“De Thou!” he cried again, in a hollow voice, and fell with his face to the ground, like an uprooted tree.

Violent tempests assume different aspects, according to the climates in which they take place.  Those which have spread over a terrible space in northern countries assemble into one single cloud under the torrid zone—­the more formidable, that they leave the horizon in all its purity, and that the furious waves still reflect the azure of heaven while tinged with the blood of man.  It is the same with great passions.  They assume strange aspects according to our characters; but how terrible are they in vigorous hearts, which have preserved their force under the veil of social forms?  When youth and despair embrace, we know not to what fury they may rise, or what may be their sudden resignation; we know not whether the volcano will burst the mountain or become suddenly extinguished within its entrails.

De Thou, in alarm, raised his friend.  The blood gushed from his nostrils and ears; he would have thought him dead, but .for the torrents of tears which flowed from his eyes.  They were the only sign of life.  Suddenly he opened his lids, looked around him, and by an extraordinary energy resumed his senses and the power of his will.

“I am in the presence of men,” said he; “I must finish with them.  My friend, it is half-past eleven; the hour for the signal has passed.  Give, in my name, the order to return to quarters.  It was a false alarm, which I will myself explain this evening.”

De Thou had already perceived the importance of this order; he went out and returned immediately.

He found Cinq-Mars seated, calm, and endeavoring to cleanse the blood from his face.

“De Thou,” said he, looking fixedly at him, “retire; you disturb me.”

“I leave you not,” answered the latter.

“Fly, I tell you! the Pyrenees are not far distant.  I can not speak much longer, even to you; but if you remain with me, you will die.  I give you warning.”

“I remain,” repeated De Thou.

“May God preserve you, then!” answered Cinq-Mars, “for I can do nothing more; the moment has passed.  I leave you here.  Call Fontrailles and all the confederates:  distribute these passports among them.  Let them fly immediately; tell them all has failed, but that I thank them.  For you, once again I say, fly with them, I entreat you; but whatever you do, follow me not—­follow me not, for your life!  I swear to you not to do violence to myself!”

With these words, shaking his friend’s hand without looking at him, he rushed from the tent.

Meantime, some leagues thence another conversation was taking place.  At Narbonne, in the same cabinet in which we formerly beheld Richelieu regulating with Joseph the interests of the State, were still seated the same men, nearly as we have described them.  The minister, however, had grown much older in three years of suffering; and the Capuchin was as much terrified with the result of his expedition as his master appeared tranquil.