“The Cardinal shall pay the fiddlers,” added Gondi.

The young men applauded with a laugh; and all reascended to the ballroom as lightly as they would have gone to the battlefield.

CHAPTER XXI

THE CONFESSIONAL

It was on the day following the assembly that had taken place in the house of Marion de Lorme.  A thick snow covered the roofs of Paris and settled in its large gutters and streets, where it arose in gray heaps, furrowed by the wheels of carriages.

It was eight o’clock, and the night was dark.  The tumult of the city was silent on account of the thick carpet the winter had spread for it, and which deadened the sound of the wheels over the stones, and of the feet of men and horses.  In a narrow street that winds round the old church of St. Eustache, a man, enveloped in his cloak, slowly walked up and down, constantly watching for the appearance of some one.  He often seated himself upon one of the posts of the church, sheltering himself from the falling snow under one of the statues of saints which jutted out from the roof of the building, stretching over the narrow path like birds of prey, which, about to make a stoop, have folded their wings.  Often, too, the old man, opening his cloak, beat his arms against his breast to warm himself, or blew upon his fingers, ill protected from the cold by a pair of buff gloves reaching nearly to the elbow.  At last he saw a slight shadow gliding along the wall.

“Ah, Santa Maria! what villainous countries are these of the North!” said a woman’s voice, trembling.  “Ah, the duchy of Mantua! would I were back there again, Grandchamp!”

“Pshaw! don’t speak so loud,” said the old domestic, abruptly.  “The walls of Paris have Cardinalist ears, and more especially the walls of the churches.  Has your mistress entered?  My master awaits her at the door.”

“Yes, yes; she has gone in.”

“Be silent,” said Grandchamp.  “The sound of the clock is cracked.  That’s a bad sign.”

“That clock has sounded the hour of a rendezvous.”

“For me, it sounds like a passing-bell.  But be silent, Laure; here are three cloaks passing.”

They allowed three men to pass.  Grandchamp followed them, made sure of the road they took, and returned to his seat, sighing deeply.

“The snow is cold, Laure, and I am old.  Monsieur le Grand might have chosen another of his men to keep watch for him while he’s making love.  It’s all very well for you to carry love-letters and ribbons and portraits and such trash, but for me, I ought to be treated with more consideration.  Monsieur le Marechal would not have done so.  Old domestics give respectability to a house, and should be themselves respected.”

“Has your master arrived long, ’caro amico’?”

“Eh, cara, cayo! leave me in peace.  We had both been freezing for an hour when you came.  I should have had time to smoke three Turkish pipes.  Attend to your business, and go and look to the other doors of the church, and see that no suspicious person is prowling about.  Since there are but two vedettes, they must beat about well.”