“But what, then, have you done?”

“Why, hardly anything, Monseigneur,” said Fontrailles.  “Chance led us to meet in the crowd some of our friends who had a quarrel with Monsieur de Chavigny’s coachman, who was driving over them.  A few hot words ensued and rough gestures, and a few scratches, which kept Monsieur de Chavigny waiting, and that is all.”

“Absolutely all,” repeated Montresor.

“What, all?” exclaimed Gaston, much moved, and tramping about the chamber.  “And is it, then, nothing to stop the carriage of a friend of the Cardinal-Duke?  I do not like such scenes.  I have already told you so.  I do not hate the Cardinal; he is certainly a great politician, a very great politician.  You have compromised me horribly; it is known that Montresor is with me.  If he has been recognized, they will say that I sent him.”

“Chance,” said Montresor, “threw in my way this peasant’s dress, which Monsieur may see under my cloak, and which, for that reason, I preferred to any other.”

Gaston breathed again.

“You are sure, then, that you have not been recognized.  You understand, my dear friend, how painful it would be to me.  You must 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 my 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 happened.”

Fontrailles took upon himself the recital, in which, as we may suppose, the populace played a great part and Monsieur’s people none, and in 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, it 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 good inhabitants of Paris, whom I love so much.”

“Yes, Monseigneur,” replied the orator.  “And it is not Paris alone, it is all France, which, with us, entreats you to decide upon delivering her from this tyrant.  All is ready; nothing is wanting but a sign 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 help them; that is to say,” continued the Prince, “so that my dignity is not compromised, and that my name does not appear in the matter.”

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