paces from the King, was seated upon a little hillock of turf, fashioned into a seat by the soldiers.  There he wiped his pale forehead, fatigued with the cares of the day and with the unaccustomed weight of a suit of armor; he bade adieu, in a few hurried but always attentive and polite words, to those who came to salute him as they retired.  No one was near him now except Joseph, who was talking with Laubardemont.  The Cardinal was looking at the King, to see whether, before reentering, this Prince would not speak to him, when the sound of the horses of Cinq-Mars was heard.  The Cardinal’s guards questioned him, and allowed him to advance without followers, and only with De Thou.

“You are come too late, young man, to speak with the King,” said the Cardinal-Duke with a sharp voice.  “One can not make his Majesty wait.”

The two friends were about to retire, when the voice of Louis XIII himself made itself heard.  This Prince was at that moment in one of those false positions which constituted the misfortune of his whole life.  Profoundly irritated against his minister, but not concealing from himself that he owed the success of the day to him, desiring, moreover, to announce to him his intention to quit the army and to raise the siege of Perpignan, he was torn between the desire of speaking to the Cardinal and the fear lest his anger might be weakened.  The minister, upon his part, dared not be the first to speak, being uncertain as to the thoughts which occupied his master, and fearing to choose his time ill, but yet not able to decide upon retiring.  Both found themselves precisely in the position of two lovers who have quarrelled and desire to have an explanation, when the King, seized with joy the first opportunity of extricating himself.  The chance was fatal to the minister.  See upon what trifles depend those destinies which are called great.

“Is it not Monsieur de Cinq-Mars?” said the King, in a loud voice.  “Let him approach; I am waiting for him.”

Young D’Effiat approached on horseback, and at some paces from the King desired to set foot to earth; but hardly had his leg touched the ground when he dropped upon his knees.

“Pardon, Sire!” said he, “I believe that I am wounded;” and the blood issued violently from his boot.

De Thou had seen him fall, and had approached to sustain him.  Richelieu seized this opportunity of advancing also, with dissembled eagerness.

“Remove this spectacle from the eyes of the King,” said he.  “You see very well that this young man is dying.”

“Not at all,” said Louis, himself supporting him; “a king of France knows how to see a man die, and has no fear of the blood which flows for him.  This young man interests me.  Let him be carried into my tent, and let my doctors attend him.  If his wound is not serious, he shall come with me to Paris, for the siege is suspended, Monsieur le Cardinal.  Such is my desire; other affairs call me to the centre of the kingdom.  I will leave you here to command in my absence.  This is what I desired to say to you.”