And both burst into laughter—­the one as a master, overwhelming the assassin whom he pays with his utter scorn; the other as a slave, resigned to all the humiliation by which he rises.

The laughter which the ferocious pleasantry of the old minister had excited had hardly subsided, when the door opened, and a page announced several couriers who had arrived simultaneously from different points.  Father Joseph arose, and, leaning against the wall like an Egyptian mummy, allowed nothing to appear upon his face but an expression of stolid contemplation.  Twelve messengers entered successively, attired in various disguises; one appeared to be a Swiss soldier, another a sutler, a third a master-mason.  They had been introduced into the palace by a secret stairway and corridor, and left the cabinet by a door opposite that at which they had entered, without any opportunity of meeting one another or communicating the contents of their despatches.  Each laid a rolled or folded packet of papers on the large table, spoke for a moment with the Cardinal in the embrasure of a window and withdrew.  Richelieu had risen on the entrance of the first messenger, and, careful to do all himself, had received them all, listened to all, and with his own hand had closed the door upon all.  When the last was gone, he signed to Father Joseph, and, without speaking, both proceeded to unfold, or, rather, to tear open, the packets of despatches, and in a few words communicated to each other the substance of the letters.

“The Due de Weimar pursues his advantage; the Duc Charles is defeated.  Our General is in good spirits; here are some of his lively remarks at table.  Good!”

“Monseigneur le Vicomte de Turenne has retaken the towns of Lorraine; and here are his private conversations—­”

“Oh! pass over them; they can not be dangerous.  He is ever a good and honest man, in no way mixing himself up with politics; so that some one gives him a little army to play at chess with, no matter against whom, he is content.  We shall always be good friends.”

“The Long Parliament still endures in England.  The Commons pursue their project; there are massacres in Ireland.  The Earl of Strafford is condemned to death.”

“To death!  Horrible!”

“I will read:  ’His Majesty Charles I has not had the courage to sign the sentence, but he has appointed four commissioners.’”

“Weak king, I abandon thee!  Thou shalt have no more of our money.  Fall, since thou art ungrateful!  Unhappy Wentworth!”

A tear rose in the eyes of Richelieu as he said this; the man who had but now played with the lives of so many others wept for a minister abandoned by his prince.  The similarity between that position and his own affected him, and it was his own case he deplored in the person of the foreign minister.  He ceased to read aloud the despatches that he opened, and his confidant followed his example.  He examined with scrupulous attention