The little Abbe de Gondi, who was very shortsighted, made his way through the crowd, knitting his brows and half shutting his eyes, that he might see the better, and twisting his moustache, for ecclesiastics wore them in those days.  He looked closely at every one in order to recognize his friends, and at last stopped before a young man, very tall and dressed in black from head to foot; his sword, even, was of quite dark, bronzed steel.  He was talking with a captain of the guards, when the Abbe de Gondi took him aside.

“Monsieur de Thou,” said he, “I need you as my second in an hour, on horseback, with sword and pistol, if you will do me that honor.”

“Monsieur, you know I am entirely at your service on all occasions.  Where shall we meet?”

“In front of the Spanish bastion, if you please.”

“Pardon me for returning to a conversation that greatly interests me.  I will be punctual at the rendezvous.”

And De Thou quitted him to rejoin the Captain.  He had said all this in the gentlest of voices with unalterable coolness, and even with somewhat of an abstracted manner.

The little Abbe squeezed his hand with warm satisfaction, and continued his search.

He did not so easily effect an agreement with the young lords to whom he addressed himself; for they knew him better than did De Thou, and when they saw him coming they tried to avoid him, or laughed at him openly, and would not promise to serve him.

“Ah, Abbe! there you are hunting again; I’ll swear it’s a second you want,” said the Duc de Beaufort.

“And I wager,” added M. de la Rochefoucauld, “that it’s against one of the Cardinal-Duke’s people.”

“You are both right, gentlemen; but since when have you laughed at affairs of honor?”

“The saints forbid I should,” said M. de Beaufort.  “Men of the sword like us ever reverence tierce, quarte, and octave; but as for the folds of the cassock, I know nothing of them.”

“Pardieu!  Monsieur, you know well enough that it does not embarrass my wrist, as I will prove to him who chooses; as to the gown itself, I should like to throw it into the gutter.”

“Is it to tear it that you fight so often?” asked La Rochefoucauld.  “But remember, my dear Abbe, that you yourself are within it.”

Gondi turned to look at the clock, wishing to lose no more time in such sorry jests; but he had no better success elsewhere.  Having stopped two gentlemen in the service of the young Queen, whom he thought ill-affected toward the Cardinal, and consequently glad to measure weapons with his creatures, one of them said to him very gravely: 

“Monsieur de Gondi, you know what has just happened; the King has said aloud, ’Whether our imperious Cardinal wishes it or not, the widow of Henri le Grand shall no longer remain in exile.’  Imperious! the King never before said anything so strong as that, Monsieur l’Abbe, mark that.  Imperious! it is open disgrace.  Certainly no one will dare to speak to him; no doubt he will quit the court this very day.”