“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 Cardinalist.  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 Monsieur le Duc de Bouillon.  All 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, chez 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 Charlotte de Bourbon, daughter of the Duc 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!”

“Well, Sire,” said Cinq-Mars, with confidence, “Monsieur 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 Cardinalists of Perpignan.  You will see that the minister has very few for him.

“The Queen, Monsieur, the nobility, and the parliaments are on our side; and the thing is done from the moment that your Majesty is not opposed to it.  It has been proposed to get rid of the Cardinal as the Marechal d’Ancre was got rid of, who deserved it less than he.”

“As Concini?” said the King.  “Oh, no, it must not be.  I positively can not 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 mayest 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 mother, 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 them to bury her in France with my fathers?  He has exiled even her ashes.”

At this moment Cinq-Mars thought he heard 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 toward the entrance by which he had come.

The favorite went out; but his master’s anxiety had not escaped him.