“Ah, my dear Henri, you make me tremble; he will ruin you unless you become his docile instrument.  Alas, why can not I go with you?  Why must I act the young man of twenty in this unfortunate affair?  Alas, I should be perilous to you; I must, on the contrary, conceal myself.  But you will have Monsieur de Thou near you, my son, will you not?” said he, trying to reassure himself; “he was your friend in childhood, though somewhat older than yourself.  Heed his counsels, my child, he is a wise young man of mature reflection and solid ideas.”

“Oh, yes, my dear Abbe, you may depend upon my tender attachment for him; I never have ceased to love him.”

“But you have ceased to write to him, have you not?” asked the good Abbe, half smilingly.

“I beg your pardon, my dear Abbe, I wrote to him once, and again yesterday, to inform him that the Cardinal has invited me to court.”

“How! has he himself desired your presence?”

Cinq-Mars hereupon showed the letter of the Cardinal-Duke to his mother, and his old preceptor grew gradually calmer.

“Ah, well!” said he to himself, “this is not so bad, perhaps, after all.  It looks promising; a captain of the guards at twenty—­that sounds well!” and the worthy Abbe’s face became all smiles.

The young man, delighted to see these smiles, which so harmonized with his own thoughts, fell upon the neck of the Abbe and embraced him, as if the good man had thus assured to him a futurity of pleasure, glory, and love.

But the good Abbe, with difficulty disengaging himself from this warm embrace, resumed his walk, his reflections, and his gravity.  He coughed often and shook his head; and Cinq-Mars, not venturing to pursue the conversation, watched him, and became sad as he saw him become serious.

The old man at last sat down, and in a mournful tone addressed his pupil: 

“My friend, my son, I have for a moment yielded like a father to your hopes; but I must tell you, and it is not to afflict you, that they appear to me excessive and unnatural.  If the Cardinal’s sole aim were to show attachment and gratitude toward your family, he would not have carried his favors so far; no, the extreme probability is that he has designs upon you.  From what has been told him, he thinks you adapted to play some part, as yet impossible for us to divine, but which he himself has traced out in the deepest recesses of his mind.  He wishes to educate you for this; he wishes to drill you into it.  Allow me the expression in consideration of its accuracy, and think seriously of it when the time shall come.  But I am inclined to believe that, as matters are, you would do well to follow up this vein in the great mine of State; in this way high fortunes have begun.  You must only take heed not to be blinded and led at will.  Let not favors dazzle you, my poor child, and let not elevation turn your head.  Be not so indignant at the suggestion; the thing has happened to older men than yourself.  Write to me often, as well as to your mother; see Monsieur de Thou, and together we will try to keep you in good counsel.  Now, my son, be kind enough to close that window through which the wind comes upon my head, and I will tell you what has been going on here.”