hand. The words could scarcely be
distinguished ; all that Cinq-Mars heard were a few such
as Abandon^ ennui du 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 to read that chilled heart which
thinks it needs something."

He entered the narrow cabinet.

Clothed in black, half reclining on a couch, his elbows
resting upon pillows, the prince was languidly touching
the chords of liis guitar; he ceased this when he saw
the grand écuyer enter, and raising his large eyes to him
with an air of reproach, swayed his head to and fro for
a long time without speaking. Then in a plaintive but
emphatic tone he said, —

" What do I hear, Cinq-Mars ? What do I hear of your
conduct ? How much do you pain me by forgetting all
my counsels ! You have formed a guilty intrigue ; was
it from you I was to expect such things, — you whom I so
loved for your piety and virtue ?"

Full of his political projects, Cinq-Mars thought him-
self discovered, and could not help a momentary anxiety ;
but, perfectly master of himself, he answered without
hesitation, —

THE HUNTING PARTY, 86

" Yes, Sire ; and I was about to declare it to you, for I
am accustomed to open my soul to you."

" Declare it to me ! " exclaimed the king, turning red
and white, as under the shivering of a fever ; " and you
dare to contaminate my ears with these horrible avowals,
sir, and to speak so calmly of your disorder ! 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 faith towards 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 dishonor
your family, and the memory of the maréchal your
father."

Cinq-Mars, deeming himself wholly lost, put the best
face he could upon the matter, and said with an air of
resignation, —

"Well, then. Sire, send me to be judged and put to
death ; but spare me your reproaches."

" Do you insult me, you petty country-squire ? " an-
swered Louis. "I know very well that you have not
incurred the penalty of death in the eyes of men ; but it
is at the tribunal of God, sir, that you will be judged."

" Heavens, Sire ! " replied the impetuous young man,
whom the insulting phrase of the king had offended,
" why do you not allow me to return to the province you
so much despise, as I have sought to do a hundred times ?
I will go there. I cannot support the life I lead with
you ; an angel 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 in attaching me to your
person. If you have caused me to conceive lofty hopes,

86 CINQ-MARS.

which you afterwards overthrew, is that my fault?
Wherefore have you made me grand écuyer, if I was
not to rise higher ? In a word, am I your friend or not ?
and, if I am, why may I hot be due, peer, or even con-
stable,* as well as M. de Luynes, whom you loved so much
because he trained falcons for you ? Why am I not ad-
mitted to the council ? I could 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
you from summoning me there. And it is because he
keeps you from me that I detest him," continued Cinq-
Mars, clinching his fist, as if Richelieu stood before
him ; " yes, I would kill him with my own hand, if need
were."

D'Effiat's eyes were inflamed with anger ; he stamped
his foot as he spoke, and turned his back to the king,
like a sulky child, leaning against one of the columns
of the cupola.

Louis, who recoiled before all resolution, and who was
always terrified by the irreparable, took his hand.

weakness of power ! O caprices of the human
heart! it was by this childish impetuosity, these very
defects of his age, that this young man governed the
King of France as effectually as did the first politician
of the time. This prince believed, and with some show
of reason, that a character so hasty must be sincere;
and even his fiery rage did not anger him. It did not
apply to the real subject of his reproaches, and he could
well pardon him for hating the cardinal. The very idea
of his favorite's jealousy of the minister pleased him,
because it indicated attachment ; and all he dreaded was

THE HUNTING PARTY, 87

his indifference. Cinq-Mars knew this, and had desired
to make it a means of escape, preparing the king to re-
gard all that he had done as child's play, as the conse-
quence of his friendship for him; but the danger was
not so great, and he breathed freely 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 con-
duct I reproach you, and which I shall have much diffi-
culty to pardon in you. What, sir ! I learn that instead
of devoting yourself to the pious exercises to which I
have accustomed you, when I fancy you are at your
Salvt or your Angelus^ — you are off from St. Germain,
and go to pass a portion of the night — with whom ?
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 the safety of your soul, and who
receives free-thinkers at her house, — in a word, Marion
de Lorme. What have you to say ? Speak."

Leaving his hand in that of the king, but still leaning
against the column, Cinq-Mars answered, —

^^ Is it then so culpable to leave grave occupations for
others more serious still ? If I go to the house of Marion
de Lorme, it is to hear the conversation of the learned
men who assemble there. Nothing is more harmless
than these meetings. Readings are given there which,
it is true, sometimes extend far into the night, but
which commonly tend to exalt the soul, so far from
corrupting it. Besides, you have never commanded me
to account to you for all that I do ; I should have in-
formed you of this long ago if you had desired it."

88 CINQrMARS.

" Ah, Cinq-Mars, Cinq-Mars ! where is your confi-
dence ? Do you feel no need of it ? It is the first con-
dition of a perfect friendship, such as ours ought to be,
such as my heart requires."

The voice of Louis became more affectionate, and the
favorite, looking at him over his shoulder, assumed an
air less angry, but still simply ennuyé^ and resigned to
listening to him. ^

" How often have you deceived me ! " continued the
king ; " can I trust myself to you ? Are they not fops
and gallants whom you meet at the house of this
woman ? Do not courtesans go there ? "

" Heavens ! no. Sire ; I often go there with one of
my friends, — a gentleman of Touraine, named René
Descartes."

" Descartes ! I know that name ! Yes, he is an officer
who distinguished himself at the siege of Rochelle, and
who dabbles in writing; he has a good reputation for
piety, but he is connected with Desbarreaux, who is a
free-thinker. I am sure that you must mix with many
persons who are not 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 at the ceiling ; " sometimes I do not
oven ask them. There was, in the first place, a certain
M. — M. Groot, or Grotius, a Hollander."

" I know him, a friend of Barnevelt ; I pay him a pen-
sion. I liked him well enough; but the card — but I
was told that he was a high Calvinist."

^' I also saw an Englishman, named John Milton ; he

THE HUNTING PARTY. 89

is a young man just come from Italy, and is returning
to London. He scarcely speaks at all."

" I don't know him, — not at all ; but Fm 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 the Académie Éminente ; he was
angry that Du Byer occupied his place there. He is
called Corneille."

" Well," said the king, folding his arms, and looking
at him with an air of triumph and reproach, ^^ I ask you
who are these people ? Is it in such a 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 or two in listening to good conversa-
tion. Besides, many courtiers go there, such as the Due
de Bouillon, M. d'Aubijoux, the Comte de Brion, the
Cardinal de la Vallette, MM. de Montrésor, Fontrailles ;
men illustrious in the sciences, as Mairet, CoUetet, Des-
marets, author of ^ Araine ; ' Faret, Doujat, Charpentier,
who wrote the * Cyropédie ; ' Giry, Besons, and Baro,
the continuer of * Astrée,' — all academicians."

" Ah ! now, indeed, here are men of real merit," said
Louis ; ^^ there is nothing to be said against them. One
cannot but gain from their society. 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."

90 CINQ-MARS.

So saying, the king took from a great iron chest set
against the wall enormous packets of paper scribbled
over with very fine writing. Upon one was written,
BaradaSy upon another, D'' Hautefort^ upon a third. La
Fayette^ and finally, Cinq-Mars. He stopped at the
latter, and continued, —

" See how many times you have deceived me ! These
are the continual faults of which I have myself kept a
register during the two years I have known you ; I have
written out our conversations day by day. Sit down."

Cinq-Mars obeyed with a sigh, and had the patience for
two long hours to listen to a summary of what his mas-
ter had had the patience to write in 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 the king. We shall only say that he
finished thus, —

" In fine, hear what you did on the 7th of December,
three days ago. I was speaking to you of the flight of
the hawk, and of the knowledge of hunting, in which
you are deficient. I said to you on the authority of
* La Chasse Royale,' a work of King Charles IX., that
after the hunter has accustomed his dog to follow a
beast, he must consider him as of himself desirous of
returning to the wood, and tlie dog must not be rebuked
or struck in order to make him follow the track well ;
and that in order to teach a dog to set well, creatures
that are not game must not be allowed to pass or run,
nor must any scents be missed, without putting his nose
to them.

THE HUNTING PARTY. 91

'^ 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 we occupy ourselves/ And on the 8th — wait, yes,
on the 8th — while we were singing vespers together in
my chambers, you threw your book angrily into the fire,
which was an impiety ; and afterwards you told me that
you had let it drop, . — a sin, a mortal sin. See, I have
written below, ZiV, underlined. People never deceive me,
I assure you."

"But, Sire — "

" Wait a moment ! wait a moment ! In the evening
you told me the cardinal had burned a man unjustly,
and out of personal hatred."

" And I repeat it, and maintain it, and will prove it,
Sire. It is the greatest crime of all of that man whom
you hesitate to disgrace, and who renders you unhappy.
I myself saw all, heard all, at Loudun. Urbain Gran-
dier was assassinated rather than tried. Hold, Sire,
since you have there all those memoranda in your own
hand, merely reperuse the proofs which I then gave
you of it."

Louis, seeking the page indicated, and going back
to the journey from Perpignan to Paris, read the whole
narrative with attention, exclaiming, —

" What horrors ! How is it that I have forgotten all
this ? This man fascinates me ; that 's certain. You are
my true friend, Cinq-Mars. What horrors ! My reign
will be stained by them. What ! he prevented the let-
ters of all the nobility and notables of the district from

92 CINQ-MARS.

reaching me! Burn, bum alive! without proofs! for
revenge ! A man, a people have invoked 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 ! She would be
astonished at this spectacle, and would scarcely be-
lieve it."

^' Astonished ! France, then, does not know me ? "

" No, sir," said D'Effiat, frankly ; " no one knows you.
And I myself, with the rest of the worW,.raJ;. times
accuse you of coldness and indifference."

" Of coldness, when I am dying with sorrow ! Of
coldness, when I have immolated myself to their inter-
ests! Ungrateful nation! I have sacrificed all to it,
even pride, even the happiness of guiding it myself, be-
cause I feared on its account for my fluctuating life.
I liave given my sceptre to be borne by a man I hate,
because I believed his hand to be stronger than my own.
I have endured the ill he has done to myself, thinking
that he did good to my people. I have hidden my own
tears to dry theirs ; and I see that my sacrifice has been
even greater than I tliought it, for they have not per-
ceived it. They have believed me incapable because I
was kind, and without power because I mistrusted my
own. But no matter ! God sees and knows me ! "

" Ah, Sire, show yourself to France such as you are ;
reassume your usurped power. France will do for your

THE HUNTING PARTY, 93

love what she would never do from fear. Return to
life, and reascend the throne."

"No, no; my life is well-nigh finished, my dear
friend. I am no longer capable of the labor of supreme
command."

" Ah, Sire, this persuasion alone destroys your vigor.
It is time that men should cease to confound power with
crime, and to call this union genius. Let your voice be
heard proclaiming to the world that the reign of virtue
is about to begin with your own ; and henceforth those
enemies whom vice has so much difficulty in suppress-
ing will fall before a word uttered from your heart.
No one has as yet calculated all that the good faith of a
king of France may do for his people, — that people who
are drawn so instantaneously towards all that is good
and beautiful, by their imagination and warmth of soul,
and who are always ready with every kind of devotion.
The king your father led us by a smile. What would
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 happened when any attempt
was made to bring him to a decision. He also felt the
approach of a conversation of too high an order, which
the timidity of his soul forbade him to venture upon ;
and repeatedly putting his hand to his chest, knitting
his brows as if suffering violent pain, he endeavored to
relieve himself by the apparent attack of illness from
the embarrassment of answering. But either from pas-
sion, or from a resolution to strike the crowning blow,
Cinq-Mars went on calmly and with a solemnity that

94 CINQrMARS,

awed Louis, who, forced into his last intrenchments, at
length said, —

" But, Cinq-Mars, how can I rid myself of a minister
who for eighteen years past has surrounded me with
his creatures ? "

"He is not so very powerful," replied the grand
ëcuyer ; " and his friends will be his most sure enemies
if you but make a sign of your head. The ancient
league of the princes of peace still exists. Sire, and it is
only the respect due to the choice of your Majesty that
prevents it from manifesting itself."

"Ah, mon Dieu! thou mayst tell them not to stop
on my account. I would not restrain them ; they surely
do not accuse me of being a Gardinalist. If my brother
will give me the means of replacing Richelieu, I will
adopt them with all my heart."

" I believe, Sire, that he will to-day speak to you of
M. le Duc de Bouillon. AU the Royalists demand
him."

"I don't dislike him," said the king, arranging his
pillows; "I don't dislike him at all, although he is
somewhat factious. We are relatives. Knowest thou,
cher ami" — and he placed on this favorite expression
more emphasis than usual, — "knowest thou that he
is descended in direct line from Saint Louis, by Char-
lotte de Bourbon, daughter of the Due de Montpensier ?
Knowest thou that seven princes of the blood royal have
been united to his house; and eight daughters of his
family, one of whom was a queen, have been married to
princes of the blood royal ? Oh, I don't at all dislike
him ! I have never said so, never ! "

THE HUNTING PARTY. 95

** Well, Sire/' said Cinq-Mars, with confidence, " Mon-
sieur and he will explain to you during the hunt how
all is prepared, who are the men that may be put in
the place of his creatures, who the field-marshals and
the colonels who may be depended upon against Fabert
and the Gardinalists of Perpignan. You will see that
the minister has very few for him.

** The queen, Monsieur, the nobility, and the parlia-
ments are on our side ; and the thing is done from the
moment that your Majesty is not opposed to it. It
has been proposed to get rid of the cardinal as the
Maréchal d'Ancre was got rid of, who deserved it less
than he."

" As Goncini ? " said the king. " Oh, no, it must not
be. I positively cannot consent to it. He is a priest
and a cardinal. We shall be excommunicated. But if
there be any other means, I am very willing. Thou
mayst speak of it to thy friends; and I^on my side
will think of the matter."

The word once spoken, the king gave himself up to
his resentment, as if he had satisfied it, as if the blow
were already struck. Cinq-Mars was vexed to see this,
for he feared that his anger thus vented might not be
of long duration. However, he put faith in his last
words, especially when after numberless complaints
Louis added, —

" And would you believe that though now for two
years I have mourned my motherj ever since that day
when he so cruelly mocked me before my whole court
by asking for her recall when he knew she was dead, —
ever since that day I have been trying in vain to get

96 CINQ-MARS.

them to bury her in France with my father».? He has
exiled even her ashes."

At this moment Cinq-Mars thought he heai*d a sound
on the staircase ; the king reddened.

^^ Go," he said ; *^ go ! Make haste and prepare for
the hunt! Thou wilt ride next to my carriage. Go
quickly! I desire it; go!"

And he himself pushed Cinq-Mars towards the en-
trance by which he had come.

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 his mind, when he thought he heard the sound
of feet ascending the other staircase. He stopped ; they
stopped. He re-ascended ; they seemed to him to descend.
He knew that nothing could be seen between the inter-
stices of the architecture ; and he quitted the place, im-
patient and very uneasy, and determined to remain at
the door of the entrance to see who should come out.
But he had scarcely raised the tapestry which veiled the
entrance to the guard-room than he was surrounded by
a crowd of courtiers who had been awaiting him, and
was fain to proceed to the work of issuing the orders
connected with his post, or to receive respects, commu-
nications, solicitations, presentations, recommendations,
embraces, — to observe that infinitude of relations which
surround a favorite, and which require constant and sus-
tained attention, for any absence of mind might cause
great misfortunes. He thus almost forgot the trifling
circumstance which had made him uneasy, and which
he thought might after all have only been a freak of the

THE HUNTING PARTY, 97

imagination. Giving himself up to the sweets of a
kind of continual apotheosis, he mounted his horse in
the great courtyard, attended by noble pages, and sur-
rounded by brilliant gentlemen.

Monsieur soon arrived, followed by his people ; and in
an hour the king appeared, pale, languishing, and sup-
ported 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 dogs in 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 all the court, accustomed to his ways,
diffused themselves through the roads of the park, while
the king slowly followed an isolated path, having at his
side the grand écuyer and four persons whom he had
signed to approach him.

The aspect of this pleasure party was sinister. The
approach of winter had stripped well-nigh all the leaves
from the great oaks in the park, whose (Tark branches
now stood up against a gray sky, like branches of
funereal candelabra. A light fog seemed to indicate
rain; through the melancholy boughs of the thinned
wood the heavy carriages of the court were seen slowly
passing on, filled with women unifoi*mly dressed in
black, and obliged to await the result of a chase
which they did not witness. The distant hounds gave
tongue, and the horn was sometimes faintly heard like a
sigh. A cold, cutting wind obliged every man to cover ;

VOL. II. — 7

98 CINQ-MARS,

and some of the women, putting over their faces a veil
or mask of black velvet to keep themselves from the
air which the curtains of their carriages did not in-
tercept (for there were no glasses at that time), seemed
to wear what is called a domino. All was languish-
ing and sad. The onlj relief was that ever and anon
groups of young men in the excitement of the chase
flew past the avenue like the wind, cheering on the dogs
or sounding their horns; tlien all again became silent,
as after the discharge of fire-works the sky appears
darker than before.

In a path, parallel with that followed by the king,
were several courtiers enveloped in their cloaks. Ap-
pearing little intent upon the stag, they rode even with
the. king's hroueUe^ and never lost sight of him. They
conversed in low tones.

" Excellent ! Fontrailles, excellent ! victory ! The
king takes his arm every moment. See how he smiles
upon him ! See ! M. le Grand dismounts and gets into
the brouette by his side. Come, come, the old fox is
done at last!"

"Ah, that's nothing! Did not you see how the king
shook hands with Monsieur ? He 's made a sign to you,
Montrésor. Look, Gondi ! "

" Look, indeed ! That 's very easy to say ; but I don't
see with my own eyes. I have only those of faith, and
yours. Well, what are they doing now ? I wish to
Heaven I were not so near-sighted ! Tell me, what are
they doing?"

Montrésor answered, "The king bends his ear towards
the Due de Bouillon, who is speaking to him ; he speaks

THE HUNTING PARTY. 99

again ! he gesticulates ! he does not cease ! Oh, he '11
be minister!"

" He will be minister ! " said Fontrailles.

**He will be minister! " echoed the Comte du Lude.

" Oh, no doubt of it ! " said Montrésor.

" I hope he '11 give me a regiment, and I '11 marry my
cousin," cried Olivier d'Entraigues, with boyish vivacity.

The Abbé de Gondi sneered, and looking up at the
sky, began to sing to a hunting tune, —

^ Les étoumeaux ont le vent bon,
Ton ton, ton ton, ton taine, ton ton -

^^ I think, gentlemen, you are more short-sighted than
I, or else miracles will come to pass in the year of grace
1642 ; for M. de Bouillon is no nearer being prime min-
ister, though the king do embrace him, than I. He has
good qualities, but he will not do ; his qualities are not
various enough. However, I have much respect for his
great and singularly foolish town of Sedan, which is a
fine shelter in case of need."

Montrésor and the rest were too attentive to every
gesture of the prince to answer him; and they con-
tinued, —

" See, M. le Grand takes the reins, and is driving."

The abbé replied with the same air, —

" Si vous conduisez ma brouette,
Ne versez pas, beau postillon,
Ton ton, ton ton, ton taine, ton ton."

" Ah, Abbé, your songs will drive me mad ! " said
Fontrailles. "You've got airs ready for every event
in life."

100 CINQrMARS.

^^ I will also find you events which shall go to all the
airs," answered Gondi.

^< Faith, the air of these pleases me ! " said Fontrailles,
in an under voice. ^' I shall not be obliged by Monsieur
to carry his confounded treaty to Madrid, and I am not
sorry for it ; it is a somewhat touchy commission. The
Pyrenees are not so easily passed as may be supposed ;
the cardinal is on the road."

" Ah, ah ! " cried Montrésor.

" Ah, ah ! " said Olivier.

" Well, what is 't with you ? ah, ah ! " asked Gondi.
" What have you discovered so fine ? "

^^ Why, the king has again shaken hands with Mon-
sieur. Thank Heaven, gentlemen, we're rid of the
cardinal ! The old boar is hunted down. Who will
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 abbé; "and we sha'n't want
charges against an insolent fellow who has dared to
discharge a page, shall we?" Then, curbing his horse,
and letting Olivier and Montrésor pass on, he leaned
towards M. du Lude, who was talking to 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 require mystery. This would
be an admirable one if some trouble were taken with it.
'T is in itself a finer one than I have ever read of in
history. There is stuff enough in it to upset three

THE HUNTING PARTY. 101

kingdoms, if necessary, and the blockheads will spoil
all. It is really a pity. I should be very sorry. I Ve a
taste for affairs of this kind; and in this one in par-
ticular 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 car-
riages, with six and four horses, followed the same path
^at two hundred paces behind these gentlemen ; the cur-
tains were open on the left side through which to see the
king. In the first was the queen ; she was alone at tlie
back, clothed in black and veiled. On the front was
the Maréchale d'Effiat ; and at the feet of the queen was
the Princesse Marie. Seated on one side on a stool, her
robe and her feet hung out of the carriage, and were
supported by a gilt step, — for, as we have already ob-
served, there were then no doors to the coaches. She
also tried to see through the trees the movements of
the king, and often leaned back, annoyed by the pass-
ing of the prince palatine and his suite.

This northern prince was sent by the King of Poland,
apparently on a political negotiation, but in reality, to
induce the Duchesse de Mantua to espouse the old King
Uladislas VI. ; and he displayed at the court of Prance
all the luxury of his own, then called at Paris " barba-
rian and Scythian," and so far justified these names by
strange eastern costumes. The palatine of Posnania was
very handsome, and wore, in common with the people of
his suite, a long thick beard. His head, shaved like that
of a Turk, was covered with a furred cap. He had a
short vest, enriched with diamonds and rubies; his horse

102 CINQrMARS,

was painted red, and amply plumed. He was attended
by a company of Polish guards in red and yellow uni-
forms, wearing large cloaks with long sleeves, which
hung negligently from the shoulder. The Polish lords
who escorted him were dressed in gold and silver bro-
cade ; and behind their shaved heads floated a single
lock of hair, which gave them an Asiatic and Tartar
aspect, as unknown at the court of Louis XIII. as
that of the Moscovites. The women thought all this
rather savage and alarming.

Marie de Gonzaga was importuned with the profound
salutations and Oriental elegancies of this foreigner and
his suite. Whenever he passed before her, he thought
himself called upon to address a compliment to her in
broken French, awkwardly made up of a few words
about hope and royalty. She found no other means
to rid herself of him than by repeatedly putting her
handkerchief to her nose, and saying aloud to the
queen, —

"In truth, Madame, these gentlemen have an odor
about them that makes one quite ill."

" It will be desirable to strengthen your nerves and
accustom yourself to it," answered Anne of Austria,
somewhat dryly.

Then, fearing she had hurt her feelings, she con-
tinued gayly, —

" You will become used to them, as we have done ;
and you know that in respect to odors I am rather
fastidious. M. Mazarin told me, the other day, that my
punishment in purgatory will consist in breathing ill
scents, and sleeping in Russian cloth."

THE HUNTING PARTY. 103

Tet the queen was very grave, and soon subsided into
8ilei.ce. Burying herself in her carriage, enveloped in
her mantle, and apparently taking no interest in what
was passing around her, she yielded to the motion of
the carriage. Marie, still occupied with the king,
talked in a low voice with the Maréchale d'Effiat ; each
sought to give the other hopes which neither felt, and
sought to deceive each other out of love.

*^ Madame, I congratulate you ; M. Ic Grand is seated
with the king. Never has he been so highly distin-
guished," said Marie.

Then she Was silent for a long time, and the carriage
rolled mournfully over the dead, dry leaves.

" Yes, I see it with joy ; the king is so good ! "
answered the maréchale.

And she sighed deeply.

A long and sad silence again followed; each looked
at the other and mutually found their eyes full of tears.
They dared not speak again ; and Marie, drooping her
head, saw nothing but the brown, damp earth scattered
by the wheels. A melancholy revery occupied her
mind ; and although she had before her the spectacle
of the first court of Europe at the feet of him she loved,
everything inspired her with fear, and dark presenti-
ments involuntarily agitated her.

Suddenly a horse passed by her like the wind ; she
raised her eyes, and had 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 knitted
brows and the shadow of his lowered hat. She followed
him with trembling eyes; she saw him stop in the midst

104 CINQ-MARS,

of the group of cavaliers who preceded the carria^^es,
and who received him with their bats off. A moment
after he went into the wood with one of them, looking
at her from the distance, and following her with his
eyes until the carriage had passed ; then he seemed to
give the man a roll of papers, and disappeared. The
mist which was falling prevented her from seeing him
any more. It was, indeed, one of those fogs so frequent
on the banks of the Loire. The sun looked at first like
a small blood-red moon, enveloped in a tattered shroud,
and within half an hour was concealed under so thick
a cloud that Marie could scarcely distinguish the fore-
most horses of the carriage, while the men who passed
at the distance of a few paces looked like grizzly
shadows. This icy vapor turned to a penetrating rain
and at the same time a cloud of fetid odor. The queen
made the beautiful princess sit beside her; and they
turned towards Chambord quickly and in silence.
They soon heard the horns recalling the scattered
hounds ; the huntsmen passed rapidly by the carriage,
seeking their way through the fog, and calling to each
other. Marie saw only now and then the head of a
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 M. le Grand," was repeated
about ; " where can M. le Grand Écuyer be gone to ? "

A voice, passing near, said, ^^ He has just lost
himself."

These simple words made her shudder, for her

THE HUNTING PARTY. 105

afflicted spirit gave them the most sinister meaning.
The terrible thought pursued her to the château and
into her apartments, wherein she hastened to shut her-
self. 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 looked at the narrow
windows; they seemed covered on the outside with a
white cloth that shut out the light.

Meanwhile, at the extremity of the forest, towards
Montfrault, there had lost themselves two cavaliers,
wearied with seeking the way to the chateau in the
monotonous similarity of the trees and paths; they
were about to stop near a pond, when eight or nine
men, springing from the thickets, rushed upon them,
and before they had time to draw, hung to their legs
and arms and to the bridles of their horses in such a
manner as 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 are dead men ! '*

"Scoundrels," answered the first cavalier, trying to
open the holsters of his pistols, "I will have you
hanged for abusing my name."

" Dios es le Senor ! " cried the same voice.

All the men immediately released their hold, and
ran into the wood; a burst of savage laughter was
heard, and a man approached Cinq-Mars.

" Amigoj do you not recognize me ? T is but a joke
of Jacques, the Spanish captain."

Fontrailles approached, and said in a low voice to
the grand écuyer, —

106 CINQ-MARS.

^^Sir, this is an enterprising fellow; I would advise
you to employ him. We must neglect no chance."

^' Listen to me," said Jacques de Laubardemont, '^ and
answer at once. I am not a phrase-maker, like my
father. I bear in mind that you have done me some
good offices ; and lately again, you have been useful to
me, as you always are, without knowing it, for I have
somewhat repaired my fortune in your little insurrec-
tions. If you will, I can render you an important
service; I command a few brave men."

" What service ? " asked Cinq-Mars. " We will
see."

" I commence by a piece of information. This morn-
ing while you descended the king's staircase on one
side, Father Joseph ascended the other."

^^ Ha ! this, then, is the secret of his sudden and in-
explicable change ! Can it be ? A king of France ! and
to allpw us to confide all our secrets to him."

" Well ! is that all ? Do you say nothing ? You know
I have an old account to settle with the Capuchin."

" What 's that to me ? " and he hung down his head,
absorbed in a profound revery.

" It faiatters 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, though he 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 would prefer our despatching him with the
sword. This is just. He is worth it ; 't is a distinction

THE HUNTING PARTY. 107

dtie to him. It were undoubtedly more suitable for
great lords to take charge of the cardinal ; and that he
who despatches his Eminence should be in a fair way
to* be a maréchal. For myself, I am not proud ; one
must not be proud, whatever one's merit in one's pro-
fession. I must not touch the cardinal ; he 's a morsel
for a king!"

" Nor any others," said the grand écuyer.

^' Oh, let us have the Capuchin ! " said Captain
Jacques, urgently.

" You are wrong if you refuse this office," said Fon-
trailles ; " such things occur every day. Vitry began
with Concini ; and he was made a maréchal. You see
men extremely well at court, who have killed their
enemies with their own hand in the streets of Paris,
and you hesitate to rid yourself of a villain ! Richelieu
has his agents ; you must have yours. I cannot under-
stand your scruples.'*

" Do not torment him," said Jacques, abruptly ; " I
understand it. I thought as he does when I was a boy,
before reason came. I would not have killed even a
monk ; but let me speak to him." Then turning to-
wards Cinq-Mars, "Listen: when men conspire, they
seek the death or at least the downfall of some one,
eh?"

And he paused.

" Now in that case, we are out with God, and in with
the Devil, ehî"

" Secundo, as they say at the Sorbonne ; it 's no
worse when one is damned, to be so for much than for
little, eh?"

108 CINQrMARS.

^Œrgo, it is indifferent whether a thousand or one be
killed. I defy you to answer that."

" Nothing could be better argued, Doctor-dagger," said
Fontrailles, half-laughing, " I see you will be a good trav-
elling-companion. You shall go with me to Spain if you
like."

" I know you are going to take the treaty there," an-
swered Jacques ; " and I will guide you through the Pyre-
nees by roads unknown to man. But I shall be horribly
vexed to go away without having wrung the neck of that
old he-goat, whom we leave behind, like a knight in the
midst of a game of chess. Once more, sir," he con-
tinued with an air of pious earnestness, " if you have
any religion in you, refuse no longer; recollect the
words of our theological fathers, Hurtado de Mendoza
and Sanchez, who have proved that a man may secretly
kill his enemies, since by this means he avoids two sins,
— that of exposing his life, and that of fighting a duel.
It is in accordance with this grand consolatory principle
that I have always acted."

" Go, go ! " said Cinq-Mars, in a voice thick with rage ;
" I have other things to think of."

"Of what more important ? " said Fontrailles ; "this
might be a great weight in the balance of our destinies."

" I am thinking how much the heart of a king weighs
in it," said Cinq-Mars.

" You terrify me," replied the gentleman ; " we can-
not go so far as that!"

" Nor do I think what you suppose, sir," continued
D'Effiat, in a severe tone. " I was merely reflecting how
kings complain when a subject betrays them. Well,

THE HUNTING PARTY. 109

war ! war ! civil war, foreign war, let jrour fires be kin-
dled ! since I hold the match, I will apply it to the mine.
Perish the State ! perish twenty kingdoms, if necessary !
No ordinary calamities suffice 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 suc-
cors, in case of abandonment on the part of the king.
Just now I foresaw this abandonment in his forced mani-
festation of friendship ; and I decided upon your setting
out when he finished his conversation by announcing
his departure for Perpignan. I feared Narbonne ; I now
see that he is going there to deliver himself up a prisoner
to the cardinal. Go at once. I add to the letters I have
given you the treaty here ; it is in fictitious names, but
here is the counterpart, signed by Monsieur, by the Due
de Bouillon, and by me. The Count-Duke of Olivarès
desires nothing further. There are blanks for the Due
d'Orléans, which you will fill up as you please. Go ; in
a month I shall expect you at Perpignan. I will have
Sedan opened to the seventeen thousand Spaniards from
Flanders."

Then advancing towards the adventurer, who awaited
him, he said, —

" For you, brave fellow, since you desire to aid me, I
charge you with escorting this gentleman to Madrid;
you will be largely recompensed."

Jacques, twisting his mustache, replied, —

^^ Ah, you do not then scorn to employ me ! you ex-
hibit your judgment and taste. Do you know that the
great Queen Christina of Sweden has asked for me, and

110 CINQrMARS.

wished to have me with her as her confidential man ?
She was 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 brave men ; but I would
not serve her, because she is a Huguenot, and I have
fixed principles, from which I never swerve. Par ex--
^mp2é,I swear to you by Saint Jacques to guide Monsieur
through the passes of the Pyrenees to Oleron as surely
as through these woods, and to defend him against the
Devil, if need be, as well as your papers, which we will
bring you back without blot or tear. As for recompense,
I want none. I always find it in the action itself. Be-
sides, I do not receive money, for I am a gentleman.
The Laubardemonts are a very ancient and very good
family."

" Adieu, then, noble sir," said Cinq-Mars ; "go ! "
After having pressed the hand of Fontrailles, he sighed
and disappeared in the wood, on his return to the château
of Chambord.

■:<é^y*\

'^.^û

CHAPTER XX.

THE READING.

Les circonstances déToilent pour ainsi dire la royauté dn génie,
dernière ressource des peuples éteints. Les grands écrivains . . .
ces rois qui n'en ont pas le nom, mais qui régnent véritablement par
la force du caractère et de la grandeur des pensées, sont élus par les
événements auxquels ils doivent commander. Sans ancêtres et sans
postérité, seuls de leur race, leur mission remplie, ils disparaissent en
laissant à l'avenir des ordres qu'il exécutera fidèlement.

P. DE Lamennais.

Shortly after the events just narrated, at the comer of
the Palais-Royal, at a small and pretty house, numerous
carriages were seen to draw up, and a door, reached by
three stone steps, frequently to open. The neighbors
often came to their windows to complain of the noise
made at so late an hour of the night, despite the fear of
robbers ; and the patrol often stopped in surprise, and
only passed on when they saw at each carriage ten or
twelve footmen, armed with staves and carrying torches.
A young gentleman, followed by three lackeys, entered
and asked for Mademoiselle de Lorme. He wore a long
rapier, ornamented with pink ribbon. Enormous bows

112 CINQ-MARS.

of the same color on his high-heeled shoes almost en-
tirely concealed his feet, which after the fashion of the
day he turned very much out. He frequently twisted a
small curling mustache, and before entering combed his
small pointed beard. There was but one exclamation
when he was announced.

'* Here he is at last ! " cried a young and rich voice.
^' He has made us wait long enough for him, the dear
Desbarreaux. Come, take a seat ! place yourself 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 olive complexion.
There was . something masculine in her manner, which
she seemed to derive from her circle, composed entirely
of men. She took their arm unceremoniously, as she
spoke to them, with a freedom which she communicated
to them. Her conversation was animated rather than
joyous. It often excited laughter around her; but it
was by dint of intellect that she created gayety (if we
may so express it), for her countenance, impassioned
as it was, seemed incapable of bending into a smile, and
her large blue eyes, under her jet-black hair, gave her
at first 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 were assembled
nearly thirty persons, — some seated in the large arm-
chairs, others standing in the vast chimney-place, others
conversing in the embrasures of the windows under the
heavy curtains. Some of them were obscure men, now

THE READING. 113

illustrious; others illustrious men, now obscure for us
posterity. Thus, among the latter, he profoundly sa-
luted MM. d'Aubijoux, de Brion, de Montmort, and
otlier very brilliant gentlemen, who were there as
judges ; tenderly, and with an air of esteem, pressed the
hands of MM. Monteruel, de Sirmond, de Malleville,
Baro, Grombauld, and other learned men, almost all
called great men in the annals of the academy of which
they were the founders, — itself called sometimes the
Académie des Beaux Esprits, sometimes the Académie
Éminente. But M. Desbarreaux gave but a mere patron-
izing nod to young Corneille, who was talking in a cor-
ner with a foreigner, and with a yomig man whom he
presented to the mistress of the house by the name of
M. Poquelin, son of the valetnie-^hambre tapissier du roi.
The foreigner was Milton ; the young man was Molière.

Before the reading expected from the young Sybarite,
a great contest arose between him and other poets and
prose writers of the time. They spoke to each other
with great volubility and animation a language incom-
prehensible to any one who should suddenly have come
among them without being initiated, eagerly pressing
each other's hands with affectionate compliments and
infinite allusions to their works.

■" Ah, here you are, illustrious Baro ! " cried the new-
comer. " I have read your last sixain. Ah, what a
sixain ! how full of the gallant and the tendre ! "

"What is that you say of the Tendre?" interrupted
Marion de Lorme ; " have you 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 M. le

VOL. II. — 8

114 CINQ-MARS.

Gouverneur de Notre Dame de la Garde will please to
show us his new chart, I will tell you where you are."

Scudery arose with a vain-glorious and pedantic air ;
and unrolling upon the table a sort of geographical chart,
tied with blue ribbons, he himself showed the lines of
red ink which he had traced upon it.

" This is the finest piece of ' Clélie,' " he said. " This
chart is generally found very gallant ; but 't is merely a
slight ebullition of playful wit, to please our little literary
cabale. However, as there are strange people in the
world, it is possible that all who see it may not have
minds sufficiently well turned to understand it. This is
the road which must be followed to go from Nouvelle-
Amitié to Tendre ; and observe, gentlemen, that as we
say Cumae-on-the-Ionian-Sea, Cumae-on-the-Tyrrhean-Sca,
we shall say Tendre-sur-Inclination, Tendre-sur-Estime,
and Tendre-sur-Reconnaissance. We must begin by
inhabiting the village of Grand-Cœur, Générosité, Ex-
actitude, and Petits-Soins."

" Ah ! how very pretty ! " interposed Desbarreaux.
^^ See the villages marked out ; here is Petits-Soins,
Billet-Galant, then Billet-Doux ! "

" Oh ! 't is ingenious in the highest degree ! " cried
Vaugelas, CoUetet, and the rest.

"And observe," continued the author, inflated with
this success, " that it is necessary to pass through Com-
plaisance and Sensibilité; and that if we do not take
this road, we run the risk of losing our way to Tiédeur,
Oubli, and of falling into the lake of Indifférence."

*' Delicious ! delicious ! gallant au suprême ! " cried the
auditors ; " never was greater genius ! "

THE READING. 116

'* Well, Madame," resumed Scudéry, " I now declare
it in yoar house : this work, printed under my name, is
by my sister, — she who translated ' Sappho ' so agree-
ably." And without being asked, he recited in a de-
clamatory tone verses ending thus : —

^ L'amour est un mal agréable ^

Dont mon cœur ne saurait guérir ;
Mais quand il serait guérissable,
n est bien plus doux d'en mourir."

** How ! had that Greek so much wit ? I cannot be-
lieve it," exclaimed Marion de Lorme ; " how superior
Mademoiselle de Scudéry is to her ! That idea is wholly
hers; she must unquestionably put these charming
verses into * Olélie.' They will figure well in that Roman
history."

" Admirable, perfect ! " cried all the ^avan» ; " Hora-
tius, A runs, and the amiable Porsenna are such gallant
lovers."

They were all bending over the " carte de Tendre,"
and their fingers crossed in following the windings of
the amorous rivers. The young Poquelin ventured to
raise a timid voice and his melancholy but acute glance,
and said, —

" What purpose does this serve ? Is it to give happi-
ness 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 consoled himself by meditating, "Les Précieuses
Ridicules."

Desbarreaux prepared to read a pious sonnet, which

I See Clélîe, t. i.

116 CINQ-MARS.

he was penitent for having composed in an illness ; he
seemed to be ashamed of having thought for a moment
upon God at the sight of his lightning, and blushed at
the weakness. The mistress of the house stopped him.

" It is not yet time to read your beautiful verses ; you
would be interrupted. We expect M. le Grand Écuyer
and other gentlemen ; it would be actual murder to allow
a great mind to speak during this noise and confusion.
But here is a young Englishman who has just come from
Italy, and is on his return to London. They tell me he
has composed a poem — I don't know what ; but he '11
repeat some verses of it. Many of you gentlemen of the
eminent company know English ; and for the rest he has
had the passages he is going to read translated by an ex-
secretary of the Duke of Buckingham, and here are copies
in French on this table."

So saying, she took them and distributed them among
her erudite visitors. The company seated themselves,
and were silent. It took some time to persuade the
young foreigner to speak or to quit the recess of the
window, where he seemed to have come to a very good
understanding with Corneille. He at last advanced to
an armchair placed near the table ; he seemed of feeble
health, and fell into, rather than seated himself, in the
chair. He rested his elbow on the table, and with his
hand covered his large and beautiful eyes, which were
half closed, and reddened with night-watches or tears.
He repeated his fragments from memory. His doubting
auditors looked at him haughtily, or at least patroniz-
ingly ; others carelessly glanced over the translation of
his verses.

THE READING, 117

His voice, at first suppressed, grew clearer by the very
flow of his harmonious recital ; the breath of poetic in-
spiration soon elevated him to himself; and his look,
raised to heaven, became sublime as that of the young
evangelist, conceived by Raffaello, for the light still
shone on it. He narrated in his verses the first disobe-
dience of man, and invoked the Holy Spirit, who prefers
before all other temples a pure and simple heart, who
knows all, and who was present at the birth of time.

This opening was received with a profound silence;
and a slight murmur arose after the enunciation of
the last idea. He heard not; he saw only through a
cloud ; he was in the world of his own creation. He
continued.

He spoke of the infernal spirit, bound in avenging fire
by adamantine chains, lying vanquished nine times the
space that measures night and day to mortal men ; of
the darkness visible of the eternal prisons and the burn-
ing ocean where the fallen angels float. Then, his voice,
now powerful, began the address of the fallen angel.
" Art thou," he said, " he who in the happy realms of
light, clothed with transcendent brightness, didst out-
shine myriads ? From what height fallen ? What though
the field be lost, all is not lost ! Unconquerable will and
study of revenge, immortal hate and courage never to
submit nor yield — what is else not to be overcome."

Here a lackey in a loud voice announced MM. de
Montrésor and d'Entraigues. They saluted, exchanged
a few words, deranged the chairs, and then settled down.
The auditors availed themselves of the interruption to
institute a dozen private conversations ; scarcely any-

118 CINQ-MARS.

thing was heard but expressions of censure, and imputa-
tions of bad taste. Even some men of merit, dulled by
a particular habit of thinking, cried out that they did
not understand it ; that it was above their comprehen-
sion (not thinking how truly they spoke) ; and from
this feigned humility gained themselves a comphment,
and for the poet an impertinent remark, — a double
advantage. Some voices even pronounced the word
" profanation."

The poet, interrupted, put his head between his hands
and his elbows on the table, that he might not hear the
noise either of praise or censure. Three men only ap-
proached him, an officer, Poquelin, and Corneille; the
latter whispered to Milton, —

" I would advise you to change the picture ; your
hearers are not on a level 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 a gentle tone and a soft accent ; he spoke
of the chaste happiness of the two first of human beings.
He described their majestic nakedness, the ingenuous
command of their looks, their walk among lions and
tigers, which gambolled at their feet ; he spoke of the
purity of their morning prayer, of their enchanting
smile, the playful tenderness of their youth, and their
enamoured conversation, so painful to the Prince of
Darkness.

THE READING, 119

Gentle tears quite involuntarily made humid the eyes
of the beautiful Marion de Lorme. Nature had taken
possession of her heart, despite her head ; poetry filled it
with grave and religious thoughts, from which the in-
toxication of pleasure had ever diverted her. The idea
of vii*tuous love appeared to her for the first time in all
its beauty ; and she seemed as if struck with a magic
wand, and changed into a pale and beautiful statue.

Corneille, his young friend, and the officer, were full \/
of a silent admiration which they dared not express,
for raised voices drowned that of the surprised poet.

" I can't stand this ! " cried Desbarreaux. " It 's of
an insipidity to make one sick."

^^ And what absence of grace, gallantry, and the htlle
fiamme!^^ said Scudéry, coldly.

" Ah, how different from our immortal D'Urfé ! " said
Baro, the continuator.

*' Wliere is. the ' Ariane,' where the ' Astrea ? ' " cried,
with a groan, Godcau, the annotator.

The whole assembly well-nigh voiced these obliging re-
marks, though uttered so as only to be heard by the poet
as a murmur of uncertain import. He understood how-
ever that he produced no enthusiasm, and collected
himself to touch another chord of his lyre.

At this moment the Counsellor de Thou was an-
nounced, who, modestly saluting 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 midday, shak-
ing the plumes of his divine wings, that filled the air

120 CINQrMARS.

with heavenly fragrance, who recounted to man the his-
tory of heaven, the revolt of Lucifer, clothed in an ar-
mor of diamonds, raised on a car brilliant as the sun,
guarded by glittering cherubim, and marching against
the Eternal. But Emmanuel appears on the living char-
iot of the Lord; and his two thousand thunderbolts
hurled dovm to hell, with awful noise, the accursed ai*my
confounded.

At this the company arose ; and all was interrupted,
for religious scruples became leagued with false taste.
Nothing was heard but exclamations which obliged the
mistress of the house to rise also, and endeavor to con-
ceal them from the author. This was not difficult, for
he was entirely absorbed in the elevation of his thoughts.
His genius at this moment had nothing in common with
the earth ; and when he once more opened his eyes on
those who surrounded him, he saw near him four admir-
ers, 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 a work. Pure poetry is appreciated by
but few souls. For the common run of men, it must be
closely allied with the almost physical interest of the
drama. I had been tempted to make a poem of ^ Poly-
euctes ; ' but I shall cut down this subject, abridge it of
the heavens, and it shall be only a tragedy."

" What matters to me the glory of the moment ?" an-
swered Milton. ^' I think not of success. I sing be-
cause I feel myself a poet. I go whither inspiration
leads me. Its path is ever the right one. K tiiese

THE READING. 121

verses were not to be read till a century after my death,
I should write them just the same."

*^I admire them before they are written/' said the
young ofGcer. ^^I see in them the God whose innate
image I have found in my heart."

^^ Who is it speaks thus kindly to me ? " asked the
poet.

^' 1 am René Descartes," replied the soldier, gently.

" How, sir ! " cried De Thou. " Are you so happy as
to be related to the author of the * Princeps ' ? "

** I am the author of that work," replied Reué.

" 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, I wear the sword. I was at the siege
of Rochelle. I love the profession of arms because it
keeps the soul in a region of noble ideas by the contin-
ual feeling of the sacrifice of life ; yet it does not occupy
the whole man. He cannot always apply his -thoughts
to it. Peace lulls them. Moreover, one has also to fear
seeing them suddenly interrupted by an obscure blow
or an absurd and untimely accident. And if a man be
killed in the execution of his plan, posterity preserves
un idea of the plan which he himself had not, and which
may be wholly preposterous ; and this is the evil side of
the profession for a man of letters."

De Thou smiled with pleasure at the simple language
of this superior man, — this man whom he so admired,
and in his admiration loved. He pressed the hand of
the young sage of Touraine, and drew him into an ad-

122 CINQ-MARS.

joining cabinet with Corneille, Milton, and Molière, and
with them enjoyed one of those conversations which
make us regard as lobt the time which precedes them
and the time which is to follow them.

For two hours they had enchanted one another with
their discourse, when the sound of music, of guitars and
flutes playing minuets, sarabands, allemandes, and the
Spanish dances which the young queen had brought into
fashion, the continual passing of groups of young ladies
and their joyous laughter, all announced that the ball
had commenced. A very young and beautiful person,
holding a large fan as it were a sceptre, and surrounded
by ten young men, entered their retired chamber with
her brilliant court, which she ruled like a queen, and
entirely put to the rout the studious conversers.

" Adieu, gentlemen ! " said De Thou. *' I make way
for Mademoiselle de Lenclos 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, al-
though we dance," said Olivier d'Entraigues, who led her.

" Ah ! your conspiracy is against me, M. le Page ! "
said Ninon, looking the while at another light-horseman,
and abandoning her remaining arm to a third, the other
gallants seeking to place themselves in the way of her
flying œillades^ for she distributed her glances brilliant
as the rays of the sun dancing over the moving waters.

De Thou stole away without any one thinking of stop-
ping him, and was descending the great staircase, when
he met the little Abbé de Gondî, red, hot, and out of

THE READING, 128

breath, who stopped him with an animated and joy-
ous air.

^^ How now ! whither go you ? Let the foreigners and
%avan% go. You are one of us. I am somewhat late ;
but our beautiful Aspasia will pardon me. Why are
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 abbé,
in a low voice.

" What oaths ? " asked De Thou.

« Is not M. le Grand come ? "

^ I expected to see him ; but I suppose he has not
come, or else he has gone."

^* No, no ! come with me," said the hare-brained abbé.
^^ You are one of us. Parbleu ! it is impossible to do
without you ; come ! "

De Thou, unwilling to refuse, and thus appear to dis-
own his friends, even for parties of pleasure which an-
noyed him, followed De Gondi, who passed through two
cabinets, and descended a small private staircase. At
each step he took, he heard more distinctly the voices
of an assemblage of men. Gondi opened the door. An
unexpected spectacle met his view.

The chamber he was entering, lighted by a mysterious
glimmer, seemed the asylum of the most voluptuous
rendezvous. On one side was a gilt bed, with a canopy
of tapestry ornamented with feathers, and covered with
lace and ornaments. The furniture, shining with gold,
was of grayish silk, richly embroidered. Velvet cush-
ions were at the foot of each armchair, upon a thick

124 CINQ-MARS.

carpet. Small mirrors, connected with one another by
ornaments of silver, seemed an entire glass, itself a
pei-fection then unknown, and everywhere multiplied
their glittering faces. No sound from without could
penetrate this throne of delight ; but the persons assem-
bled there seemed far remote from the thoughts which
it was calculated to give rise to. A number of men,
whom he recognized as courtiers, or soldiers of rank,
crowded the entrance of this chamber and an adjoining
apartment of larger dimensions. All were intent upon
that which was passing in the centre of the first room.
Here, ten young men, standing, and holding in their
hands their drawn swords, the points of which were low-
ered towards the ground, were ranged round a table.
Their faces, turned to Cinq-Mars, announced that they
had just taken an oath to him. The grand écuyer stood
by himself before the fireplace, his arms folded with
an air of all-absorbing reflection. Standing near him,
Marion de Lormo, grave and collected, seemed to have
presented these gentlemen to him.

When Cinq-Mars perceived his friend, he rushed
towards the door, casting a terrible glance at Gondi,
and seizing De Thou by both arms, stopped him 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 you enter."

" What do you yourself here ? What do I sec in this
house ? "

" The consequences of that you wot of. Go ; this air
is poisoned for all who are here."

THE READING. 125

^* It is too late ; they have seen me. What would they
say if I were to withdraw ? I should discourage them ;
you would be lost."

This dialogue had passed in low and hurried tones ;
at the last word, De Thou, pushing aside his friend,
entered, and with a firm step crossed the 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 a discourse which
the entrance of his friend had interrupted, —

^^ Be then with us, gentlemen ; there is no longer any
need for so much mystery. Remember that when a
strong mind embraces an idea, it must follow it to all
its consequences. Your courage will have a wider field
than that of a court intrigue. Thank me ; instead of a
conspiracy, I give you a war. M. de Bouillon has de-
parted to place himself at the head of his army of Italy ;
in two days, and before the king, I quit Paris for Per-
pignan. Gome all of you thither ; the Royalists of the
army await us."

Here he threw around him calm and confident looks ;
he saw gleams of joy and enthusiasm in the eyes of all
who surrounded him. Before allowing his own heart
to be possessed by the contagious emotion which pre-
cedes great enterprises, he desired still more firmly to
assure himself of them, and said with a grave air, —

" Yes, war, gentlemen ; think of it, open war. Rochelle
and Navarre arc arousing 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 be sur-

126 CINQ-MARS,

rounded, 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
XIIL, our master, that he may pardon us for having
delivered him from a cruel and ambitious man, and
hastened his own resolution."

Here, again glancing around him, he saw increas-
ing confidence in the looks and attitudes of hia
accomplices.

^^ How ! " he continued, crossing his arms, and yet
restraining with an effort his own emotion ; ^' you do
not recoil before this resolution, which would appear a
revolt to any other men ! Do you not think that I have
abused the powers you have vested in me ? I have car-
ried matters very far ; but there are times when kings
would be served, as it were in spite of themselves. All
is arranged, as you know. Sedan will open its gates to
us; and we are sure of Spain. Twelve thousand veteran
troops will enter Paris with us. No place, however,
will be given up to the foreigner; they will all have
a French garrison, and be taken in the name of the
king."

" Long live the king ! long live the Union ! the new
Union, the Holy League ! " cried the assembly.

" It has come, then ! " cried Cinq-Mars, with enthu-
siasm; "it has come, — the most glorious day of my
life. Oh, youth, youth, from century to century called
frivolous and improvident! of what will men now
accuse thee, when they behold conceived, ripened, and
ready for execution, under a chief of twenty-two, the

THE READING. 127

most vast, the most just, the most beneficial of enter-
prises ? Mj friends, what is a great life but a thought
of youth executed by mature age ? Youth looks fixedly
into the future with its eagle glance, traces there a broad
plan, lays the foundation stone ; and all that our entire
existence afterwards can do is to approximate to that
first design. Oh, when can great projects arise, if not
when the heart beats vigorously in the breast ? The
mind is not sufficient; it is but an instrument"

A fresh outburst of joy had followed these words,
when an old man with a white beard stood forward
from the throng,

" Bah ! " said Gondi, in a low voice, " here 's the old
Chevalier de Guise going to dote and damp us."

And truly enough, the old man, pressing the hand of
Cinq-Mars, said slowly and with difficulty, having placed
himself near him, —

" Yes, my son, and you, my children, I see with joy
that my old friend Bassompierre is about to be delivered
by you, and that you are about to avenge the Comte de
Soissons and the young Montmorency. But it is expe-
dient for youth, all ardent as it is, to listen to those who
have seen much. I have witnessed the League, my chil-
dren, and I tell you that you cannot now, as then, take
the title of the Holy League, the Holy Union, the Pro-
tectors of Saint Peter, or Pillars of the Church, because
I see that you reckon on the support of the Huguenots ;
nor can you put upon your great seal of green wax an
empty throne, since it is occupied by a king."

** You may say by two," interrupted Gondi, lau^rliinj;:.

** It is, however, of great importance," continued old

128 CINQ-MARS.

Guise, amid the tumultuous young men, ^^to take a
name to which the people may attach themselves ; 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 essen-
tial to gain the approval of the theological faculty of the
Sorbonne, which heretofore sanctioned even the haut-
gourdiers and the sorgueurë^ and to put in force its
second proposition, — that it is permitted to the people
to disobey the magistrates, and to hang them."

" Eh, Chevalier ! " exclaimed Gondi ; " this is not the
question. Let M. le Grand speak ; we are thinking no
more of the Sorbonne at present 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 of Monsieur, those of the Due de Bouillon,
or my own, for it is just that a man who stakes his life
should know at what game ; but I have placed before
you the least fortunate chances, and I have not detailed
our strength, for there is not one of you but knows the
secret of it. Is it to you, MM. de Montrésor and de
Saint-Thibal, I need tell the treasures that Monsieur
places at our disposal ? Is it to you, M. d'Aignou, M.
de Mouy, that I need tell how many gentlemen are eager
to join your companies of men-at-arms and light-horse,

^ Names of the ligueun.

THE READING. 129

to fight the Cardinalists ; how many in Touraine
and in Auvergne, where lay the lands of the House of
D'Effiat, and whence will march two thousand seigneurs,
with their vassals? Baron de Beauvau, shall I repeat
to you the zeal and valor of the cuirassiers whom 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 whom with you he had defeated ?
Shall I tell these gentlemen of the joy of the Count-
Duke of Olivarès at the news of our intentions, and the
letters of the cardinal-infanta to the Due de Bouillon ?
Shall I speak of Paris to the Abbé de Gondi, to D'En-
traigues, and to you, gentlemen, who are daily witnesses
of her misery, of her indignation, and her desire to
break forth ? While all foreign nations demand peace,
which the Cardinal de Richelieu still destroys by his
want of faith (as he has done in violating the treaty of
Ratisbon), all orders of the State groan under his
violence, and dread that colossal ambition which aspires
to no less than the temporal and even spiritual throne
of Prance."

A murmur of approbation interrupted Cinq-Mars.
There was then silence for a moment ; and they heard
the sound of wind instruments, and the measured tread
of the dancers.

This noise caused a momentary diversion and a smile
in the younger portion 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 our leisure hours?
Why are not you our sole ambition ? What resentment

VOL. II. — 9

130 CINQ-MARS.

may we not justly feel that we have to make our cries
of indignation heard above our bursts of joy, our for-
midable secrets in the asylum of love, and our oaths of
war and death amid the intoxication of fêtes and of
life !

^^ Curses on him who saddens the youth of a people !
When wrinkles furrow the brow of the young men, we
may confidently say that the finger of a tyrant has
hollowed them out. The other troubles of youth give
it despair and not consternation. Watch those sad and
mournful students pass day after day with pale fore-
heads, slow steps, and half-suppressed voices. One would
tliink they fear to live or to advance a step towards
the future. What is there then in France? A man
too many.

" Yes," he continued ; " for two years I have watched
the insidious and profound progress of his ambition.
His strange practices, his secret commissions, his ju-
dicial assassinations are known to you. Princes, peers,
maréchals, — all have been crushed by him. There is
not a family in France but can show some sad trace of
his passage. If he regards us all as enemies to his au-
thority, it is because he would have in France none
but his own house, which twenty years ago held only
one of the smallest fiefs of Poitou.

" The humiliated parliament has no longer any voice.
The presidents of Nismes, Novion, and Bellièvre have
revealed to you their courageous but fruitless resistance
to the condemnation to death of the Due de la Yallette.

"The presidents and councils of sovereign courts have
been imprisoned, banished, suspended, — a thing before

THE READING. 181

unheard of, — because they have raised their voices for
the king or for the public.

^* The highest offices of justice, who fill them ? Infa-
mous and corrupt men, who suck the blood and gold of
the country. Paris and the maritime towns taxed ; the
rural districts ruined and laid waste by the soldiers and
other agents of the cardinal; the peasants reduced to
feed on aiiimals killed by the plague or famine, or sav-
ing themselves by self-banishment, — such is the work
of this new justice. His worthy agents have even coined
money with the effigy of the cardinal-due. Here are
some of his royal pieces."

The grand écuyer threw upon the table a score of
gold doubloons whereon Richelieu was represented. A
fresh murmur of hatred towards the cardinal arose 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 in contempt of the respect due
to their sacred persons. We have seen, in consequence,
Algerine corsairs commanded by an archbishop. Men
of the lowest condition have been elevated to the cardi-
nalate. The minister himself, devouring the most sacred
things, has had himself elected general of the orders of
Citeaux, Cluny, and Prcmontré, throwing into prison the
monks who refused him their votes. Jesuits, Carmelites,
Cordeliers, Augustins, Dominicans, have been forced to
elect general vicars in France, in order no longer to
communicate at Rome with their true superiors, be-
cause he would be patriarch in France, and head of
the Gallican Church."

182 CINQrMARS.

" He 's a schismatic ! a monster ! " cried several voices.

"His progress, then, is apparent, gentlemen. He is
ready to seize both temporal and spiritual power. He
has little by little fortified himself against the king in
the strongest towns of France, — seized the mouths of
the principal rivers, the best ports of the ocean, the salt-
pits, and all the securities of the kingdom. It is the
king, then, whom we must deliver from this oppression.
* Lc roi et la paix ! ' shall be our cry. The rest must
be left to Providence."

Cinq-Mars greatly astonished the assembly, and De
Thou himself, by this address. No one had ever before
heard him speak so long together, not even in fireside
conversation ; and he had never by a single word shown
the least aptitude for understanding public affairs. He
had, on the contrary, affected the greatest indifference
on the subject, even in the eyes of those whom he was
moulding to his projects, merely manifesting a virtuous
indignation at the violence of the minister, but affecting
not to put forward any of his own ideas, in order not
to suggest personal ambition as the aim of his labors.
The confidence given to him rested on his favor with
the king and his personal bravery. The surprise of all
present was therefore such as to cause a momentary
silence. It was soon broken by all tlic transports of
Frenchmen, young or old, when fighting of whatever
kind is held out to them.

Among those who came forward to press the hand
of the young party leader, the Abbé de Gondi jumped
about like a kid.

"I have already enrolled my regiment ! " he cried. " I

THE READING. 183

have some superb fellows ! " Then, addressing Marion
de Lorme, ^^ Parbleu! Mademoiselle, I will wear your
colors, — your gray ribbon, and your order of the
Allumette. The device is charming, —

< Nous ne brûlons que pour brûler les autres/

And I wish you could see all the fine things we shall do
if we are fortunate enough to come to blows."

The fair Marion, who did not like him, began to talk
over his head to M. de Tliou, — a mortification which
always exasperated the little abbé, who accordingly ab-
ruptly left her, walking as tall as he could, and scorn-
fully twisting his mustache.

All at once a sudden silence took possession of the
assembly. A rolled paper had struck the ceiling and
fallen at the feet of Cinq-Mars. He picked it up and
unrolled it, after having looked eagerly around him. He
sought in vain to divine whence it came ; all those who
advanced had only astonishment and intense curiosity
depicted in their faces.

^ Here is my name wrongly written," he said coldly.

"A CINQ-MARCS,

CENTURIE DE NOSTRADAMU9'^

Quand bonnet rouge passera par la fenêtre,
A quarante once$ on coupera tête.
Et tout finira.

"There is a traitor among us, gentlemen," he said,
throwing away the paper. " But no matter. We are
not men to be frightened by his sanguinary jests."

1 This panning prediction was nuide public three months before the
conspiracy.

134 CINQ-MARS.

'^We must find the traitor oat, and throw him
through the window " said the young men.

Still, a disagreeable sensation had come over the
assembly. They now only spoke in whispers, and each
regarded his neighbor with distrust. Some withdrew;
the meeting grew thinner. Marion de Lorme repeated
to every one that she would dismisa her servants, who
alone could be suspected. Despite her eflforts a coldness
reigned throughout the apartment. The first sentences
of Ginq-Mars's address, too, had left some uncertainty
as to the intentions of the king ; and this untimely
candor had somewhat shaken a few of the less deter-
mined conspirators.

Gondi pointed this out to Cinq-Mars.

" Hark ye ! " he said in a low voice. " Believe me,
I have carefully studied conspiracies and assemblages ;
there are certain purely mechanical means which it is
necessary to adopt. Follow my advice here ; I know a
good deal of this sort of thing. They want something
more. Give them a little contradiction ; that always
succeeds in France. You will quite make them alive
again. Seem not to want to retain them against their
will, and they will remain."

The grand écuyer approved of the suggestion, and
advancing towards those whom 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. If any one desires
to secure himself a retreat, let him speak. We will give
him the means of placing himself in safety at once."

THE READING. 135

Not one would hear of this proposition ; and the
movement it occasioned produced a renewal of the
oaths of hatred against the minister.

Cinq-Mars, however, proceeded to put the question in-
dividually to some of the persons present, in the election
of whom he showed much judgment ; for he ended with
Montrésor, who cried that he would pass his sword
through his body if he had for a moment entertained
such an idea, and with Gondi, who, rising fiercely on
his heels, exclaimed, —

" M. le Grand Écuyer, my retreat is the archbishop-
ric of Paris and L'île Notre-Dame. I '11 make it a place
strong enough to keep me from being taken."

"And yours?" he said to De Thou.

"At your side," murmured De Thou, lowering his
eyes, unwilling even to give importance to his resolution
by the pronencss of his look.

" You will have it so ? Well ! I accept," said Cinq-
Mars ; " and my sacrifice herein, dear friend, is greater
than yours." Then turning towards the assembly,
" Gentlemen, I see in you the last men of France, for
after the Montmorencys and the Soissons, you alone
dare lift a head free and worthy of our old liberty. If
Richelieu triumph, the ancient bases of the monarchy
will crumble with us. The court will reigu alone, in
the place of the parliaments, the old barriers, and at
the same time the powerful supports of the royal au-
thority. Let us be conquerors, and France will owe
to us the preservation of her ancient manners and
her time-honored guarantees. And now, gentlemen,
it were a pity to spoil the ball on this account. You

136

CINQ-MARS.
The ladies await you.

Let

us go

hear the music,
and dance."

" The cardinal shall pay the fiddlers," added Gondi.

The young men applauded with a laugh ; and all re-
ascended to the ball-room as lightly as they would have
gone to the battle-field.

CHAPTER XXI.

THE CONFESSIONAL.

'T is for you, fatal beauty, that I come to this terrible place I

Lewis, The Monk.

It was the day following the assembly that had taken
place in the house of Marion de Lorme. A thick snow
covered the roofs of Paris and settled 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 was silent on account of the thick
carpet the winter had spread for it, and which deadened
the sound of the wheels over the stones, and of the feet
of men and horses. In a narrow street that winds
round the old church of St. Eustache, a man, enveloped
in his cloak, slowly walked up and down, constantly
watching for the appearance of some one. He often
seated himself upon one of the posts of the church,
sheltering himself from the falling snow under one of
the statues of saints which jutted out from the roof of

138 CINQ-MARS.

the building, stretching over the narrow path like birds
of prey, 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 warm himself, or blew
upon his fingers, ill protected from the cold by a pair
of buff gloves reaching nearly to the elbow. At last he
saw a slight shadow gliding along the wall.

'^ Ah, Santa Maria ! what villanous countries are these
of the North ! " said a woman's voice, trembling. " Ah,
the duchy of Mantua ! would I were back there again,
Grandchamp ! "

'^ Pshaw ! don't speak so loud," said the old domestic,
abruptly. ^'The walls of Paris have Cardinalist ears,
and more especially the walls of the churches. Has
your mistress entered? My master awaits her at the
door."

" Yes, yes ; she has gone in."

^^ Be silent," said Grandchamp. ^^ The sound of the
clock is cracked. That's a bad sign."

" That clock has sounded the hour of a rendezvous."

'' For me, it sounds like a passing-bell. But be silent,
Laure ; here are three cloaks passing."

They allowed three men to pass. Grandchamp fol-
lowed them, made sure of the road they took, and re-
turned to his seat, sighing deeply.

" The snow is cold, Laure, and I am old. M. le Grand
might have chosen another of his men to keep watch for
him while he 's making love. It 's all very well for you
to carry love-letters and ribbons and portraits and such
trash, but for me, I ought to be treated with more con-
sideration. M. le Maréchal would not have done so.

THE CONFESSIONAL. 139

Old domestics give respectability to a house, and should
be themselves respected."

" Has your master arrived long, caro amico f "

"Eh, eara, caro! leave me in peace. We had both
been freezing for an hour when you came. I should
have had time to smoke three Turkish pipes. Attend
to your business, and go and look to tlie other doors of
the church, and see that no suspicious person is prowl-
ing about. Since there are but two vedettes, they must
beat about well."

" Ah, what a thing it is to have no one to whom to
say a friendly word when it is so cold! and my poor
mistress ! to come on foot all the way from the Hôtel
de Nevers. Ah, amove! qui regna amove !^^

^^ Come, Italian, wheel about, I tell thee. Let me hear
no more of thy musical tongue."

" Ah, Santa Maria ! What a harsh voice, dear Grand-
champ ! You were much more amiable at Ghaumont,
in Turenay when you talked to me of miei occhi neri.^^

" Hold thy tongue, prattler ! Once more, thy Italian
is only good for buffoons and rope-dancers, or to accom-
pany the learned dogs."

"Ah, Italia mia! Grand champ, listen to me, and
you shall hear the language of the gods. If you were
a gallant man, like him who wrote this for a Laura
like me ! "

And she began to hum, —

*' Lieti fiori e felici, e ben nate erbe
Che Madona pensando premer sole ;
Piaggia ch*ascoIti su doici parole
£ del bel piede alcun vestigio serbe."

140 CINQ-MARS.

The old soldier was but little used io the voice of a
young girl ; and in general when a woman spoke to
him, the tone he assumed in answering always fluctu-
ated between an awkward compliment and an ebullition
of temper. But on this occasion he appeared moved by
the Italian song, and twisted his mustache, which was
always with him a sign of embarrassment and distress.
He even emitted a rough sound something like a laugh,
and said, —

" Pretty enough, mordieu ! that recalls to my mind
the siege of Casal ; but be silent, little one. I have not
yet heard the Abbé Quillet come. This troubles me.
He ought to have been here before our two young
people; 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 e superbe."

" Hum ! " said the worthy old soldier, grumbling. " I
have my feet in the snow, 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. Be
silent ! »

And retiring farther in the recess of the church, he
leaned his gray head upon his hands, pensive and mo-
tionless. Laure dared not again speak to him.

While her waiting-woman had gone to find Grand-
champ, the young and trembling Marie with a timid
hand had pushed open the folding-door of the church.

THE CONFESSIONAL. 141

She there found Cinq-Mars standing, disguised, and anx-
iously awaiting her. As soon as she recognized him,
she advanced with rapid steps into the church, holding
her velvet mask over her face, and hastened to take
refuge in a confessional, while Henri carefully closed
the door of the church by which she had entered. He
made sure that it could not be opened on the outside,
and then followed his betrothed to kneel within the place
of penitence. Arrived an hour before her, with his old
valet, he had found this open, — a certain and understood
sign that the Abbé Quillet, his tutor, awaited him at the
accustomed place. His care to prevent any surprise
had made him remain himself to guard the entrance
until the arrival of Marie. Delighted as he was at the
punctuality of the good abbé, he would still scarcely
leave his post to thank him. He was a second father to
him in all but authority ; and he acted towards the good
priest without much ceremony.

The old parish church of St. Eustache was dark. Be-
sides the perpetual lamp, there were only iouv JlambeaiLx
of yellow wax, which, attached above the fonts against
the principal pillars, cast a red glimmer upon the blue
and black marble of the empty church. The light
scarcely penetrated the deep niches of the aisles of the
sacred building. In one of the chapels — the darkest of
them — was the confessional, of which we have before
spoken, whose high iron grating and thick double planks
left visible 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 Abbé Quillet, seated between them, was there

142 CINQ-MARS.

awaiting them. They could see through the little grat-
ing the shadow of his hood. Henri d'Effiat approached
slowly; he was regulating, as it were, the remainder
of his destiny. It was not before his king that he was
about to appear, but before a more powerful sovereign,
before her for whom he had undertaken his immense
work. He was about to test her faith ; and he trembled.
He trembled still more when his young betrothed
knelt opposite to him ; he trembled, because at the
sight of this angel he could not help feeling all the hap-
piness he might lose. He dared not speak first, and
remained for an instant contemplating her head in the
shade, that young head upon which rested all his hopes.
Despite his love, whenever he looked upon her he could
not refrain from a kind of dread at having undertaken
so much for a girl, whose passion was but a feeble re-
flection of his own, and who perhaps would not appre-
ciate all the sacrifices he had made for her, — bending
the firm character of his mind to the compliances of a
courtier, condemning it to the intrigues and sufferings
of ambition, abandoning it to profound combinations, to
criminal meditations, to the gloomy labors of a con-
spirator. Hitherto, in their chaste and secret inter-
views, she had always received each fresh intelligence
of his progress with the transports of pleasure of a
child, but without appreciating the labors of each of
these so arduous steps that lead to honors, and always
asking him with naïveté when he would be constable,
and when they should marry, as if she were asking him
when he would come to the Carousel, or whether the
weather was fine. Hitherto, he had smiled at these

THE CONFESSIONAL. 148

questions and this ignorance, pardonable at eighteen, in
a girl born to a throne and accustomed to a grandeur,
natural to her, whioh she found around her on her en-
trance into life ; but now he made more serious reflec-
tions upon this character. And when, but just quitting
the imposing assembly of conspirators, representatives
of all the orders of the kingdom, his ear, wherein still
resounded the masculine voices that had sworn to under-
take a vast war, was struck with the first words of her
for whom that war was commenced, he feared for the
first time lest this naïveté should be in reality simple
levity, not coming from the heart. He resolved to
sound it.

" Oh, heavens ! how I tremble, Henri ! " she said as
she entered the confessional ; " you make me come
without guards, without a coach. I always tremble lest
I should be seen by my people coming out of the Hôtel de
Nevers. How much longer must I yet conceal myself
like a criminal ? The queen was very angry when I
avowed the matter to her ; and whenever 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
fligh.

" 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?"

144 CINQ-MARS.

^' Too soon, Madame, much too soon, for the things
you are to hear, — for I see you are far from prepared
for them."

Marie, affected at the gloomy and bitter tone of his
voice, began to weep.

"Alas, what have I done," she said, "that you should
call me Madame, and treat me thus harshly ? "

" Be tranquil," replied Cinq-Mars, but with irony in
his tone. " 'T is not, indeed, you who are guilty ; but I,
— I alone; not towards you, but for you."

" 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 I misconstrue your thoughts when you
looked at me in the queen's boudoir ? Can T no longer
read in your eyes ? Was the fire which animated them
that of a love for Richelieu ? That admiration which you
promised to him who should 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 deserved it. Do you suppose, because I speak
not of this fearful conspiracy, that I have forgotten it ?
Do you not see me miserable at the thought ? Must you
see my tears ? Behold them ; I shed enough in secret.
Henri, believe that 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 than that of your
danger? Do I not know that it is for me you incur
them ? Alas ! if you fight for me, have I not also to

THE CONFESSIONAL. 146

sustain attacks no less cruel ? Happier than I, you have
only to combat hatred, while I struggle against friend-
ship. 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," said Cinq-Mars, bitterly. " I well con-
ceive you must need some efforts to resist such seduc-
tions ; but first, Madame, I must release you from your
vows."

" Alas, Great Heaven ! what is there, then, against
us?"

"There is God above us, and against us," replied
Henri, in a severe tone ; " the king has deceived
me."

There was an agitated movement on the part of the
abbé.

Marie exclaimed, " I foresaw it ; this is the mis-
fortune I dreamed and dreamed of ! Is it I who caused
it?"

" He deceived me, as he pressed my hand," continued
Cinq-Mars ; " he betrayed me by the villain Joseph,
whom an offer has been made to me to poniard."

The abbé gave a start of horror which half opened
the door of the confessional.

" Oh, Father, fear nothing," said Henri d'EflBat; "your
pupil will never strike such blows. Those I prepare
will be heard from afar, and the broad day will light
them up ; but there remains a duty — a sacred duty —
for me to fulfil. Behold your son sacrifice himself be-
fore you ! Alas ! I have not lived long in the sight of

VOL. II. — 10

146 CINQ-MARS.

happiness, and I am about, perhaps, to destroy it by
your hand, that consecrated it."

As he spoke, he opened the light grating which sepa-
rated him from his old tutor ; the latter, still observ-
ing an extraordinary silence, passed his hood over
his forehead.

^' Restore this nuptial ring to the Duchesse de Man-
tua," said Cinq-Mars, in a tone less firm; ^'I cannot
keep it unless she give it me a second time, for I am
not the same whom she promised to espouse."

The priest hastily seized the ring, and passed it
through the opposite grating; this mark of indififer-
ence astonished Cinq-Mars.

"What! Father," he said, "are you also changed?"

Marie wept no longer ; but raising her angelic voice,
which awakened a faint echo along the aisles of the
church, as the softest sigh of the organ, she said, re-
turning the ring to Cinq-Mars, —

" Oh, dearest, be not angry ! I comprehend you not.
Can we break asunder what God has just united, and
can I leave you, when I know you are unhappy ? K the
king no longer loves you, at least you may be assured
he will not harm you, since he has not harmed the car-
dinal, whom he never loved. Do you think yourself
undone, because he is perhaps unwilling to separate
from his old servant ? Well, let us await the return
of his friendship ; forget these conspirators, who affright
me. If they give up hope, I shall thank Heaven, for
then I shall no longer tremble for you. Why needlessly
afflict ourselves ? The queen loves us, and we are both
very young; let us wait. The future is beautiful.

THE CONFESSIONAL. 147

since we are united, and sure of ourselves. Tell me
what the king said to you at Chambord. I followed
you long with my eyes. Heavens ! how sad to me was
that hunting party ! "

"He has betrayed me, I tell you/' answered Cinq-
Mars. " Tet who could have believed it, that saw him
press our hands, turning from his brother to me, and to
the Due de Bouillon, making himself acquainted with
the minutest details of the conspiracy, of the very day
on which Richelieu was to be arrested at Lyons, fixing
himself the place of his exile (our party desired his
death, but the recollection of my father made me ask
his life). The king said that he himself would direct
the whole affair at Perpignan ; yet just before, Joseph,
that foul spy, had issued from out of the cabinet du Lyê.
Oh, Marie ! shall I own it ? at the moment I heard this,
my very soul was tossed. I doubted everything ; it
seemed to me that the centre of the world was unhinged
when I found truth quit the heart of the king. I saw
our whole edifice crumble to the ground ; another hour,
and the conspiracy would vanish away, and I should lose
you 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?"

"Pontrailles."

"Recall him."

" He will, ere this, have passed the defiles of Oleron,"

148 CINQ-MARS.

said Cinq-Mars, rising up. << All is ready at Madrid, all
at Sedan. Armies await me, Marie, — armies! Riche-
lieu is in the midst of them. He totters ; it needs but
one blow to overthrow him, and you are mine forever, —
forever the wife of the triumphant Cinq-Mars."

" Of Cinq-Mars the rebel," she said, sighing.

" Well, have it so, the rebel ; but no longer the favor-
ite. Rebel, criminal, worthy of the scaffold, I know it,"
cried the impassioned youth, 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 his country !
Is it not a poniard?"

^^ Pause ! for pity, pause, Marie ! Let kings abandon
me, let warriors forsake me, I shall only be the more
firm ; but a word from you will vanquish me, and once
again the time for reflection will be passed from me.
Yes, I am a criminal ; and that is why I still hesitate to
think myself worthy of you. Abandon me, Marie ; take
back the ring."

" I cannot," she said ; " for I am your wife, whatever
you be."

" You hear her, Father ! " exclaimed Cinq-Mars, trans-
ported with happiness; '^ bless this second union, the
work of devotion, even more beautiful than that of love.
Let her be mine while I live."

Without answering, the abbé opened the door of the
confessional and had quitted the church ere Cinq-Mars
had time to rise and follow him.

" Where are you going Î What is the matter ? " he
cried.

^.. ..

I • *î ■', li.'-',;'.': nu. ** Ai. «S '♦.•yj\ .-» M»;;! •.«, »!.
Al'. • îi ' t ' MO, }.:.:ii« ; a: iîi"s ! l<:<,i.«.

' •- r .... ii!iiK an«.î vcî^ :îI'' n.'-f. [ ti-vo»-. -•

• '•;.'■•, f:i»li;.L.'' on Lis !vru»o.>: " *)'it
' •' î In tlic 1)'o(h1 oi 'lin :>Uitrv !

;

\\V2.

•I

• " ' V '

\ 'w: t i^ .v'li\ î ;*)li hfs'taïc to
,>:.. \'-. •. 'un iii''. Mai it» ; lî.lre

A Dawaat tar.

THE CONFESSIONAL

TJ!K V7

PUUL

.VûW

yon

THE CONFESSIONAL. 149

But no one answered.

^^ Do not call out, in the name of Heaven ! " said Marie,
^^ or I am lost ; he has doubtless heard some one in the
church."

But D'Effiat, agitated, and without answering her,
rushed forth, and sought his late tutor through the
church, but in vain. Drawing his sword, he proceeded
to the entrance which Gi-andchamp had to guard; he
called him and listened.

" Now let him go," said a voice at the corner of the
street ; and at the same moment was heard the galloping
of horses.

'^ Grandchamp, wilt thou answer ? " cried Cinq-Mars.

^^ Help, Henri, my dear boy ! " exclaimed the voice of
the Abbé Quillet.

"Whence come you? You endanger me," said the
grand écuyer, approaching him.

But he saw that his poor tutor, without a hat in the
falling snow, was in a most deplorable condition.

" They stopped me, and they robbed me," he cried.
" The villains, the assassins ! they prevented me from call-
ing out ; they stopped my mouth with a handkerchief."

At this noise, Grandchamp at length came rubbing
his eyes, like one just awakened. Laure, terrified, ran
into the church to her mistress ; all hastily followed her
to reassure Marie, and then surrounded the old abbé.

"The villains! they bound my hands as you see.
There were more than twenty of them ; they took from
me the key of the side door of the church."

" How ! just now Î " said Cinq-Mars ; " and why did
you quit us?"

150 CINQ-MARS.

" Quit you ! why they have kept me there two hours.*'

" Two hours ! " cried Henri, terrified.

^' Ah, miserable old man that I am ! " said Grand-
champ ; '^ I have slept while my master was in danger.
It is the first time.''

" You were not with us then in the confessional ? "
continued Cinq-Mars, anxiously, while Marie trem-
blingly pressed against his arm.

^' What ! " said the abbé, ^' did you not see the rascal
to whom they gave my key?"

" No ! whom ? " cried all at once,

" Father Joseph," answered the good priest.

44 Ply ; yQu j^j.g iQg^ J » cxiQà Marie.

CHAPTER XXII.

THE STORM.

" Blow, blow, tboa 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."

Amid that long and superb chain of the Pyrenees which ^
forms the embattled isthmus of the peninsula, in the
centre of those blue pyramids, covered in gradation with
snow, forests, and downs, there opens a narrow defile, a
path cut in the dried-up bed of a perpendicular torrent ;
it circulates among rocks, glides under bridges of frozen
snow, twines along the edges of inundated precipices to
scale the adjacent mountains of Urdoz and Oleron, and
at last rising over their unequal ridges, turns their nebu-
lous peak into a new country which has also its moun-
tains and its depths, and quitting Fi-ance, descends into
Spain. Never has the hoof of the mule left its trace in

152 CINQ-MARS.

these windings ; man himself can with difficulty stand
upright there, even with the hempen boots, which can-
not slip, and the hook of the pike-staff to force into
the crevices of the rocks.

In the fine summer months the pastour^ in his brown
cape, and his black long-bearded ram lead hither flocks,
whose flowing wool sweeps the turf. Nothing is heard
in these rugged places but the sound of the large bells
which the sheep carry, and whose irregular tinklings
produce unexpected harmonies, casual gamuts, which
astonish the traveller and delight the savage and silent
shepherd. But when the long month of September
comes, a shroud of snow spreads itself from the peak of
the mountains down to their base, respecting only this
deeply excavated path, a few gorges opened by torrents,
and some rocks of granite, which stretch out their fan-
tastical forms, like the bones of a buried world.

It is then that light troops of chamois make their
appearance, with their twisted horns extending over
their backs, spring from rock to rock as if driven before
the wind, and take possession of their aerial desert.
Flights of ravens and crows incessantly wheel round and
round in the gulfs and natural wells which they trans-
form into dark dovecots, while the brown bear, followed
by her shaggy family, who sport and tumble around her
in the snow, slowly descends from their retreat invaded
by the frost. But these are neither the most savage nor
the most cruel inhabitants that winter brings into these
mountains ; the daring smuggler raises for himself a
dwelling of wood on the very boundary of nature and of
politics. There unknown treaties, secret exchanges.

THE STORM. 153

are made between the two Navarres, amid fogs and
winds.

It was in this narrow path on the frontiers of Prance
that, about two months after the scenes we have wit-
nessed in Paris, two travellers, coming from Spain,
stopped at midnight, fatigued and dismayed. They
heard musket-shots in the mountain.

" The scoundrels ! how they have pursued us ! " said
one of them. ^' I can go no farther ; but for you I should
have been taken."

" And you will be taken still, as well as that infernal
paper, if you lose your time in words ; there is another
volley on the rock of St. Pierre-de-F Aigle. Up there,
they suppose we have gone in the direction of the Lima-
çon ; but, below, they will see the contrary. Descend ;
it is doubtless a patrol hunting smugglers. Descend."

" But how ? I cannot see."

" Never mind, descend. Take my arm."

"Hold me; my boots slip," said the first traveller,
stamping on the edge of the rock to make sure of the
solidity of the ground before trusting himself upon it.

" Go on ; go on ! " said the other, pushing him.
" There 's one of the rascals passing over our heads."

And, in fact, the shadow of a man, armed with a long
gim, was reflected on the snow. The two adventurers
stood motionless. The man passed on. They contin-
ued their descent.

" They will take us," said the one who was support-
ing the other. " They have turned us. Give me your
confounded parchment. I wear the dress of a smug-
gler, and I can pass for one seeking an asylum among

154 CINQ-MARS.

them ; but you would have no resource with your laced
dress."

" You are right," said his companio» ; and resting his
foot against the edge of the rock, and reclining on the
slope, he gave him a roll of hollow wood.

A gun was fired ; and a ball buried itself, hissing, in
the snow at their feet.

" Marked ! " said the first. '* Roll down. If you are
not dead when you get to the bottom, take the road you
see before you. On the left of the hollow is Santa
Maria. But turn to the right ; cross Oleron ; and you
are on the road to Pau and are saved. Go ; roll down."

As he spoke, he pushed his comrade, and without
condescending to look after him, and himself neither
ascending nor descending, followed the flank of the
mountain horizontally, hanging on by rocks, branches,
and even by plants, with the strength and energy of a
wild-cat, and soon found himself on firm ground before
a small wooden hut, through which a light was visible.
The adventurer went all round it, like a hungry wolf
round a sheep-fold, and applying his eye to one of the
openings, apparently saw what determined him, for
without further hesitation he pushed the tottering door,
which was not even fastened by a latch. The whole hut
shook with the blow he had given it. He then saw that
it was divided into two cabins by a partition. A large
flambeau of yellow wax lighted the first. There, a
young girl, pale and fearfully thin, was crouched in a
corner on the damp floor, just where the melted snow
ran undei the planks of the cottage. Very long black
hair, entangled and covered with dust, fell in disorder

THE STORM. 155

over her coarse brown dress ; the red hood of the
Pyrenees covered her head and shoulders. Her eyes
were cast down ; 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^ get up and give me something to
drink. I am tired and thirsty."

The young girl did not answer, and without raising
her eyes, continued to spin assiduously.

^^ Dost hear ? " said the stranger, thrusting her with
his foot. ^' Go and tell thy master that a friend wishes
to see him ; but first give me some drink. 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 floats on the water of the swamp. But
when I have spun well, they give me water from the
iron spring. When I sleep, the cold lizard crawls 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 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 had on my hands ! God forgive
them! — if that be possible. They make me hold his
head, and the bucket filled with crimson water. Oh,
Heaven ! — I, who was the bride of God ! They throw
tiieir bodies into the abyss of snow; but the vulture

1 GirL

156 CINQ-MARS.

finds them ; he lines his nest with their hair. I now see
thee full of life ; I shall see thee bloody, pale, and dead."

The adventurer, shrugging his shoulders, began to
whistle as he passed the secon^ door. Within he found
the man he had seen through the chinks of the cabin.
He wore the blue herret 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 time drank from a
leather bottle at his side. The light of the brazier
showed his full yellow face, as well as the chamber,
in which mule-saddles were ranged round the hrcLsero as
seats. He raised his head without altering his position.

" Oh, oh ! is it thou, Jacques ? " he said. " Is it
thou ? Although 'tis four years since I saw thee, I rec-
ognize thee. Thou art not changed, brigand ! There
'tis still, thy great knave's face. Sit down there, and
take a drink."

"Yes, here I am. But how the devil camest thou
here ? I thought thou wert a 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 the thing very snugly, and have taken again
to the old trade, — the free life, the good smuggling
work."

" Viva! viva! Jcdeo!^^^ cried Houmain. "We brave
fellows can turn our hands to everything. Thou camest
by the other passes, I suppose, for I have not seen thee
since I returned to the trade."

1 A oommon Spanish oath.

THE STORM. 157

" Yes, yes ; I have passed where thou wilt never pass,"
said Jacques.

"And what hast got?"

" A new merchandise. My mules will come to-
morrow."

" 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 '11 tell thee all about
it presently, and then we '11 sing the Andalusian
Tirana." ^

The adventurer took the horn, and assumed an ap-
pearance of ease.

" And who 's that great she-devil I saw out there?"
he said. " She seems half dead."

" Oh, no ! she 's only mad. Drink ; I '11 tell thee all
about her."

And taking from his red sash a long poniard denticu-
lated on each side like a saw, Houmain used it to stir up
the fire, and said with vast gravity, —

" Thou must know first, if thou dost not know it
already, that down below there [he pointed towards
Prance], the old wolf Richelieu carries all before him."

" Ah, ah ! " said Jacques.

" Yes ; they call him the king of the king. Thou
knowest ? There is, however, a young man almost as

1 A kind of ballad.

168 CINQrMARS.

strong as he, and whom they call M. le Orand. This
young fellow commands almost the whole army of Per-
pignan at this moment. He arrived there a month ago ;
but the old fox is still at Narbonne, — a very cunning
fox indeed. As to the king, he is sometimes this, some-
times that [as he spoke, Houmain turned his hand out-
wards and inwards], ie^^^^een zi%t and zest; but while
he is determining, I am for zist, — that is to say, I 'm
Cardinalist. I Ve been regularly doing business for my
Lord since the first job he gave me, three years ago.
I '11 tell thee about it. He wanted some men of firm*
ness and spirit for a little expedition, and sent for me
to be judge-advocate."

" Ah ! a very pretty post, I 've heard."

" Yes, 't is a trade like ours, where they sell cord in-
stead of thread ; but it is less honest, for they kill men
of tener. But 't is also more profitable ; everything has
its price."

" Very properly so," said Jacques.

" Behold me, then, in a red robe. I helped to give a
yellow one and brimstone to a fine fellow, who was curé
at Loudun, and who had got into a convent of nuns, like
a wolf in a fold ; and a fine thing he made of it."

" 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 heap like this
charcoal. See, this charcoal at the end of my poniard.
What things we are! That's just what we shall all
come to when we go to the Devil."

^ Oh, none of these pleasantries ! " said the other, very
gravely. " You know that I am religious."

THE STORM. 159

" 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, as I was advocate-
general, I advocated — "

" Ah, thou art quite a wit ! "

'^Yes, a little. But as I was saying, I advocated
into my own pocket five hundred piastres, for Armand
Duplessis pays his people well, and there's nothing to
be said against that, except that the money's not his
own ; but that 's tlie way with us all. I determined to
invest this money in our old trade ; and I returned here.
Business goes on well. There is sentence of death out
against us; and our goods, of course, sell for half 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 the clouds. Dost hear the roll of
the thunder ? But this is nothing ; come, drink. 'T is
almost one in the morning; we'll finish the skin and
the night together. As I was telling thee, I made ac-
quaintance with our president, — a great scoundrel called
Laubardemont. Dost know him?"

" Yes, a little," said Jacques ; " he 's a regular miser.
But never mind that ; go on."

" Well, as we had nothing to conceal from one an-
other, I told him of my little commercial plans, and
asked him, when any good jobs presented themselves, to
think of his judicial comrade ; and I 've had no cause to
complain of him."

" Ah ! " said Jacques, " and what has he done ? "

160 CINQ-MARS.

" Why, first, two years ago, he himself brought me,
on horseback behind him, 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 to know she was — dost understand ?
— to hear she was under the snow rather than above it;
but he would not put her there himself, because he '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 not like to have a mad niece in his house.
The thing is self-evident ; if I 'd continued to play my
part of man of the robe, I should have done the same in
a similar case. But here, as you perceive, we don't care
much for appearances ; and I 've taken her for a servant.
She has shown more good sense than I expected, al-
though she has rarely ever spoken more than a single
word, and at first came the delicate over us. Now she
rubs down a mule like a groom. She has had a slight
fever for the last few days ; but 't will pass off one way
or the other. But I say, don't tell Laubardemont that
she still lives; he 'd think 'twas for the sake of economy
I 've kept her for a servant."

" How ! is he here ? " cried Jacques.

" Drink ! " replied the phlegmatic Houmain, who him-

THE STORM, 161

self set the example most assiduously, and began to
half shut his eyes with a languishing air. ^^'Tis the
second transaction I've had with this Laubardemont, —
or demon, or whatever the name is; but 'tis a good
devil of a demon, at all events. I love him as I do my
eyes ; and I will drink his health out of this bottle of
Jurançon here. 'T is the wine of a jolly fellow, the late
King Henri. How happy we are here ! — Spain on the
right hand, France on the left; the wine-skin on one
side, the bottle on the other ! The bottle ! I 've left all
for the bottle ! "

As he spoke, he knocked off the neck of a bottle of
white wine. After taking a long draught, he continued,
while the stranger closely watched him, —

" Yes, he 's here ; and his feet must be leather
cold, for he's been waiting about the mountains ever
since sunset, with his guards and our comrades. Thou
knowest our bandoleros^ the true contrabandistasf^^

" Ah ! and what do they hunt ? " said Jacques.

^^ Ah, that 's the joke ! " answered the drunkard.
^^'Tis to arrest two rascals, who want to bring here
sixty thousand Spanish soldiers in paper in their pocket.
You don't, perhaps, quite understand me, croqtiant.
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, throw away the cigar, and sing."

With these words the drunken host began to sing in
Spanish, interrupting his song with bumpers, which he
threw down his throat, leaning back for the greater

VOL. II. — 11

162 CINQ-MARS.

ease, while Jacques, still seated, looked at him gloom-
ily by the light of the brazier, and meditated what he

should do.

'* Yo que soi contrabandista
I campo por mi respeto,
A todos los desafio,
Puis a nadie tengo miedo.

'*AyI jaleol Muchachas
Quien me merca un hilo negro ? " >

A flash of lightning entered the small window, and
filled the room with a 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 ; and our friends are not come ! ''

" Sing ! " said Jacques, drawing the pack upon which
he was close to that of Houmain.

The latter drank to encourage himself, and then

continued, —

^ Mi caballo esta cansado,

Y yo me marcho corriendo.

'^ Ay 1 ay I que viene la ronda»

Y se mueve el tiroteo ;
Ay I ay I cavallito mio,
Ay 1 saca me deste aprieto.

" Viva, viva mi cavallo,
Cavallo mto carreto ;
Ay I jaleo ! Muchachas, ay I jaleo — ** ■

1 "I, who am a contrabandist, am respected by all. I take care of
myself, and fear no oiiO. Ay! jaleo t Girls, who'll buy some black
thread?"

^ " My horse is tired. I go by his side running. Ay ! ay ! here come»
the round, and there 's a shot 1 Ay^ my little horse ! get me out of this
scrape. Viva, my horse ! Ay ! jaieo I Girls," etc

THE STORM, 168

As he ended, he felt his seat totter, and fell back-
wards; Jacques, thus freed from him, sprang towards
the door, when it opened, and his head struck against
the cold, pale face of the mad-woman. He recoiled.

'^ The judge ! " she said, as she entered ; and she fell
prostrate on the cold 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 cloak covered with snow.
He again recoiled, and laughed a laugh of terror and
rage. It was Laubardemont, followed by armed men ;
they looked at one another.

" Ah, com-r-a-d-e, yo-u raa-scal ! " hiccuped Houmain,
rising with difficulty; "thou'rt a Royalist.'*

But when he saw these two men, who seemed petri-
fied by each other, he became silent, as conscious of his
intoxication ; and he reeled forward to raise up the mad-
woman, who was still lying between the judge and the
captain. 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 of the hut ; enveloping himself in his
cloak, like a bear forced against a tree by the hounds,
and wishing to gain a moment's respite for reflection,
he said firmly, —

*' The first who passes that brazier and the body of
that girl is a dead man."

And he drew a long poniard from his cloak. At this
moment Houmain, kneeling, turned the head of the girl.

164 CINQ-MARS.

Her eyes were closed ; he drew her towards the brazier,
which lighted up her face.

'^Ah, heavens!" cried Laubardemont, forgetting him-
self in his fright ; " Jeanne again ! "

" Be calm, my lo-lord," said Hoiimain, trying to open
the eyelids, which closed again, and to raise her head,
which fell back again like wet linen ; ^^ be, be-calm !
Do-n't ex-cite yourself; she's dead, de-ci-dedly."

Jacques put his foot on the body as on a barrier,
and looking with a ferocious laugh in the face of Lau-
bardemont, said to him in a low voice, —

^' Let me pass, and I will not compromise thee, cour-
tier ; I will not tell that she was thy niece, and that I
am thy son."

Laubardemont collected himself, looked at his men,
who pressed around him with advanced carabines ; and
signing them to retire a few steps, he answered 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 father aloud. What will thy master say ? "

"Give it me, and I will pardon 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."

THE STORM, 165

" Leave it with me ; I Ve sworn to carry it back."

"What can be thy oath and thy God?" demanded
Lanbardemont.

" And thine ? " replied Jacques. " Is 't the crucifix of
red-hot iron ? "

Here Houmain, rising between them, laughing and
staggering, said to the judge, slapping him on the
shoulder, —

" You are a long time coming to an understanding,
friend ; doon't you know him of old ? He 's a very good
fellow."

"I ? no ! " cried Lanbardemont, aloud ; " I never saw
him before."

At this moment, Jacques, who was protected by the
drunkard and the smallness of the crowded chamber,
sprang violently against the weak planks that formed
the wall, and by a blow of his heel knocked two of them
out, and passed through the space thus created. The
whole side of the cabin was broken ; it tottered, and the
wind rushed in.

" Hallo ! JDemonio ! 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, and leaned over the abyss. They contem-
plated a strange spectacle. The storm raged in all its
fury ; and it was a storm of the Pyrenees. Enormous
flashes of lightning came all at once from all parts of
the horizon, and their fires succeeded so quickly that
there seemed no interval ; they appeared to be a contin-
uous flash. 'Twas but rarely the flaming vault would

166 CINQ-MARS.

suddenly become obscure ; and it then instantly resumed
its glare. It was not the light that seemed strange on
this night, but the darkness. The tall thin peaks and
whitened rocks stood out from the red background like
blocks of marble on a cupola of burning brass, and re-
sembled, amid the snows, the wonders of a volcano ; the
waters gushed from them like flames ; the snow poured
down like dazzling lava.

In this moving mass a man was seen struggling,
whose efforts only involved him deeper and deeper in
the whirling and liquid gulf; his knees were already
buried. In vain he clasped his arms round an enormous
pyramidal and transparent icicle, which reflected the
lightning like a rock of crystal ; the icicle itself was
melting at its base, and slowly bending over the de-
clivity of the rock. Under the covering of snow, masses
of granite were heard striking against each other, as
they descended into the vast depths below. Yet they
could still save him ; a space of scarcely four feet sepa-
rated him from Laubardemont.

" I sink ! " he cried ; " hold out to me something, and
thou shalt have the treaty."

" 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 a roll of wood into the
cabin. Laubardemont rushed back upon the treaty like
a wolf on his prey. Jacques in vain held out his arm ;
he slowly glided away with the enormous thawing block
turned upon him, and was silently buried in the snow.

THE STORM, 167

*^ Ah, villain," were his last words, ^' thou hast de-
ceived me ! but thou didst not take the treaty from me.
I gave it thee, Father ! " and he disappeared wholly
under the thick white bed of snow. Nothing was seen in
his place but the glittering flakes which the lightning
had ploughed up, as it became extinguished in them ;
nothing was heard but the rolling of the thunder and the
dash of the waters against the rocks, for the men in the
half-ruined cabin, grouped round a corpse and a villain,
were silent, tongue-tied with horror, and fearing lest
God himself should send a thunderbolt upon them.^

^ He lived and died with brigands. Was there not a divine punishment
on the family of this judge, to expiate, in some measure, the cruel and
pitUess death of poor Grandier, whose blood cries aloud for vengeance ? —
Fatin, lett. Ixv., ]>ec. 22, 1651.

CHAPTER XXIIL

ABSENCE.

L'absence est le plus grand des maux,
Non pas pour tous, cmelle !

La Fontaine.

Who has not found a charm in watching the clouds of
heaven as they pass on ? Who has not envied them the
freedom of their journeyings through the air, whether
rolled in great masses by the wind, and colored by the
sun, 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 the treasury of
the heavens, or glittering with whiteness, like snows
from the mountains carried on the wings of the winds ?
Man is a slow traveller who envies those rapid journey-
ers ; though less rapid than his imagination, they have
yet seen in a single day all the places he loves, in re-
membrance or in hope, — those that have witnessed his
happiness or his misery, and those so beautiful countries
unknown to us, where we expect to find everything at

ABSENCE. 169

once. Doubtless there is not a spot on the whole earth,
a wild rock, an arid plain, over which we pass with in-
difference, that has not been consecrated in the life of
some man, and is not painted in his remembrance ; for
like battered vessels, before meeting inevitable wreck, we
leave some fragment of ourselves on every rock.

Whither go the dark-blue clouds of that storm of the
Pyrenees ? ' T is the wind of Africa which drives them
before it with a fiery breath. They fly ; they roll over
one another, growlingly throwing out lightning before
them, as their torches, and leaving suspended behind
them a long train of rain, like a vaporous robe. Freed
by an effort from the rocky defiles that for a moment
had arrested their course, they irrigate, in Béarn, the
picturesque patrimony of Henri IV. ; in Guyenne, the
conquests of Charles VII. ; in Saintonge, Poitou, and
Touraine, those of Charles V. and of Philip Augustus ;
and at last, slackening their pace above the old domain
of Hugh Capet, stop murmuring on the towers of St.
Germain.

^^ Oil, Madame ! " exclaimed Marie de Mantua to the
((ueen, "do you see this storm coming up from the
south ? "

" You often look in that direction, ma chère^^ answered
Anne of Austria, leaning on the balcony.

" It is the direction of the sun, Madame."

" And of tempests, you see," said the queen. " Trust
in my friendship, my child ; these clouds can bring no
happiness to you. 1 would rather see you turn your
eyes towards Poland. See the fine people you might
command."

170 CINQ'MARS.

At this moment, to avoid the rain., which began to fall,
the prince palatine passed rapidly under the windows of
the queen, with a numerous suite of young Poles on
horseback. Their Turkisli vests, with buttons of dia-
monds, emeralds, and rubies ; their green and gray
cloaks ; the lofty plumes of their horses, and their ad-
venturous air, — gave them a singular éclat to which the
court had easily become accustomed. They paused for
a moment, and the prince made two salutes, while the
light animal he rode passed gracefully sideways, keeping
his front towards the princesses ; prancing and snorting,
he shook his mane, and seemed to salute by putting his
head between his legs. The whole suite repeated the
evolution as they passed. Tlic Princesse Marie had at
first shrunk back lest they should see her tears ; but the
brilliant and flattering spectacle made her return to the
balcony, and she could not help exclaiming, —

^^ How gracefully the palatine rides that beautiful
horse ! he seems scarce conscious of it."

The queen smiled and said, —

" He is conscious about her who might be his queen
to-morrow, if she would but make a sign of the head, and
let but one glance from her great black almond-shaped
eyes be turned on that throne, instead of always receiv-
ing these poor foreigners with poutings as now."

And Anne of Austria kissed the cheek of Marie, who
could not refrain from smiling also ; but she instantly
sunk her head, reproaching herself, and resumed her
sadness, which seemed gliding from her. She even
needed once more to contemplate the great clouds that
hung over the château.

ABSENCE. 171

" Poor child " continued the queen, " thou dost all
thou canst to be very faithful, and to keep thyself in the
melancholy of thy romance. Thou art making thyself
ill with weeping when thou shouldst be asleep, and with
not eating. Thou passest the night in revery and in
writiiig ; but I warn thee, thou wilt get nothing by it,
except making thyself, thin and less beautiful, and the
not being a queen. Thy Cinq-Mars is an ambitious
youth, who has lost himself."

Seeing Marie conceal her head in her handkerchief to
weep, Anne of Austria for a moment re-entered her
chamber, leaving Marie in the balcony, and feigned to be
looking for some jewels at her toilet-table ; she soon
returned, slowly and gravely, to the window. Marie was
more calm, and was gazing sorrowfully at the landscape
before her, the hills in the distance, and the storm
gradually spreading itself.

The queen resumed in a more serious tone, —

" God has been more good to you than your impru-
dence perhaps deserved, Marie. He has saved you from
great danger. You were willing to make great sacrifices,
but fortunately they have not been accomplished as you
expected. Innocence has saved you from love. You
are as one who, thinking she was swallowing a deadly
poison, has in reality drunk only pure 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, see your present position with different eyes. I
will not accuse you of ingratitude towards the cardinal;

172 CINi^MARS.

I have too many reasons for not liking him. I myself
witnessed the rise of the conspiracy. Still you should
remember, ma chèrcj that he was the only person in
France who, against the opinion of the queen-mother
and of the court, insisted upon war with the duchy of
Mantua, which he recovered from the empire and from
Spain, and returned to the Due de Nevers, your father.
Here, in this very château of St. Germain, was signed
the treaty which deposed the Duke of Guastalla.^ You
were then very young ; they must, however, have told
you of it. Yet here, through love alone (I am willing
to believe, with yourself, that it is so) a young man of
two-and-twenty is ready to get him assassinated."

^' Oh, Madame, he is incapable of such a deed. I swear
to you that he has refused to adopt it."

" I have begged you, Marie, to let me speak. I know
that he is generous and loyal. I am willing to believe
that contrary to the custom of our times, he would not
go so far as to kill an old man, as did the Chevalier de
Guise. But can he prevent his assassination, if his
troops make him prisoner ? This we cannot say, any
more than he. God alone knows the future. It is, at
all events, certain that it is for you he attacks him,
and, to overthrow him, is preparing civil war, which
perhaps is bursting forth at the very moment that we
speak, — a war without success. Whichever way it turns,
it can only effect evil, for Monsieur is going to abandon
the conspiracy."

"How, Madame?"

" Listen to me. I tell you I am certain of it ; I need

1 The 19Ui of May, 1632.

ABSENCE. 173

not explain myself farther. What will the grand écuyer
do? The king, as he rightly anticipated, has gone to
consnlt the cardinal. To consult him is to yield to him ;
but the treaty of Spain is signed. If it be discovered,
what can M. de Cinq-Mars do ? Do not tremble thus.
We will save him ; 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 her-
self near Marie, at the entrance to the chamber, she
continued, —

^^ Doubtless Monsieur will treat for all the con-
spirators in treating for himself ; but exile will be the
least punishment, perpetual exile. Behold, then, the
Duchesse de Nevers and Mantua, the Princesse Marie
de Gonzaga, the wife of M. Henri d'Effiat, Marquis de
Cinq-Mars, exiled!"

" Well, Madame, I will follow him into exile. It is
my duty ; I am his wife ! " exclaimed Marie, sobbing.
"I would I knew he were already banished and in
safety."

*' Dreams of eighteen ! " said the queen, supporting
Marie. " Awake, child, awake ! you must. I deny not
the good qualities of M. de Cinq-Mars. He has a lofty
character, a vast mind, and great courage ; but he may
no longer be aught for you, and fortunately you are not
his wife, or even his betrothed."

" I am his, Madame, — his alone."

" But without the benediction," replied Anne of Aus-
tria; "in a word, without marriage. No priest would

174 CINQrMARS.

have dared, — not even your own ; he told me so. Be
silent ! " she added, putting her two beautiful hands on
Marie's lips. "Be silent! You would say that God
heard your vow ; that you cannot live without him ;
that your destinies are inseparable from his ; that death
alone can break your union ? The phrases of your age,
delicious chimeras of a moment, at which one day you
will smile, happy at not having to lament them all your
life. Of the many and brilliant women you see around
me at court, there is not one but at your age had some
beautiful dream of love, like this of yours, who did not
form those ties, which they believed indissoluble, aud
who did not in secret take eternal 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 every night. I again divine what you
would say ; they loved not as you love, eh ? You de-
ceive yourself, my dear child ; they loved as much, and
wept no less. And here I must make you acquainted
with that great mystery which constitutes your despair,
because you are ignorant of the malady that devours
you. We have a twofold existence, mon amie : our
internal life, that of our feelings, powerfully works
within us, while the external life dominates despite
ourselves. We are never independent of men, more
especially in an elevated condition. Alone, we think
ourselves mistresses of our destiny; but the entrance
of two or three people fastens on all our chains, by
recalling our rank and our retinue. Nay ; shut yourself
up and abandon yourself to all the daring and extraordi-

ABSENCE. 175

nary resolutions that the passions may raise up in you,
to the marvellous sacri&ces they may suggest to you. A
lackey coming and asking your orders will at once
break the charm and bring you back to your real life.
It is this contest between your projects and your posi-
tion which destroys you. You are invariably angry with
yourself ; you bitterly reproach yourself."

Marie turned away her head.

"Yes, you believe yourself criminal. Pardon your-
self, Marie ; all men are beings so relative and so de-
pendent one upon another that I know not whether the
great retreats of the world that we sometimes see are
not made for the world itself. Despair has its pursuits,
and solitude its coquetry. It is said that the gloomiest
hermits cannot refrain from inquiring what men say of
them. This need of public opinion is beneficial, in that
it combats, almost always victoriously, that which is
irregular in our imagination, and comes to the aid of
duties which we too easily forget. One experiences
(you will feel it, I hope) in returning to one's proper
lot, after the sacrifice of that which had diverted the
reason, the satisfaction of an exile returning to his
family, of a sick person at sight of the sun after a night
afflicted with frightful dreams. It is this feeling of a
being returned, as it wxre, to its natural state that
creates the calm which you see in many eyes that have
also had their tears, — for there are few women who
have not known tears such as yours. You would think
yourself perjured if you renounced Cinq-Mars ! But
nothing binds you ; you have more than acquitted
yourself towards him by refusing for more than two

176 CINQrMARS.

years past the royal hands offered you. And after all,
what has he done, this impassioned lover? He has
elevated himself to reach you ; but may not the ambi-
tion which here seems to you to have aided love have
made use of that love ? This young man seems to me
too profound, too calm in his political stratagems, too
independent in his vast resolutions, in his colossal en-
terprises, for me to believe him solely occupied by his
tenderness. If you have been but a means instead 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 the alliance."

At these last words the rain and hail fell violently on
the balcony. The queen took advantage of the circum-
stance abruptly to leave the room and pass into that
where the Duchesse de Chevreuse, Mazarin, Madame de
Gueméné, and the prince palatine had been awaiting her
for a short time. The queen walked up to them. Marie
placed herself in the shade of a curtain, in order to con-
ceal the redness of her eyes. She was at first unwill-
ing to take part in the sprightly conversation ; but some
words of it attracted her attention. The queen was
showing to the Princesse .de Gueméné diamonds she
had just received from Paris.

" As for this crown, it does not belong to me. The
king had it prepared for the future Queen of Poland.
Who that is to be, we know not." Then turning to-
wards the prince palatine, " We saw you pass, Prince.
Whom were you going to visit ? "

ABSENCE. 177

^^ Mademoiselle la Duchesse de Rohan " answered the
Pole.

The insinuating Mazariu, who availed himself of every
opportunity to worm out secrets, and to make himself
necessary by forced confidences, said, approaching the
queen, —

^^ That comes very à propos, just as we were speaking
of the crown of Poland."

Marie, who was listening, could not hear this, and
said to Madame de Gueméné, who was at her side, —

" Is M. de Chabot, then, King of Poland ? "

The queen- heard that, and was delighted at this touch
of pride. In order to develop its germ, she affected an
approving attention to the conversation that ensued.

The Princesse de Gueméné exclaimed, —

" Can you conceive such a marriage ? We really
can't get it out of our heads. This same Mademoiselle
de Rohan, whom we have seen so haughty, after having
refused the Comte de Soissons, the Due de Weimar, and
the Due de Nemours, to marry M. de Chabot, a simple
gentleman ! 'T is really a sad pity ! What are we
coming to ? T is impossible to say what it will all
end in."

Mazarin added, slyly, —

" What ! can it be true ? Love at court ! a real love !
deep ! Can it be believed ? "

All this time the queen continued opening and shut-
ting and playing with the new crown.

*' Diamonds only suit black hair," she said. ^^ Let^s
see. Let me put it on you, Marie. Why, it suits her
to admiration ! "

VOL. II. — 12

178 CINQrMARS.

^^ One would suppose it had been made for Madame la
Princesse," said the cardinal.

" I would give the last drop of my blood for it to re-
main on that brow," said the prince palatine.

Marie, through the tears that were still on her cheek,
gave an infantine and 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 am-
bassador to kiss, and retired to write a letter.

CHAPTER XXIV.

THE WORK.

Peu d'espérance doivent avoir les pauvres et menues gens au fwt
de ce monde, puisque si grand roy y a tant souffert et tant travaillé.

Philippe de Comines.

One night, before Perpignan, a very unusual event took
place. It was ten o'clock ; and all were asleep. The
slow and almost suspended operations of the siege had
rendered the camp and the town inactive. The Span-
iards troubled themselves little about the French, all
communication towards Catalonia being open as in time
of peace ; and in the French army men's minds were
agitated with that secret anxiety which precedes great
events. Yet all was apparently calm ; no sound was
heard but that of the measured tread of the sentinels.
Nothing was seen in the dark night but the red light of
the matches of their guns, always smoking, when sud-
denly the trumpets of the musketeers, of the light-horse,
and of the men-at-arms, sounded almost simultaneously,
" boot and saddle," and " to horse." All the sentinels

180 ClNQrMARS.

cried to arms ; and the sergeants, with flambeaux^ went
from tent to tent, a long pike in their hands, to waken
the soldiers, range them in lines, and comit them.
Some files marched in gloomy silence along the streets
of the camp, and took their position in battle array.
The sound of the mounted squadrons announced that
the heavy cavalry were making the same dispositions.
After half an hour of movement the noise ceased, the
torches were extinguished, and all again became calm,
but the army was on foot.

One of the last tents of the camp shone within as a
star with jlamleaux. On approaching this little white
and transparent pyramid, we might have distinguished
the shadows of two men reflected on the canvas as
they walked to and fro within. Outside several men on
horseback were in attendance ; inside were De Thou and
Cinq-Mars.

To see the pious and wise De Thou thus up and
armed at this hour, you might have taken him for one
of the chiefs of the revolt. But a closer examination
of his serious countenance and mournful expression
immediately showed that .he blamed it, and allowed
himself to be led into it and endangered by it from an
extraordinary resolution which aided him to surmount
the horror he had of the enterprise itself. From the
day when Henri d'Effiat had opened his heart and con-
fided to him its whole secret, he had seen clearly that
all remonstrance was vain with a young man so pow-
erfully resolved. He had even understood what M. de
Cinq-Mars had not told him, and had seen in the secret
union of his friend with the Princesse Marie one of

THE WORK. 181

those ties of love whose mysterious and frequent faults,
voluptuous and involuntary derelictions, could not be
too soon purified by public benediction. He had com-
prehended that punishment, impossible to be supported
long by a lover, the adored master of that young girl,
and who was condemned daily to appear before her as
a stranger, to receive political disclosures of marriages
they were preparing for her. The day when he received
his entire confession, he had done all in his power to
prevent Cinq-Mars going so far in his projects as the
foreign alliance. He had evoked the gravest recollec-
tions and the best feelings, without any other result
than rendering the invincible resolution of his friend
more rude towards him. Cinq-Mars, it will be recol-
lected, had said to him harshly, ^' Well, did I ask you
to take part in this conspiracy ? " And he had desired
only to promise not to denounce it; and he had col-
lected all his power against friendship to say, '^ Expect
nothing further from me if you sign this treaty." Yet
Cinq-Mars had signed the treaty ; and De Thou was still
there with him.

The habit of familiarly discussing the projects of his
friend had perhaps rendered them less odious to him.
His contempt for the vices of the prime minister ; his
indignation at the servitude of the parliaments to which
his family belonged, and at the corruption of justice ;
the powerful names, and more especially the noble
characters of the men who directed the enterprise, — all
had contributed to soften down his first painful impres-
sion. Having once promised secrecy to M. de Cinq-Mars,
he considered himself as in a position to accept in detail

Ï82 CINQrMARS.

all the secondary disclosures; and since the fortuitous
event which had compromised him with the conspirators
at the house of Marion de Lorme, he considered himself
united to them by honor, and engaged to an inviolable
secrecy. Since that time he had seen Monsieur, the
Due de Bouillon, and Fontrailles ; they had become ac-
customed to speak before him without constraint, and
he to hear them.

The dangers which threatened his friend now drew
him into their vortex like an invincible magnet. His
conscience accused him ; but he followed Cinq-Mars
wherever he went without even, from excess of delicacy,
hazarding a single expression which might resemble a
personal fear. He had tacitly given up his life, and
would have deemed it unworthy of both to manifest a
desire to regain it.

The master of the horse was in his cuirass ; he was
armed, and wore large boots. An enormous pistol, with
a lighted match, was placed upon his table between two
jlamheaux. A heavy watch in a brass case lay near the
pistol. De Thou, wrapped in a black cloak, sat motion-
less with folded arms. Cinq-Mars paced backwards and
forwards, his arms crossed behind his back, from time to
time looking at the hand of the watch, too sluggish in
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 my heart."

" The night is dark," said De Thou.

" Say rather that the time draws nigh. It advances,
my friend ; it advances. Twenty minutes more, and aU

THE WORK. 183

will be accomplished. The army only waits the report
of this pistol to commence."

De Thou held in his hand an ivory crucifix, and
looking first at the cross, and then towards heaven,
" Now," said he, " is the hour to complete the sacrifice.
I repent not ; but oh, how bitter is the cup of sin to my
lips ! I had vowed my days to innocence and to the
works of the soul, and here 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 ! " he added with the enthusiasm of a
blindly devoted heart. " I rejoice in my errors 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 my whole life."

Cinq-Mars looked steadfastly at him ; and a tear stole
slowly down his cheek.

" Virtuous friend," said he, " may your fault fall only
on my head ! But let us hope that God, who pardons
those who love, will be for us ; for we are 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 fell over his face like the
mane of a young lion.

*'Do not consume," said he; "burn slowly. Thou
art about to light a flame which the waves of ocean
cannot extinguish. The flame will soon light half Eu-
rope ; it may perhaps reach the wood of thrones. Burn
slowly, precious flame ! The winds which fan thee are
violent and fearful ; they are love and hatred. Reserve

184 CINQrMARS.

thyself! Thy explosion will be heard afar, and will
find echoes in the peasant's hut and the king's palace.
Bum, 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 low voice, —

" Lord, pardon us the blood that will be shed ! We
combat the wicked and the impious." Then, raising his
voice, " My friend, the cause of virtue will triumph," he
said; ^Mt alone will triumph. Ood has ordained that
the guilty treaty should not reach us ; that which con-
stituted the crime is no doubt destroyed. We shall
fight without the foreigners, and perhaps we shall
not fight at all. God will change the heart of the
king."

" 'T is the hour ! 't is the hour ! " exclaimed Cinq-
Mars, his eyes fixed upon the watch with a kind of
savage joy; "four minutes more, and the Cardinalists
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, as a man, heated with hard rid-
ing and overcome with fatigue, threw himself from his
horse, entered, and presented a letter to Cinq-Mars.

" From the queen. Monseigneur," he said. Cinq-Mars
turned pale, and read as follows: —

M. DE Cihq-Mars, — I write this letter to entreat and
conjure 3*ou to restore to her duties our well-beloved adopted
daughter and friend, the Princesse Marie de Gonzaga, whom

THE WORK. 185

3'our affection alone turns from the throne of Poland, which
'has been offei-ed to her. 1 have sounded her heart. She is
very 3'oung, and I have good reason to believe that she
would accept the crown t^'^ 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 sup-
plicate and implore you to act as a gentleman, and nobly to
release the Duchesse de Mantua fix>m 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 impulse bad been to turn its muzzle upon
himself. However, he laid it down, and snatching a
pencil, wrote on the back of the letter: —

Madame, — Marie de Gonzaga, being my wife, cannot be
Queen of Poland until after my death ; I die.

Cinq-Mabs.

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 remain another instant, you are a dead
man!"

He saw him gallop off, and re-entered the tent.
Alone with his friend, he remained an instant stand-
ing, but pale, his eyes fixed, and looking on the ground
like a madman. He felt himself totter.

** De Thou!" he cried.

186 CINQrMARS,

" What would you, my friend, my dear friend ? I
am with you. You have acted grandly, most grandly,
sublimely ! "

" De Thou ! " he cried again in a hollow voice, and
fell with his face to the ground like an uprooted tree.

Violent tempests assume different aspects, accord-
ing to the climates in which they take place. Those
which have spread over a terrible space in northern
countries assemble into one single cloud under the
torrid zone, — the more formidable, that they leave the
horizon in all its purity, and that the furious waves still
reflect the azure of heaven while tinged with the blood
of man. It is the same with great passions. They
assume sti'ange aspects according to our characters;
but how terrible are they in vigorous hearts, which have
preserved their force under the veil of social forms ?
When youth and despair embrace, we know not to what
fury they may rise, or what may be fcheir sudden resig-
nation ; we know not whether the volcano will burst
the mountain or become suddenly extinguished within
its entrails.

De Thou, in alarm, raised his friend. The blood
gushed from his nostrils and ears ; he would have
thought him dead, but for the torrents of tears which
flowed from his eyes. They were the only sign of life.
Suddenly he opened his lids, looked around him, and
by an extraordinary energy resumed his senses and the
power of his will.

^^I am in the presence of men," said he; ^^I must
finish with them. My friend, it is half-past eleven ; the
hour for the signal has passed. Give, in my name, the

THE WORK. 187

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 out and returned immediately.
He found Cinq-Mars seated, calm, and endeavoring to
cleanse the blood from his face.

" De Thou," said he, looking fixedly at him, " retire ;
you disturb me."

" 1 leave you not," answered the latter.

" Ply, I tell you ! the Pyrenees are not far distant. I
cannot speak much longer, even to you ; but if you
remain with me, you will die. I give you warning."

" I remain," repeated De Thou.

" May God preserve you, then ! " answered Cinq-Mars,
^^for I can do nothing more; the moment has passed.
I leave you here. Call Fontrailles and all the con-
federates ; distribute these passports among them. Let
them fly immediately ; 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
do violence to myself ! "

With these words, shaking his friend's hand without
looking at him, he rushed from the tent.

Meantime, some leagues thence another conversation
was taking place. At Narbonne, in the same cabinet in
which we formerly beheld Richelieu regulating with
Joseph the interests of the State, were still seated the
same men, nearly as we have described them. Tiie
minister, however, had grown much older in three
years of suffering; and the Capuchin was as much

188 CINQ-MARS.

terrified with the result of his expedition as his mas-
ter appeared tranquil.

The cardinal, seated in his armchair, his legs bound
and encased with furs and warm clothing, had upon his
knees three kittens, which gambolled upon his scarlet
robe. Every now and then he took one of them and
placed it upon the others, to continue their sport. He
smiled as he watched them. On his feet lay their
mother, looking like an enormous animated muff.

Joseph, seated near him, was going over the account
of all he had heard in the confessional. Pale even
now, at the danger he had run of being discovered, or
of being murdered by Jacques, he concluded thus, —

^' In short, your Eminence, I cannot help feeling agi-
tated to my heart's core when I reflect upon tlie dan-
gers which have, and still do, threaten you. Assassins
offer themselves to poniard you. I behold in France
the whole court against you, one half of the army, and
two provinces. Abroad, Spain and Portugal are ready
to furnish troops. Everywhere there are snares or bat-
tles, poniards or cannon."

The cardinal yawned three times, without discontinu-
ing his amusement, and then said, —

" A cat is a very fine animal. It is a drawing-room
tiger. What suppleness, what extraordinary finesse !
Here is this little yellow one pretending to sleep, in
order that the tortoise-shell one may not notice it, but
fall upon its brother ; and this one, how it tears the
other ! See how it sticks its claws into its side ! It
would kill and eat it, I fully believe, if it were the
stronger. It is very amusing. What pretty animals ! "

THE WORK. 189

He coughed and sneezed for some time ; then he
continued, —

^^ Messire Joseph, I sent word to you not to speak to
me of business until after my supper. I have an appe-
tite now, and it is not yet my hour. • Chicot, my doctor,
recommends regularity, and I feel my usual pain in my
side. This is how I shall spend the evening," he added,
looking at the clock. ^' At nine, we will settle the af-
fairs of M. le Grand. At ten, I shall be carried rounxi
the garden to take the air by moonlight. Then I shall
sleep for an hour or two. At midnight the king will be
here ; and at four o'clock you may return to receive the
various orders for arrests, condemnations, or any others
I may have to give you, for the provinces, Paris, or the
armies of his Majesty."

Richelieu said all this in the same tone of voice, with
a uniform enunciation, affected only by the weakness of
his chest, and the loss of several teeth.

It was seven in the evening. The Capuchin with-
drew. The cardinal supped with the greatest tranquil-
lity ; and when the clock struck half-past eight, 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 more than two years. They are poor crea-
tures, truly ! The Due de Bouillon, whom I thought
possessed some ability, has forfeited all claim to my
opinion. I have watched him closely ; and I ask you,
has he taken one step worthy of a true statesman ?
The king. Monsieur, and the rest, have only shown their
teeth against me, and without depriving me of one sin-
gle man. The young Cinq-Mars is the only man among

190 CINQrMARS.

them who has any consecutivenesB of ideas. All that
he has done has been done surprisingly well. I must
do him justice ; he had good qualities. I should have
made him my pupil, had it not been for his obstinate
character. But he has here charged me à routranccy
and must take the consequences. I am sorry for him.
I have left them to float about in open water for the
last two years. I shall now draw the net."

"It is time, Monseigneur," said Joseph, who often
trembled involuntarily as he spoke. " Do you bear in
mind that from Perpignan to Narbonne the way is
short ? Do you know that if your army here is power-
ful, your own troops are weak and uncertain ; that
the young nobles are furious ; and that the king is not
sure?"

The cardinal looked at the clock.

" It is only half-past eight, Joseph. I have already
told you that I will not talk about this afiFair until nine.
Meantime, as justice must be done, 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, — four of the judges of Urbain Grandier. ffe
was a rare genius, that Urbain Grandier," he added,
with a malicious expression. Joseph bit his lips. " All
the other judges have died miserably. As to Houmain,
he shall be hanged as a smuggler by-and-by. We may
leave him alone for the present. But there is that horri-
ble Lactantius, who lives peacefully. Barré, and Mignon.
Take a pen, and write to the Bishop of Poitiers, —

'^ Monseigneur, — It is his Maje8t}''s pleasure that Fathers
Mignon and Barré be superseded in their cures, and sent

THE WORK. 191

with the shortest possible delay to the town of L3on8, with
Father Lactantius, Capuchin, to be tried before a special
tribunal, charged with criminal intentions against the
State."

Joseph wrote as coollj as a Turk strikes off a head at
a sign from his master. The cardinal said to him, while
signing the letter, —

" I will let you know how I wish them to disappear,
for it is important to efface all traces of that affair.
Providence has served me well. In removing these
men, I complete its work. That is all that posterity
shall know of the affair."

And he read to the Capuchin that page of liis memoirs
in which he recounts the possession and sorceries of the
magician.^ During this slow process, Joseph could not
help looking at the clock.

" You are anxious to come to M. le Grand," said the
cardinal at last. '^ Well, then, to please you, let us
begin.

" Do you think I have not my reasons for being tran-
quil ? You think that I have allowed these poor con-
spirators to go too far. No, no ! Here are some 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 Lau-
bardemont; he is an able man."

The fire of ferocious jealousy sparkled under the thick
eyebrows of the monk.

"Ah, Monseigneur," said he, "you know not from
whom he seized it. He certainly suffered him to die,

^ Collect, des Mémoires, xxviii. 189.

192 CINQ-MARS.

and in that respect we cannot 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 you dare not lie to me. How knew
you this ? "

^^ From his attendants, Monseigneur. Here are their
reports. They will testify to them."

The cardinal having examined these papers, said, —

" We will employ him once more to try our conspira-
tors, and then you shall 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 on horseback."

" They are not all so. Read this letter from Monsieur
to Chavigny. He asks for pardon. He dared not ad-
dress me the first day, and his prayers rose no higher
than the knees of one of my servants.^

^^ But the next day he took courage, and sent this to
myself,^ and the third to the king. His project choked

1 To M, de Chavigny.

M. DB CHAViaNT, — Although I believe that yon are little satisfied
with me (and in truth yon have reason to be dissatisfied), I do not the
less entreat yon 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 Emi-
nence. I swear to you this shall be the last time I give you such an
employment. Gaston d'Obl&ans.

* To hi» Excellency the CardinalrDuc,

Mt Cousin, — This ongratefnl M. le Grand is the most guilty man
in the world to have displeased yon. The favors he received from his

TITE WORK, 198

him; he could not keep it dowii. But I am not so
easily satisfied. I must have a free and full confession,*
or I will expel him from the kingdom. I have written
to him this morning.^ As to the magnificent and power-
ful Due de Bouillon, sovereign lord of Sedan and general-
in-chief of the armies in Italy, he has just been arrested
by his ofiicers in the midst of his soldiers, concealed in
a truss of straw. There remain, therefore, only our two
young neighbors. They imagine they have the camp
wholly at their orders, while they really have only the
red troops. All the rest, being Monsieur's men, will not
act, and my troops will arrest them. However, I have
permitted them 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 them up to me this
evening. Do not open your eyes so wide. He will give
them up to me, I repeat, this night, between midnight
and one o'clock. You see that all has been done
without you, Joseph. We can dispense with you very
well; and truly, all this time, I do not see that we

Majesty have always made me donbtfol of him and his artifices. For
yoa, my consin, I retain my whole esteem. I am trnly repentant at hav-
ing 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
consin, your affectionate cousin, Gaston.

1 The, Cardinalat Anxwer,

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 indi-
cate to yon the steps you must take to be delivered from this danger.
Tour Highness has commenced well; you must continue. This is all
I can say to you.
VOL. II. *- 18

194 CINQrMARS.

have received any great service from you. You grow
negligent."

" Ah, Monseigneur ! did you but know the trouble I
have had to discover the route of the bearers of the
treaty! I only learned it by risking my life between
these young people."

The cardinal laughed contemptuously, leaning back iu
his chair.

" Thou must have been very ridiculous and very fear-
ful in that box, Joseph ; I dare say it was the first time
in thy life thou ever heardst love spoken of. Dost thou
like the language. Father Joseph ? Tell me, dost thou
clearly understand it ? I doubt whether thou hast formed
a very refined idea of it."

Richelieu, his arms crossed, looked at his discomfited
Capuchin with infinite delight, and continued in the
scornfully familiar tone of a grand seigneur, which he
sometimes assumed, pleasing himself with putting
forth the noblest expressions through the most im-
pure lips: —

" Come, now, Joseph, give me a definition of love ac-
cording to thy idea. What can it be ? for thou seest it
exists out of romances ; this worthy youngster undertook
these little conspiracies through love. Thou heardst it
thyself with thine unworthy ears. Come, what is love ?
for my part, I know nothing about it."

The monk was astounded, and looked upon the ground
with the stupid eye of some base animal. After long
consideration, he replied in a drawling and nasal voice :

" It must be a kind of malignant fever which leads
the brain astray; but in truth, Monseigneur, I have

THE WORK. 195

never reflected on it until this moment. I have always
been embarrassed in speaking to a woman. I wish
women could be omitted from society altogether ; for I
do not see what use they are, unless it be to disclose
secrets, like the little duchesse or Marion de Lorme,
whom I cannot too strongly recommend to your Emi-
nence. She thought of everything, and herself threw
our little prophecy among the conspirators with great
address. We have not been without the marvell(ms this
time. As in the siege of Hesdin, all we have to do is to
find a window through which you may pass on the day of
the executionJ*^ ^

" This is another of your absurdities, sir," said the
cardinal ; ^' you will make me as ridiculous as yourself,
if you go on so ; I am too powerful to need the assistance
of Heaven. Do not let that happen again. Occupy your-
self only with the people I consign to you. I traced your
part before. When the master of the horse is taken,
you will see him tried and executed at Lyons. I will
not be known in this. This affair is beneath me ; it is
a stone under my feet, upon which I ought not to have
bestowed so much attention."

Joseph was silent ; he could not understand this man,
who, surrounded on every side by armed enemies, spoke
of the future as of a present over which he had the en-
tire control, and of the present as a past which he no
longer feared. He knew not whether to look upon him

1 In 1638, Prince Thomas having; raised the siege of Hesdin, the car-
dinal was ranch vexed at it A nun of the convent of Mount Calvary
had said that the victory wonid be to the king and Father Joseph, thus
wishing it to be believed that Heaven protected the minister. — Mémov-es
pour l'histoire du Cardinal de Richelieu.

196 CINQ-MARS.

as a madman or a prophet, above or below the standard
of human nature.

His astonishment was redoubled when Chavigny hastily
entered, and nearly falling, in his heavy boots, over the
cardinal's footstool, exclaimed in gi'eat agitation, —

" Sir, one of your servants has just arrived from Per-
pignan ; and he has beheld the camp in an uproar, and
your enemies in the saddle,"

"They will soon dismount, sir," replied Richelieu,
replacing his footstool. " You appear to have lost your
equanimity."

"But — but, Monseigneur, must we not warn M. 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 his watch. " I did not «xpect him these two
hours. Retire, both of you."

A heavy trampling and the clattering of arms an-
nounced the arrival of the prince; the folding-doora
were thrown open ; the guards in the cardinal's ser-
vice struck the ground thrice with their pikes ; and the
king appeared.

He entered, supporting himself with a cane on one
side, and on the other leaning upon the shoulder of his
confessor, Father Sirmond, who withdrew, and left him
with the cardinal ; the latter rose with difficulty, but
could not advance a step to meet the king, because his
legs were bandaged and enveloped. He made a sign

THE WORK. 197

that they should assist the king to a seat near the fire,
facing himself. Louis XIII. fell iuto an armchair fur-
nished with pillows, asked for and drank a glass of
cordial, prepared to strengthen him against the frequent
fainting-fits caused 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 return to God. I become weaker from day to day ;
neither the summer nor the southern air has restored
my strength."

" I shall precede your Majesty," replied the minister.
^' You see that death has already conquered my limbs ;
but while I have a head to think and 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 biting his lips impatiently at this speech.

" Sometimes I doubt it," replied the prince. " Listen :
I wish to speak openly to you, and to complain of you to
yourself. There are two things which have been upon
my conscience these three years. I have never men-
tioned them to you ; but I reproached you secretly, and
could anything have 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 seek by thus making their ruler un-
easy, to compensate for the harm they dare not do him,
and revenge their subjection by a childish controversy.

198 CINQrMARS.

Richelieu perceived by these words that he had run a
great risk ; but he saw at the same time the necessity of
venting all his spleen, and to facilitate the explosion of
these important avowals, he accumulated all the profes-
sions he thought most calculated to provoke the king.

" No, no ! " his Jdajesty at length exclaimed, " I shall
believe nothing until you have explained those two things,
which are always in my thoughts, which were lately men-
tioned to me, and which I can justify by no reasoning.
I mean the trial of Urbain Grandier, of which I was
never well informed, and the reason for the hatred you
bore to my unfortunate mother, even to her very ashes."

" Is this all. Sire ? " said Richelieu. " Are these my
only faults? They are easily explained. The first it
was necessary to conceal from your Majesty because of
its horrible and disgusting details of scandal. There was
certainly an art employed which cannot be looked upon
as guilty, in concealing under the title of ' magic ' crimes,
the very names of which are revolting to modesty, the
recital of which would have revealed dangerous myste-
ries to the innocent ; this was a holy deceit practised to
hide these impurities from the eyes of the people."

" Enough, enough, Cardinal," said Louis XIII., turn-
ing away his head, and looking downwards, while a
blush covered his face ; " I cannot hear more. I under-
stand you ; these explanations would disgust me. I
approve your motives ; 't is well. I had not been told
that ; they had concealed these dreadful 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 Médieis, I am surprised that

THE WORK, 199

your Majesty can forget how much I was attached to
her. Yes, I do not fear to acknowledge it ; it is to her
I owe my elevation. She was the first who deigned to
notice the Bishop of Luçon, then only twenty-two years
of age, to place me near her. What have I not suffered
when she compelled mc to oppose her in your Majesty's
interest ! But this sacrifice was made for you. I never
have, and never shall, regret it."

" 'T is well for you, but for me ! " said the prince,
bitterly.

" Ah, Sire," exclaimed the cardinal, " did not the
Son of God himself set you an example ? It is by the
model of every perfection that we regulate our counsels ;
and if the monument due to the precious remains of
your mother is not yet raised. Heaven is my witness
that the works were retarded through the fear, of
afflicting your heart by bringing back the recollection
of her death. But blessed be the day in which I have
been permitted to speak to you on the subject ! I my-
self shall say the first Mass at St. Denis, when we shall
see her deposited there, if Providence allows me the
strength."

The countenance of the king assumed a more affable
yet still cold expression ; and the cardinal, thinking that
he could go no farther that evening in persuasion, sud-
denly resolved to make a more powerful move, and to
attack the enemy in front. Still keeping his eyes firmly
fixed upon 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 hoard of a conspiracy, and I wished to

200 CINQrMARS.

speak to you about it ; but I have commanded nothing
against you."

"The conspirators do not say so, Sire; but I am
bound to believe your Majesty, and I am glad for your
sake that men were deceived. But what advice were
you about to condescend to give me?"

"I — I wished to tell you frankly, and between our-
selves, that you will do well to beware of Monsieur — "

" Ah, Sire, I cannot now heed it ; for here is a letter
which he has just sent to me for you. He seems to have
been guilty even towards your Majesty."

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 ? "

" Aho ! " muttered the cardinal, biting his lips ;
" yes, Sire, also ; and this makes me believe, to a
certain degree, this little packet of papers."

While speaking, he drew a roll of parchment from a
piece of hollowed elder, and opened it before the eyes of
the king.

" This is simply a treaty with Spain, which I think
does not bear the signature of your Majesty. You may
see the twenty articles all in due form. Everything is
here arranged, — the place of safety, the number of
troops, the supplies of men and money."

THE WORK. 201

*^The traitors!" cried the king, in great agitation;
^^ they must be seized. Mj brother renounces them and
repents ; but do not fail to arrest the Due 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 not another name to be added ? "

" Who ^- what — Cinq-Mars Î " inquired the king,
hesitating.

'^ fixactly so, Sire," answered the cardinal.

" I see — but — I think — we might — "

" Hear me ! " exclaimed Richelieu, in a voice of thun-
der ; " all must be settled 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 to
the 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 relapsed into the same state of irresolution
he evinced when with Cinq-Mars against Richelieu.
" He is my friend as well as you ; my heart bleeds at
the 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 to the brink
of despair ; you have made me the most miserable
of men."

Louis hid his head in his hands while speaking, and
perhaps he shed tears ; but the inflexible minister kept
his eyes upon him as if watching his prey, and without

202 CINQ-MARS.

remorse, without giving the king time for reflection, —
on the contrary, profiting by this emotion to speak yet
longer.

'^ And is it thus," he continued in a harsh and cold
voice, ^^ that you remember the commandments of God
communicated to you by the mouth of your confessor ?
You told me one day that the Church expressly com-
manded you to reveal to your prime minister all tliat
you might hear against him; yet I have never heard
from you of my intended death ! It was necessary that
more faithful friends should apprise me of this con-
spiracy ; that the guilty themselves through the mercy
of Providence should themselves make the avowal of
their fault. One only, the most guilty, yet the least of
all, still resists, and it is he who has conducted the
whole; it is he who would deliver France into the
power of the foreigner, who would overthrow in one
single day my labors of twenty years. He would call up
the Huguenots of the south, invite to arms all orders
of the State, revive crushed pretensions, and, in fact,
renew the League which was put down by your father.
It is that, — do not deceive yourself, — it is that which
raises so many heads against you. Are you prepared
for the combat ? If so, where are your arms Î "

The king, quite overwhelmed, made no reply ; he still
covered his face with his hands. The stony-hearted
cardinal crossed his arms and continued, —

^' I fear that you imagine it is for myself I speak.
Do you really think that I do not know my own
powers, and that I fear such an adversary ? Beally, I
know not what prevents me from letting you act for

THE WORK. 208

yourself, — from transferring the immense burden of
State affairs to the shoulders of this youth. You may
imagine that since the twenty years I have been ac-
quainted with your court, I have not forgotten to assure
myself a retreat where, in spite of you, I could now go to
live the six months which perhaps remain to me of life.
It would be a curious employment for me to watch the
progress of such a reign. What answer would you re-
turn, for instance, when all the inferior potentates, re-
gaining their station, no longer kept in subjection by
me, shall come in your brother's name to say to you,
as they dared to say to Henri lY. on his throne:
' Divide with us all the hereditary governments and
sovereignties, and we shall be content/ ^ You will
doubtless accede to their request; and it is the least
you can do for those who will have delivered you from
Richelieu. It will, perhaps, be fortunate, for to govern
the lie de France, which they will no doubt allow you as
the original domain, your new minister will not require
many secretaries."

While speaking thus, he furiously pushed the huge
table, which nearly filled the room, and was laden with
papers and numerous portfolios.

Louis was aroused from his apathetic meditation by
the excessive audacity of this discourse. He raised his
head, and seemed to have instantly formed one resolu-
tion 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

^ Mémoires de SoUy, 1595.

204 CINQrMARS.

you notice that affairs are at present somewhat com-
plicated. This is the hour when I generally commence
my ordinary avocations."

" I will act in your place," said Louis. " I will open
the portfolios and issue my commands."

" Try, then," said Richelieu. " I shall retire ; and
if anything causes you to hesitate, you can send for
me."

He rang a bell. In the same instant, and as if they
had awaited the signal, four vigorous footmen entered,
and carried him and his chair into another apartment,
for we have before remarked that he was unable to
walk. While passing through the chambers where the
secretaries were at work, he called out in a loud
voice, —

" You will receive his Majesty's commands."

The king remained alone, strong in his new resolu-
tion, and proud in having once resisted, he became anx-
ious immediately to plunge into political business. He
walked round the immense table, and beheld as many
portfolios as they then counted empires, kingdoms, and
States in Europe. He opened one and found it divided
into sections equalling in number the subdivisions of
the country to which it related. All was in order, but
in alarming order for him, because each note only re-
ferred to the very essence of the business it alluded to,
and related only to the exact point of its then relations
with Prance. These laconic notes proved as enigmas
to Louis, as did the letters in cipher which covered the
table. Here all was confusion. An edict of banish-
ment and expropriation of the Huguenots of La Rochelle

thje: work, 205

was mingled with treaties with Oustavus Adolphus and
the Huguenots of the north against the empire. Notes on
General Bannier and Wallenstein, the Due de Weimar,
and Jean de Witt, were pell-mell with extracts of letters
taken from the casket of the queen, the list of the neck-
laces and jewels they contained, and the double inter-
pretation which might be put upon every phrase of her
notes. Upon the margin of one of these letters was
written: "For four lines in a man's handwriting he
might be criminally tried." Farther on were scattered
denunciations against the Huguenots ; the republican
plans they had drawn up ; the division of France into
departments under the annual dictatorship of a chief.
The seal of this projected State was affixed to it, repre-
senting an angel leaning upon a cross, 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
cardinals the pope had selected the same day as the
Bishop of Luçon (Richelieu). Among them was to be
found the Marquis de Bédemar, ambassador and con-
spirator at Venice.

Louis Xin. exhausted his powers in vain over the
details of another period, seeking unsuccessfully for any
documents which might allude to the present conspiracy,
to enable him to perceive its true knot, and all that had
been attempted against him, when a diminutive man, of
an olive complexion, who stooped much, entered the
cabinet with a measured step. 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.

206 CINQrMARS.

" And consequently of Spain ? " said Louis. " Portu-
gal is a province of Spain."

** Of Portugal," reiterated Desnoyers. " Here is the
manifesto we have this moment received." And he
re^d, " Don John, by the grace of God, King of Por-
tugal and of Algarves, kingdoms on this side of Africa,
lord over Guinea, by conquest, navigation, and trade
with Arabia, Persia, and the Indies — "

« What is all that ? " said the king. " Who talks in
this manner?"

" The Duke of Braganza, King of Portugal, crowned
already some time by a man whom they call Pinto.
Scarcely has he ascended the throne than he offers as-
sistance to the revolted Gatalonians."

" Has Catalonia also revolted ? The king, Philip IV.,
no longer has the count-duke for his prime minister?"

" Just the contrary. Sire. It is on this very account.
Here is the declaration of the states-general of Cata-
lonia to his Catholic Majesty, signifying that the whole
country will take up arms against his êacrilegious 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 of Catatonia, to seize
the protection (and it may be tlie sovereignty) of
that country, which he would add to that he has
just reconquered. Your Majesty's troops are before
Perpignan — "

" Well, and what of that ?" said Louis.

THE WORK. 207

^^ The Catalonians are more disposed towards France
than towards Portugal, and there is still time to deprive
the King of — the Duke of Portugal, I .should say, of
this protectorship."

" What ! I assist rebels ! You dare — "

^^ Such was the intention of his Eminence," continued
the secretary of State. " Spain and France are nearly
at open war, and M. d'Olivarès has not hesitated to
offer the assistance of his Catholic Majesty to the
Huguenots."

" Very good. I will consider it," said the king.
"Leave me."

" Sire, the states-general of Catalonia are in a di-
lemma. The troops from Aragon 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 dis-
contented and discouraged. In his place Chavigny im-
mediately appeared, holding a portfolio, on which were
emblazoned the arms of England. ^' Sire," said he, ^' I
have to request your Majesty's commands upon the af-
fairs of England. The Parliamentarians, commanded by
the Earl of Essex, have raised the siege of Gloucester.
Prince Rupert has at Newbury fought a disastrous bat-
tle, and of little profit to his Britannic Majesty. The
Parliament is prolonged. All the principal cities take
part with it, together with all the seaports and the
Presbyterian population. King Charles I. implores as-
sistance, which the queen can no longer obtain from
Holland."

" Troops most be sent to my brother of England,"

208 CINQ-MARS.

said Louis ; but he wanted to look over the preceding
papers, and casting his eyes over the notes of the car-
dinal, be found that under a former request of the King
of England he had written with his own hand, —

^' We mast consider some time and wait. The commons
are strong. King Charles reckons upon the Scots; they
will sell him.

^' We mast be cautious. A warlike man has been over
to see Vincennes, and he has said that ^ princes ought never
to be struck, except on the head.' "

The cardinal had added ^' remarkable," but he had
erased this word and substituted ^' formidable." Again,
beneath, —

^' This man rules Fairfax. He plan's an inspired part.
He will be a great man — 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 be delayed, the king's destruction may hap-
pen a year sooner."

" Have they advanced so far ? " asked Louis.

" In the camp of the Independents they preach up
the republic with the Bible in their hands. In that of
the Royalists, they dispute for precedency, 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.

THE WORK. 209

It was then that Louis XIII. beheld himself as he
really was, and was terrified at the nothingness he found
in himself. He at first stared at the mass of papers
which surrounded him, passing from one to the other,
finding dangers on every side, and finding them still
greater with the remedies he invented. He rose ; and
changing his place, he bent over, or rather threw him-
self upon, a geographical map ot Europe. There he
found all his fears concentrated. In the north, the
south, the very centre of the kingdom, revolutions ap-
peared to him like so many Euménides. In every
country he thought he saw a volcano ready to burst
forth. He imagined he heard cries of distress from
kings, who appealed to him for help, and the furious
shouts of the populace. He fancied he felt the territory
of France trembling and crumbling beneath his feet.
His feeble and 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 ; ^' summon the cardinal immediately."

And he swooned in an armchair.

When the king opened his eyes, revived by salts and
potent essences which had been applied to his lips and
temples, he for one instant beheld himself surrounded
by pages, who withdrew as soon as he opened his eyes,
and he was once more left alone with the cardinal. The
impassible minister had had his chair placed by that of
the king, as a physician would seat himself by the bed-
side of his patient, and fixed his sparkling and scrutiniz-
ing eyes upon the pale countenance of Louis. As soon

VOL. II. — 14

210 CINQ-MARS.

as his victim could hear him, he renewed kia fearful dis-
course in a hollow voice, —

" You have recalled me. What would you with me ? "

Louis, who was reclining on the pillow, half opened
his eyes, fixed them upon Richelieu, and hastily closed
them again. That bony head, armed with two flaming
eyes, and terminating in a pointed and grizzly beard,
the cap and vestments of the color of blood and flames,
— all appeared to him 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 the implacable minister, bending forward to
read in the dull eyes of the prince, as an avaricious heir
follows up, even to the tomb, the last glimpses 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 my command, — 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. " For pity'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 and assurance. 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 «hare the
same post with those of his Majesty.

THE WORK. 211

" Again : —

''His Majest}' ondertakes to place the two princesy his
sons, in the caixlinaFs 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 re-
serve for him. The door was suddenly opened, and Cinq-
Mars entered. It was the cardinal who trembled now.

"What would you here, sir?" said he, seizing the
bell to ring for assistance.

The master of the horse was as pale as the king, and
without condescending to answer Richelieu, he advanced
steadily towards Louis XIII., who looked at him with the
air of a man who has just received a sentence of death.

" You would. Sire, find it difficult to have me arrested,
for I have twenty thousand men under my command,"
said Henri d'Efiiat, in a sweet and subdued voice.

" Alas, Cinq-Mars ! " replied the king, sadly ; " is it
thou who hast been guilty of these crimes?"
' " Yes, Sire ; and I also bring you my sword, for no
doubt you came here to surrender me," said he, unbuck-
ling his sword, and laying it at the feet of the king, who
fixed his eyes upon the floor without making any reply.

Cinq-Mars smiled sadly, but not bitterly, for he no
longer belonged to this earth. Then looking contemptu-

^ Mémoires d'Anne d'Autriche, 1642.

212 CINQ-MARS.

ously at Richelieu, " I surrender because I wish to die,
but I am not conquered."

The cardinal clinched his fist with passion ; but he re-
strained his fury. " Who are your accomplices ? " he
demanded. Cinq-Mars looked steadfastly at Louis, 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 the apartment. He stopped in the first
gallery. Fabert and all the gentlemen rose on seeing
him. He walked up to the commander, and said, —

" Sir, order these gentlemen to arrest me ! "

They Ipoked 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 of you who surrender, and I have no in-
struction to arrest any one."

" Two ! " said Cinq-Mars ; " the other is doubtless De
Thou. Alas ! I recognize him by this devotion."

"And had I not also guessed your intention ?" ex-
claimed the latter, coming forward, and throwing him-
self into his arms.

CHAPTER XXV.

THE PRISONERS.

«Tai troavé dans mon coeur le dessein de mon frère.

PiCHALD, LéonidoÈ.
Moarir ! sans vider mon carqnois !
Sans percer, sans fouler, sans pétrir dans leur fange
Ces bourreaux barbouilleurs de lois !

André Chénieb.

Among those old châteaux of which France is every year
deprived regretfully, as of flowers from her crown, there
was one of a grim and savage appearance upon the left
bank of the Saône. It looked like a formidable sentinel
placed at one of the gates of Lyons, and derived its name
from an enormous rock, known as Pierre-Encise, which
terminates in a peak, — a sort of natural pyramid, the
summit of which overhanging the river in former times,
they say, joined the rocks which may still be seen on
the opposite bank, forming tlie natural arch of a bridge ;
but time, the waters, and the hand of man, have left
nothing standing but the ancient mass of granite which
formed the pedestal of the now destroyed fortress.

214 CINQrMARS.

The archbishops of Lyons, as the temporal lords of
the city, had built and formerly resided in this castle.
It afterwards became a fortress, and during 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 with their massive walls, whose
lines and angles followed the form of the immense and
perpendicular rock.

It was here that the cardinal, jealous of his prey, de>
tcrmined to imprison his young enemies, and to conduct
them himself.

Allowing Louis to precede him to Paris, he removed
his captives from Narbonne, dragging them in his train
to ornament his last triumph, and embarking 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 call that of the gods, displayed to the eyes of
the spectators on both sides of the river the luxury of
his hatred ; he slowly proceeded on his course up the
river in barges with gilded oars, and emblazoned with
his armorial bearings, reclining in the first, and followed
by his two victims in the second, which was fastened to
his own by a long chain.

Often in the evening, when the heat of the day was
passed, the awnings of 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 young prison-
ers, calm and collected, supported each other, watching
the passage of the rapid stream. Formerly the soldiers
of Csesar, who encamped on the same shores, would

THE PRISONERS. 215

have thought they beheld the inflexible boatman of the
infernal regions conducting the friendly shades of Castor
and Pollux. Christians dared not even reflect, or see a
priest leading his two enemies to the scaffold ; it was
the flrst minister who passed.

Thus he went on his way until he left his victims
under guard at the identical city in which the late con-
spirators had doomed him to perish. Thus loved he to
defy Fate herself, and to plant a trophy on the very spot
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 man-
ner. 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 abbés 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 b}' 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.

*' Afterwards came the boat of his Eminence, to the stem
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 firom the regiment of his Emi-

216 CINQ-MARS.

nence. 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 Dauphiné, and as many on the Langaedoc and
Vivarais side, and a noble regiment of foot, who preceded
his Eminence in the towns which he was to enter, or in which
lie was to sleep. It was pleasant to listen to the trumpets,
which, played in Dauphiné, were answered b3' those in Viva-
rais, and repeated by the echoes of our rocks. It seemed as
if all were trying which could play best" *

In the middle of a night of the month of September,
while everything appeared to slumber in the impregna-
ble tower which contained the prisoners, the door of
their outer chamber turned noiselessly on its hinges,
and a man appeared on the threshold, clad in a brown
robe confined 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 looked cautiously round
without advancing, and contemplated in silence the
apartment occupied by the master of the horse. Thick
carpets covered the floor, and large and splendid hang-
ings concealed the walls of the prison ; 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 gray robe similar in form to that of a priest,
his head bent down, and his eyes fixed upon a little
cross of gold by the flickering light of a lamp, he was
absorbed in so deep a meditation that the Capuchin
had leisure to approach him closely, and confront the
prisoner before he perceived him. Suddenly, however,

^ See Notes and niustrationB.

THE PRISONERS. 217

Cinq-Mars raised his head and exclaimed, '^ Wretch,
what do you here ? "

"Young man, you are violent," answered the myste-
rious intruder, in a low voice. " Two months' imprison-
ment ought to have been enough to calm you. I come
to tell you things of great importance. Listen to me !
I have thought much of you ; and I do not hate you so
much as you imagine. The moments are precious. I
will tell you all in a few words : in two hours you will
be interrogated, tried, and condemned to death with
your friend. It cannot 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 reflected deeply, as I told you ; and I am here
to make a proposal which can but give you satisfaction.
The cardinal has but six months to live. Let us not be
mysterious ; we must speak openly. You see where I
have brought you to serve him ; and you can judge by
that the point to which I would conduct him to serve
you. If you wish it, we can cut short the six months of
his life which still remain. The king loves you, and will
recall you with joy when he finds you still live. You
are, you may long live, powerful and happy ; you will
protect me, and make me cardinal."

Astonishment deprived the young prisoner of speech.
He could not understand such language, and seemed to
be unable to descend to it from his higher meditations.
All that he could say was, —

" Your benefactor, Richelieu ?"

218 CINQ-MARS.

The Capuchin smiled, and drawing nearer, continued
in an undertone, —

^^ Policy admits of no benefits ; it contains nothing but
interest. A man employed by a minister is no more
bound to be grateful than a horse whose rider prefers
him to others. My pace has been convenient to him ;
so much the better. Now it is my interest to throw htm
from the saddle. Yes, this man loves none but him-
self. I now see that he has deceived me by continually
retarding my elevation ; but once again, I possess the
sure means for your escape in silence. I am the master
here. I will remove the men in whom he trusts, and
replace them by others whom he has condemned to die,
and who are near at hand confined in the northern
tower, — the Tour des Oubliettes, which overhangs the
river. His creatures shall occupy their places. I will
recommend a physician — an empyric who is devoted
to me — to the illustrious cardinal, who has been given
over by the most scientific in Paris. If you will unite
with me, he shall convey to him a universal and eternal
remedy."

" Away ! " exclaimed Cinq-Mars. " Leave me, thou
infernal monk ! No, thou art like no other man !
Thou glidest with a noiseless and furtive step through
tlie darkness ; thou travcrsest the walls to preside
at secret crimes ; thou placest thyself between the
hearts of lovers to separate them eternally. Who art
thou? Thou resemblest a tormented spirit of the
damned ! "

"Romantic boy ! " answered Joseph ; "you would have
possessed high attainments had it not been for your

THE PRISONERS. 219

false notions. There is perhaps neither damnation nor
soul. If the dead returned to complain of their fate,
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 mon-
ster nor virtuous man. You and De Thou, who pride
yourselves on what you call virtue, — you have failed in
causing the death of perhaps a hundred thousand men
— at once and in the broad daylight — for no end, while
Richelieu and I have caused the death of far fewer, one
by one, and by night, to found a great power. Would
you remain pure and virtuous, you must not interfere
with other men ; or rather, it is more reasonable to see
that which is, and to 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 passions
which we must satisfy."

" I breathe again ! " exclaimed Cinq-Mars ; '^ he be-
lieves not in God!"

Joseph continued, —

"Richelieu, you, and I were bom ambitious; it fol-
lowed, then, that everything must be sacrificed to this
idea."

" Wretched man, do not compare me to thyself ! "

"It is the plain truth, nevertheless," replied the
Capuchin ; " only you now 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 perhaps imagined it was so ; but it

220 CINQrMARS.

was for your own advancement. I have heard you
speak to the young girl. You thought but of yourselves ;
you do not love each other. She tliought 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 hast caused our deaths ? Why dost thou come
here to cast thy venom upon the life thou hast taken
from us ? What demon has suggested to thee thy
horrible analysis of hearts?"

" Hatred of everything which is superior to myself,"
replied Joseph, with a low and hollow laugh, ^^ and the
desire to crush those I hate under my feet, have made
me ambitious and ingenious in finding the weakness of
your dreams."

'^ Just Heaven, dost thou hear him ? " exclaimed Cinq-
Mars, rising and extending his arms upwards.

The solitude of his prison ; the pious conversations of
his friend ; and, above all, the presence of death, which,
like the light of an unknown star, paints in other colors
the objects we are accustomed to see ; meditations on
eternity ; and (shall we say it ?) the great efforts he had
made to change his heart-rending regrets into immortal
hopes, and to direct to God all that power of love which
had led him astray upon earth, — all this combined had
worked a strange revolution in him ; and like those ears
of corn which ripen suddenly on receiving one ray from
the sun, his soul had acquired light, exalted by the
mysterious influence of death.

" Just Heaven ! " he repeated, " if this wretch and

THE PRISONERS, 221

his master are human, can I also be a man ? Behold,

God, behold two distinct ambitions, — the one egoisti-
cal and bloody, the other devoted and unstained ; theirs
roused by hatred, and ours inspired by love. Look
down, Lord, judge, and pardon ! Pardon, for we have
greatly erred in walking but for a single day in the
same paths which, on earth, possess but one name to
whatever 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 inform me whether you will assist me ; and

1 will instantly — "

" Never, impure wretch, never ! " said Henri d'Bffiat.
"1 will never unite with you in an assassination, I
refused to do so when powerful, and upon yourself."

" You were wrong ; you would have been maater
now."

" And what happiness should I find in my power
when shared as it must be by a woman who does not
understand me ; who loved me feebly, and prefers a
crown ? "

'^ Inconceivable folly ! " said the Capuchin, laughing.

" All with her ; nothing without heri — 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,"
answered Cinq-Mars, ^^ dost thou understand that of
my friend ? "

222 CINQ-MARS.

" 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 attached to 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 listen
to and applaud him. Constant habit has persuaded him
that his life was bound to yours ; it is something of
that kind. He will accompany you mechanically. Be-
sides, all is not yet finished ; we shall see the end and
the examination. He will certainly deny all knowledge
of the conspiracy."

" He will not deny it ! " exclaimed Cinq-Mars, im-
petuously.

" He knew it, then ? You confess it," said Joseph,
triumphantly; "you have not said as much before."

" Oh, heavens, what have I done ! " gasped Cinq-Mars,
hiding his face.

"Calm yourself; he is saved, notwithstanding this
avowal, if you accept my oflfer."

D'Effiat remained silent for a short time.

The Capuchin continued, —

" Save your friend. The king's favor awaits you, and
perhaps the love which has erred for a moment."

"Man, or whatever else thou art! if thou hast in
thee anything resembling a heart," answered the
prisoner, " save him ! He is the purest of created
beings ; but convey him far away while yet he
sleeps, for should he awake, thy endeavors would be
vain."

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THE PRISONERS

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THE PRISONERS, 228

"What good would that do me?" said the Capuchin,
laugiiing. " It is you and your favor that I want."

The impetuous Cinq-Mars rose, and seizing Joseph by
the arm, eying him with a terrible look, said, —

" I degraded him in interceding with thee for him."
He continued, raising the tapestry which separated his
apartment from that of his friend, " Come, and doubt,
if thou canst, devotion and the immortality of the soul.
Compare the uneasiness and misery of thy triumph with
the calmness of our defeat, the meanness of thy reign
with the grandeur of our captivity, thy sanguinary vigils
to the slumbers of the just."

A solitary lamp threw its light on De Thou. The
young man was kneeling on a cushion, surmounted by a
large ebony crucifix. He seemed to have fallen asleep
while praying. His head, inclining backwards, was still
raised towards the cross. His pale lips wore a calm
and divine smile.

" Holy Father, how he sleeps ! " exclaimed the aston-
ished Capuchin, thoughtlessly uniting to his frightful
discourse the sacred name he every day pronounced.
He suddenly retired some paces, as if dazzled by a
heavenly vision.

^' Nonsense, nonsense ! " he said, shaking his head,
and passing his hand rapidly over his face. " All this
is childishness. It would overcome me if 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 will not accept life ; and I do not re-

224 CINQ-MARS.

gret having compromised De Thou, for he would not
have bought his life at the price of an assassination.
And when he yielded at Narbonne, it was not tliat he
might escape at Lyons."

" Then wake him, for here come the judges," said the
furious Capuchin, in a sharp, piercing voice.

Lighted by flambeaux j and preceded by a detachment
of the Scotch guards, fourteen judges entered, wrapped
in long robes, and whose features were not easily dis-
tinguished. They seated themselves in silence on the
right and left of the huge chamber. They were the
judges delegated by the cardinal to judge this sad and
solemn affair. All true men to the Cardinal Richelieu,
and in his confidence, who from Tarascon had chosen
and instructed them. He had the Chancellor Seguicr
brought to Lyons, to avoids as he stated in the instruc-
tions he sent by Chavigny to the King Louis XIII., —
'^ to avoid all the delays which would take place if he were
not present. M. de Marillac" he adds, ^^ was at Nantes
for the trial of Chalais, M. de Chateau-Neuf at Tou-
louse, superintending the death of M. de Montmorency,
and M. de Bellièvre at Paris, conducting the trial of
M. de Biron. The authority and intelligence of these
gentlemen in forms of justice are indispensable."

The chancellor arrived with all speed. But at this
moment he was informed that he was not to appear, for
fear that he might be influenced by the memory of his
ancient friendship for the prisoner, whom he only saw
tête-à-tête. The commissioners and himself had pre-
viously and rapidly received the cowardly depositions
of the Due d'Orléans, at Yillefranche, in Beaujolais, and

THE PRISONERS. 225

tlien at Vivey,* two miles from Lyons, where this
wretched prince had received orders to go, begging for-
giveness, and trembling, although surrounded by his
followers, whom from very pity he had been allowed to
retain, carefully watched, however, by the French and
Swiss guards. The cardinal had dictated to him his
part and answers word for word ; and in consideration
of this docility, they had exempted him in form from
the painful task of confronting MM. de Cinq-Mars and
de Thou.2 The chancellor and commissioners had also
prepared M. de Bouillon, and strong with their prelimi-
nary work, they visited in all their strength the two
young criminals whom they had determined not to
save.

History has only handed down to us the names of the
State counsellors who accompanied Pierre Seguier, but
not those of the other commissioners, of whom it is only
mentioned that there were six from the parliament of
Grenoble, and two presidents. The counsellor, or re-
porter of the State, Laubardemont, who had directed
them in all, was at their head. 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 were silent in expectation of thé prisoner's
answer.

He spoke in a soft and clear voice, —

'* Say to M. le Chancelier that I have the right of

^ House which belonged to an Abbé d'Esnay, brother of M. de ViUe-
roy, called Montrësor.
' See Notes and Illustrations.
VOL. II. — 15

226 CINQ'MARS.

appeal to the parliament of Paris, and to object to my
judges, because two of them are mj declared enemies,
and at their head one of my friends, M. de Seguier him-
self, whom I maintained in his charge.

" But I will spare you much trouble, gentlemen, by
pleading guilty to the whole charge of conspiracy, ar-
ranged and conducted by myself alone. It is my wish
to die. I have nothing to add for myself ; but if you
would be just, you will not harm the life of him whom
the king has pronounced to be the most honest man in
France, and who dies for my sake alone."

^' Summon him," said Laubardemout.

Two guards entered the apartment of De Thou,
and led him forth. He advanced, and bowed gravely,
while an angelical smile played upon his lips. Embrac-
ing Cinq-Mars, "Here at last is our day of glory,"
said he. "We are about to gain heaven and eternal
happiness."

" We understand," said Laubardemout, " we have been
given to understand by M. de Cinq-Mars himself that
you were acquainted with this conspiracy?"

De Thou answered instantly, and without hesitation.
A half-smile was still on his lips, and his eyes cast
down.

" Gentlemen, I have passed my life in studying human
laws, and I know that the testimony of one accused per-
son cannot condemn another. I can also repeat what I
said before, that I should not have been believed had I
denounced the king's brother without proof. You per-
ceive, then, that my life and death entirely rest with
myself. I have, however, well weighed the one and the

THE PRISONERS, 227

other, I have clearly foreseen that whatever life I may
hereafter lead, it could not but be most unhappy after
the loss of M. de Cinq-Mars. I therefore acknowledge
and confess that I was aware of his conspiracy. I did
my utmost to prevent it, to deter him from it. He be-
lieved me to be his only and faithful friend, and I would
not betray him. Therefore I condemn myself by the
very laws which were set forth by my father, who, I
hope, forgives me."

At these words, the two friends precipitated them-
selves into each other's arms.

Cinq-Mars exclaimed, —

" My friend, my friend, how bitterly I regret that I
have caused your death ! Twice I have betrayed you ;
but you shall know in what manner."

But De Thou, embracing and consoling his friend, an-
swered, raising his eyes from the ground, —

" Ah, happy are we to end our days in this manner !
Humanly speaking, I might complain of you ; but God
knows how much I love you. What have we done to
merit the grace of martyrdom, and the happiness of
dying together?"

The judges were not prepared for this mildness, and
looked at each other with surprise.

** If they would only give me a good partisan," mut-
tered a hoarse voice (it was Grandchamp, who had crept
into the room, and whose eyes were red with fury), " I
would soon rid Monseigneur of all these black-looking
fellows." Two men with halberds immediately placed
themselves silently at his side. He said no more, and
to compose himself retired to a window which over-

228 CINQrMARS.

looked the river, whose tranquil waters the sun had not
yet lighted with its beams, and appeared to pay no at-
tention to what was passing in the room.

However, Laubardemont, fearing that the judges might
be touched with compassion, said in a loud voice, —

" In pursuance of the order of Monseigneur the Car-
dinal, these two men will be put to the rack ; that is to
say, to the ordinary and extraordinary question."

Indignation forced Cinq-Mars again to assume his
natural character ; crossing his arms, he made two steps
towards Laubardemont and Joseph, which alarmed
them. The former involuntarily placed his hand to his
forehead.

" Ai-e we at Loudun ? " exclaimed the prisoner ; but
De Thou, advancing, took his hand and held it. Cinq-
Mars was silent, then continued in a calm voice, looking
steadfastly at the judges, —

^' Messieurs, this measure appears to me rather harsh ;
a man of my age and rank ought not to be subjected to
these formalities. I have confessed all, and I will con-
fess it all again. I willingly and gladly accept death ;
it is not from souls like ours that secrets can be wrung
by bodily suffering. We are prisoners by our own free
will, and at the time chosen 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 Dc
Thou. " He is mistaken, gentlemen, we do not refuse
this martyrdom which God offers us ; we demand it."

" But," said Cinq-Mars, " do you need such infamous
tortures to obtain salvation, — you who are already a

THE PRISONERS. 229

martyr, a voluntary martyr to friendship ? Gentlemen,
it is I alone who possess important secrets; it is the
chief of a conspiracy who knows all. Put me alone to
the torture if we must be treated like the worst of
malefactors."

" For the sake of charity," added De Thou, " deprive
me not of equal suffering with my friend; I have not
followed him so far, to abandon him at this dreadful
moment, and not to use every effort to accompany him
to heaven."

During this debate, another was going forward be-
tween Laubardemont and Joseph. The latter, fearing
that torments would induce him to disclose the secret
of his recent proposition, advised that they should not
be resorted to ; the other, not thinking his triumph com-
plete by death alone, absolutely insisted on their being
applied. The judges surrounded and listened to these
secret agents of tlie prime minister; however, many
circumstances having caused them to suspect that the
influence of the Capuchin was more powerful than that
of the judge, they took part with him, and decided for
mercy, when he finished by these words uttered in a low
voice, —

" I know their secrets. There is no necessity to force
them from their lips, because they are useless, and relate
to too high circumstances. M. le Grand has no one to
denounce but the king, and the other the queen. It is
better that we should remain ignorant. Besides, they
will not confess. I know them ; they will be silent, —
the one from pride, the other through piety. Let them
alone. The torture-will wound them ; they will be disfig-

230 CINQ-MARS.

ured and unable to walk. That will spoil the whole
ceremony; they must be kept to appear."

This last observation prevailed. The judges retired to
deliberate with the chancellor. While departing, Joseph
whispered to Laubardemout, —

" I have provided you with enough pleasure here ;
you will still have that of deliberating, and then you
shall go and examine three men who are confined 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, relieved from his two guards, hastened
towards his master, and seizing his hand, said, —

" In the name of Heaven, come to the terrace. Mon-
seigneur ! I have something to show you ; in the name
of your mother, come ! "

But at that moment the chamber door was opened,
and the old Abbé Quillet appeared.

" My children ! my dear children ! " exclaimed the old
man, weeping bitterly. "Alas! why was I only per-
mitted to enter to-day ? Dear Henri, your mother, your
brother, your sister, are concealed here."

" Be quiet, M. l'Abbé ! " 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."

THE PRISONERS, 231

" I shall refuse it," said Cinq-Mars.

" We hope for nothing but the mercy of God," added
De Thou.

^'Silence!" said Orandchamp, ^'the judges are
returning."

And the door opened again to admit the dismal pro-
cession, from which Joseph and Laubardemont were
missing.

"Gentlemen," exclaimed the good abbé, addressing
the commissioners, " I am happy to tell you that I have
just arrived from Paris, and that no one doubts but that
all the conspirators will be pardoned. I have had an
interview at her Majesty's apartments with Monsieur
himself ; and as to the Due de Bouillon, his examination
is not unf av — " .

" Silence ! " cried M. de Seyton, the lieutenant of the
Scotch guards; and the commissioners entered and
again arranged themselves in the apartment.

M. de Thou, hearing them summon the criminal
recorder of the presidial of Lyons to pronounce the
sentence, involuntarily launched out in one of those
transports of religious joy which are never displayed
but by the martyrs and saints at the approach of death ;
and advancing towards this man, he exclaimed, —

" Quam speciosi pedes evangelizantium pacem, evan-
gelizantium bona ! "

Then, taking the hand of Cinq-Mars, he knelt down
bareheaded to receive the sentence, as was the custom.
D'Effiat remained standing ; and they dared not compel
him to kneel. The sentence was pronounced in these
words : —

282 CINQ-MARS.

^^ The attornej^-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 François Auguste de Thou, aged thirty-fiye, of
the king's privy council, — prisonere in the château of Pierre-
Encise, at Lj'ons, accused and defendants on the other
part :

^^ Considered, the special trial commenced by the aforesaid
attorney-general against the said D'Effiat and De Thou ;
informations, interrogations, confessions, dénégations, and
confrontations, and authenticated copies of the treaty with
Spain, it is considered in the delegated chamber: —

^^ (1) That he who conspires against the person of the
ministers of princes is considered b}' 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 commissionei-s deputed by his Majesty have de-
clared the said D*Efflat 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 de-
prived of their heads on a scaffold, which is for this purpose
erected in the Place des Ten*eaux, in this city.

" It is further declared that all and each of their posses-
sions, real and personal, be confiscated to the king, and that
those which they hold fh)m the crown do pass immediately
to it again, — of the aforesaid goods, sixty thousand livres
being devoted to pious uses."

THE PRISONERS. 233

After the sentence was pronounced, M. de Thou ex-
claimed 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 of the Scotch guards, an old man up-
wards of sixty years of age, declared with emotion
that he placed the prisoners in the hands of the Sieur
Thome, 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 ; and be assured that I do not fear
death."

He shook them by the hand, and De Thou embraced
them; after which, they left the apartment, their
eyes filled with tears, and hiding their faces in their
cloaks.

" Barbarians ! " exclaimed the Abbé Quillet ; " to
find arms against them, one must search the whole
arsenal of tyrants. Why did they admit me at this
moment ? "

** As a confessor, sir," whispered one of the commis-
sioners ; ^^ for no stranger has entered this place these
two months."

As soon as the huge gates of the prison were closed,
and the outside gratings lowered, " To the terrace, in
the name of Heaven ! " again exclaimed Grandchamp.
And he drew his master and De Tliou thither.

234 CINQ-MARS.

The old preceptor followed them, weeping.

^' What do you want with us in a moment like this ? "
said Ginq-Mars, with an indulgent 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 vivid yellow was visible, upon which
the mountain's rough blue outlines were boldly traced ;
the waves of the Saône, and the chains -of the town,
hanging 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 from the eye of the spectator.
The first tints of the morning light had as yet colored
only the most elevated points of the magnificent land-
scape. In the city the steeples of the Hôtel de Ville
and St. Nizier, and on the surrounding hills, the monas-
teries of the Carmelites and Ste. Marie, and the entire
fortress of Pierre-Encise, were gilded with the fires of
the coming day. The joyful peals from the churches
were heard, the peaceful matins from the convent and
village bells. The walls of the prison 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 peacef ulness 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 abbé and Grandchamp leaned over the para-
pet, watching the bank of the river.

" The fog is so thick, we can see nothing yet " said
the abbé.

THE PRISONERS. 286

" How slowly our last sun appears ! " said De Thou.

" Do you not see low down there, at the foot of the
rocks on the opposite bank, a small white house,
between the Halincourt gate and the Boulevard St.
Jean ? " asked the abbé.

*^ I see nothing," answered Cinq-Mars, ^^ but a mass
of dreary wall."

^' Hark ! " said the abbé ; ^^ some one speaks near
us!"

In fact, a confused, low, and inexplicable murmur
was heard in a little turret, the back of which rested
upon the platform of the terrace. As it was scarcely
larger than a pigeon-house, the prisoners had not until
now observed it.

" Are they already coming to fetch us ? " said Cinq-
Mara.

^^ Bah ! bah ! " answered Grandchamp, ^* do not make
yourself uneasy ; it is the Tour des Oubliettes. I have
prowled round the fort for two months, and I have seen
men fall from there into the water at least once a week.
Let us think of our affair. I see a light down there."

An invincible curiosity, however, led the two prisoners
to look at the turret, in spite of the horror of their own
situation. It advanced to the extremity of the rock,
over a gulf of foaming green water of great depth. A
wheel of a mill long deserted was seen turning with
great rapidity. Three distinct sounds were now heard,
like those of a drawbridge suddenly lowered and raised
to its former position by a recoil or spring striking
against the stone walls ; and three times a black sub-
stance was seen to fall into the water with a splash.

286 CINQrMARS.

^^ Mercy ! can these be men ? " exclaimed the abbé,
crossing himself.

" I thought I saw brown robes turning in the air,"
said Grandchamp ; ^^ they are the cardinal's friends."

A horrible cry was heard from the tower, accom-
panied by an impious oath. The heavy trap groaned
for the fourth time. The green water received with 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 beams appeared 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 summoned him in three years. But come,
come ! the time is precious ! Do not remain motionless.
Be it he, I am not surprised, for those wretches devour
each other. 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 this side, M. l'Abbé !
See the white handkerchief at the window ! our friends
are prepared."

The abbé seized the hands of both his friends, and
drew them to that side of the terrace towai'ds which
they had at first looked. " Listen to me, both of you,"
said he. "You must know that none of the conspira-
tors have profited by the retreat you secured for them.
They have all hastened to Lyons, disguised and in great
number ; they have distributed sufficient gold in the city
to secure them from being betrayed ; they are resolved

THE PRISONERS. 287

to make an attempt to deliver you. The time chosen is
that when they are conducting you to the scafiFold ; the
signal is your hat, which you will place on your head
when they are to commence."

The worthy abbé, half weeping, half smiling hopefully,
related that upon the arrest of his pupil, he had has-
tened to Paris ; that such secrecy enveloped all the car-
dinal's actions that none there knew the place in which
the master of the horse was detained. Many said that
he was banished ; and when the reconciliation between
Monsieur and the Due de Bouillon and the king was
known, men no longer doubted that the life of the other
was assured, and ceased to speak of this affair, which,
not having been executed, compromised few persons.
They had even in some measure rejoiced in Paris to
see the town of Sedan and its territory added to the
kingdom in exchange for the letters of abolition granted
to the due, acknowledged innocent in common with
Monsieur; so that the result of all the arrangements
had been to excite admiration of the cardinal's ability,
and of his clemency towards the conspirators, who, it
was said, had contemplated his ^eath. They even
spread the report that he had facilitated the escape of
Cinq-Mars and De Thou, occupying himself generously
with their retreat to a foreign land, after having bravely
caused them to be arrested in the midst of the camp
of Perpignan.

At this part of the narrative, Cinq-Mars could not
avoid forgetting his resignation, and clasping his
friend's hand, " Arrested ! " he exclaimed. " Must we
renounce even the honor of having voluntarily surren-

288 CINQ-MARS.

dered ourselves ? Must we sacrifice all, even the opinion
of posterity ? "

" There is vanity again," replied De Thou, placing his
fingers on his lips. ^^But hush! let us hear the abbé
to the end."

The tutor, not doubting that the calmness which these
two young men exhibited 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 old men always feel in recounting new events,
even though they afiiict the hearers. He related all
his fruitless endeavors to discover his pupil's retreat,
unknown to the court and the town, where none, indeed,
dared to pronounce the name of Cinq-Mars in the most
secret asylums. He had only heard of the imprison-
ment at Pierre-Encise from the queen herself, who had
deigned to send for him, and charge him to inform
the Maréchale d'Effiat and all the conspirators that they
might make a desperate effort to deliver their young
chief. Anne of Austria had even ventured to send
many of the gentlemen of Auvergne and Touraine to
Lyons to assist in their last attempt.

" The good queen ! " said he ; " she wept greatly when
I saw her, and said that she would give all she pos-
sessed to save you. She reproached herself deeply for
some letter, I know not what. She spoke of the welfare
of France, but did not explain herself. She said that
she admired you, and conjured you to save yourself,
if it were only through pity for her, whom you would
otherwise consign to everlasting remorse."

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THE PRISONERS, 239

^^ Said she nothing else ? " interrupted De Thou, sup-
porting Cinq-Mars, who grew 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 abbé.

^' If she had but written to me ! " murmured Henri.

^^ Remember, my father, that you were sent here as
a confessor," said De Thou.

Here old Grandchamp, who had been kneeling before
Cinq-Mars, and dragging him by his clothes to the other
side of the terrace, exclaimed in a broken voice, —

"Monseigneur — my master — my good master — do
you see them ? Look there — 't is they ! 't is they —
all of them!"

" Who, my old friend ?" asked his master.

" Who ? Great Heaven ! look at that window ! Do
you not recognize them ? Your mother, your sisters,
and your brother."

And the day, now fairly broken, showed him in the
distance several women waving their handkerchiefs ; and
there, dressed all in black, stretching out her arms
towards the prison, sustained by those about her, Cinq-
Mars recognized his mother, with his family, and his
strength failed him for a 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, " Let us descend
quickly, my father ! " he said to the old abbé. " You
will tell me at the tribunal of penitence, and before

240 CINQ-MARS.

God, whether the remainder of my life is worth my
shedding more blood to preserve it."

It was there that Cinq-Mars confessed to God what
he alone and Marie de Mantua knew of their secret and
unfortunate love. " He gave to his confessor," says
Father Daniel, " a portrait of a noble lady set in dia-
monds, which were to be sold, and the money employed
in pious works."

M. de Thou, after having confessed, wrote a letter ; ^
after which (according to the account given by his
confessor) he said, ^^This is the last thought I will
bestow upon this world ; let us depart for heaven ! "
and walking up and down the room with long strides,
he recited aloud the psalm, MUerere mei DeuSj with an
incredible ardor of spirit, his whole frame trembling so
violently it seemed as if he did not touch the earth, and
that the soul was about to 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 great astonishment of its inhabitants, they beheld
the entrance tlirough all its gates of troops of infantry
and cavalry, which they knew were encamped at a great
distance. The French and the Swiss guards, the regi-
ment of Pompadours, the men-at-arms of Maurevert,
and the carabineers of La Roque, all defiled in silence.
The cavalry, with their muskets on the pommel of the

1 See the copy of this letter to Madame la Princesse de Gueménë, in
the notes at the end of the volume.

THE PRISONERS. 241

saddle, silently drew up round the château of Pierre-
Encise; the infantry formed a line upon the banks of*
the Saône from the gate of the fortress to the Place
des Terreaux. It was the usual spot for execution.

** Four companies of the bourgeois of Lyons, called pen-
nonage^ of about eleven or twelve hundred men, were ranged
[says the journal of Montrésor] in the midst of the Place
des Terreaux, so as to enclose a space of about eighty paces
each wa}', 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 towards the shambles of
the Terreaux, by the side of the Saône. 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. The inaccessible walls of the fortress let
none enter or leave but at night, and the deep dungeons
had sometimes confined father and son for years to-
gether, four feet apart from each other, without their
even being aware of the vicinity. The surprise was
extreme at these striking preparations, and the crowd
collected, not knowing whether for a fête or for ani
execution.

This same secrecy which the agents of the minister
had strictly preserved was also carefully adhered to by
the conspirators, for their heads depended on it.

Montrésor, Pontrailles, the Baron de Beauvau, Olivier
d'Entraigues, Gondi, the Comte du Lude, and the Ad-

VOL. II. — 16

242 CINQrMARS.

vocate Foumier, disguised as soldiers, workmen, and
morris-dancers, armed with poniards under their clothes,
had dispersed amid the crowd more than five hundred
gentlemen and domestics, disguised like themselves.
Horses were ready on the road to Italy, and boats upon
the Rhone had been previously engaged. The young
Marquis d'Effiat, elder brother of Ciuq-Mars, dressed as
a Carthusian, traversed the crowd without ceasing be-
tween the Place des Terreaux and the little house in
which his mother and sister were concealed with the
Présidente de Pontac, the sister of the unfortunate De
Thou. He reassured them, gave them from time to
time a ray of hope, and returned to the conspirators to
satisfy himself that each was prepared for action.

Each soldier forming the line liad at his side a man
ready to poniard him.

The vast crowd, heaped together behind the line of
guards, pushed them forward, passed their lines, and
made them lose ground. Ambrosio, the Spanish ser-
vant whom Cinq-Mars had saved, had taken charge of
the captain of the pikemen, and, disguised as a Catalo-
nian musician, had commenced a dispute with him, pre-
tending to be determined not to cease playing the hurdy-
gurdy.

Every one was at his post.

The Abbé de Gondi, Olivier d'Eutraigues, and the
Marquis d'Effiat, were in the midst of a group of fish-
women and oyster- wenches, who were disputing and
bawling, abusing one of their number younger and more
timid than her masculine companions. The brother of
Cinq-Mars approached to listen to their quarrel.

THE PRISONERS. 243

"And why,*' said she to the others, "would you
have Jean le Roux, who is an honest man, cut off
the heads of two Christians, because he is a butcher
by trade ? So long as I am his wife, I '11 not allow it.
I'd rather — "

" Well, you are wrong ! " replied her companions.
" What is 't to thee whether the meat he cuts is eaten
or not eaten ? Why, thou 'It have a hundred crowns to
dress thy three children all in new clothes. Thou'rt
hicky to be the wife of a butcher. Profit, then, ma
mignonne^ by what God sends thee by the favor of his
Eminence."

" Let me alone ! " answered the first speaker. " I '11
not accept it. I've seen these fine young gentlemen at
the windows. They look as mild as lambs."

" Well ! and are not thy lambs and calves killed ? '*
said Femme le Bon. " What fortune falls to this little
woman ! What a pity ! especially when it 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 bricklayer with his plastered clothes ? "

" Ah ! " interrupted another, " dost not see that 't is
some gentleman in disguise ? Look at his white hands !
He never worked a square ; 't is some little dandy con-
spirator. I 've a great mind to go and fetch the captain
of the watch to arrest him."

The Abbé de Gondi felt all the danger of this situa-
tion, and throwing himself with an air of anger upon

244 CINQ-MARS.

Olivier, and assumiDg the manners of a joiner, whose
costume and apron he had adopted, he exclaimed, seiz-
ing him by the collar, —

" You 're just right. 'T is a little rascal that never
works ! These two years that my father 's apprenticed
him, he has done nothing but comb his hair to please
the girls. Gome, get home with you!"

And striking him with his rule, he drove liim through
the crowd, and returned to place himself on another
part of the line. After having well reprimanded the
thoughtless page, he asked him for the letter which he
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. '^ It is from one prisoner to
another," said he, " for the Chevalier de Jars, on leav-
ing the Bastille, sent it me from one of his companions
in captivity."

" Jtfa/oi/" said Gondi, "there may be some impor-
tant secret in it for our friends. 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 Bas-
tille, where I still remain, that you are conspiring against the
tyrant Richelieu, who does not cease to humiliate our good
old nobilit}' 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, contrar}'
to the privileges of their condition, forced to the arrière-ban^
despite the ancient customs."

" Ah ! the old dotard ! " interrupted the page, laugh-

ing immoderately.

THE PRISONERS. 245

'^ Not SO foolish as you imagine, only he is a little be-
hindhand for our affair.

^^ I cannot 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 abbé ; " a
hundred years hence they '11 laugh at our phrases." He
continued, —

*^ I can counsel you, notwithstanding my great age, in re-
lating to you what happened to me in 1560.

" Ah, faith ! I 've not time to waste in reading it all.
Let us see the end.

^' When I remember my dining at the house *of Madame
la Maréchale d'Ëfflat, your mother, and ask myself what has
become of all the guests, I am really afflicted. My poor Pu}'-
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 deatli of M. le Cardinal. Ah, my child ! we were thir-
teen at table. We must not laugh at old superstitions.
Thank God that yon are the only one to whom evil has not
arrived ! "

" There again ! " said Olivier, laughing heartily ; and
this time the Abbé de Gondi could not maintain his
gravity, despite all his efforts.

They tore the useless letter to pieces, that it might

246 CINQ-MARS.

not prolong the detention of the old maréchal, should it
be found, and drew near the Place des Terreaux and
the line of guards, whom they were to attack when
the signal of the hat should be given by the young
prisoner.

They beheld with satisfaction all their friends at their
post, and ready to " play with their knives," to use their
own expression. The people, pressing around them,
favored them without being aware of it. There came
near the abbé a troop of young ladies, dressed in white
and veiled. They were going to church to communi-
cate ; and the nuns who conducted them, thinking, like
most of the people, that the preparations were intended
to do honor to some great personage, allowed them to
mount upon some large hewn stones, collected behind
the soldiers. There they grouped themselves with the
grace natural to their age, like twenty beautiful statues
upon a single pedestal. One would have taken them
for those vestals whom antiquity invited to the san-
guinary shows of the gladiators. They whispered to each
other, looking around them, laughing and blushing to-
gether like children.

The Abbé de Gondi saw with impatience that Olivier
was again forgetting his character of conspirator and his
costume of a bricklayer, in ogling these girls, and assum-
ing a mien too elegant, an attitude too refined, for the
position in life he was supposed to occupy. He already
began to approach them, turning his hair with his fingers,
when Pontrailles and Montrésor fortunately arrived in
the dress of Swiss soldiers. A group of gentlemen, dis-
guised as sailors, followed them with iron-shod staves in

THE PRISONERS, 247

their hands. There was a paleness on their faces which
announced no good.

^^ Stop here ! " said one of them to his suite ; ^^ this is
the place."

The sombre air and the silence of these spectators
contrasted with the gay and anxious looks of the girls,
and their childish exclamations.

" Ah, the fine procession ! " they cried ; " there are
at least five hundred men with cuirasses and red uni-
forms, upon fine horses. They 've got yellow 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 ! but there 's no one in it."

"Ah ! I see three men on foot ; where are they
going?"

" To death ! " said Fontrailles, in a deep, stem voice
which silenced all around. Nothing was heard but the
slow tramp of the horses, which suddenly stopped, from
one of those delays that happen in all processions.
They then beheld a painful and singular spectacle. An
old man with a tonsured head walked with difficulty,
sobbing violently, supported by two young men of inter-
esting and engaging appearance, who held one of each
other's hands behind his bent shoulders, while with
the other hand each held one of his arms. The one on
the left was dressed in black ; he was grave, and his
eyes were cast down. The other, much younger, was
attired in a striking dress.^ A pourpoint of Holland

1 A full-length portrait of M. de Cinq-Mars is presenred at Versailles.

248 CINQ-MARS.

cloth, adorned with broad gold lace, and with large
embroidered sleeves, covered him from the neck to the
waist, somewhat in the fashion of a woman's corset;
the rest of his vestments were in black velvet, embroid-
ered with silver palms. Gray boots with red heels, to
which were attached golden spurs ; a scarlet cloak with
gold buttons, — all set off to advantage his elegant and
graceful figure. He bowed right and left with a melan-
choly smile.

An old servant, with white mustaches and beard, fol-
lowed with his head bent down, leading two chargers,
richly caparisoned. The young ladies were silent ; but
they could not restrain their sobs.

^' It is, then, that poor old man whom they are lead-
ing 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 deliver him ! "

All the conspirators repeated, " On your knees ! on
your knees ! " and set the example to the people, who
imitated them in silence.

" We can see his movements better now," said Gondi,
in a whisper to Montrésor. ''Stand up; what is he
doing?"

'^ He has stopped, and is speaking on our side, salut-
ing us; I think he has recognized us."

Every house, window, wall, roof, and raised platform
that looked upon the place, was filled with persons of
every age and condition.

THE PRISONERS. 249

The most profound silence prevailed throughout the
immense multitude. One might have heard the wings of
a gnat, the breath of the slightest wind, the passage of
the grains of dust which it raised ; yet the air was calm,
the sun brilliant, the sky blue. The people listened
attentively. They were close to the Place des Terreaux ;
they heard the blows of the hammer upon the planks,
then the voice of Cinq-Mars.

A young Carthusian thrust his pale face between two
guards. All the conspirators rose above the kneeling
people. Every one put his hand to his belt or in his
bosom, approaching close to the soldier whom he was
to poniard.

" What is he doing ? " asked the Carthusian. " Has
he his hat upon his head ? "

" He throws his hat upon the ground far from him,"
calmly answered the arquebusier.

CHAPTER XXVI.

THE FÊTE.

" Triste et parée."

" Mon Dieu ! qu'est-ce que ce monde ! "

Dernières paroles de M. Ciru^Mars.

The same day that the melancholy procession took place
at Lyons, and during the scenes we have just witnessed,
a magnificent fête was given at Paris with all the luxury
and bad taste of the time. The powerful cardinal had
determined to fill the first two towns in France with his
pomp.

The cardinal's return was the occasion on which this
fête was announced, as given to the king and all his
court. Master of the empire by force, the cardinal de-
sired to be master of opinion by seduction ; and weary
of dominating, he hoped to please. The tragedy of
" Mirame " was to be represented in a hall constructed
expressly for this great day, which raised the expenses
of this entertainment, says Pelisson, to three hundred
thousand crowns.

THE FÊTE. 261

The entire guard of the prime minister ^ were under
arms ; his four companies of musketeers and gen»
dParmen were ranged in a line upon the vast staircases,
and at the entrance of the long galleries of the Palais-
CardinaL This brilliant Pandemonium, where the mor-
tal sins have a temple on each floor, belonged that day
to pride alone, which occupied it from top to bottom.
Upon each step was placed one of the arquebusiers of
the cardinal's guard, holding a torch in one hand and a
long carabine in the other. The crowd of his gentlemen
circulated between these living candelabra, while in the
large garden, surrounded by huge chestnut-trees, now
replaced by a range of arches, two companies of mounted
light-horse, their muskets in their hands, were ready to
obey the first order or the first fear of their master.

The cardinal, carried and followed by his thirty-eight
pages, took his seat in his box hung with purple, facing
that in which the king was half reclining behind the
green curtains which preserved him from the glare of
the flambeaux. The whole court filled the boxes, and
rose when the king appeared. The orchestra commenced
a brilliant overture, and the pit was thrown open to all
the men of the town and the army who presented them-
selves. Three impetuous waves of spectators rushed in
and filled it in an instant. They were standing, and so
thickly pressed together that the movement of a single
arm sufficed to cause in the crowd a movement similar
to the waving of a field of corn. There was one man

1 In 1626, the king gave the cardinal a gnard of two handled arqnebn-
Biers-; in 1632, four hnndred foot mnsketiy; in 1638, two companies
of gens d'armes and light-horse were raised by the cardinal himself.

252 CINQ-MARS,

whose head thus described a large circle, as that of a
compass, without his feet quitting the spot to which thej
were fixed ; and some young men were carried out faint-
ing. The minister, contrary to his usual custom, ad-
vanced his skeleton head out of his box, and saluted the
assembly with an air which was meant to be gracious.
This grimace obtained an acknowledgment only from
the boxes ; the pit was silent. Richelieu had wished to
show that he did not fear the public judgment upon his
work, and had given orders to admit without distinction
all who should present themselves. He began to repent
of this, but too late. The impartial assembly was as
cold as the troffédie-pastorale itself. In vain did the
theatrical bergères, covered with jewels, raised upon red
heels, with crooks ornamented with ribbons, and gar-
lands of flowers upon their robes, which were stuck out
with vertugadinSy die of love in tirades of two hundred
verses; in vain did the amants parfaits starve them-
selves in solitary caves, deploring their death in emphatic
tones, and fastening to their hair ribbons of the favorite
color of their mistress; in vain did the ladies of the
court exhibit signs of perfect ecstasy, leaning over the
edge of their boxes, and even attempt a few fainting-fits,
— the silent pit gave no other sign of life than the per-
petual shaking of black heads with long hair. .

The cardinal bit his lips and played the abstracted
during the first and second acts ; the silence in which
the third and fourth passed off so wounded his paternal
heart that he had himself raised half out of the balcony,
and in this uncomfortable and ridiculous position signed
to the court to remark the finest passages, and himself

THE FETE. 253

gave the signal for applause. It was acted upon from
some of the boxes, but the impassible pit was more si-
lent than ever ; leaving the affair entirely between the
stage and the upper regions, they obstinately remained
neuter. The master of Europe and France then cast a
furious look at this handful of men who dared not to
admire his work, feeling in his heart the wish of Nero,
and thought for a moment how happy he should be if all
those men had but one head.

Suddenly this black and before silent mass became
animated, and endless rounds 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 the actors every time they wished to proceed.
The king had the curtains of his box, until then closed,
opened, to see what excited so much enthusiasm. The
whole court leaned forward from their boxes, and per-
ceived among the spectators on the stage, a young man,
humbly dressed, who had just seated himself there with
difficulty. Every look was fixed upon him. He appeared
utterly embarrassed by this, and sought to cover himself
with his little black cloak, — far too short for the pur-
pose. " Le Cid ! le Cid ! " cried the pit, incessantly
applauding. The terrified Corneille escaped behind the
scenes, and all was again silent. The cardinal, beside
himself with fury, had his curtain closed, and was car-
ried into his galleries, where was performed another
scene, prepared long before by the care of Joseph, who
had tutored the attendants upon the point before quit-
ting Paris. Cardinal Mazarin exclaimed that it would

254 CINQ-MARS,

be quicker to pass his Eminence through a long glazed
window, which was only two feet from the ground, and
led from his box to the apartments ; and it opened, and
the page passed his armchair through it. Hereupon a
hundred voices rose to proclaim the accomplishment of
the grand prophecy of Nostradamus. They said, —

" The bonnet rouge ! — that 's Monseigneur ; qiiarawte
onces ! — that 's Cinq-Mars ; torU 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 and splendid galleries, listening to this delicious
murmur of a new flattery ; but insensible to the hum of
voices which deified his genius, he would have given all
their praises for one word, one single gesture of that
immovable and inflexible public, even had that word
been a cry of hatred ; for clamor can be stifled, but how
avenge one's self on silence ? The people can be pre-
vented from striking, but who can prevent their waiting ?
Pursued by the troublesome phantom of public opinion,
the gloomy minister only thought himself in safety when
he reached the interior of his palace amid his flattering
courtiers, whose adorations soon 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 apart-
ments, and looking around him, attentively counted the
powerful and submissive men who surrounded him. He
counted them, and admired himself. The chiefs of all
the great families, the princes of the Church, the presi-
dents of all the parliaments, the governors of the pro-
vinces, the marshals and general-in-chief of the armies,

THE FETE, 265

the nuncio, the ambassadors of all the kingdoms, the
deputies and senates of the republics, were motionless,
submissive, and ranged around him, as if awaiting his
orders. There was no longer a look to brave his look,
no longer a word to raise itself against his will, not a
project that men dared to form in the most secret re-
cesses of the heart, not a thought which did not proceed
from his. Mute Europe listened to him by its repre-
sentatives. From time to time he raised an imperious
voice, and threw a self-satisfied word to this pompous
circle, as a man who throws a copper coin among a
crowd of beggars. Then might be distinguished, by the
pride which lit up his looks and the joy visible in his
countenance, the prince who had received such a favor.
He found himself all at once transformed into another
man, and seemed to have made a step in the hierarchy
of power, so surrounded with unlooked-for adorations
and sudden caresses was the fortunate courtier, whose
obscure happiness the cardinal did not even perceive.
The king's brother and the Due de Bouillon stood in the
crowd, whence the minister did not deign to withdraw
them. Only he ostentatiously said that it would be well
to dismantle a few fortresses, spoke at length of the
necessity of pavements and quays at Paris, and said in
two words to Turenne that he might perhaps be sent to
the army in Italy, to seek his bâton as maréchal from
Prince Thomas.

While Richelieu thus played with the great and small
tilings of Europe, amid his noisy fête, the queen was
informed at the Louvre that the time was come for her
to proceed to the cardinal's palace, where the king

266 CINQrMARS.

awaited her after the tragedy. The serious Aune of
Austria did not witness any play ; but she could not
refuse her presence at the fête of the prime minister.
She was in her oratory, ready to depart, and covered
with pearls, her favorite ornament ; standing opposite
a large glass with Marie de Mantua, she was arranging
more to her satisfaction one or two details of the young
duchesse's toilet, who, dressed in a long pink robe, was
herself contemplating with attention, though with some-
what of ennui, and a little suUenness, the ensemble of
her appearance. The queen saw her own work in Marie,
and more troubled than she, thought with apprehension
of the moment when this transient calm would cease,
despite the profound knowledge she had of the feeling
but frivolous character of Marie. Since the conversa-
tion at St. Germain, since the fatal letter, she had not
quitted the young princess, and had bestowed all her
care to lead her mind to the path which she liad traced
out for her ; for the most decided feature in the char-
acter of Anne of Austria was an invincible obstinacy
in her calculations, to which she would fain have sub-
jected all events and all passions with a geometrical
exactitude. There is no doubt that to this positive and
immovable mind we must attribute all the misfor-
tunes of her regency. The sombre reply of Cinq-Mars ;
his arrest; his trial, — all had been concealed from the
Princesse Marie, whose first fault, it is true, had been
a movement of self-love and a momentary forgetful-
ness. However, the queen was good-hearted, and had
bitterly repented her precipitation in writing words so
decisive, and whose consequences had been so serious ;

THE FETE, 257

and all her endeavors had been applied to mitigate the
résulta. In reflecting upon her conduct in reference to
the happiness of France, she applauded herself for hav-
ing thus, at one stroke, stifled the germ of ' a civil war
which would have shaken the State to its very founda-
tions. But when she approached her young friend and
gazed on that charming being whose happiness she was
thus destroying in its bloom, and reflected that an old
man upon a throne, even, would not recompense her
for the eternal loss she was about to sustain; when
she thought of the entire devotion, the total abnegation
of himself, she had 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 her very
soul the man whom she had judged so ill.

She would at least have desired to explain his worth
to her whom he had loved so deeply, and who as yet
knew him not ; but she still hoped that the conspirators
assembled at Lyons would be able to save him, and
once knowing him to be in a foreign land, she could
tell all to her dear Marie.

As to the latter, she had at first feared war. But
surrounded by the queen's people, who had let nothing
reach her ear but news dictated by this princess, she
knew, or thought she knew, that the conspiracy had
not taken place ; that the king and the cardinal had
returned to Paris nearly at the same time ; that Mon-
sieur, relapsed for a while, had reappeared at court ;
that the Due de Bouillon, on ceding Sedan, had also
been restored to favor; and that if the grand dcuyer
had not yet appeared, the reason was the more decided

VOL. II. — 17

258 CINQrMARS.

animosity of the cardinal towards him, and the greater
part he had taken in the conspiracy. But common
sense and natural justice clearly said that having acted
under the orders of the king's brother, his pardon ought
to follow that of this prince. Everything, then, had
calmed the first uneasiness of her heart, while nothing
had softened the kind of proud resentment she felt
against Cinq-Mars, so indifferent as not to inform her
of the place of his retreat, known to the queen and
the whole court, while, she said to herself, she had
thought but of him. Besides, for two months the balls
and fêtes had so rapidly succeeded each other, and so
many mysterious duties had commanded her presence,
that she liad for reflection and regret scarce more
than the time of her toilet, at which she was generally
almost alone. Every evening she regularly commenced
the general reflection upon the ingratitude and incon-
stancy of men, — a profound and novel thought, which
never fails to occupy the head of a young person in the
time of first love, — but sleep never permitted her to
finish the reflection ; and the fatigue of dancing closed
her large black eyes ere her ideas had found time to
classify themselves in her memory, or to present her
with any very distinct images of the past. In the
morning she was surrounded by the young princesses
of the court, and ere she had well time to dress had
to present herself in the queen's apartment, where
awaited her the eternal, but now less disagreeable,
homage of the prince palatine ; the Poles had had time
to learn at the court of France that mysterious re-
serve, that eloquent silence which so pleases the women.

THE FÊTE, 259

because it enhances the importance of things always
secret, and elevates those whom they respect, so as
to preclude the idea of exhibiting suffering in their
presence. Marie was regarded as promised to King
Uladislas ; and she herself — we must confess it — had
so well accustomed herself to this idea that the throne
of Poland occupied by another queen would have ap-
peared to her a monstrous thing. She did not look
forward with pleasure to the period of ascending it,
but had, however, taken possession of the homage which
was rendered her beforehand. Thus, without avowing
it even to herself, she greatly exaggerated the supposed
offences of Cinq-Mars, which the queen had expounded
to her at St. Germain.

^^ Tou are fresh as the roses in this bouquet," said
the queen. " Come, ma chère, are you ready ? What
means this pouting air? Come, let me fasten this
ear-ring. Do you not like these toys, eh? Will you
have another set of ornaments?''

''Oh, no, Madame. I think that I ought not to
decorate myself at all, for no one knows better than
yourself how unhappy I am. Men are very cruel
towards us!

'' I have since reflected on what you said to me, and
all is now clear to me. Yes, it is quite true that he
did not love me, for had he loved me, he would have
renounced an enterprise that gave me so much uneasi-
ness. I told him, I remember, indeed, which was very
decided," she added, with an important and even solemn
air, " that he would be a rebel, — yes, Madame, a rebel.
I told him so at St. Eustache. But I see that your

260 CINQ-MARS.

Majesty was right. I am very unfortunate! He had
more ambition than love." Here a tear of pique
escaped from her eyes, and rolled quickly down her
cheek, as a pearl upon a rose.

" Yes, it is certain," she continued, fastening her
bracelets ; ^^ and the greatest proof is that in the two
months he has renounced his enterprise — you told me
that you had saved him — he has not let me know the
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 word that 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 to prove to the end tliat I am constant,
that you yourself cannot make me disloyal to my at-
tachment, far more serious than his, and that we are
of higher worth than the men. But, however, I think I
may attend this fête, since it is not a ball."

" Yes, yes, my dear child ! come, come ! " said the
queen, desirous of putting an end to this childish talk,
which afflicted her all the more that it was herself who
had encouraged it. " Come, you will see the union that
prevails between the princes and the cardinal, and we
shall perhaps hear some good news." They departed.

When the two princesses entered the long galleries
of tlie Palais-Cardinal, they were received and coldly
saluted by the king and the minister, who, closely^ sur-
rounded by silent courtiers, were playing at chess upon
a small low table. All the ladies who entered with
the queen or followed her, spread through the apart-
ments ; and soon soft music sounded in one of the

THE FÊTE, 261

saloons, — a gentle accompaniment to the thousand pri-
vate conversations carried on round the play tables.

Near the queen passed, saluting her, a young newly
married couple, — the happy Chabot and the beautiful
Duchesse de Rohan. They seemed to shun the crowd,
and to seek apart a moment to speak to each other of
themselves. Every one received them with a smile and
looked after them with envy. Their happiness was ex-
pressed as strongly in the countenances of others as in
their own.

Marie followed them with her eyes. " Still they are
happy," she whispered to the queen, remembering the
censure which in her hearing had been thrown upon the
match.

But without answering, Anne of Austria, fearful that
in the crowd some inconsiderate expression might in-
form her young friend of the mournful event so inter-
esting to her, placed herself with Marie behind the king.
Monsieur, the prince palatine, and the Due de Bouillon,
came to speak to her with a gay and lively air. The
second, however, casting upon Marie a severe and scru-
tinizing glance, said to her, —

^' Madame la Princesse, you are most surprisingly
beautiful and gay this evening."

She was confused at these words, and at seeing tlie
speaker walk away with a sombre air. She addressed
herself to the Due d'Orléans, who did not answer, and
seemed not to hear her. Marie looked at the queen,
and thought she remarked paleness and disquiet on lier
features. Meantime no one ventured to approach the
minister, who was deliberately meditating his moves.

262 CINQ-MARS,

Mazarin alone, leaning over his chair, followed all the
strokes with a servile attention, giving gestures of admi-
ration every time that the cardinal played. Application
to the game seemed to have dissipated for a moment the
cloud that usually shaded the minister's brow. He had
just advanced a tower, which placed Louis's king in that
false position which is called " stale mate," — a situa-
tion in which the ebony king, without being personally
attacked, can neither advance nor retire in any direc-
tion. The cardinal, raising his eyes, looked at his ad-
versary and smiled with one corner of his mouth, not
being able to avoid a secret mental analogy. Then ob-
serving the dim eyes and dying countenance of the
prince, he whispered to Mazarin, —

" Faith, I think he '11 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 the side. At the
sinister warning he put a handkerchief to his mouth,
which he withdrew covered with blood. To hide it, he
threw it under the table, and looked around him with a
stem smile, as if to forbid observation. Louis XHI.,
perfectly insensible, did not make the least movement
beyond arranging his men for another game with a
skeleton and trembling hand. These two dying men
seemed to be throwing lots which should depart first.

At this moment a clock struck the hour of midnight.
The king raised his head.

" Ah, ah ! " he said ; " this morning at twelve M. le
Grand had a disagreeable time of it."

THE FÊTE, 263

A piercing shriek was uttered behind him. He shud-
dered, and threw himself forward, upsetting the table.
Marie de Mantua lay senseless in the 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 young princess, who, surrounded by all the
ladies of the court, only came to herself to burst into a
torrent of tears. As soon as she opened her eyes,
" Alas ! yes, my child," said Anne of Austria. " My
poor girl, you are Queen of Poland."

It has often happened that the same event which
causes tears to flow in the palace of kings has spread
joy without, for the people ever suppose that happiness
reigns at festivals. There were five days' rejoicings for
the return of the minister, and every evening under the
window^ of the Palais-Cardinal and those of the Louvre
pressed the people of Paris. The late disturbances had
given them a taste for public movements. They rushed
from one street to another with a curiosity at times in-
sulting and hostile, sometimes walking in silent proces-
sion, sometimes sending forth loud peals of laughter or
prolonged yells, of which no one understood the mean-
ing. Bands of young men fought in the streets and
danced in rounds in the squares, as if manifesting some
secret hope of pleasure and some insensate joy, grievous
to the upright heart. It was remarkable that the most
profound silence prevailed exactly in those places where
the minister had ordered rejoicings, and that the people

264 CINQ-MARS.

passed disdainfully before the illuminated façade of his
palace. If some voices were raised, it was to read aloud
iu a sneering tone the legends and inscriptions with
which the idiot flattery of some obscure writers had sur-
rounded the portraits of the minister. One of these
pictures was guarded by arquebusiers, who, however,
could not preserve it from the stones which were thrown
at it from a distance by unseen hands. It represented
the cardinal-generalissimo wearing a casque surrounded
by laurels. Above it was inscribed, —

** Grand due 1 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 they accepted his fêtes
because they served as a covering for disorder. All
Paris was in an uproar. Men with long beards, carry-
ing torches, measures of wine, and two drinking-cups,
which they knocked together with a great noise, went
along, arm in arm, shouting in chorus with rude voices
an old round of the League, —

*' Reprenons la danse ;
Allons, c^est assez.
Le printemps commence ;
Les rois sont passés.

** Prenons quelque trêve ;
Nous sommes lassés.
Les rois de la fève
Nous ont harassés.

** Allons, Jean du Mayne,
Les rois sont passés." ^

^ See Mémoires de la Ligue.

THE FETE. 266

The frightful bands who howled forth these words
traversed the Quais and the Pont-Neuf, squeezing against
the high houses, which then covered the latter, 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 the statue of Henri lY.,
which had been lately raised.

"What! still at Paris?" said Corneille to Milton.
" I thought you were in London."

" Hear you the people, sir ? Do you hear them ?
What is this ominous chorus, —

' Les rois sont passés ' ? "

" That is nothing, sir. Listen to their conversation."

" The parliament is dead," said one of the men ; " the
nobles are dead. Let us dance; we are the mastei*s.
The old cardinal is dying. There is no longer any but
the king and ourselves."

'" Do you hear that drunken wretch, sir ? " asked Cor-
neille. " AU our epoch 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," an-
swered Corneille. " But first, listen to the concluding
part of this letter, which I received to-day. Draw near
this light under the statue of the late king. We are
alone. The crowd has passed. Listen ! —

" It was by one of those unforeseen circumstances which
prevent the accomplishment of the noblest enterprises that

266 CINQ-MARS.

we were not able to save MM. de Cinq-Mars and de Thon.
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 our-
selves 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 Abbé Quillet, who was des-
tined 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 glor}"^ 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

THE FÊTE. 267

a aérions 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 expres-
sion of face ; he then knelt down, raising his ej'es to heaven,
adoring God, and recommending himself to him. As he em-
braced 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? YIThat 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 con-
fessor, 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 Abbé Quillet,
who raised the crucifix. At this moment a voice, as clear and
pure as that of an angel, oomi^penced the A^e 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 happilj' strength enough left
to think of his soul, and to commence a prater 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 fiy. The father and he recited a
psalm ; he uttered it with the ardor of a seraphim, as if his

268 CINQ-MARS,

iioal 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 3*oung man raised his hand; the
people sent forth a long groan, and advanced against the
executioner. The poor wretch, temfied still more, struck
him another blow, which only cut the skin and threw him
upon the scaflbld, 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's old servant held
his horse as at a military funeral ; he had stopped at the foot
of the scafl!bld, 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 de-
stroy. I abandon forever the service of the base prince who
betrayed us. Montresor.

"Such," continued Corneille, "has been the fate of
these two young men whom you lately saw so powerful.
Their last sigh was that of the ancient monarchy.
Nothing more than a court can reign here henceforth ;
the nobles and the senates are destroyed."^

" And this is your pretended great man ! " said
Milton. "What has he sought to do? He would,

^ The parliament was called "senate.*' There still exist letters ad-
dressed to Monseigneur d'Harlay, prince of the senate of Paris, and first
judge of the king.

THE FETE. 269

then, create republics for future ages, since he destroys
the basis of your monarchy?"

" Look not so far," answered Corneille ; " he only
seeks to reign until the end 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 other
knew what they were doing."

The Englishman smiled.

^^I thought," he said, '^that true genius followed
another path. This man has shaken all that he ought
to have supported, and they admire him ! I pity your
nation."

" Pity it not ! " exclaimed Corneille, warmly ; " a man
passes away, but a people is renewed. This people, sir,
is gifted with an immortal energy, which nothing can de-
stroy ; its imagination often leads it astray, but superior
reason will ever ultimately master its disorders."

The two young and already great men walked, as
they conversed, upon the space which separates the
statue of Henri IV. from the Place Dauphiné ; they
stopped a moment in the centre of this Place.

" Yes, sir," continued Corneille, " I see every evening
with what rapidity a noble thought finds its echo in
French hearts ; and every evening I retire happy at
the sight. Gratitude prostrates the poor people be-
fore this statue of a good king! Who knows what
other monument another passion may raise near this ?
Who can say how far the love of glory will lead our
people ? Who knows that in the place where we now
are, there may not be raised a pyramid taken from the
East?"

A M

270 CINQrMARS.

'^ These are the secrets of the future/' said Milton.
^^ I, like yourself, admire your impassioned nation ; but
I fear them for themselves. I do not well understand
them ; and I do not recognize their wisdom when I see
them 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
firmly balanced, been all but overthrown by the finger
of a boy. Does that indicate genius ? No, no ! when
genius condescends to quit the lofty regions of its true
home for a human passion, at least it should grasp that
passion in its entirety. Since Richelieu only aimed at
power, why did he not, if he was a genius, make him-
self absolute master of power? I am going to see a
man who is not yet known, and whom I see swayed
by this miserable ambition ; but I think that he will go
farther. His name is Cromwell!"

NOTES AND HISTORICAL DOCUMENTS.

Page 216.

<''He was borne/ says an ancient manuscript journal,"
etc.

" His boat touched the shore at the Balme Bonneri. In this town,
where many of the nobility awaited him, among others, M. le Comte
de Suze, Monseigneur de YiWers, saluted him as he left his boat ; bat
he was obliged to delay speaking to him until he had reached the lodg-
ing which had been prepared for him in the town. When his boat
came to the shore, a wooden bridge was placed from the boat to the
hind. After it had been ascertained to be safe, they brought out the
bed in which the said lord was reclining, for he was ill with an ulcer in
his arm. Six powerful men carried the litter upon two poles, and the
liolders in which the men placed their hands were covered with buff
leather. They wore on the shoulders and around the neck certain
straps lined with cotton, with buff leather handles, wliich sustained the
bars passed through them. In this manner these men carried the bed
and the said lord through the towns to the houses where he was to
lodge. But that which astonished every one was that he entered the
houses by the windows ; for before he arrived, the masons whom ho
brought with him took out the windows of the houses, or made open-
ings in the wails of the chambers in which he was to lodge, and then
made a wooden bridge which ascended from the street to the window
or openings of his lodging. Thus, in his portable bed, he passed
through the streets, and along the bridge into another bed prepared fur
him in his chamber, which his officers had hung with scarlet and violet

272 NOTES AND HISTORICAL DOCUMENTS.

damask, and rich furniture. At Viviers lie lodged in the house of
Montargny, of the university of our church. They took out the win-
dow of the chamber which looks over the square; and the wooden
bridge to ascend to it reached from the shop of Noël de Vielh, in the
house of Ales on the north side, to the window into which the lord car-
dinal was carried in the manner aforesaid. His chamber was guarded
on every side, — under the window, and at the sides, and on the roof.

" His court or suite was composed of people of importance. Civil-
ity, affability, and courtesy, went with them. The devotion with them
was very great The soldiers, who are generally indevout and impious,
practised great devotions. The day after his arrival, Sunday, several
of them confessed and communicated with demonstration of great piety.
They committed no insolences in the town, living quite like young
girls. The nobility, too, practised great devotion. When they were
on the Rhone, although there were many boatmen, as well with the
boats as with the horses, no one dared to blaspheme. It was quite
miraculous how such men could eiLhibit such control over themselves.
They were never heard to utter any words but those which were neces-
sary for the management of their barks, and these so modestly that
every one was enchanted.

" Monseigneur le Cardinal Bigni lodged at the archdeacon's. The
house of M. Panisse had been prepared for Monseigneur le Cardinal
Mazarin ; but on leaving St. Andeol, he took post to go to the king.
Sunday the 25th, the said lord was carried back to his boat in the same
order."!

L(Ut moments of MM. de Cinq^Mars and de Thou.

The bravery of M. de Cinq-Mars was bold, noble, and
elegant. There has been none better attested. If after
so many historical details, sketched in this work, new
proofs were wanting, I should add, to confirm them, the
letter (see page 274) from M. de Marca, and fragments
of the report which follows, where we remark this passage :
*^It is an almost incredible wonder that he displayed no
fear, trouble, or emotion," etc.

1 Extract from the maaiiacript jonmal of J. de Banne.

NOTES AND HISTORICAL DOCUMENTS. 278

The collection, entitled '' Journal de M. le Cardinal-Duc
de Richelieu qu'il a faict durant le grand orage de la court,
en l'année 1642, tiré de ses Mémoires qu'il a escrit de sa
main/' adds these words to the indictment, '' M. de Cinq-
Mars never changed countenance or tone, — always the
same sweetness, moderation, and confidence."

Tallemant des Beaux says, in his Memoirs, vol. i. p.
418, etc.,—

*' M. le Grand was firm ; and the internal combat be suffered did not
appear on his countenance. He died with an astonishing grandeur of
courage, and did not condescend to barangue the people. He woidd
not have bis eyes blindfolded. His ejes were open when be was
struck, and be beld the stake so firmly that it was witb great difficuhy
they removed bis arms. He was full of courage, and died like a gentle-
man. Altbougb they bad resolved not to subject bim to tbe question,
as tbe sentence purported, tbey bowever showed bim the rack. This
touched bim, but did not induce bim to forget bis courageous mien ;
and be was already taking off bis pourpoint, for, as be supposed, tbe
torture, when tbey merely made bim raise bis band to affirm the
truth."

Several accounts add that when conducted to the tor-
ture chamber, he exclaimed, "Whither are you leading me?
How disagreeable the scent is here I " raising his handker-
chief to his nose. This disdain appears to me to be one of
those touches of bravoure moqtietise in which our history
abounds.

It recalls to me the jest of a young man, who, conducted
to the scaffold of 1795, said to the driver of the tumbril,
"Postilion, drive us well. You shall have something to
drinkJ' The Frencn revenge themselves on death by jest-
ing at it.

VOL. II. — 18

274 NOTES AND HISTORICAL DOCUMENTS.

Fragw^etti of a letter from M. de Marea, eouneillor of State, to M. de
Brienne, eeeretary of State, deteribinç what paeeed at the trial of
MM, de Cinq-Mare and de Thou.

Sib, — I Uiought you might be pleased to be ioformed of the princi-
pal things which passed at the sentence which has been pronounced
against MM. le Grand and de Thou. I have therefore taken the
liberty to narrate it to you in the present letter. M. le Chancelier
commenced with the deposition of M. le Duc d'Orléans, which he re-
ceived in judicial form at Ville Franche in Beau-Jolois, where Mon-
sieur then was, and which was read to Monsieur in the presence of
seven commissioners, who assisted M. le Chancelier. In this he de-
clared that M. le Grand had solicited him to unite with him, and with
M. de Bouillon, and to treat with Spain, which they all three resolved
upon in the Hôtel de Venise, in the fauboui^g St. Germain, about
hist New Year's day.

Fontrailles was selected to proceed to Madrid, where he drew up the
treaty with the count-duke, by which the King of Spain promised to
furnish twelve thousand foot and five thousand horse, tried troops,
forty thousand crowns to Monsieur to raise new levies, etc. . . .

The knowledge of the treaty, without having revealed it, added to the
proofs which are in the process, of interventions for the union of the
accomplices, and the space of six weeks or more which M. de Thou
passed with M. le Grand, lodgmg in his house near Perpignan, coun-
selling him in his affaira, after the knowledge that the said Sieur le
Grand had treated with Spain, and therefore that he was guilty of the
crime of high treason. All this combined to make the judges condemn
De Thou, according to the laws of the ordinance expressly made and
provided against those who have been acquainted with conspiracy
against the State, and have not revealed it, even though their silence
had not been accompanied by the many other cireumstances observable
in the case of the said Sire de Thou. He died in a truly Christian
manner, and as a man of courage, meriting a special description. M. le
Grand also displayed a frmnen always equal, and firmly reconciled to
death, with an admirable coolness and Christian constancy and devotion.
I entreat your permission to quit this mournful subject, to assure you
that I continue in the respect, etc.

Makca..
Ltoms, this 16th September, 1642.

NOTES AND HISTORICAL DOCUMENTS. 276

After the letter of M. de Marca, there was printed, in
1645, a journal, which has lately been attributed on no very
clear grounds to a recorder of the city of Lyons. This re-
port was greatly diffused at the time, and published, as we
see, one kmidred and seventy-two years ago, A portion of
these details was reproduced in 1826 by the author of this
work, who cited it ; and its principal features are scattered
in the course of the composition. However, some of these
facts, for which there was no room, were designedly left out,
and have been omitted in the reprints which have been made
of this report. It will not be profitless to reproduce them
here. They complete the portraits of the characters of this
work, and show that the author has been religiously faithful
to history, and has not allowed his imagination to go beyond
the circle traced by truth.

" We Lave seen tbe fiavorite of the gpreatest and most just of kings
lay his head upon the scaffold at the age of twenty-two, but with a
firmness which can hardly be paralleled in our history. We have seen a
councillor of State die like a saint for a crime which men cannot justly
pardon. There is no one in the world, who, knowing their conspiracy
against the State, would not consider them deserving of death ; and
there are few people, who, knowing their condition and their noble
natural .qualities, would not pity their misfortune.

"M. de Cinq-Mars arrived at Lyons, September the 4th of thb
present year, 1642, at two o'clock in the afternoon, in a coach drawn
by four horses, in which were gardes du corps, with their muskets in
their hands, and surrounded by foot-guards to the number of a hundred,
belonging to M. le Cardinal-Duc ; before them marched two hundred
cavalry, most of them Catalonians, and following them were three-
hundred others, well mounted.

" M. le Grand was dressed in dark-colored Holland cloth, covered
with gold iace, and a scarlet mantle with large silver buttons ; he being
upon the Pont du Kosne, before entering the town, asked M. Seyton,
the lieuteuant of the Scottish guards, if he would allow the door of the
coach to be shut, — which was refused him, and he was conducted over
the Font St. Jean, and thence to the Cliange, and thence, by the Rue
de Flandre, to the foot of the château of Pierre-Encise, showing him-

276 NOTES AND HISTORICAL DOCUMENTS.

self while passing through the streets oontinuallj at one or the otlier
door, saluting the people with a cheerful countenance, leaning half out
of the carriage, and even recognizing many persons, whom he saluted
by their names.

"Arrived at Pierre-Encise, he was surprised when they told hiui
he must alight, and get on horseback outside the town, to reach the
castle.

" * This is, then, the last ride I shall take,' said he ; for he had im-
agined that he was to go to the wood of Vincennes, and he had often
asked the guards whether they would allow him to hunt when he
should be tbere.

" His prison was at the foot of the great tower of the castle, which
had no other view than two little windows, which looked into a small
gardeu, at the foot of which were guards. M. Seyton' slept with
four guards in the antechamber, and there were guards at all the
doors.

" M. le Cardinal Bichy went to visit him the next day, and asked
whether he should like them to send some one with whom he might
amuse himself in his prison. He replied that he should be very glad,
but that he did not deserve any one should take the trouble.

"Consequently, M. le Cardinal de Lyons sent for the Père Mala-
Valette, Jesuit, whom he commissioned to visit him, since he desired it ;
which he did on the 6th, at five in the morning, remaining with liim
until eight o'clock. He found him in a red damask bed, very uncom-
fortable, which made him pale and weak. The good father knew so
well how to please him that he asked for him again in the evening ;
and so he continued to visit him, morning and evening, the whole time
of his imprisonment. And he afterwards made a report to MM. le
Cardinal-Duc and le Cardinal de Lyons, and to M. le Chancelier, of all
that he had said ; and this same father had a long conference with his
ducal Eminence, although the latter g^ve audience to no one at the
time.

" On the 7th,* M. le Chancelier went to visit M. de Cinq-Mars, and
treated him very civilly, telling him that he had no reason to fear, but
on the contrary, to hope everything that was to his advantage ; that he
well knew he had to deal with a good judge, who would assuredly not
forget the favors he had received from hU benefactor ; that he well knew
that it was through his goodness and power that the king liad not de-
prived him of his charge; that this favor was so great that it not

NOTES AND HISTORICAL DOCUMENTS. 277

only merited an enduring remembrance, but also eternal gratitude; and
that this was one of the occasions on which to show his gratitude.
The apparent reason for these professions was that M. le Grand
had once softened the king, who was greatly enraged against M. le
Chancelier; but the true reason was the fear that M. de Cinq- Mars
might refuse to have him for judge, and appeal to the parliament of
Paris, f ji order that he might be delivered hy the people, loho loved him
pastioMûtefy.

" M. le Grand replied that this courtesy filled him with shame and
confusion. ' But, however,' said he, ' I see clearly, by the manner in
which they are proceeding in this affair, that they are determined to liave
my life. // i> all over with me ; the king has abandoned me. I look upon
myself as a victim whom they are about to sacrifice to the passions of my
enemies and the king's weakness* To which M. le Chancelier replied
that these sentiments were not just, and that his experience was quite
to the contrary. 'May Ood grant it be so! ' said M. le Grand; 'but I
cannot believe it.'

" On the 8th, M. le Chancelier went to hear him, accompanied by
six masters of requests, two presidents, and six counsellors of Grenoble,
who, having questioned him froQi six in the morning to two in the after-
noon, could get nothing from him to make out the case."

This report, which, as I have said, was printed at the
end of the letter of M. de Marca, has also this curious
anecdote, which attests the incredible firmness of mind of
M. de Thou,—

" After his confession, he was visited by Father Jean Terrasse, of the
convent of the Observance de Saint François at Taniscon, who had
visited and consoled him during his imprisonment at Tarascon. He
was glad to see him, and walked with him some time, holding a spiritual
conversation. This father came in connection with a vow which M. dc
Thou had made at Tarascon, which was, should he be delivered, to
found a chapel of three hundred livres annual rent in the church of the
Pères Cordeliers of this town of Tarascon. He gave orders for this
foundation, desiring to acquit himself of his vow, since God, he said,
was about to deliver him, not only from a prison of stone, but also
from the prison of his body. He asked for ink and paper, and
wrote this beautiful inscription, which he directed to be pkiced in this
chapel : —

278 NOTES AND HISTORICAL DOCUMENTS.

Chriflto libentori,

TOtum io carcere pro libertate

coDceptum.

Fran. Angiut. ThoanoB
e carcere vits jam jam
liberandus merito solvit.

XII Septemb. M.D.C.XLIL

confitebor tibi, Domine, quoniam

exaudisti me, et factiu es mihi

in salntem.

" In ibis insoription we roust admire tbe readiness and clearness of
Il is mind ; and it will make tbose who consider it acknowledge that the
fear of death had not the power to cause him any agitation of mind.
He begged M. Thome to give his compliments to the Cardinal de Lyons»
and to inform him that had it pleased God to deliver him from this
peril, he had designed to qnit the world, and to give himself up entirely
to the service of God.

" He wrote two letters, which were taken open to M. le Chancelier,
and then placed in the hands of his confessor to read them; these letters
being sealed, he said, * There are my kst thoughts for the world ; let us
depart for Paradise.' And from that time he continued without inter-
ruption his spiritual discourses, and confessed a second time. He asked
at intervals whether the time for the execution approached, when they
were to be bound, and begged that they would inform him when the
executor of justice was there, that he might embrace him ; but he only
saw him on the scaffold."

The paraphrase made by M. de Thou.

Father Montbrun, M. de Thou's confessor, is quoted in
this report, and gives these details, —

Pell?' ^\ '^''"' ï^ï^eeling on the scaffold, also recited the 115th

joy inc^â^^JJ!T''"''f^^^ ^' fervor mingled with a holy

TrnXlS^^^^^^ not witness it. This is the paraphrai

plied to it I h«t i ^^^ accompany with the action which he ap-
• ^^«^^e endeavored to retain his own words:-

NOTES AND HISTORICAL DOCUMENTS. 279

" ' Credidif propter quod locutus mm. My God, eredidi / — I have
believed, and I believe firmly, that you are my Creator and my gracious
Father ; that you suffered for me ; that you redeemed me with your
most precious blood ; that you have opened Paradise for me. Credidi,
— I ask of you, my God, one grain, one little grain of that living faith
which inflamed the hearts of the first Christians. Credidi, propter quod
locutus sum, — grant, O my God, that I may not speak to you with my
lips only, but that my heart may respond to my words, and my will not
belie my mouth ! Credidi, — my God, my tongue adores you not ; I have
not sufficient eloquence. But I adore you in spirit, — yes, in spirit. My
God, I adore in spirit and in truth ! Yes, eredidi, I have confided in
you, my God, and I have abandoned myself to your mercy, after the
many favors you have granted me. Propter quod locutus sum, — and in
this confidence I have spoken, I have said all, I have accused myself.

*' ' Effo autem kumiliatus nimis. It is true. Lord, that I am hum-
bled exceedingly, but still not so much so as I deserve. Ego dixi in
excessu meo. Omnis homo mendas. Ah, how true it is that the whole
world is but falsehood, folly, and vanity ! All, how true it is ! Omnis
homo mendax ! Quid retribuam Domino pro omnibus qua retribuit mihi.
[He repeated this with great vehemence.] Calicem salutis aecipiam.
My father, we must drink this chalice of death courageously. Yes, I
receive it willingly, and am ready to drink it to the dregs.

" ' Et nomen Domini invocabo. You will aid me,' he said, turning to
me, ' my father, to implore the divine assistance, that it may please
God to fortify my weakness, and to give me the courage I need to
drink the cup which God in his goodness has prepared for my
salvation.'

" He passed over the two following verses of the Psalm, and ex-
claimed in a loud and animated voice, * Dirupisti, Domine, vineuia
mea ! O my God, you have done a great thing for me ! — you have
broken the ties which bound me so strongly to the world ! It needed
a divine power to disengage me from them. Dirupisti, Domine, vinculo .
mea ! [These are the exact words he uttered here.] Those who have
brought me here have done me a great service. What obligations do
I not owe them ! Yes, they have done me a great good, since they
bave taken me from this world to place me ' heaven ! '

" Here I reminded him that he must pardon everything, and have no
resentment against them. At this word he turned towards me, still on
bis knees as he was, and witJi a graceful action. ' What, my father.

280 NOTES AND HISTORICAL DOCUMENTS.

say you of resentment? Ah, God knows, God is my witness that I love
tiiem with my whole heart, and that in my heart there is no animosity
towards any one in the world ! DirupUti, Domine, vinaUa mea, Ubi
Mcrificabo hostiam laudis. Behold the host. Lord [pointiug to hiui-
selQ, behold the host which is now to be sacrificed to you. Tldi
sacrificabo hosiiam laudis, et nomen Domini invocabo. Vota mea, Domne,
reddam [stretching out his arms and looking round with an agreeable
movement, and a cheerful and radiant countenance] in eonspectu owmU
populi ejus. Yes, Lord, I will render up to you my wishes, my spirit,
my heart, my soul, my life, in eonspectu omnis populi ejus^ — before all
this people, in the sight of this assembly ! In airiis domus Domini, in
medio tui, Jerusalem. In atriis domus Domini. We are here at the
entrance of the Lord ; yes, it is from hence, it is from Lyons, — from
Lyons that we shall mouut above [raising his arms towards heaven].
Lyons, I owe thee more gratitude than to my birth-place, which only
bestowed upon me a miserable life, while thou givest me this day an
eternal life ! in medio tui, Jerusalem. Nay, truly I am too eager for
this death. Is it not wrong, my father ? ' he said in a lower tone,
smiling, and turning towards me. ' I am too happy ! Is there not
vanity in thisP I would not have it so.'"

Details of the Execution ofM. de Cinq-Mars.
(From the same Report.)

" It is an almost incredible wonder that he displayed no fear, trouble,
or emotion, but appeared always gay, assured, unalterable, and showed
so much firmness of spirit that all those who saw him are still aston-
ished at it.

" M. de Cinq-Mars, without having his eyes bandaged, laid his neck
upon the block very properly, holding his face straight out towards the
front of the scaffold ; and tightly embracing the stake with his arms, he
closed his eyes and mouth, awaiting the blow which the executioner gave
him, deliberately and heavily, standing on his left, and holding his axe in
both hands. Upon receiving the blow, he sent fortli a loud cry, * Ah ! '
which was stifled in his blood. He raised his knees above the block,
as if about to rise, and then subsided into the position in which he was
before. The head not being entirely separated from the body by the
blow, the executioner passed behind to the right ; and taking the head
by the hair with his right hand, with the left he sawed off part of th^
tracheal artery, and the skin of the neck which was not cut through.

NOTES AND HISTORICAL DOCUMENTS. 281

aud then threw the head on the scaffold, wheuce it bounded to the
ground, «here it wtu remarked that it still made half a turn more ami
palpitated for some time. The face was turned towards the nuns of
St. Pierre, and the crown of the head towards the scaffold, with the
ejres open. His body remained firm against the block, which he still
embraced, until the executioner dragged it away to strip it, which he
did, and then covered it with a cloth, and threw his cloak over it. The
head, having been placed upon the scaffold, was laid with the body
under the same doth."

The execution of M. de ïhou, like that of M. de Cinq-
MarSy resembles an assassination. I give the account of it
from the same journal, more horribly minute than in the
letter from Montrésor, —

" The executioner came to cover his eyes with the handkerchief ; but
he did it badly, phicing the comers of the handkerchief so that they
covered his mouth. He raised it, and arranged it better. He adored
the crucifix before setting his neck upon the block. He kissed the
blood of Cinq-Mars, which had remained there. Then be hiid his neck
firmly upon the block, which a Jesuit brother had wiped with his hand-
kerchief, because it was wet with blood, and asked this brother whether
he was well placed, who told him to advance his head somewhat far-
ther, which he did. At the same time, the executioner, perceiving that
the strings of his shirt were not untied, and that they tightened his
throat, put his hand to the oolkr to unfasten them. Feeling this, he
asked, ' What is it ? Must I take off my shirt ? ' and already began to
do so. They answered, *No, you must merely untie the strings,'
which having done, he turned down his shirt-collar, and laid bare his
neck and shoulders ; and having again placed his neck upon the block,
he pronounced his last words, which were, ' Maria mater gratis, mater
miserioordia, in manus'tnas !' Aud then his arms began to tremble,
awaiting the blow, which was struck high in the neck too near the
head, by which blow his neck was cut only half through. The body
fell on the left side of the block on its back, the face turned towards
heaven, moving the legs, and feebly raising the hands. The execu-
tioner wanted to turn him over, to fbiish as he had begun ; bat terrified
by the cries which were raised against him, he struck him two or three
blows npon the throat, and thus severed bis head, which remained on
the scaffold.

282 NOTES AND HISTORICAL DOCUMENTS.

"The executioner, having stripped him, carried his body, covered
with a cloth, to the carriage which had brought them, where he also
placed that of M. de Cinq-Mars, and their heads, which both had the
eyes still open, especially that of M. de Thou, which appeared alive.
Thence they were taken to the Feuillants, wherç M. de Cinq-Mars was
interred before the high altar under the balustrade of the said church,
through the goodness and authority of M. du Gay, — the treasurer of
France in the district of Lyons. M. de Thou was embalmed by the
care, of his sister, and phiced in a leaden coffin to be carried to the
family vault.

" Such was the end of these two persons, who certainly merited to
leave to posterity other memory than that of their death. I leave every
person to form his own judgment of them, and content myself with
pointing out that it is a great lesson for us of the inconstancy of the
things of this world and the frailty of our nature."

The last wills of these two noble young men have come
down to us in the letters which they wrote after their sen-
tence was pronounced. That of M. de Cinq-Mars to the
Maréchale d'Ef&at, his mother, may appear cold to some
persons, from the difficulty they may experience in trans-
porting themselves to that epoch, when in the most serious
circumstances people sought rather to repress their emo-
tions than to express them with warmth, and in which
great people, in their writings and conversation^ avoided
the pathetic as much as we cultivate it.

Leiterfrom M, le Grand to hU mother the Maréchale d'Effiai.

Madame, mt dearest and highly honored Mother, — I write
to you, since I am not permitted to see you, to entreat you, Madame, to
give me two last marks of your goodness, — the first, Madame, that you
will give to my soul as many prayers as possible for my salvation ; the
other, that you obtain from the king the money I expended in my office
of master of the horse, and what was owing to me otherwise in respect
of it, before it was taken from me ; and if this favor be not granted, that
you will have the generosity to pay my creditors. All matters of this
world are of such trifling interest that you cannot refuse me this last
request, which I make for the repose of my soul. Believe me, Madame,

NOTES AND HISTORICAL DOCUMENTS. 283

iu tbis, should your own sentiment be opposed to my wish» since I^
whose every step conducts me to a near death, am more capable
than yourself of judging the value of the things of this world. Adieu,
Madame ; forgive nie if I have ever failed in my respect towards you
during my lifetime, and rest assured that I die.

My beloved and much honored mother, your veiy humble, very
obedient^ and very obliged son and servant,

Henki d'Epfiat db Cinq-Mabs.

The original manuscript is in the Boyal Library at Faris^^
written in a firm and caJm hand.

The last letter of François Auguste de Thou.

We have seen that left alone in his prison^ M. de Thou
wrote a letter which was given to his confessor. " Here/'
said he^ <'is the last thought I shall have for this world.'"
We have seen the efforts he made to detach himself from
this last thought, and the fervent prayers he repeated.
Striking his breast, he prays God to have mercy upon him ;
he rejects the world; he already envelops himself in his
shroud. This last thought was the most cruel that can
tear the heart of man. It was a last look towards a beloved
woman; it was an adieu to his mistress, the Princesse de
Gueméné. Its tone is grave, and the respect for rank is
not neglected any more than that of his own personal
dignity, and the solemn moment which approaches. I
have recently found this precious letter.* It runs thus :

Madame, — I have never felt under an obligation to you during my
whole life until this moment, when about to leave it; I lose it with the
less regret that you have rendered it unhappy to me. I hope that the
life of the other world will be very different for me from this, and that
I shall find there happiness as much above the imagination of man as
it should be above his hope; mine, Madame, is founded only on the
goodness of God and the merits of the passion of his Son, alone capable
of effacing my sins, for which I am answerable to his justice, and which

1 M88. No. 9327.

* Bihlioth. Royale de Paris, MSS. No. 9276, p. 233.

284 NOTES AND HISTORICAL DOCUMENTS.

are of snch excess that nothing but his mercy can exceed tliein. I en-
treat your pardon, Madame, with my whole heart for all I may hare
done which may have displeased you, and I make the same prayer to
all the pertoH» whom I have hated for your take, protesting to you»
Madame, that as far as the fidelity I owe to my God will allow it,
I die, Madame, too asmredly, your Tery humble and very obedient
servant, Ds Thou.

Lyoss, this 12 September, 1642.

How bitter a reproach ! how melancholy a recurrence to
life I If this woman were worthy of him, how could she
have received such a letter and live! Gould she ever be
consoled for having deserved such a farewell?

The life of Madame la Princesse de Gueméné scarcely
permits us to think that it was her severity that caused
such sorrow, such profound grief. Tallemant des Këaux
says in several places that M. de Thou was her lover.
" Thej/ sayj^ he adds (tom. i., p. 418), ^^tkat he tvrote to her
after his condemnation ! " It is this letter which we have
just read. It appeai-s to me to be written by a man like
the misanthrope of Molière, but with more piety; "aZZ
tlie persons whom I have hated for your sake,'' painfully
resembles : —

" C'est que tout l'univers est bien reçu de vous."

But let us not seek to pry into griefs which nothing
betrays but the last sigh at the foot of the scaffold.

UPON NON-DTSOLOSURE.

The life of every celebrated man has one sole and precise
meaning, visible at first glance to those who can judge the
great events of the past, and which, I hope, has remained
in the minds of those who have attentively read "Cinq-
Mars." The blood of François Auguste de Thou flowed
in the name of a sacred idea, and which will remain such
so long as the religion of honor shall exist among us; it

NOTES AND HISTORICAL DOCUMENTS. 285

is the impossibility of denunciation from the lips of the man
of honor.

Statesmen of every age who have endeavored to introduce
denunciation have hitherto completely failed^ to the glory
of our country. The fact that it was Louis XI., whose
character was baseness itself, and his genius treachery,
who first attempted this enterprise, is in itself a stain upon
it; but this tree of evil, which he planted at Plessis-les-
Tours, did not bring forth its poisonous fruit, and no one
was found to denounce a citizen,

" Et, sa tête à la main, demander son salaire."

The reward was, however, set forth .in the edict of
Louis XI., dated the twenty-second day of December, one
thousand four hundred and seventy-seven: an edict easy
to comprehend in such a monarch at the moment when
the Comte de la Marche, Jacques d'Armagnac, had just
had his head cut off for high treason, and his lands, an im-
mense property, impudently distributed among his judges,
— a monstrous inheritance, unheard of since the days of
Tiberius and Nero, — and which was accomplishing, while
they forced the children of the condemned to receive,
drop by drop, upon their foreheads the blood of their
father from the scaffold above. After this fine stroke,
he might go on, and imagine he had a right so to despise
France as to cast at her such an edict, and to propose to
her new infamies. Accustomed as he was to make a
perpetual traffic in consciences for ready money, never
making a step without a purse in one hand and an axe
in the other, he followed the old maxim, which is no
great effort of genius, and which Machiavel has so highly
praised, — to place men between hope and fear. Louis XI.
played his game subtly; but at last France arose and
nobly played hers, showing him that she had other men
than his barber. Despite the word of his invention, for
we must honorably give it him, despite the softened

286 NOTES AND HISTORICAL DOCUMENTS.

translation of d/enuwAaiion into revelation^ no one person
deliberately left his own house to go and repeat a secret
which in the openness of friendship had escaped another
at the table or fireside. The vile ordinance was forgotten
until the time when the Cardinal de Richelieu ordered its
resurrection. M. de Thou had no stronghold to give in
exchange for his pardon, like M. de Bouillon, and his
death would add to the terror inspired by that of Cinq-
Mars. If he had been pardoned, he would have been a
young and virtuous censor; destined to survive the old
minister, he would perhaps, like his father, be an historian,
and write the life of the cardinal ; and would be a judge in
his turn, — an inflexible judge, indignant at the death of
his friend, M. le Grand. M. de Richelieu thought of all
this; and these reasons, which do not escape me, would
not escape him. For the sake of mere impartiality, let us
forget his angry quip about the President de Thou : " He
put my name in his history, I '11 place his in mine." Ac-
quit him of vengeance, there still remains an inflexible
hardness of heart, profound bad faith, and the most im-
moral egoism.* The virtuous life of M. de Thou, which
might become useful to a State where everything was be-
coming corrupt, was disagreeable and dangerous to the
minister. He did not hesitate ; let us not hesitate, then, to
judge this justice. We must by all means ascertain the
grounds of these celebrated State reasons, which have been
converted by some into a kind of holy ark not to be touched.
Bad actions leave us the germ of bad laws, and there is no
passing minister who does not seek to plant them, to pre-
serve the source of his borrowed power, through love for
this doubtful éclat One thing may, however, reassure

1 Dupaj has it in his Memoirs that when the exempt brought him the
letter from the chancellor which announced the sentence, —

" And M. de Thon also ! " said the cardinal, with an air of satisfaction.
" M. le Chancelier has delivered me from a great harden. But Picart,
they have no executioner there." We see he thought of everything.

NOTES AND HISTORICAL DOCUMENTS, 287

US, that when such an idea is hatched in the brain of a
political person, the gestation is long and painful, the
birth would probably prove the death of the parent, and
the failure a clear public happiness.

I do not think there is in history a fact more adapted
than the trial of Auguste de Thou to testify against this
fatal idea, should the evil genius of France ever will that
the proposition of a law of non-revelation be renewed.

As nothing more inspires sound replies, or presents them
in clearer expressions than imminent danger to a superior
man, I see that from the first M. de Thou went to the bot-
tom of the question of right and possibility with his reason,
and to the bottom of the question of sentiment and honor
with his noble heart. Let us listen to him, —

" The day of his confrontation with M. de Cinq-Mars, he said ^ that
after having deeply commoned with himself whether he ought to de-
clare to the king [seeing him every day at the camp of Perpignan] the
knowledge he had of this treaty, he resolved for several reasons not to
mention it: —

"1. He mast have accased Monsieur, the king's brother, of a State
crime, and M. de Bouillon and M. le Grand, loho were all muck more
pateerjkl and more accredited than he, and that it was certain he would
succumb in this action, of which he had no verifying proof. ' I could
not have cited,' says he, ' the testimony of Fontrailles, who was ab-
sent ; and M. le Grand would perhaps have denied then that he had
spoken to me of it. I should have then passed for a calumniator, and
my honor, which will ever be dearer to me than my life, would have
been irreparably lost.'

" 2. ' As to M. le Grand,' he adds those words which have been
already quoted, and which possess an incomparable beauty in their
antique, I might almost say evangelic, simplicity, ' he held me to be
his only and faithful friend, and I would not betray him.' "

Whatever may be the secret enterprise assumed, —
whether against a crowned head or against the constitution

1 See the interrogation and confrontation (Sept. 12, 1642). Journal of
M. le Cardinal-Duc, written with his own hand (p. 190).

288 NOTES AND HISTORICAL DOCUMENTS.

of a democratic State, or against-the bodies which represent a
nation ; whatever may be the nature of the execution or the
plot, — whether assassination, or expulsion by armed force,
or insurrection of the people, or corruption and revolt of
the paid soldiery, — the situation will be the same between
the conspirator and him who has received his confidence.
His first thought will be the irreparable and eternal loss of
his honor and his name, either as calumniator, if he fur-
nishes no proofs, or as a base informer if he gives them,
punished in the first case by ignominious penalties, pun-
ished in the second by the public detestation, which points
him out with the finger as stained with the blood of his
friends.

When M. de Thou deigned to explain this first cause of
silence, I believe that it was in order to place himself on a
level with the minds which judged him, and in order to
enter into the general tone of the trial, and the precise
terms of the laws, that ever assume themselves made only
for the basest souls, which they circumscribe and press
upon by gross barriers, and an inexorable and uniform
necessity. He demonstrated that he could not have been
an informer, even had he wished it. He implies, "If I
had been infamous, I could not have accomplished my in-
famy ; no one would have believed me." But after these
few words upon the physical impossibility, he adds the
motive of the moral impossibility, — a genuine motive, and
one of an immutable, eternal verity, which all religions
have recognized and sanctified, which all nations have held
in honor, — " He held me to be his friend."

Not only did he not betmy him, but it will be observed
that in all his interrogatories and confrontations with
M. de Bouillon and M. de Cinq-Mars, he names and com-
promises no one.^

1 See the interrogatory and procèê-verbcJ, prepared hj M. le Chancelier,
etc., 1642.

NOTES AND HISTORICAL DOCUMENTS. 289

" Immediately I was alone with M. de Thou/' says Fontrailles, in
his Memoirs, " he told me of the journey I had just made into Spain,
which much surprised me, for I believed that it had been concealed
from him, in conformity with the deliberation which had been taken on
the subject. When I asked him how he had learned it, he declared to
me very frankly in confidence that he knew it from the queen, and that
she had it from Monsieur.

" I was not ignorant that her Majesty had greatly desired a cabal
to be got up, and had contributed to it with all her power." *

M. de Thou might, then, have supported himself upon
this authority; but he knows that he shall thus cause
Queen Anne of Austria to be persecuted, and he is silent.
He is also silent concerning the king himself, and does not
deign to repeat what he said to the cardinal in his private
interview. He will not receive his life at this price.

As to M. de Cinq-Mars, he has but one reason to give, —
<' he held me to be his friend." Even had he, instead of being
a proved friend, been merely a man connected with M. de
Cinq-Mars by transient relations, he held him to be his
friend, he had faith in him, and he w<nUd not betray him.
Everything is in that

When the Christian religion instituted confession, it, as
I have elsewhere said, deified confidence. As people might
have distrusted their confidant, it hastened to declare the
priest who should reveal the avowal made to his ear crimi-
nal and worthy of eternal death. Nothing less than this
could suddenly transform a stranger into a friend, a brother,
and cause a Christian to open his soul to the first comer,
to the unknown person whom he may never see again, and
sleep at night in peace, as sure of his secret as if he had
told it to Ood alone.

Thus, all that the confessor could do, with the assistance
of his faith and the authority of the Church, has been to
attain the being considered by the penitent as a friend, to
effect those salutary overflowings, those sacred tears, those

1 Narrative of M. de Fontrailles.
VOL. II. — 19

290 NOTES AND HISTORICAL DOCUMENTS.

complete narratives^ those reserveless confidences which
grave and true friendship^ before the institution of confes-
sion, had alone the right to receive, — friendship, the holy
friendship which returns in virtuous counsel what it re-
ceives in guilty avowals.

If, then, the confessor pretends to the tenderness of hearty
to the supreme goodness of the friend, what friend ought
not to regard as his first duty the entire security of
the secret deposited in him, as in the tabernacle of the
confessor ?

And it is not merely of the old and tried friend that we
speak, but of every man who by another man has been
treated as a friend, of the first comer who, hand linked in
hand, has received a serious confidence. The right of hos-
pitality is as old as the institution of the family, old as
the human race itself. No tribe, no horde, however savage
it may be, conceives the possibility of delivering up its
guest. A secret is a guest, seeking refuge in the heart of
an honest man, as in an inviolable asylum. Whosoever
delivers up that secret and sells it, is out of the law of
nations.

It were a deep shame indeed for the government that
could only maintain its brief existence at the price of such
barbarian laws, or stand erect except by the aid of such
dark supports. But even though it wished to make use of
them, it could not. For it to be practicable, civilization
must have progressed with the wrong foot foremost But
the world has attained a general delicacy of sentiment
which renders it out of the question even to suggest such
public actions. It is quite extraordinary, indeed, how
things x)erfectly permissible and understood only a few
centuries back are now not done or said or even seriously
named, and this without any of them having been formally
abolished. But this is one of those genuine changes of
manners which bring forth genuine and enduring laws.
What country is there now, however remote, where the

NOTES AND HISTORICAL DOCUMENTS. 291

man judging would venture to outrage public opinion by
arrogating to himself the spoils of the man judged ? All
laws are not the work of human hands. The law which
prohibits this monstrous inheritance is not a written law ;
it has tacitly set up its pillar among us. By its side is
that which says that man should not be a denouncer; and
the humblest journalist in our day would not venture to sit
down at the table of him who had failed in obedience to
this law.

If the politicians of our time must need revive some old
engine of barbarian ages, I should, for my part, prefer the
bringing out and cleaning and polishing and applying the
thumb-screw and the rack, for these and the other instru-
ments of torture would at all events defile only the body
and not the soul of God's creatures. They might perhaps
extort a shriek from the agonized flesh ; but the cry of the
nerves and the bones under the red-hot pincers were less
dishonorable to a government than the frigid buying and
selling of a man's head, as it were, over a counter. In the
annals of the vile, no name stands lower than that of
Judas.

Yes, better the peril of the prince than the demoraliza-
tion of the whole human species. Better the downfall of a
dynasty, or of a particular form of government, better that
even of a nation, — for all these things may be replaced,
may be formed again, — than the death of virtue in man.

THE END.

UoiTenity Pna : John Wilson k Son, Cambridge.

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r\oU 0^ 1^.

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