“Monsieur, I know that I have lived too long, and it is that of which I was thinking; in the name of the great Henri, I restore this sword peacefully to his son.  Follow me.”

He accompanied these words with a look so firm that De Launay was depressed, and followed him with drooping head, as if he had himself been arrested by the noble old man, who, seizing a flambeau, issued from the court and found all the doors opened by horse-guards, who had terrified the people of the chateau in the name of the King, and commanded silence.  The carriage was ready, and departed rapidly, followed by many horses.  The Marechal, seated beside M. de Launay, was about to fall asleep, rocked by the movement of the vehicle, when a voice cried to the driver, “Stop!” and, as he continued, a pistol-shot followed.  The horses stopped.

“I declare, Monsieur, that this is done without my participation,” said Bassompierre.  Then, putting his head out at the door, he saw that they were in a little wood, and that the road was too narrow to allow the, horses to pass to either the right or the left of the carriage—­a great advantage for the aggressors, since the musketeers could not advance.  He tried to see what was going on when a cavalier, having in his hand a long sword, with which he parried the strokes of the guard, approached the door, crying: 

“Come, come, Monsieur le Marechal!”

“What! is that you, you madcap, Henri, who are playing these pranks?  Gentlemen, let him alone; he is a mere boy.”

And, as De Launay called to the musketeers to cease, Bassompierre recognized the cavalier.

“And how the devil came you here?” cried Bassompierre.  “I thought you were at Tours, or even farther, if you had done your duty; but here you are returned to make a fool of yourself.”

“Truly, it was not for you I returned, but for a secret affair,” said Cinq-Mars, in a lower tone; “but, as I take it, they are about to introduce you to the Bastille, and I am sure you will not betray me, for that delightful edifice is the very Temple of Discretion.  Yet had you thought fit,” he continued, aloud, “I should have released you from these gentlemen in the wood here, which is so dense that their horses would not have been able to stir.  A peasant informed me of the insult passed upon us, more than upon you, by this violation of my father’s house.”

“It is the King’s order, my boy, and we must respect his will; reserve your ardor for his service, though I thank you with all my heart.  Now farewell, and let me proceed on my agreeable journey.”

De Launay interposed, “I may inform you, Monsieur de Cinq-Mars, that I have been desired by the King himself to assure Monsieur le Marechal, that he is deeply afflicted at the step he has found it necessary to take, and that it is solely from an apprehension that Monsieur le Marechal may be led into evil that his Majesty requests him to remain for a few days in the Bastille.”—­[He remained there twelve years.]