At length, released from visitors, he lay upon his camp-bed.  De Thou sat by his side, holding his hand, and Grandchamp at his feet, still grumbling at the numerous interruptions that had fatigued his wounded master.  Cinq-Mars himself tasted one of those moments of calm and hope, which so refresh the soul as well as the body.  His free hand secretly pressed the gold cross that hung next to his heart, the beloved donor of which he was so soon to behold.  Outwardly, he listened with kindly looks to the counsels of the young magistrate; but his inward thoughts were all turned toward the object of his journey—­the object, also, of his life.  The grave De Thou went on in a calm, gentle voice: 

“I shall soon follow you to Paris.  I am happier than you at seeing the King take you there with him.  You are right in looking upon it as the beginning of a friendship which must be turned to profit.  I have reflected deeply on the secret causes of your ambition, and I think I have divined your heart.  Yes; that feeling of love for France, which made it beat in your earliest youth, must have gained greater strength.  You would be near the King in order to serve your country, in order to put in action those golden dreams of your early years.  The thought is a vast one, and worthy of you!  I admire you; I bow before you.  To approach the monarch with the chivalrous devotion of our fathers, with a heart full of candor, and prepared for any sacrifice; to receive the confidences of his soul; to pour into his those of his subjects; to soften the, sorrows of the King by telling him the confidence his people have in him; to cure the wounds of the people by laying them open to its master, and by the intervention of your favor thus to reestablish that intercourse of love between the father and his children which for eighteen years has been interrupted by a man whose heart is marble; for this noble enterprise, to expose yourself to all the horrors of his vengeance and, what is even worse, to brave all the perfidious calumnies which pursue the favorite to the very steps of the throne—­this dream was worthy of you.

“Pursue it, my friend,” De Thou continued.  “Never become discouraged.  Speak loudly to the King of the merit and misfortunes of his most illustrious friends who are trampled on.  Tell him fearlessly that his old nobility have never conspired against him; and that from the young Montmorency to the amiable Comte de Soissons, all have opposed the minister, and never the monarch.  Tell him that the old families of France were born with his race; that in striking them he affects the whole nation; and that, should he destroy them, his own race will suffer, that it will stand alone exposed to the blast of time and events, as an old oak trembling and exposed to the wind of the plain, when the forest which surrounded and supported it has been destroyed.  Yes!” cried De Thou, growing animated, “this aim is a fine and noble one.  Go on in your course with