“It is strange, very strange!” said Monsieur; “I see that every one here is farther advanced in the conspiracy than I imagined.”

“Not so, Monsieur,” said the Duc de Bouillon; “we prepared 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; according to your order, the whole thing shall be a dream or a volcano.”

“Well, well, I am content, if it must be so,” said Gaston; “let us occupy ourselves with more agreeable 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 handsomer than Madame de Guemenee, 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 Monsieur de Thou in comparing her with the beautiful Guemenee.  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 unfortunate than may be supposed.”

And Gaston d’Orleans 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 conversation, 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 Duc de Bouillon with an astonished air, as if to ask him whether this was really the man whom they were going to place at the head of the most audacious enterprise that had ever been launched; 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 the Duc de Bouillon, who, however, preserved an angry silence.  As for Cinq-Mars, he had been led away by De Thou, under cover of the chattering of Monsieur, who took care not to appear to notice their departure.

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