Cardinal de la Vallette instantly seized the sleeve of the King’s mantle, and kissed it with all the ardor of a lover, and the young Mazarin did much the same with Richelieu himself, assuming, with admirable Italian suppleness, an expression radiant with joy and tenderness.  Two streams of flatterers hastened, one toward the King, the other toward the minister; the former group, not less adroit than the second, although less direct, addressed to the Prince thanks which could be heard by the minister, and burned at the feet of the one incense which was intended for the other.  As for Richelieu, bowing and smiling to right and left, he stepped forward and stood at the right hand of the King as his natural place.  A stranger entering would rather have thought, indeed, that it was the King who was on the Cardinal’s left hand.  The Marechal d’Estrees, all the ambassadors, the Duc d’Angouleme, the Due d’Halluin (Schomberg), the Marechal de Chatillon, and all the great officers of the crown surrounded him, each waiting impatiently for the compliments of the others to be finished, in order to pay his own, fearing lest some one else should anticipate him with the flattering epigram he had just improvised, or the phrase of adulation he was inventing.

As for Fabert, he had retired to a corner of the tent, and seemed to have paid no particular attention to the scene.  He was chatting with Montresor and the gentlemen of Monsieur, all sworn enemies of the Cardinal, because, out of the throng he avoided, he had found none but these to speak to.  This conduct would have seemed extremely tactless in one less known; but although he lived in the midst of the court, he was ever ignorant of its intrigues.  It was said of him that he returned from a battle he had gained, like the King’s hunting-horse, leaving the dogs to caress their master and divide the quarry, without seeking even to remember the part he had had in the triumph.

The storm, then, seemed entirely appeased, and to the violent agitations of the morning succeeded a gentle calm.  A respectful murmur, varied with pleasant laughter and protestations of attachment, was all that was heard in the tent.  The voice of the Cardinal arose from time to time:  “The poor Queen!  We shall, then, soon again see her!  I never had dared to hope for such happiness while I lived!” The King listened to him with full confidence, and made no attempt to conceal his satisfaction.  “It was assuredly an idea sent to him from on high,” he said; “this good Cardinal, against whom they had so incensed me, was thinking only of the union of my family.  Since the birth of the Dauphin I have not tasted greater joy than at this moment.  The protection of the Holy Virgin is manifested over our kingdom.”

At this moment, a captain of the guards came up and whispered in the King’s ear.

“A courier from Cologne?” said the King; “let him wait in my cabinet.”

Then, unable to restrain his impatience, “I will go!  I will go!” he said, and entered alone a small, square tent attached to the larger one.  In it he saw a young courier holding a black portfolio, and the curtains closed upon the King.