against the empire.  Notes on General Bannier and Wallenstein, the Duc de Weimar, and Jean de Witt were mingled with extracts from letters taken from the casket of the Queen, the list of the necklaces and jewels they contained, and the double interpretation which might be put upon every phrase of her notes.  Upon the margin of one of these letters was written:  “For four lines in a man’s handwriting he might be criminally tried.”  Farther on were scattered denunciations against the Huguenots; the republican plans they had drawn up; the division of France into departments under the annual dictatorship of a chief.  The seal of this projected State was affixed to it, representing an angel leaning upon a cross, and holding in his hand a Bible, which he raised to his forehead.  By the side was a document which contained a list of those cardinals the pope had selected the same day as the Bishop of Lurgon (Richelieu).  Among them was to be found the Marquis de Bedemar, ambassador and conspirator at Venice.

Louis XIII exhausted his powers in vain over the details of another period, seeking unsuccessfully for any documents which might allude to the present conspiracy, to enable him to perceive its true meaning, and all that had been attempted against him, when a diminutive man, of an olive complexion, who stooped much, entered the cabinet with a measured step.  This was a Secretary of State named Desnoyers.  He advanced, bowing.

“May I be permitted to address your Majesty on the affairs of Portugal?” said he.

“And consequently of Spain?” said Louis.  “Portugal is a province of Spain.”

“Of Portugal,” reiterated Desnoyers.  “Here is the manifesto we have this moment received.”  And he read, “Don John, by the grace of God, King of Portugal and of Algarves, kingdoms on this side of Africa, lord over Guinea, by conquest, navigation, and trade with Arabia, Persia, and the Indies—­”

“What is all that?” said the King.  “Who talks in this manner?”

“The Duke of Braganza, King of Portugal, crowned already some time by a man whom they call Pinto.  Scarcely has he ascended the throne than he offers assistance to the revolted Catalonians.”

“Has Catalonia also revolted?  The King, Philip IV, no longer has the Count-Duke for his Prime-Minister?”

“Just the contrary, Sire.  It is on this very account.  Here is the declaration of the States-General of Catalonia to his Catholic Majesty, signifying that the whole country will take up arms against his sacrilegious and excommunicated troops.  The King of Portugal—­”

“Say the Duke of Braganza!” replied Louis.  “I recognize no rebels.”

“The Duke of Braganza, then,” coldly repeated the Secretary of State, “sends his nephew, Don Ignacio de Mascarenas, to the principality of Catalonia, to seize the protection (and it may be the sovereignty) of that country, which he would add to that he has just reconquered.  Your Majesty’s troops are before Perpignan—­”