In a path, parallel with that followed by the King, were several courtiers enveloped in their cloaks.  Appearing little intent upon the stag, they rode step for step with the King’s brouette, 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!  Monsieur 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 you not see how the King shook hands with Monsieur?  He’s made a sign to you, Montresor.  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?”

Montresor answered, “The King bends his ear toward the Duc de Bouillon, who is speaking to him; he speaks again! he gesticulates! he does not cease!  Oh, he’ll be minister!”

“He will be minister!” said Fontrailles.

“He will be minister!” echoed the Comte du Lude.

“Oh, no doubt of it!” said Montresor.

“I hope he’ll give me a regiment, and I’ll marry my cousin,” cried Olivier d’Entraigues, with boyish vivacity.

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

       “Les etourneaux 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 Monsieur de Bouillon is no nearer being Prime-Minister, 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.”

Montresor and the rest were too attentive to every gesture of the Prince to answer him; and they continued: 

“See, Monsieur le Grand takes the reins, and is driving.”

The Abbe replied with the same air: 

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

“Ah, Abbe, your songs will drive me mad!” said Fontrailles.  “You’ve got airs ready for every event in life.”

“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.”

“Ha!  Ha!” cried Montresor.

“Ha!  Ha!” said Olivier.

“Well, what is the matter with you? ah, ah!” asked Gondi.  “What have you discovered that is so great?”